Chapter 5
Cody’s dad was delightful. Even though he had a good thirty years on his eldest son, they were the image of each other. The same mop of shaggy blond hair—although Steve’s was tinged with grey—and identical deep blue eyes—albeit framed with several clusters of lines. She could have been looking at the same face in a time warp.
He pulled a chair out and sat opposite Ruby. Cody left the room.
“I presume you live in Penderton, Ruby?”
She nodded. “All my life. Mum owns one of the original cottages on Clark Street, off the old road.”
“Ah, yes. I think old Bill used to live in one of them.”
She gasped. “Mr Grundy?”
“Yeah, old Bill Grundy. Do you know him?”
“I did—he died last year. I used to run errands for him as a kid.”
“What a small world. I worked with him at the steelworks. He was my supervisor and mentor. I owe a lot of my skills to him.”
“He never told me what he did for a living. He had been retired for as far back as I can remember. A lovely man though—always told lots of stories.”
“He did that. He had a tough life—his wife died of lung cancer when his two kiddies were no more than knee high,” he said.
“Really? I never heard about that.”
“I have something here—look at this.” Steve jumped off his chair and opened a cupboard door above the sink. All of a sudden, several trays and tins toppled out and fell to the floor, each one hitting him on the way down.
Ruby wasn’t sure if it was surprise from the noise or delayed shock from the evening’s events, but she came over all woozy.
Cody burst through the door as if ready for a fight—then stopped—relief flooding his face. He said something to Ruby then laughed, but she couldn’t focus. What the hell was wrong with her?
She tried to get to her feet just as the kitchen floor fell away.
***
Her head thudded. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all.
She heard voices, but not the words. Her limbs had a heaviness she’d never experienced before—her eyelids too.
She eventually managed to open her eyes, but the stark white light-bulb above her head blinded her.
After a few moments her eyes adjusted to the light. Still thick-headed and confused, she tried to make sense of the cold whitewashed breezeblocks and the boarded up window. She still couldn’t move, but now she realised why. Her hands and feet had been tied.
Sheer terror flooded her system and her screams filled the silence.