The Devil's Staircase
“The yellow polyester that firmly gagged her mouth was on fire. The woman was Celia. She was thirty-eight and had two children. She’d been in the basement for four weeks.
On the morning she was taken, Celia had finished her single weekly shift, an all-nighter at the hospice off Ladbroke Grove, changed into her power-walking gear, strapped her backpack tight around her back, stopped off at the garage for Walker’s salt and vinegar crisps and the latest Dr Who magazine, which she’d added to her backpack, and then walked fast for two miles till she reached her street. She’d smiled, excited that she would see the faces of her little boys any moment, that she would climb into the king-size bed the four of them inevitably ended up in and cuddle for at least an hour before the breakfast and school-lunch rush. She was looking forward to waving off the husband she still adored, walking the boys to school, having a second cup of coffee, and then snuggling in bed in front of last night’s episode o...f The Bill.MoreLess
On the morning she was taken, Celia had finished her single weekly shift, an all-nighter at the hospice off Ladbroke Grove, changed into her power-walking gear, strapped her backpack tight around her back, stopped off at the garage for Walker’s salt and vinegar crisps and the latest Dr Who magazine, which she’d added to her backpack, and then walked fast for two miles till she reached her street. She’d smiled, excited that she would see the faces of her little boys any moment, that she would climb into the king-size bed the four of them inevitably ended up in and cuddle for at least an hour before the breakfast and school-lunch rush. She was looking forward to waving off the husband she still adored, walking the boys to school, having a second cup of coffee, and then snuggling in bed in front of last night’s episode o...f The Bill.MoreLess
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