Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Even caged animals have moments of happiness. Crazy to say it, but Naomi felt strangely elated, buoyed up by her tissue of lies. She'd spoken for well over half an hour, taking great pleasure in detailing the concerted efforts underway in the hunt for the missing girls. It had raised her spirits immeasurably, even though most of it was fantasy, and she could see it had had the same effect on Mia, who had shrugged off her despair, for the time being at least. It was amazing what a little hope can do, and Naomi resolved to return to her theme again soon. Having seen Mia's magical smile once, she didn't want to let it go.

‘Thank you, Naomi.'

She turned to Mia, surprised. Usually taciturn, her friend seemed positively talkative now.

‘For what?'

‘For being you. For being happy. For being here.'

‘Well, I would rather I wasn't, but you know …'

Shrugging casually, she smiled at Mia, earning a sheepish grin in return.

‘I mean it. I think I was on the point of going properly mad, you know. Stuck in this awful place by myself. It's so nice to be able to share things, to comfort each other. It's been so long since I had someone to talk to down here.'

Instantly, Naomi felt her stomach tighten. Mia was still smiling at her, but Naomi's blood had suddenly run cold, her friend's happiness suddenly sickeningly inappropriate.

‘You mean … there were others here before me?'

Mia's grin slowly faded, shocked and distressed by the effect of her words.

‘Sure,' Mia blustered. ‘Though I only met one. And she'd already been here a while when I arrived.'

Naomi stared at her, unable to speak.

‘Her name was Shanice. She was OK, you know … though not as nice as you.'

Mia smiled gamely at Naomi, but the joy had evaporated from the room.

‘How long … how long had she been down here?' Naomi eventually breathed.

‘A while, I think. Certainly a couple of months or so. You can probably work it out if you want. I haven't tried to, but …'

Naomi was staring at Mia as if she was mad. Clocking this, her fellow captive nodded grimly at the hinged doors that imprisoned them.

‘Over there.'

Naomi turned, but saw nothing other than the sealed wall.

‘Look closer.'

Naomi moved over to the secret doors and now she spotted something. The right-hand door was covered in markings; neat, ordered rows of shapes scratched into the plaster. Naomi ran her fingers over them, taking in the strange sequence of lines and crosses.

‘It was her way of marking the days,' Mia whispered, suddenly sombre. ‘A kind of diary.'

Instantly, Naomi felt sickened. There were dozens of marks.

‘She made one for each day, just before she went to sleep. It became a kind of ritual, part of her routine.'

It was awful, the notion that you could have a routine in a place like this.

‘But what did … what do they mean?' Naomi blustered.

‘Naomi, don't, please. You don't need to—'

‘I want to know, Mia. Tell me what they mean.'

‘It won't do you any good.'

‘Tell me.'

Her companion flinched, retreating slightly as if scared. In other circumstances, Naomi would have felt guilty, shouting at someone so fragile, but not today, not now.

‘There are three kinds of symbols: lines, crosses and crosses with circles round them,' Mia conceded despondently.

‘And? What does they mean?'

Mia sighed heavily; a deep, painful sigh.

‘A straight line was an OK day, a day where he didn't hurt her, when she had food and water, when she wasn't too cold. A cross meant a bad day.'

Mia blinked, her own distress surfacing once more.

‘And … a cross with a circle round it meant a really bad day.'

Mia's voice was shaking, memories of her own agonies re-surfacing. She clearly wanted this conversation to end, to return to blissful lies, but Naomi couldn't let it go.

‘And what … what happened to her? Where is she now?'

Mia stared directly at Naomi, her eyes sparkling fiercely with desperation and despair, then slowly she shook her head and turned away.