on his face that made him look almost like he was made of wax.
In his hands he held a tray. There was a plate of food and a glass of milk on it. He put it on the floor, then locked the door with a key he kept on a chain around his wrist. She made a note of that.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Something to eat.’
His voice was halting, the words coming in bursts. Something – pause – to eat. It was as though he didn’t get much practice speaking.
Maggie looked at the plate. There were some kind of fried potatoes and a few stalks of boiled broccoli, along with some fish fingers. Fish fingers! How old did he think she was? Six?
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said. ‘I want to go home.’
He stared at her for a while, his mouth settling into a look of resigned disappointment.
‘I thought you might say that,’ he replied. ‘That’s not going to’ – another pause, followed by a rush of words – ‘be possible, I’m afraid.’ He smiled, his gums pink and fleshy. ‘Sorry, my darling.’
Maggie’s skin prickled. ‘You can’t keep me here,’ she said. ‘Let me go.’
He shook his head.
She clenched her fists. ‘Let me go!’ she shouted. ‘You have to let me go!’
‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he said. ‘Not any more. Not now.’
‘My mum will find me,’ Maggie said. ‘My mum and dad will come and find me so you might as well let me leave now. If you let me go I won’t tell anyone what you did.’
‘I’m touched by your faith in your parents,’ the man said. ‘But I don’t think you’re right. There’s no way she will be able to find you here. No one will. I’ve put a lot of thought – and effort – into this.’ He made a sweeping gesture, indicating the room around them. ‘It’s totally hidden. I made sure of that.’
He spoke in a serious, quiet voice. Maggie fought the urge to scream.
‘What do you want?’ Maggie said. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I don’t want anything from you,’ the man replied. ‘What would I want from you? I want to help you.’
‘Help me?’ Maggie shook her head. ‘This isn’t helping me,’ she said. ‘This is the opposite of helping me.’
‘No,’ the man said. ‘You say that because you don’t understand. This is what you need. I’m giving you what you need.’
His pink, gummy smile came again. He looked at her, his eyes lidded. He was trying to be seductive, she realized. She shuddered.
The panic came closer to the surface. Her vision blurred. She took a deep breath. It was a struggle to retain what little control of herself she had left.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand. How is this what I need?’
‘Because this will keep you safe,’ the man said. ‘That’s all I want. To keep you safe.’
It was the worst possible situation. He thought he was doing the right thing, and people who thought that were nearly impossible to convince they were wrong, especially when they were crazy.
She didn’t know much – where she was, who he was, what his plans were – but she knew one thing. She knew she was in a lot of trouble.
‘Why me?’ she said. ‘Why do you care about me being safe?’
The man frowned. His expression darkened, his mouth flattening into an angry line. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he said.
It was far from obvious, but Maggie nodded. ‘Kind of,’ she said. ‘But not completely.’
The man raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, as though explaining something extremely simple to someone who should not need it explaining.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Why would anyone do all this?’ Again, he gestured at the room. ‘I mean, there’s only one reason to go to all this trouble for someone, isn’t there?’
‘I suppose so,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s because …’ she paused, leaving the question hanging.
The man laughed. ‘I can’t believe I have to tell you!’ he said. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going to be OK, for the same reason that I built all of this.’ He smiled. ‘It’s because I love you, dummy. Why else would it be?’
Maggie stared at him.
‘You don’t – you can’t love me. You don’t even know me!’
The man giggled. ‘Come on now, Fruitcake, of course I do!’
Fruitcake? Had he called her Fruitcake? That was impossible. Only her dad called her that.
‘Who told you about Fruitcake?’ she whispered. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I know everything about you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been watching you for years. And now you’re mine.’ He smiled. ‘Safe and sound and all mine, forever and ever.’
Maggie felt bile rise in her throat. She leaned forward and retched, vomit splattering the carpet by the side of the bed. The man tutted. His expression had hardened, the anger back.
‘I’m sorry you did that,’ he said. ‘What a mess you made.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll bring you something to clean it up with tomorrow, but tonight, to remind you not to do it again, you can live with it.’
Maggie didn’t care. The room already smelled of vomit. She’d rip up a corner of carpet or pull the mattress over it and cover it somehow.
‘Fine,’ she said, looking up at him through narrowed eyes. Part of her knew antagonizing him was a bad idea, but she didn’t care. She was angry. ‘Leave it. If it means you go away then that’s fine by me.’
His expression hardened further. ‘I am trying,’ he said, slowly. ‘To help you. To take care of you. Have you any idea what could happen to you out there? Here you’re safe. Protected. Sheltered. Out there’ – he shook his head – ‘you could be ruined.’ He reached into the pocket of his robe and took out the packet of Marlboro Lights she had bought a few days back. ‘These, for example. It’s unbecoming for a young lady to smoke this filth. I can’t allow that. I have to help you. Don’t you see?’
Maggie ignored the question. ‘Leave me alone,’ she said. Her voice rose to a scream. ‘Just fucking fuck off!’
He flinched. ‘Don’t swear,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t like it. Good girls don’t swear. And you’re a good girl, which is why you’re here.’
‘Fuck,
