Someone To Save you by Paul Pilkington Read Free Book Online Page B

seemingly unconvinced.
     
     
    ‘Sam. It’s Doug. Sorry to call you out of the office.’
    ‘Doug,’ Sam said, as he emerged from the BBC building onto the busy pavement. The heavens had opened and the rain was bouncing up from the pavement, so he sheltered in the entrance. ‘Did you hear the interview?’
    ‘I caught the end of it,’ he replied, ‘they had the radio on in the staff room and everyone who could was listening. That last caller was something else. I mean, talk about deranged.’
    ‘Tell me about it,’ Sam said, resting against the wall of the building and watching as taxis and buses splashed by. He’d spent the past few minutes since the interview reflecting on the caller and his words. What sort of person gets their kicks out of that sort of thing? ‘What’s up?’
    ‘It’s not good news,’ Doug replied. ‘I was going to tell you when you got back, but I thought you’d want to know straight away.’
    ‘Go on,’ Sam said, moving out into the heavy rain, already looking for a free taxi. It had to be something at the hospital.
    ‘It’s that young patient of yours, Sophie Jackson. She’s gone downhill, and they’ve rushed her into theatre. Sister Keller told me that it’s not looking good.’
    ‘Shit,’ Sam said as he scanned the road – all the cabs were taken. ‘Who’s operating? Mr Khan?’
    ‘Miles,’ Doug replied. ‘Prof. Khan is on his way.’
    This was not good. Miles was technically a good surgeon, but not in the Professor’s league and Sam only wanted the best for Sophie. ‘I don’t believe it.’
    ‘You can see why I called.’
    ‘Sure, thanks Doug, I appreciate it. I’ll be there as quick as I can.’
     
     
     
     
    7
     
     
     
    She lay down on the thin, uncomfortable mattress, staring at the ceiling that was flaking and black from damp. The room, bare except for the double bed, smelt like the cellar in her house. One time she had wandered down there, looking for fairies, only to panic in the darkness as the door closed behind her. Her mum had come to the rescue, chastising her for tackling the steep set of stairs at the age of five. Rescued from that total, all-encompassing darkness, she had never been as relieved in all her life.
    But this time her mother wasn’t here to save her.
    She sat up against the limp, stained pillow and held her head in her hands. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been in the room. They had taken her watch as soon as she had arrived. There were no windows, so she couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. It must have been hours and hours since the last meal, and her stomach growled, even though she didn’t feel like eating. Her hair, usually kept so pristine, was greasy and unwashed, as was her face.
    Then, next door, she heard a noise. A man’s voice, muffled, but definitely the deep voice of a man. She put her ear against the wall and recoiled as she heard moans and groans, this time from both a man and woman. Placing her hands tight against her ears, she began to cry.
    And then a lock clicked, and the door to the room opened.
    She scrambled back against the bedstead, like an animal trapped by its prey.
    ‘Is okay,’ the young woman said, edging into the room, holding out a hand. ‘I not hurt you.’
    She watched as the woman, wearing a short, tight leather skirt and tightly fitting red top, moved towards her, beckoning her with both hands.
    Could this be a trap?
    ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘I help you out. Get out.’ She reached out her hand to the frightened child. She was pretty, but would be prettier without the over liberal make-up. ‘Come. Not afraid. Your name?’
    ‘Amy,’ she said, without hesitation. It was the name of her best friend in school. Amy Long. They’d been friends since play school, meeting for the first time on a play frame.
    ‘Come, Amy. My name is Yvette. We go. But quick.’
    She took Yvette’s hand. It was rougher than she expected.
    ‘Good,’ Yvette said, as