Buying the Virgin

Chapter 95: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Eleven

MICHAEL

“Charlotte, you don’t have to do this.”

“I think I do.”

I hold her hand as we stand together at the demolished site of the old Blessingmoors institution. Now a

wasteland of rubble awaiting redevelopment in the new City Project, the only pointers to the old

buildings are the road layout and a few hard to identify pillars and gateposts. Nonetheless, we believe

we are standing on what was once the threshold of the Blessingmoors building.

Charlotte is pale, even more so than usual, and her hand, as I hold it, is clammy. James is here, his

face a mask, as he stands, hands in pockets, simply watching, but his eyes follow her everywhere as

she steps over the rubble.

The others; Haswell, Stanton, and a variety of investigators in white paper coveralls, also stand by,

watching.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just don’t recognise any of it. There’s nothing here to recognise.”

“Perhaps with your eyes closed?” I suggest. “Start at some known point and see if you can walk in the

dark? Keep hold of my hand. I won’t let you stumble.”

She doesn’t speak, simply nodding as she licks her dry lips. She turns to Haswell. “This was the front

entrance?”

“Yes.”

Then, closing her eyes, gripping my hand tightly, “I’ll try. I was smaller then, of course. And it was a

long time ago.”

Stepping forward. “There were three steps, up into the hallway.” I steady her as she walks.

She continues. “There was a door here.” She indicates ahead. “Then a corridor and another door.”

Eyes still closed, she opens invisible doors, walking through unseen halls.

She waves to one side. “That’s a staircase, up to the dorms.” Stanton is beside us now, examining

some old document. I glance at him, not liking to ask. He holds up the sheet; a tattered floor plan. As

Charlotte speaks, he is comparing her words with the plan, nodding agreement. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

We walk a little further. She indicates the other way. That’s the corridor to the kitchens. Two of the

cellars came off from there. I think one was an old coal cellar. The other was just general storage.”

Stanton nods. “Yes, we know about those.”

She hesitates, her face churning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can smell it…. It’s got to be just in my head, but I can smell the place.”

“What does it smell of?”

“….. dust, the children, disinfectant, cabbage…. I don’t know. It’s just how it smelled. I’d never thought

about it before, but it feels like….” She pauses, swallowing hard.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Want to take a break?”

“No. I want to do this.”

We keep walking. Everyone is with us now, walking quietly behind us as Charlotte continues her blind

walk in the dark.

She waves vaguely ahead of her. The main stairs were here. Upstairs was the staff area, where they

lived. I was never up there. I think they had bedrooms and a common room, but I never saw it.” Then

she veers to one side. “But there was another door here, by the side of the stairs.”

Stanton looks puzzled, looking at his plan. “Are you sure of that, Charlotte? It shows a blank wall here.”

She nods, vigorously. “I’m sure. The door was sort of under the stairs. You would only see it if you knew

it was there. But it led to another cellar, the one they used as a punishment room.”

“Alright,” says Stanton. “You’ve done enough.” Then he turns to me. “Get her out of here.” Waving over

to the white coveralled technicians. “Geophys, over here.”

I pull Charlotte away, nodding James to join us. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”

Charlotte resists. “You’re not staying here,” I say. Still, she hesitates. “Charlotte, I’ll drag you off if I have

to. You’re not staying here.”

“And I’ll help him,” says James.

Reluctantly, she comes with us.

“Let’s go to the Centre,” I say. “You can have a swim, and I’ll give you a massage.”

Finally, she nods, really looking as though she agrees.

“I’ll join you in a while,” says James. “I want a word with Haswell and Stanton.”

*****

Ten minutes later, I lead Charlotte by the hand into the Centre; it’s time the staff met my fiancée. If

nothing else, it might persuade Tracy to stop making cows eyes at me. She was never in with a

chance, and lately, she’s been a bloody nuisance.

“Do you mind if I use the gym first?” asks Charlotte.

“Of course not. Use anything you want. Let’s get you some gear.”

I point her at the shop front. “Pick out what you want.” She chooses trainers, jogging pants and a top. I

add in the kind of heavy-duty sports bra that a girl with her figure needs, and a swimming costume.

“Female changing rooms are over there.” I point. “And the gym’s through there. I’ll see you there in a

few minutes.”

By the time I’ve done a quick round of the staff, and checked if anything needs my attention, Charlotte

is already in the gym, jogging on a treadmill, upping the speed as I watch.

“Everything alright?”

She nods, beginning to perspire as she warms up, so I join her on the next machine, jogging along to

keep her company. She increases her speed again, breathing more heavily.

After a few minutes, I see James walking by and wave him in.

“Just give me a shout if you need anything,” I say. As an afterthought, I put a bottle of water on the

shelf in front of her. Charlotte nods thanks, again turning up the speed, and I leave her with it.

James nods towards her. “She okay?”

I rock my hand back and forth. “Running off nervous energy I’d say. I’ll give her another ten minutes on

there, then I’ll get her into the swimming pool and give her a massage afterwards.”

As we watch, she turns up the speed yet again. Dripping sweat, she pounds the treadmill. Chest

heaving and face red, she’s going for broke.

“Is that a good idea?” asks James.

“Within limits. As I say, I’ll give her a few minutes to burn off some stress, and then wind her down. Why

don’t you go for a swim, and we’ll join you in a few minutes?”

He nods, heading in the direction of the male changing rooms.

Charlotte is still hammering away, so walking over, I reach across the control panel, setting the

machine onto a cool-down program. As the track slows, I grab her wrist, feeling her pulse and counting.

“Two-twenty beats a minute. You’re over-doing it. Time for you to ease down a bit.”

For a moment she looks furious, but then washes a more polite expression over her face.

“Sorry. You’re right.”

“Shower off. Let’s go for a swim. James is already there.”

In the pool, she dives in, cutting the water cleanly. I follow. James, seeing us, breaks off from crawling

lengths, to swim over and join us.

Finally, I see her tension dissolve. The last time the three of us shared a pool, we were at the beach

house. On more than one occasion, we had sex together in there. James flashes his brows at her,

suggestively, and she smiles brightly, looking much more herself.

“There’s too many people around for us to use the pool as you might prefer,” I say to her. “But, in the

massage room, we’ll be quiet.” Again, she smiles, eyes soft now. “Have a swim and then....”

She launches herself into the water, swimming slowly and easily in a relaxed breast-stroke.

“You’re taking her for a massage?” asks James.

“Mmm, yes. You joining us?

He pauses. “No, I think I’ll leave you with her. She needs your touch more than mine, right now, I think.”

I say nothing to this, no need to be tactless. Instead, I push off from the edge to join Charlotte. She

flashes me a smile as she realises I am swimming beside her.

After a dozen or so lengths, catching her eye, I wave her out of the water. Pulling myself up on the side,

I lift her out as she reaches a hand to me.

Tracy, I notice, sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, is looking daggers at her.

My manner cool, “Something wrong, Tracy?”

“Um, no.”

“Then you should be watching the pool, shouldn’t you?”

She flushes, turning back to watch a party of schoolchildren getting their weekly lesson.

*****

Back out in Reception, showered and dressed, Charlotte finger-combs her damp hair. I take her by the

hand again, leading her to one of the massage rooms, turning the key once we are inside. I want

privacy now.

“Take your clothes off,” I say to her. “Lie on the bench.”

As she stretches out, on the white be-towelled massage table, I pull another towel over her. She

doesn’t speak, simply watching me, wide-eyed, with an air of waiting.

In a silent mood, Babe? Perhaps, with all you have to think about right now….

“Lie back. Relax.” I sit, perched on the edge of the table next to her, my hands flat to her belly “Now,

would you like a massage or a massage?”

She writhes, stretching and smiling, her green-grey eyes intense. “I think I’ll leave that to the

masseur.”