Autobiography

It was good to feel clean again.

Margaux wound her wet hair into a loose plait and looked at the towel folded over the radiator. She couldn't put her clothes back on -- they needed washing -- but she hadn't thought to bring her change of clothes in here with her. Was it safe to venture down the hall in nothing but a towel?

It wasn't a very long walk. If she rushed she could be past the sitting room and in her bedroom in under ten seconds.

Why would Bill bother her anyway? It seemed unlikely when she thought about it. Much as it might be redundant to debate the honour of kidnappers, he had known she was in the bath with the door unlocked -- surely if he was the type to do something, he would have done it already?

She was just being paranoid. This situation made her overthink everything. He made her overthink everything. Margaux took the towel and wrapped it around herself, then opened the door into the hallway.

*

"Did you enjoy your bath?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She sat down beside him, pulling at the hem of her trouser leg nervously. He looked at her strangely, but she pretended not to notice.

"I feel ridiculous asking this, but... do you want any clothes washed?"

He looked at her as if he was trying to find some deeper meaning in her question.

"I realise that you're bored, Margaux, but I didn't expect you to start doing housework."

Her cheeks flushed a faint pink.

"It's not about that. I was going to wash some of mine, that's all."

"How are you planning on doing that?"

She hadn't thought of that.

"...Alright, I may have assumed you'd let me use the washing machine."

"It's fine... You're not planning to drink the detergent, are you?"

"I wish you'd stop saying things like that."

"You'll have to excuse me. I can't afford to lose you."

"I suppose..." She drew her legs up and hugged her knees. "I'm not going to do it, though."

"And I believe you. Mostly. Do you want some wine?"

He got up and left without waiting for a response.

Bill seemed to be in a bit of a strange mood. But then all of his moods were strange, at least to her. She had no idea which aspect of him was the real person, and which was the facade. Of course there was always the possibility that it was all him; perhaps he really was as changeable as he seemed. The thought of that was enough to raise goosebumps on her arms.

He returned with just one glass of red wine, which he pressed into her hands.

"Aren't you drinking?"

"Not until Robert gets back." He returned to his seat and started flicking through the channels. "Someone needs to be sober when you make a run for it."

Bill grinned. Margaux frowned.

She held the glass under her nose and inhaled; it smelled good -- spicy and rich -- but she was hesitant to taste it.

"You haven't put anything in this?"

"Why, Margaux, I'm offended." He smirked at her. She didn't feel especially reassured. "Don't you trust me?"

"I can't decide whether you're trying to be funny."

He came across a channel playing Jonathan Creek and put down the remote.

"There's nothing but Chianti in that glass, Margaux. I promise."

She looked down at the purplish-red liquid.

"I suppose it doesn't make much difference, does it? You'd still manage to drug me anyway."

"I'm glad we understand each other. Get comfortable, Margaux, this is a good episode."

*

Margaux was lying in bed when she heard the front door slam, and heavy footsteps paced down the hall.

"Any problems?"

"No. She's an obedient girl. Where did you go in the end?"

"Hull."

"Everything's ready?"

"Yeah. There's a postal strike on Friday, though."

"Another day's wait won't kill us."

"True." Sofa springs creaking. The hiss of a can opening. "Do you think he'll call the police?"

"He knows we'll kill her if he does."

Margaux felt a stab of horror. She had come to terms with the prospect of violence, had even accepted that at the end of all this she still might not come out alive, but it hadn't really occurred to her that they might simply decide to get rid of her at any moment.

"Yeah, but I mean -- most of them call the police anyway."

"Then we'll just have to make sure they take us seriously, won't we?"

There was a long period of silence. Margaux could only assume they were watching TV. She lay perfectly still, part of her convinced that somehow they might figure out she was listening and decide to punish her.

"I'm going to bed."

"Alright. I'll wake you in three hours."

"Make it four."

"...Alright."

She heard Bill padding down the hallway, then the click of a door shutting behind him.

It took her a long time to fall asleep.

*

Author's Notes:

Short chapter, filler really, but I needed to bridge the gap between scenes. Another chapter will be uploaded today, if all goes to plan. Once again I ask that you take a moment to rate or review. Thanks :) x