Whiteout - Ken Follett [114]
“Just here,” he said, pointing to the bedside table. “What on earth is wrong?”
“People with guns in the kitchen—dial 999, quickly!”
“Who are they?”
“Never bloody mind!” She heard heavy footsteps on the landing. She stood frozen, terrified that the door would burst open, but the steps went by. Her voice became a kind of low scream. “They’re probably looking for me, get on with it!”
Hugo came out of shock. He snatched up his phone, dropped it on the floor, picked it up, and jabbed at the “On” button. “Damn thing takes forever!” he said in frustration. “Did you say guns?”
“Yes!”
“How did the people get in?”
“Said they were stranded—what is the matter with that phone?”
“Searching,” he said. “Come on, come on!”
Miranda heard the footsteps outside again. This time she was ready. She flung herself on the floor and slid sideways under the double bed just as the door flew open.
She closed her eyes and tried to make herself small. Feeling foolish, she opened her eyes again. She saw Hugo’s bare feet, with hairy ankles, and a pair of black motorcycle boots with steel-tipped toes. She heard Hugo say, “Hello, gorgeous, who are you?”
His charm did not work on Daisy. She said, “Give me that phone.”
“I was just—”
“Now, you fat fool.”
“Here, take it.”
“Now come with me.”
“Let me put something on.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite your little cock off.”
Miranda saw Hugo’s feet step away from Daisy. She moved quickly toward him, then there was the sound of a blow, and he let out a cry. Both pairs of feet moved toward the door together. They passed out of Miranda’s sight, and a moment later she heard them going down the stairs.
Miranda said to herself, “Oh, God, what do I do now?”
6 A.M.
CRAIG and Sophie lay side by side on the floorboards of the attic, looking down through the hole into the kitchen, as Craig’s father was dragged naked into the room by Daisy.
Craig was shocked and disturbed. It was a scene from a nightmare, or an old painting of sinners being dragged down into hell. He could hardly grasp that this humiliated, helpless figure was his father, the master of the house, the only person with the nerve to stand up to his domineering mother, the man who had ruled Craig for all fifteen years of his life. He felt disoriented and weightless, as if gravity had been switched off and he did not know which way was down.
Sophie began to cry softly. “This is awful,” she whispered. “We’re all going to be murdered.”
The need to comfort her gave Craig strength. He put his arm around her narrow shoulders. She was trembling. “It is awful, but we’re not dead yet,” he said. “We can get help.”
“How?”
“Where is your phone, exactly?”
“I left it in the barn, upstairs by the bed. I think I dropped it into my suitcase when I changed.”
“We have to go there and use it to call the police.”
“What if those terrible people see us?”
“We’ll stay away from the kitchen windows.”
“We can’t—the barn door is right opposite!”
She was right, Craig knew, but they had to take the risk. “They probably won’t look out.”
“But what if they do?”
“You can hardly see across the backyard anyway, in this snow.”
“They’re bound to spot us!”
He did not know what else to tell her. “We have to try.”
“I can’t do it. Let’s just stay here.”
It was tempting, but Craig knew that if he hid himself and did nothing to help his family, he would feel ashamed. “You can stay, if you like, while I go to the barn.”
“No—don’t leave me alone!”
He had guessed she might say that. “Then you’ll have to come with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
He squeezed her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Come on. Be brave.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’ll try.”
He stood up and put on his boots and coat. Sophie sat motionless, watching him in the candlelight. Trying to walk softly, for