Page 45 of Perfect Strangers

‘Listen to me, Sophie,’ he commanded. ‘Those men will kill you. Do you understand me?’

She began to speak, but he shook her arm again.

‘Do you understand me?’

She nodded, remembering how close she had come to being shot.

‘Then it’s the only way. In about thirty seconds they’re going to realise that we didn’t go the other way and kick in that gate. And I don’t want to be here when they do, do you?’

Sophie shook her head.

‘Okay, let’s go.’

Holding hands, they waded into the water. It was shockingly cold, like plunging into an icy b

ath. By the time they were up to their necks, Sophie’s teeth started to rattle. She had looped her bag around her arm, and at least that was floating a little, like a makeshift buoyancy aid. It was not her robust waterproof Prada backpack – that had ended up at the dress agency – but it was nylon, and despite the bullet hole in the side pocket, she hoped it wouldn’t spring a leak.

‘Keep moving,’ whispered Josh, his voice shaking, but his grip on her hand reassuringly strong. ‘It’s not far, just down to the next pier.’

Sophie felt as if her whole body had seized up in the numbing cold. It was an effort to move her legs forward, and without Josh there, she was sure she would have gone under. Just a little further, she told herself. Just keep going. But it was so hard. Her feet were sore from the gravelly river bed, and her sodden clothes were impossibly heavy, dragging at her every move.

‘That’s it,’ said Josh. ‘Good girl, almost there.’

And then she could see the dark outline of the pier, the black wooden uprights looming out of the water ahead of them. She redoubled her efforts, reaching out and clinging to the struts.

‘Sophie, look up,’ Josh said, into her ear. There was an old iron ladder leading up on to the pier. He placed her hands on the first rung and pushed her up. Her legs and arms felt like stone – heavier, even – but she struggled up and lay sprawled on the wooden deck, Josh following right behind her.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he whispered urgently, his voice shaking from the cold. ‘It won’t take them long to work out where we are.’

He tugged at her jacket, pulling it over her shoulders.

‘What are you doing?’ she said, her teeth chattering.

‘Take it off, your jeans too,’ he said, pulling his own jumper over his head. ‘Wet clothes will slow us down and leave a trail for them to follow.’

Sophie did as she was told, stripping to her T-shirt and pants, shivering like one of those shaved dogs you saw tied up outside fancy boutiques on the King’s Road. Josh removed his own clothes, down to a pair of dark boxer shorts. He pulled a set of keys from his jeans pocket and pushed everything they had been wearing back into the water. He was just about to do the same with her bag but she stopped him.

‘No, not that,’ she said urgently. ‘I need my bag.’

‘Sophie, we haven’t got time . . .’

‘Give it to me. Now, Josh.’

She knew it didn’t make any sense, but at that moment, her bag was incredibly important to her. She’d abandoned her flat, her family and friends, she was stripped to her underwear. That bag was the only link to her old life, a link back to a time when anything made sense; she would rather face those men than leave it behind.

Josh clearly saw the determination in her face and handed the dripping sack to her.

‘Come on, then,’ he said, taking her hand again.

She flinched; standing in their underwear, the gesture felt too intimate, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

‘I said, let’s move it,’ he growled.

At first, Sophie almost fell to her knees. Her muscles had locked through the cold, but it was warmer to keep moving, warmer – and safer. She knew Josh was right about those men. They weren’t going to sit down and ask them reasonable questions, like the police. They were going to kill them and dump their bodies in the river – and that was the thing that made Sophie move. She never, ever wanted to get back into that dark water, alive or dead.

‘This way,’ said Josh, ducking as they crossed the road and took a tiny lane up the side of a warehouse. They skirted around the back and found themselves in an alleyway, turning to the right, away from Josh’s barge.

‘If we can just get to . . .’ he began, before immediately grabbing Sophie and pushing her into a doorway, as the dazzling glare of a pair of headlights swung into the lane.