Tom and Gabby Ch. 09 - Linda's Parents

He then presses something on his phone and the onscreen slot machine spins. He does it to ensure he can deny any culpability if Tom were to suddenly walk in.

"When you both leave, Linda and Tom are going to want to come and wave you off," I inform him. "They're going to stay by the front door, waving until your car is out of view. While they're busy doing that, I'm going to go through the kitchen, out of the back door and into the garden. I'm going to get out through the back gate and use the alleys to get up to the next street. I'll wait for you to pick me up from there," I tell him, earnestly.

"How the fuck am I going to pick you up? Wend's going to be in the car with me?" he frustratedly demands.

"I'll hide myself out of sight, behind the bins. Once you get up out of this road, you're going to need to stop your car, and tell her that you think you've forgotten... your phone," I set out, thinking on my feet.

Daz shakes his head and chews his bottom lip.

"When you've stopped, get out of your car to go and look for your phone in the boot," I continue. "That'll be my cue. I'll keep myself low, come over and climb in, while it's open. Once I'm inside, miraculously find your phone and close the boot. Wendy will never know. You won't hear a peep from me, all the way back to Manchester."

I'm impressed with my own planning. I made it up as I went along, but the more I think about it, the more I'm confident in its potential to work.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Daz utters, contemplatively.

"By the time Tom and Linda know I'm gone, we'll be halfway up the motorway. They'll panic, of course they will, but will assume I've gone the same route as last time. They'll have no reason to suspect that I'm sixty miles away. And when we arrive, that'll be the end of your part. As soon as I'm out of the boot, I'll go my own way. It'll be hard, but I'll be able to start again. You and your family can all move on with your lives happily. Please, we can do this," I whisper, almost trembling with excitement and anticipation.

"You're fucking crazy," Daz verbalises.

"Maybe. But I'm not fucking insane!" I insist. We lock eyes for a second, and I can see him mentally envisaging my plan, weighing up its chances of working.

He continues to try and look inconspicuous, like we're not engaged in a conversation about him aiding my escape.

I hear Tom finishing his phone call in the kitchen and spring up from the sofa to rush back over to my beanbag at full pelt. My heart is pounding in my chest.

A minute later, just as I've replaced my hands back onto my head, Tom strides through the door into the room. He looks around at the empty seats.

"Sorry about that mate. New client. Where's Lind and Wendy?" he asks curiously.

Daz slips his phone away before responding.

"No worries fella. Lind's just showing her mum around the house," he says hurriedly.

Tom nods, accepting the explanation and sits down into his seat.

Daz is tentative, his posture is uptight.

"So, are you really happy with our Linda, Tom?" he unannouncedly asks. I suspect this is his attempt at small talk.

Tom chuckles to himself, thinking of how best to react. "I've never felt this way about anyone in my life Daz. Linda is perfect. We just complete each other. Everything she is, it's like the missing parts to my jigsaw puzzle, and I think I'm hers. I'm a better man when I'm with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, worshipping her and treating her like a queen. It's the way she deserves to be treated," he speels off.

He realises how sickly sentimental he sounds and laughs at himself.

"I'm not normally one to get mushy," he adds.

"I get it fella, I really do," Daz responds. "It was the exact same when I met her mother. I couldn't believe this...angel...wanted to share a life with me. I wake up pinching myself most mornings. I know we bicker half the time, but she's my total world. Marrying her was the best thing I ever did."

I turn my nose up. Surely, he can't be talking about Wendy? I can't imagine anyone feeling these things about her. I've only known her for about an hour, but she strikes me as a total monster, not someone's world.

My mind strays inappropriately to imagining whether she is or was at some point, particularly skilled at fucking? Could this be the reason for Daz's misplaced devotion to her? I see no other possible reason.

"I love the bones of Lind, Daz. Honestly. I wake up happy every day, even on days when she's at work, or I'm at work, because I know, I'm going to be coming home to her. She's an absolute goddess," Tom expresses.

I feel bile rising in my throat.

Daz hums, fully believing Tom's feelings for his stepdaughter.

"I'm glad to hear it fella, I am," Daz hums. "And I wish you both a long and happy life together. But where does your ex really fit into all that? Wouldn't it be better to just....cut her loose and spend your lives as a two, instead of a two plus whatever the fuck she is." He nudges his head towards me as he says it.

I immediately recognise his attempts to sour the appeal of keeping me and suspend my offence at the way he speaks of me.

Tom immediately downs his eyebrows, looking over at Daz sceptically. "As I said to you when I first told you about our situation Daz. I would've done just that, but Lind and I made this decision as a couple," he says this slowly to emphasise Linda's involvement in keeping me.

"We're not doing it for ourselves Daz," he insists. "We're genuinely worried about Gabby's welfare and her mental state. That's our motivation to keep her here with us. If she gets better someday and convinces us that she's able to face the world on her own, then great. Lind and I will be happy to consider letting her leave. But for the time being, the best place for her is here with us." He finishes speaking and scoots forward in his seat.

"Are you alright mate?" he asks Daz. "You look like you're struggling with some shit over there?"

He looks over at me suspiciously, trying to find a way to blame me. I ignore him, trying to subliminally message Daz to pull himself together.

Daz seems to realise that he's rousing concern and speaks up.

"I'm fine fella. I just don't want you to feel compelled to have your ex here while you're planning a future with Lind. I know she treated you like bollocks and that must be a bitter pill. But what about when two want to have a baby together? Have you thought that far ahead?"

Tom inhales sharply, and casts me another filthy glance, his eyebrows raised.

"Of course we have mate. We want a whole football team of kids. And when the time is right, we'll have them," he addresses the question.

"But what are you going to do with your ex when you have your kids? Surely you won't want her on the scene when you're raising them?" Daz presses.

"Dude," Tom sounds sternly. "Lind and me will talk about all this when the time comes. It's not something we need to worry about right now. Things are good as they at the moment. Everything's as it's meant to be."

He pulls his tobacco tin from the table beside him and starts rolling a smoke, casting doubtful looks over to Daz as he does. Daz senses his defensiveness and declines to push the matter any further.

The eerie quiet is disturbed when Linda and Wendy return to the room. Wendy immediately sits down beside Daz, grinning to herself.

"How was the tour?" Daz asks her.

"Oh, terrific," she answers. "Linda has gotten this house beautiful. Everything is so neutral and tasteful now. She showed me some of the pictures of it before, and it's like something from the television. It'll be so much easier to sell now!" she gushes over her daughter's apparent homemaking skills.

"And..." she lowers her voice. "Linda let me have a sneak peek at some of the toys they keep for madam over there. They've got dozens! If they ever wanted a bit of extra income, they could get paid to test vibrators out on her and review them!"

Daz laughs, uneasily.

Linda remains standing, appearing to have calmed down from the earlier discussions with her mother.

"Lind?" Tom calls to attract her attention.

Linda beams at him and struts over, leaning down so he can whisper something to her. She nods once she's received the message and kisses him lovingly.

"Right, Gabrielle," she says, straightening. "Tom reckons you might need to use the toilet."

I look confusedly at her and then at Tom, who is glaring at me menacingly. I don't know what I've done to incur this wrath.

"I'm alright," I proclaim, feeling thoroughly belittled and bewildered by the suggestion.

"Come on," she overrules me, and stands waiting.

I contemplate whether it's worth defending my stance but decide that she'll find another way to humiliate me if I resist. I stand from my beanbag and walk out of the room slowly. As I pass Daz, he's looking uncomfortable again. Linda pursues me closely.

I turn into the kitchen and walk through it, towards the toilet.

As I step inside, Linda speaks before I can close the door.

"I'll come and get you in a few minutes," she tells me.

I shut the door and sit down onto the closed toilet seat, hearing Linda leaving the kitchen.

My mind is running at a million miles an hour, thinking of all the possibilities that might open up, if Daz and me can make my plan successful. I'm equally nervous and excited at the same time.

Daz is convinced by my side of things; I'm sure of it. I saw his valiant attempts to sway Tom to release me. Tom's refusal to even entertain the idea demonstrated his irrationality, and Linda's by proxy.

I'm pleased with myself and wonder whether my penchant for Irish accents could have been a precursor for an Irishman rescuing me from my predicament.

I'm so busy going over the logistics of getting through the garden gate that I don't consider how much time has passed, until I hear footsteps sounding through the kitchen, followed by a knock on the toilet door.

"Are you finished in there Gabrielle?" Linda calls.

"I'm done," I say, not wanting to rouse suspicion.

I stand up and flush the toilet, despite having not used it.

I swing the door open and am surprised by Linda standing directly in front of it, waiting with a hand on her hip.

"Come on," she prompts. "Our guests are going to be leaving shortly."

She couldn't possibly know the ramifications this small sentence is going to bring.

She beckons for me to walk in front of her. As I pass the backdoor, I see the keys to it, hanging on the hook on the wall beside it. I'm going to do it right this time. I'll not be getting another chance if anything goes wrong, I'm sure of that.

I return to the lounge, where Tom, Wendy and Daz are all sat, quietly, exactly as I left them. I feel Tom and Wendy stalking me with their eyes as I return to the beanbag and seat myself on it.

Linda follows shortly after I'm seated and hands me a plastic tumbler, filled with water.

As I sip my drink, I listen to Wendy, Tom and Linda speaking about Tom's business, and how he plans to expand it in the future. Linda has plenty of ideas on ways to help him do this.

It's a very dull subject, though I take some comfort from the knowledge that once I'm safely away from them, I'll never have to hear mention of it again.

Daz has returned to his phone, detaching himself from the conversation. I expect he's thinking about my plan and his role in it. He does his upmost best to not look over towards me. It's probably deliberate, to avoid alerting his overbearing wife to his complicity. She'd eat him alive for it.

"Right," Wendy suddenly announces, nudging Daz with her elbow. "We'd better be off, hadn't we? Are you ready?" Her voice disturbs me from my fantasising about a future without Tom and Linda in it.

Daz looks up from his phone, startled. "Yep," he says. "Let's go."

"If you could try and get us back home without killing us, I'd appreciate it," Wendy enthuses, making a dig at his driving.

I remain silent, but revel in the fact that unknowingly, her use of the word 'us' also includes me. I don't personally care how fast Daz chooses to drive, as long as he gets me to Manchester without being discovered.

Wendy stands and Daz slowly joins her. Linda briefly disappears to collect their coats from the hallway and Tom stands to deliver the necessary affections.

Wendy exchanges some quiet words with him, as they hug. I'm able to distinguish a few choice phrases about 'trusting him' and being 'delighted that her daughter found him'.

When Linda returns, she passes her parents' coats to them each in turn. Wendy insists on her daughter holding her coat, while she slips her arms into it, proving her overinflated sense of self, then inhales deeply.

"We'll text you as soon as we've arrived back," she drawls. "I was thinking that in a few weeks, we could arrange to do a bit of shopping in Prestwich. There's a lovely little bridal boutique that we could visit."

"Mum," Linda laughs. "We haven't even got the Decree Absolut yet."

"If Tom's solicitor is as good as you've said, it'll only be a couple of months darling. What's the harm in trying on a few dresses, to get an idea of what style you want?" Wendy counterargues.

Linda rolls her eyes and smiles. "Alright mum, we'll arrange it for a few weeks."

Wendy smiles, and hugs her now, having gotten her own way.

As she pulls away, she looks back down to me.

"We'll be seeing you soon, missy," she speaks down to me. I grimace up at her, smug in the knowledge that she's going to be unknowingly facilitating my escape in just a few minutes.

I hear her comment to Linda about my lack of basic manners.

Daz puts his jacket on in the background, and I watch him fumble to stuff his phone into the left pocket of it. I don't think anyone else saw him do it, but I can't be sure.

He follows as Wendy leaves the room, heading for the front door. Linda and Tom walk behind them. Neither of them speaks to me as they go, unable to possibly imagine this being the last time they see me. It serves as an eloquent end to our miserable time together.

As soon as they're out of sight, and I've heard the front door open, I slowly ease myself up from the beanbag and creep quietly to the door, peering down the hall to see them. Tom and Linda are both standing outside the front door, conversing with Wendy as she's climbing into the car. There's no sign of Daz, and I assume that he must've already climbed in.

I'm quick and silent as I snake my way out of the door, and bear right into the kitchen. Time is of the essence, and I can't afford to waste any. I move towards the back door, and instinctively reach up to key hook. My hand hits the wall. The keys that had been hanging there only twenty minutes ago, have been moved in the time between my being in the kitchen and now.

"Fuck," I hiss, feeling my plan unravelling in front of me.

I look around the kitchen, surmising where they might've moved the key to before forlornly realising that I've somehow been discovered. Tom must have heard Daz and I talking. It's the only explanation. I have no contingency plan. I can't go out through the front door, it's heavily guarded.

The only thing to do is to return to the lounge and deny any wrongdoing when they return from waving off Linda's parents. I briefly think about Daz, pulling up his car and waiting for me in the next street, wondering what's happening. I almost feel guilty for his trouble.

I dart back across the tiled kitchen floor, ensuring I'm not going to be seen sneaking back into the lounge, and see Tom on the outside of the front door. To my horror, he's no longer facing Daz's car, and is instead looking into the house, right at me. "Have you got your phone Daz?" he calls back, over his shoulder, dramatically.

"Yeah, I've got it," Daz's voice sounds from the driveway, somewhere out of sight.

Tom's face twists into a smirk and I squint worriedly back at him. He slowly steps back inside the house, into the hall.

"Were you looking for something Gabby?" he asks, inching nearer to me. When he's a few feet away, he pulls the keys from his pocket and dangles them from his hand for me to see. My stomach sinks. His wide frame blocks my access back into the lounge.

"Table," he growls monosyllabically, in a tone that sends shivers down my spine. "Now."

The front door is open in front of me, inviting me to try something rash, but as I approach it on my way to the dining room, I notice Daz and Wendy walking back towards the house. Both of them are smiling and looking extraordinarily pleased with themselves.

Linda is following behind them, also looking pleased, shaking her head at something.

I realise in this instance, in seeing Daz, that my inflated hopes of getting away had all been a set up. They'd been testing if I'd try to execute another escape plan, and I'd failed miserably.

I recall Tom's interactions with Daz when he'd returned from the kitchen to us. I don't know how I misunderstood it so badly and wanted to believe the situation to be working in my favour. Things so seldom work in my favour nowadays.

He'd been immediately disbelieving over Daz's nervous assurances that nothing had been wrong. Everything subsequent seems to fall into place in my mind now.

Tom's request for Linda to remove me from the room, suggesting that I needed to go to the toilet, was a ploy. A way to get Daz alone in order to investigate the details of my intended actions.

I desperately want to believe that Daz hadn't been planning to report my intentions from the beginning.

I turn into the dining room just as Linda's parents step back into the house.

As I slowly trundle over to the table, I feel Tom behind me, and am forced to stop when he grabs for the back of my trousers to tear them down my legs roughly. He unburdens me of my knickers as well.

He spins me round heavy handedly, before hauling my t-shirt up and over my head, stripping me completely, before lifting me up and dropping me down onto the table. I'm a naked, nervous wreck at this point.

He circles me, fastening the binds as he moves round, restraining my arms and legs tightly, not speaking a word.

His choosing not to speak is more unsettling than if he'd berated me.

When he's fixed me in place, I hear the sound of the front door closing, and Linda waltzes into the room, far happier than she's been all day.

She's followed by Wendy and Daz.

Tom busies himself with bringing the microphone stand over and putting it in position at the bottom of the table, between my outspread feet.

Wendy and Daz stand beside the sideboard, looking at the unsettling scene before them.

Linda moves herself to the top of the table and crouches down. She dons a faux sympathetic expression, as if she somehow doesn't want to be in this position.

"Did you really think we wouldn't have warned my mum and Daz what you're like, Gabrielle?" she demands.

Tom joins in the ridicule from the bottom of the table. "They didn't believe that you'd be so arrogant to think they would actually help you," he informs me.

"We were convinced you'd try something. We've been waiting all morning for it. We couldn't know exactly what you'd do, but we knew you'd try," Linda continues, exaggerating the word 'try'.

"Wendy assumed that in your delicate mental state, you'd be grateful for everything we do for you," Tom remarks, and shakes his head.

"We thought it'd be best to let your plan play out. And we've all seen you sitting smugly, thinking it was going to work," Linda delights in revealing, making me feel like an utter idiot.

"You were smug, right up until the moment you got into that kitchen, weren't you?" Tom grins.

"And now, we're going to let my parents watch how we deal with this kind of thing. They're even going to get involved a bit later," Linda says. It's an ominous notion.