Are you really going to put up with this any longer? she heard her late grandmothers voice echo once more as the lift shuddered down the sixteenstorey block.
The household had been on the rocks from day one. Kevin had married her almost straight out of school, never let her finish any qualifications. He expected her to stay home, keep the house in order, and the only thing she managed to achieve was a driving licence and that only because her father never left his workshop, and Kevins mate happened to be a driving instructor.
Ellie only ventured outside when absolutely necessary and the sole necessity was a grocery run to refill the freezer. The alternative was to hang the laundry on the balcony rail.
Kevin monitored her every move. Even taking out the rubbish required her to keep her mobile in the pocket of her nightgown, just in case he rang.
Weekends, which began on Friday evenings, filled Ellie with dread. Kevin would storm in demanding dinner, a chilled bottle of his favourite vodka perched on the table. After the meal he would, with relish, remind her of her worth: Whats the matter, you idiot, you useless thing? When will we have an heir?
Then, leaving her sobbing in the bedroom, hed saunter back to the kitchen, finish his last shot, and ask, Wheres the beer? He knew shed never bought any during the day, so she could steal twentyodd minutes for a breath of fresh air.
What are you mumbling about? the ghostly voice of her grandma prodded as the lift halted midway between floors. Do you like how he treats you?
No, Ellie whispered, he wipes his feet on my back.
And thats only the start, the grandmother warned. Soon itll get worse. Do you want him to pull his claws out?
Oh, God! Ellies throat went dry. No, of course not.
Then run, love, run!
Run where? To mum? Shes in a onebed flat with a new husband. To dad? Hes with his new wife. Im a cutoff slice, Gran. Ive got no one, she stammered, eyes watering.
The brilliance is youre alone. Total freedom, a chance to start over. Imagine if you had a child
But where am I supposed to go? Ellies eyes widened like saucers.
A chance will present itself soon. Dont miss it. Keep peeking out the window. Youll see.
What will I see?
Ive told you enough. Use your head if youre not daft. The lifts moving now. Dont be scared. Go fetch a pint for your dear husband. Oh, and one more thing, the spectre whispered, search the little box I left you after I passed. Its not empty; it has a false bottom. Find what you need, but leave no witnesses. Take only the contents; leave the box behind so he never suspects your escape.
Whats inside?
Answers to your questions.
The lift lurched and Ellie shivered, though the voice hadnt warned her. She stepped out onto a street where a gentle evening was melting the last snow. Soon the streams would rush, nature would be reborn why not she?
***
Kevin had gotten plastered and sprawled across the kitchen table, snoring like a contented pig. While his rumbling filled the flat, Ellie could slip into the kitchen, scan the wooden box, and make a clean grab.
She shook the box over the bed; a cascade of yarn, needles, hooks, buttons, and other craft junk tumbled out. It was the sort of thing you rarely touch, and the old carved box showed no sign of extra compartments. When Kevin saw it, he rolled his eyes and muttered, If its out in the open Ill chuck it. Your nan what a character! Left this for her favourite grandchild. No sense in keeping it.
Ellie turned the box over, feeling for a hidden panel. Nothing. She rattled it, heard a faint click against the wood. Something was there, just out of sight. She kept pressing the protruding edges, but nothing gave. The ghost of her grandmother seemed to be waiting for Ellie to figure it out herself after all, she wasnt a little girl any more.
She settled on the double bed, closed the lid delicately, and ran her fingers along the carved lid. A sudden snap echoed inside and a tiny compartment sprang out, striking her stomach.
Inside she found an envelope, a set of keys, and several sachets with cheeky slogans: Switch on the brain, Freeze the fear, Ignite the focus, Dont be a twit, Kill the weak streak, Feed the meat and more. Grandmother had always been a bit of a storyteller perhaps thats why the neighbours on the landing called her a witch. At home she was just a proper old lady, baking pies and knitting socks, though nobody knew what she did when the building was empty.
She opened the envelope. The papers inside were deeds to a house the very one Gran had once boasted about, built by her grandfather without a single nail, tucked away in the countryside. Another paper transferred ownership of an old Lada Jolly a relic in her fathers garage.
The letter, written in a cramped, looping hand, read:
My dear, the hour has come to open the box. All my assets, except the flat, are yours. If youre reading this, its time. Grab the documents, the boxs contents, and the car. Leave now. Youll find some cash in the glove compartment for the first few weeks. After that youll have to earn your keep. Perhaps youll finally learn something. Love, Gran
Gran had known what awaited Ellie with Kevin, which was why shed opposed the marriage. Even when Ellie disobeyed, Gran never turned angry; after her death she still guided her.
Ellie packed the deeds, the keys, and the sachets into a separate folder. No time for hesitation just pack and run. The first instruction read: Open the gift? Take the sachet Ignite the focus. Sprinkle the powder into milk and drink. Keep the paper, glance at it now and then. There were no further steps, but Gran had asked her not to toss the note, so Ellie slipped it into the folder with the powder.
***
At dawn she rose, feeling unusually clearsighted and alert. She felt under the mattress and found the folder exactly where shed left it. The next note said: Drink a glass of milk with the Dont be a twit powder on an empty stomach. She slipped into the kitchen, where Kevin was still snoring, poured the concoction, and gulped it down. She cracked a window for fresh air, then returned to the bedroom and checked the folder again.
The third note warned: Dont lose the folder, youll meet an enemy. In an hour, drink a cup of tea with Kill the weak streak. The fourth added: In another hour, a cup of coffee with Feed the meat. Stay alert.
Ellie completed each task. After the drinks she felt a surge of energy coursing through her limbs. She stared at herself in the fulllength mirror a surprisingly fit figure, toned arms and legs, a firm core, cheeky glint in her eyes. She could barely recognize the woman who had once tiptoed around Kevins temper.
A sudden thump on the laminate floor announced Kevins return. He stared at her, frowning.
What have you been up to? he snarled.
Nothing, Ellie replied, trying to sound calm.
You look like someones been tinkering with you. A lover, perhaps? he hissed, stepping forward.
His fists clenched, his eyes crackled. Ellies heart raced, but a strange confidence rose within her. Kevin lunged, but she blocked his blows with practiced ease, dodging each swipe. She seized his wrist and twisted, sending a sharp jab into his nose. Blood spurted, and he collapsed, pale and dazed.
Ellie looked down at him, feeling no pity, no fear for his health. She fished the folder from her pocket. The fifth note read: Well done, love. Look out the balcony, dress similarly, leave the door ajar. Place your bag where you see it. Then drink a glass of juice with Freeze the fear. When you collect the car, stop at a café, order a milkshake, add the Switch on the brain sachet. Leave the other sachets alone for now. Get away as fast as you can. Gran
She bolted to the kitchen, mixed the powder, and downed the juice. Then she rushed to the balcony.
On the pavement below lay a teenage girl, face down, hair and clothes identical to Ellies a deadonarrival look, barefoot, shivering in the early March chill, no coat. The sight was eerie, but the powder in her system kept fear at bay.
She pulled on a pair of grey jeans and a black tee she owned, slipped on the nearest pair of worn boots shed found in a rubbish bin, and a threadbare down jacket. She grabbed the folder, slipped her wallet into it, and bolted out barefoot, the cold biting her toes.
A discarded bag near the council bins held a pair of halfsize boots, a battered jacket, and an extra pair of gloves a scavengers treasure. She tucked them into her bag, leaving the empty sack behind as if robbed.
She sprinted across the courtyard, hopping over a pothole, and flagged down a passing trolleybus. No taxis yet; the city was still waking.
Itll take a few changes, but Ill get to the old Jolly, she muttered.
***
Ellie rarely worked in an office, but today she felt lucky perhaps Gran was still watching. An old security guard at the service centre recognised her.
Afternoon, love. Whats the story with that clunker? he asked, handing her the set of keys.
I just need the car. No need for the bosss help, she replied.
Right then. Keys are here. Want a drink? Were low on cash, but maybe a soda?
She took a cheap soda, bought a pair of sturdy winter trainers and a decent coat from a nearby stall, slipped the cash shed found in the glove compartment into her pocket. The money would cover the first few weeks, just as Gran had promised.
She slipped into the drivers seat of the Lada, surprisingly comfortable the grandfather must have upgraded the seats. She waved at the guard, turned the corner, and merged onto the busy A road.
Can you see the signs up there? the voice of Gran whispered inside her head.
Yes, Ellie smiled.
Turn left at the roundabout, head for Canterbury. Youll find what you need. Safe travels, darling.
Thanks, Gran, she replied, glancing at the rearview mirror where, oddly, an image of her grandmother appeared rosycheeked, auburn curls, always wearing a fluffy scarf.
Ellie pressed on, the English countryside stretching ahead, the promise of a fresh start humming in her ears.
