Ch32: Stolen Aug 30th part 2

Ian pulls the boat up to the dock and throws me the ropes. I secure them and look up in time to see him jump off the boat, unable to conceal a wide smile as he comes at me. I mirror the expression, but all I see is the edge of a blade reflected in his eyes. He’s mine, I think as I let him hug and kiss me. Mine to kill. He’s excited, almost childlike. I wonder if there’s a good side to Ian, if somehow keeping me here was all a mistake – something that got out of hand and he feels can’t be fixed now?

“I’ve got presents!”

Oh, goody, I think. Just what I need. Perhaps he’ll surprise me with a ticket off these islands.

“Fantastic,” I say. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you up at the cottage. Here, take these.” He starts handing me bags of supplies. There are two bags of coal again and also two bags of wood pellets. I read the label as he hands the first to me, it’s some kind of long burn wood for the fireplace. I realise now that he’s stocking me up for the approaching winter. No surprise plane ticket home, then.

“Careful with this one, it’s got the eggs.” He hands over a bag. “And this one, it’s got tonight’s dinner.”

I smell something meaty and potatoey in the second bag. The bottom is still warm. Ian’s been busy this morning.

“How’s the turbine, broken again?” The bags are all out on the pier now, even the coal sacks. He’s not holding back anything this time. My performance must be winning him over.

“No, it’s been fine.”

“Good, must have done the trick with the last fix.”

I nod and smile, as appropriate, while thinking of the switch and imagining him creeping around the island in the small hours. I grab a few bags and start lugging supplies up to the cottage.

Humphrey is following me, and Ian keeps giving him curious looks.

“That rabbit has really taken to you.”

“Yup,” I say and lean down to give him a scratch behind the ears.

He lets out a laugh. “I have a fabulous recipe for rabbit. He looks like a big juicy fellow. Would make a substantial dinner.”

“No!” I say and put myself protectively between the rabbit and him.

“I’m only kidding,” he says and comes up to give me a hug. “I’d never do anything so cruel.”

Back at the cottage I concentrate on putting things away. I don’t want to listen to his drivel, claims of being an upstanding citizen and everything else he gets up to while I am a prisoner here. Has he somehow forgotten that I don’t want to be on the island?

He presents me with a new generation iPad Mini. He’s loaded it up with music and games. “To help you while away the hours.” He reaches in the bag again and pulls out a woolly bobble hat. It’s red, like my jacket. “The nights are getting cold. The days will get chilly soon as well. This’ll help keep you warm.”

“Thank you,” I say and force myself to give him a warm hug.

The afternoon goes as I planned. Ian takes me down to the loch and digs up a few worms. He shows me how to hook them on and cast the line out. Stabbing the worm on the hooks almost makes me physically sick. I think I’d have to be on the verge of starvation to attempt it.

The loch is brimming with fish. As I sit beside Ian, swotting at midges, the line tugs. He’s only had the line in the water for about ten minutes. He pulls out a fat mackerel.

“Tomorrow’s dinner!” he says, quite obviously pleased with himself. “I’ll show you how to gut it.”

The seagulls are smart and already know what’s coming. They begin to swarm around as Ian pulls a knife out of the tackle box and slits the belly of the fish open. He scoops the insides out and tosses them into the water. Then he rinses his hands and gives the fish and knife a quick wash.

“I’m not so sure if I could do that.” I feel sick again, and it’s not the baby doing making me that way.

“It’s not so bad once you’ve done it a few times. I remember when my father made me do it the first time. Probably wasn’t so bad as I’d seen him do gut fish and game many times already.”

“What now?”

“I’ll prepare it back at the cottage and leave it on the larder shelf. It’ll keep until tomorrow night for you. I’ll write everything down in case you decide to give it a go yourself.”

I grimace. No chance. We gather everything up and head back home. Ian puts the dinner he brought with him straight in the oven. Turns out it’s a cottage pie. As with everything he cooks, it smells divine.

The evening goes quickly. We eat and enjoy sitting outside as the sun slowly lowers. The nights are drawing in quickly, and by half eight the sun will be down. Ian goes for his bath just after the sunset, and I know what will happen next. I check that the knife is in position. I briefly think about putting it under the mattress while he’s in the bath, but decide against it. I haven’t tested to see if it would stay there. Too late to make changes to my plan now.

My hearts beating hard as he comes out of the bathroom, a towel the only thing covering him. He comes over and kisses me, leading to me the bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed and helps me out of my shirt and bra. My trousers come next. I prepare myself for the sex, I must give a good performance, be believable. But Ian doesn’t do anything. He stares at my belly.

“What…” he reaches for me, for my belly, but stops short. “You’re pregnant?” He sits next to me. “Is that what’s going on, are you?”

I’m about fifteen weeks along. There’s no hiding the neat little bump now. I nod at him, unable to meet his eyes.

Ian runs his hands through his damp hair. “Oh my God.” He gets up and puts his clothes on. Any erection he had has shrunk to nothing.

While he gets dressed I turn on my side and slid one hand down the back of the mattress. I find the stick and it’s reassuring as I wrap my fingers around the base.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure. I only started to show this week, and even then I wasn’t sure.”

Ian nods. He’s frowning, pacing. This isn’t like when Chris found out and he couldn’t hold back his excitement. Ian strikes me as troubled, unsure. He takes a sudden step towards me and I almost pull the stick out, but he turns at the last moment and stalks into the living room. Seconds later the front door slams.