Читать книгу The Doctor - Lisa Stone, Lisa Stone - Страница 17

‘Let go of me!’ Alisha cried in pain as Amit’s fingers dug into her arm. ‘You’re hurting me.’ He was half pushing, half dragging her out of the living room and through the hall. ‘What are you doing? I haven’t done anything wrong. Where are you taking me?’

‘The cloakroom,’ he snarled.

‘No! I don’t like being shut in there. I’ll be good. Please. No.’ The room didn’t have a window and Amit had changed the lock so it could be locked from the outside. Alisha knew from experience what it meant to be shut in there – sometimes for hours at a time. She struggled and tried to free her arm, but his grip tightened. ‘Please,’ she begged.

‘If you’re good and stay very quiet, I’ll let you out after he’s gone.’

‘Who? No, don’t, please. I can go upstairs and be quiet if you want.’

He dragged her the last few paces and pushed her in. Slamming the door shut, he locked it.

‘Amit! Let me out. Please, I promise I won’t look.’ She banged on the door.

‘Shut up now or I’ll leave you in there all night.’

Alisha bit into her bottom lip and tried not to cry.

Perspiration stood out on Amit’s forehead as he hurried to the back door, let himself out and then rushed down the sideway. He unpadlocked the gate. The lorry was just parking outside, half an hour fucking early! If it had arrived when it was supposed to, he’d have had Alisha sedated and out of the way in plenty of time. He had taken the day off work to receive the delivery and a couple of minutes ago the driver had texted to say he’d be with him shortly. There was no way he could risk Alisha seeing – the size and shape would raise her suspicions. He hoped the nosy cow next door wasn’t watching. He needed to get the cylinder down the sideway and into his lab as quickly as possible.

‘Delivery for Dr Burman,’ the lorry driver called from the pavement, reading from his e-Pod.

‘That’s me, but you’re early.’

‘Do you want me to come back later then, mate?’

For a second Amit thought he meant it and was about to say yes.

‘Where’s it going?’ the driver asked. ‘It’s big.’

‘The building at the very rear of my garden. It will fit down the sideway.’

‘I’ve heard that before; I’d better take a look.’

Amit led the way down the path.

‘It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’ll give it a go,’ the driver said. ‘What’s plan B?’

‘Through the house,’ Amit said. ‘But it will fit down here. I know, I measured it.’

‘With the packaging?’

Amit felt his stomach sink. He should have thought of that. How stupid! He’d taken the dimensions of the cylinder from the website and had checked them against the width of the sideway. He could have kicked himself.

‘If it won’t fit down here, it will have to go through the house and out through the patio doors,’ he said. But with Alisha not sedated that ran the risk of the driver hearing her if she began screaming and shouting again.

Amit followed the driver out to the front and then watched nervously as he climbed into the back of the lorry. He reappeared a few moments later with his precious package balanced on a hand truck. It was huge and, clad in padding, overhung the edges of the truck, but at a glance it could pass as a very large hot-water cylinder, Amit thought. His heart raced as the driver slowly lowered the tailgate and then pushed the hand truck off, then paused and waved up at the neighbour’s house. Amit followed his gaze. The bloody woman next door was holding her son up at the window to look!

‘All kids like big lorries,’ the driver said amicably as he pushed the truck up the drive.

Amit hurried down the sideway, which thankfully was on the opposite side of the house to Emily, and out of her view. He watched and waited, his breath coming fast and shallow as the driver began inching the package in through the side gate. Pressing the cladding in to ease it through, it just fitted.

‘Thank god,’ Amit said, relieved once it was clear, and hurried ahead to the outbuilding. The driver followed.

‘You want it in there?’ he asked, surprised.

‘No. Leave it outside.’ Amit pointed to a spot to the left of the door.

‘You sure, mate? It’s not so heavy, but it is bulky. I can put it inside if you like.’

‘No. It’s fine there.’

The driver manoeuvred the cylinder from the trolley and stood it where Amit pointed, then passed him his e-Pod to sign for the delivery.

Glancing anxiously at his neighbours’ houses, Amit quickly saw him out and padlocked the side gate behind him. He returned down the garden path to his lab and unlocked the padlock there, then took out the two sheets of hardboard he’d previously cut to size to use as ramps. He’d had it all planned days ago. He placed them either side of the step and then, encircling the cylinder with his arms, he began walking it forward. Small measured steps, as if dancing with a partner, up one side of his makeshift ramp, over the top, down the other and into the security of his lab.

Relieved, he quickly closed the door. He’d done it. The most important item he needed to continue had been safely delivered.