‘You do. Never bullshit a bullshitter. Now sit.’
She’s too much like me to argue with. I’ll get nowhere and it’ll be quicker to agree.
I sit and pull up the pretty layers of the long maxi skirt.
‘Fuck, Lydia. You moron.’ She puts a hand out and tenderly touches the hot, puffy skin. My ankle is double its normal size and there’s no definition between it or my calf. My leg is one solid column and the surface of the skin is tight and shiny.
She puts a cool hand on my forehead. ‘You’re burning up. I’m sorry but you need to go straight to A and E. You need antibiotics, preferably intravenous. I don’t have anything on me. The nearest emergency room is Watford General.’
‘Okay,’ I say and I can tell I’ve surprised her with my instant acquiescence. ‘I’ll just grab my things and I’ll get Tom and we’ll go straight there.’
‘No. Sit here. You need to keep that leg elevated. Unfortunately, I don’t work in this area, so I don’t know any of the medical staff there. I can’t speed things up for you but if you explain at the front desk that you’ve got a severe infection, which could possibly result in sepsis, they’ll see you quickly. We could call for an ambulance but God knows how long that will take. It’s better if you get someone to drive you straight there. I’ll go and find Tom and he can sort something out. He can drive his brother’s car if need be.’
The minute she leaves the room I haul myself up the first few rungs on the ladder by the bookshelves. Across the street is an orange Land Rover emblazoned with the words Fleeing for Your Life. Two men are sitting in the front seat. They’re sipping from thermos mugs.
I jump off the ladder, suppressing a small scream as pain jars my leg. It’s as if Annette’s diagnosis of infection has now given me permission to feel the full extent of pain. I rush out of the room. Luckily Tom meets me in the hall.
‘Where’s Annette?’ he asks. ‘Has she seen you?’
‘They’ve found us. They’re sitting in a car outside the house opposite, drinking coffee.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘No, I wish I was. We need to go. How did they find us?’
‘What did Annette say?’
‘Annette?’ I pretend it was so insignificant I’ve forgotten already.
‘About your leg? Remember?’
‘Just a bit swollen. I’ll need to get some antibiotics and she hasn’t got any on her. Is there any way out of the back of here? Back to the train station. We need to go now.’ I look anxiously around. I don’t want Annette coming back and we do need to make our escape. We’re so close, we can’t get caught at this stage. Neither can we give up. I can go to hospital later.
Thankfully my sense of urgency communicates itself to Tom.
‘There’s a gate through the garden into next door’s garden. They’re on the corner, so we can get out onto a different street. They won’t see us. Let’s go.’
‘My—’
‘I’ll get it,’ he says.
‘It’s in the hall. I just need the money in the sock.’
‘Bloody hell, Lydia. Are you sure?’
I muster up a smile. ‘I know where you live.’
A second later we’re hurrying out of the French doors at the back. Luckily this section of the garden is separate to the area where all the guests are and there’s no sign of Annette. Tom leads me to a gate in the fence.
Next door’s garden is nowhere near as well kept and we hurry across the uneven lawn towards a set of double gates. I’m doing my best to keep up with Tom, even though my leg is on fire, every step compounding the pain.
We stop and peer through the gates.
‘We’re only round the corner from the station,’ he whispers and we both look upwards for drones.
‘I think we’re okay,’ I say. We walk slowly, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves.
We turn the corner and there’s the back entrance of the station. We made it. We’re home and dry. My whole body sags with relief and the sudden release of tension makes me a bit wobbly as it’s all that’s been keeping me going.
‘Shit,’ says Tom and suddenly yanks me backwards.
At the end of the tunnel under the platforms, beneath the sign for the ticket office, is a familiar figure. He’s on his phone and he has his back to us.
‘Mark,’ I say in a shocked voice. A wave of nausea overcomes me and I have to lean back against the wall. Lightheaded, I take a couple of breaths.
‘Are you okay?’ Tom gives my face a concerned appraisal.
‘Yeah, just a bit shocked. How do you think they found us?’
‘Probably staked out our homes. I should have thought of it. I don’t think of this as home. For obvious reasons,’ he adds with a bitter twist to his mouth. Without thinking I touch his arm.
He glances down at my hand and his mouth tightens.
‘Is there any other way of getting to London from here?’ I ask.
‘If we could get to Chesham we could get on the underground. They probably wouldn’t think of that.’
I think for a moment. I’m not giving up now.
