talk to anyone, if you hit the horn, draw attention to us or do anything stupid, if you so much as buzz the window down I will shoot you, OK? Do you understand?’
With a shiver, I feel the blunt shape of the gun barrel pushing through the seat into the small of my back. At this range any bullet would probably kill both of us but I would also crash the car – so as long as we’re moving he won’t shoot. I hope.
‘Listen,’ I say, pulling up at the first set of traffic lights. ‘Take me instead. I’ll go with you, wherever you want to go. I’ll do whatever you want to do, and I won’t fight or struggle. But let’s leave the baby somewhere safe. I can stop at a café or a shop, somewhere with staff, you can take the keys and I can hand her to someone just like Kathryn handed her to me. I promise I won’t run, I swear. I’ll go with you but let me make sure she’s safe.’
‘Just drive.’
‘She’s just going to make a fuss, make noise,’ I continue, my mind bouncing from one idea to the next. A dialogue was better than silence – anything to get a sense of my assailant and his intentions. And more importantly, a chance to get Mia out of harm’s way. ‘You don’t want that, her screaming the place down and drawing attention to us. I’ll do whatever you want, but let me leave her somewhere safe. Please.’
‘Stop talking.’ The gun jabs me harder in the back.
I let another minute pass, trying to push the facts into some kind of logical order, my mind flashing on stories of estranged fathers exacting revenge on their own children. I need to establish a rapport: it’ll be harder for him to pull the trigger if he knows my name, if he starts to think of me as a human being rather than a nameless victim. If he remembers that Mia is an innocent. But how did he find us? I should have gone straight to the police station. Delaying was stupid. Stupid.
I can smell him behind me, a thin trace of deodorant failing to mask the underlying scents of sweat and unwashed clothes. The interior of the car is a mess, the passenger footwell a rubbish dump of screwed-up fast-food wrappers, polystyrene boxes and drinks cartons. The white rucksack lies on a pile of balled up clothes, and in the rearview mirror I can make out the edge of a sleeping bag on the backseat. The whole car smells fetid and stale.
‘What do you want with her?’ I say.
I flinch as he jabs the barrel of the pistol hard into my back again.
There’s silence for a moment before he speaks.
‘Who are you, exactly?’
‘My name’s Ellen Devlin, I’m forty-one, I live in South Greenford, I’m a project manager for an aerospace company.’
‘What the hell were you doing in that bloody café anyway? I was about to come in there and drag you out.’
‘She was hungry, I had to feed her.’
He points over my shoulder, at a road up ahead.
‘Take the next right. The filter lane, there.’
I do as I’m told, guiding the big car into a gap in the traffic.
‘Are you going to shoot me?’
‘I’m thinking about it.’
I drive on, snatching a glance at Mia in the sling against my chest. She’s fretting, whimpering quietly, tiny fists rubbing at her eyes. The warmth of her body radiates through the cotton of my blouse.
‘Shhh,’ I whisper. ‘It’s OK, Mia. You can sleep.’
Mia’s eyes are heavy but she’s still fighting sleep, little grunts and sobs escaping her as she shifts in the carrier.
‘You were the one calling Kathryn when she was on the train,’ I say slowly. I feel a pang of sadness for Kathryn, at what this man might do when he catches up with her. Is he a jealous ex, out to punish her for leaving him, humiliating him by taking their baby away? ‘You’re her other half, aren’t you?’
‘Where the hell were you even going with the baby strapped to you?’
‘To a police station. West End Central.’
‘Christ,’ he says. ‘Good thing I found you then.’
‘Where are we going now?’
He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear.
‘Enough talking. Just drive.’
The right filter light turns green and I accelerate smoothly across the dual carriageway. He’s moved the gun away now, I can’t feel it jabbing through the back of my seat. I run through the possibilities. We’re heading north-west,