A Risky Business #SYTYCW15 #CarinaPress

Chapter Thirty One

Inside the Farringdon house ...

*Damien*

I came to and, at first, struggled to get my bearings. My head was pounding and I eventually realised that I was struggling to see because my left eye must have been so swollen it was barely open. I glanced down. My t shirt was caked in blood. It was dark and dry, it had obviously been there for some time. I couldn't tell if it was mine or not.

I tried to move but my hands were bound tightly behind me with what felt like a sharp plastic. Cable ties or something similar. As I tried to force my hands apart and test the strength of the binds they dug into my wrists and didn't give at all. They weren't going to shift easily.

My ankles were tied to the chair that I was sitting on. Again I tried to free myself but my frantic movements were merely causing the chair to rock, and I knew that if I carried on I would just end up face down on the floor, still attached the chair. I looked around. What could I use to get myself out of this. There was nothing. Nothing that was close enough to grab. No sharp objects to help me to free myself. I hadn't been gagged. Presumably that must mean that there was nobody to come if I shouted. I shouted anyway. I shouted for Mrs Farringdon. I shouted for Steve. I shouted a load of obscenities at whichever bastards had done this to me. I shouted for anybody. But they were right. Nobody came. But on the other hand nobody came to tell me to shut up either, which probably meant that they were not in the slightest bit bothered that I was still alive and kicking.

There was no clock in the small utility room that they had locked me in, and I couldn't see my watch, so I had no idea what the time was or how long I had been in here. After I'd had enough of shouting I decided to have a go at listening. At first I couldn't hear a thing. No movement outside the door, nothing coming through the window from outside, no shouting, no kerfuffle, no car engines.

The trouble was, that did nothing to give me any clue at all as to what was going on. My attention was brought back to my pounding head. I could remember how that happened alright ...

*

Mrs Farringdon, it seemed, had initially been less than impressed that I had turned up to cover the daytime shift instead of Martin.

"I thought you were no longer interested in this particular contract, Damien?" she said. "Have you had a change of heart? Is there something you're missing?"

"I am just providing cover for today," I told her. "Martin is not very well, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately for who?" she quipped.

"Well, him, mainly I suppose," I said.

"So you are glad to be here?" she said. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't be able to keep away."

"Mrs Farringdon ..." I began.

"Oh no, we're not back to that again, are we?" she purred. "Come on Daimey, you know that we're good together."

Do you know what, I just couldn't be bothered to argue with her. I was only going to be here for one day. All I wanted was to get today over and done with and get home in one piece. Maybe if I just humoured her, and played along with her flirting, we might, at least get through the day without either of us embarrassing ourselves or losing our temper.

"Sorry, Cheska." I said, deliberately. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Well," she said. "I was going to ask Martin to take me shopping, but now that you're here maybe we should stay in instead," she smiled.