Sara and the W.R.I.S - Freshers Week - Part 2

   “Bloody hell Owen!” I shrieked as I jumped out of my skin, breaking free from the arm that had grabbed me from behind.

   I spun on the spot and glared angrily at the young man wearing an expression that was a combination of mischief and now uncertainty. He gave a confused frown, his blue eyes staring at me behind his glasses, before he asked sheepishly, “Er, was it something I said?”

   “How about sneaking up on the girl with a history of getting herself kidnapped and grabbing her from behind?” I barked angrily. “You scared the hell out of me! How’d you even get in here anyway?”

     “Jaz was here when I arrived, she said I could wait until you turned up,” Owen explained, looking a bit embarrassed as he realised his mistake. “OK I’m sorry, that was a cock up. Will you let me make it up to you?”

    My heartbeat was now returning to its normal pace, but I was still pissed, so I folded my arms and stared Owen down, taking in the sight of his short cut, light brown hair and beard trimmed to look as scruffy as possible, wearing a dark blue hoodie with jeans and fashionable boots. I gave a huff and replied, “OK, it’d better be worth the mild heart attack.”

    Owen responded by handing me a simple brown envelope to open. I raised an eyebrow in suspicion as I opened it then pulled out its contents. Two tickets for a gig in Manchester later this year, to see…

    “THE SCOUNDRALS!” I gasped as I read the name of my favourite rock band on the ticket.

    “Yeah, happy birthday Sara,” Owen said.

    “But you told me the tickets sold out in five minutes,” I reminded him accusatorially.

     Owen gave a sly smirk before replying, “And I got these in four minutes 59 seconds. So not only am I terrible for sneaking up on you, I’m also a terrible stinking liar. Can you forgive me birthday girl?”

    My mood was instantly lifted, and then staring straight at Owen I gave a deliberate sigh before saying, “Well I guess so. I mean it’s not often a girl gets tickets to her favourite band”

   “Yeah I thought you might like it,” Owen said as he took a step towards me. “Although ever since their lead singer of split with his girlfriend I’ve had second thoughts. I feel like he’d be pretty stiff competition.”

    I laughed as I stepped closer towards him before wrapping my arms around his neck. “Now there’s a thought. Perhaps I need a reason for me to reject him.”

    Owen then leaned forward and kissed me, after which he asked, “Will that do?”

    “Mmmm, I may need to try again to double check,” I replied, after which I kissed him passionately back.

     Owen and I indulged ourselves for a good few seconds, during which he wrapped his hands around my waist. Then when I least expected it he picked me up. I gave a happy giggle as he carried me to the sofa where he fell backwards onto it, landing on his back with me laying on top of him. After a few kisses more I lifted my head to gaze at his handsome face, after which he swept aside lengths of my brunette hair which now tumbled down to one side. “Happy birthday gorgeous!” He told me softly before he kissed me again.

   I reciprocated, and soon we were fully indulging ourselves, kissing with increasing intensity with our hands all over each other. We were both caught in the moment, caring only for each other, lost in fit of passion.

   God knows what would have happened had I not randomly looked up and saw my new housemate staring blankly at us from the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, a toothbrush clenched between his teeth and a half-poured glass of orange juice in his hand.

    “Bloody hell Daniel!” I exclaimed as I leapt off Owen like I’d been electrocuted.

     “I’m really sorry. I thought I was alone, I just came to get some food,” Daniel stammered awkwardly, fiddling with his towel to ensure his modesty remained intact though providing both Owen and myself a good view of his toned, sportsmanlike body and jagged tattoo encircling his upper right arm.

    “No it’s my fault, I should’ve realised you were here,” Owen remarked as he hauled himself up to introduce himself.

    The shock having worn off, I then pointed at them and said, “Daniel this is Owen, my boyfriend.”

   “Kinda guessed from the snogging,” Daniel joked, clearly relieved at not having committed a huge faux pas with his new flatmate. “Sorry for the…outfit, I got used to living on my own. Have you two been together long then?”

     Owen cleared his throat. “Well, believe it or not, Sara and I first met a year ago today exactly.”

    “Oh God it was as well,” I gasped as I remembered. “Owen I’m really sorry I forgot.”

     Owen just laughed as he put his arm around me. “Hey, isn’t it usually the other way around with the girl getting angry at the boy for forgetting? It’s no problem at all gorgeous. So how about you Daniel, anyone special in your life?”

    “Oh no, the year abroad guaranteed the bachelor life for now,” Daniel replied as he finished pouring his juice. “So how about I put the kettle on and we have a conversation without the semi nakedness?”

   I was about to agree when I saw the clock on the wall and realised I was running late…again. “Sorry, but me and Owen have to be somewhere, like right now.”

    “Oooh, somewhere romantic?” Daniel asked as he watched s both grabbing our bags filled with equipment.

     “Well Sara’s just going to spend the next hour repeatedly kicking me in the head,” Owen replied cryptically.



   So I know what you’re thinking at this point. ‘But Sara what happened to you and Matthew?’ Well…we tried. We spent the summer after college in a kind of ‘half relationship’ which continued into my first semester here at White Rose Uni. But even though we still had a spark for each other, our past and the distance between us proved too much, and so just before Christmas, we split up. He’s doing well up in Edinburgh from what I can gather, living his dream as he studies to be an actor and joining all sorts of comedy and art groups in the process. But in the end life took us in a separate direction. I’ll always treasure our time together, but I guess it wasn’t to be.

   For me it was back to the single life, and I confess, I didn’t handle it very well. About the same time as the split I was struggling with a delayed reaction to the ordeals I’d been put through at the hands of Mr White. My dreams were haunted by our final struggle atop the Calderwell Reservoir. I began to develop anxiety at being left alone in dark spaces. My work began to suffer, and my relationships became strained. Eventually I had to start seeing a therapist for a few months to try and kick the bad memories out of my head. In those days I’d been running on adrenaline and hadn’t ever considered how close I’d come to disaster on so many occasions. Then when I stopped fear and anxiety hit me like a freight train.

    It also didn’t help when every bloke who even showed a remote interest in me did so with full knowledge of my past and only ever seemed keen to discuss my snooping like it was something exciting or glamorous. One particularly disastrous date ended with the bloke, in a fit of ill-advised flirting, asking if I enjoyed getting tied up. I realised then that they weren’t seeing me for who I was. Just through the lens of what they’d heard about me. It was pretty depressing to think people just viewed me as ‘the girl who gets tied up all the time.’

   Then, a year ago on my 20th birthday, I’d been at the student union on a night out wearing a birthday badge on my dress, looking miserable while Alice and Jaz had been on the dance floor with a drink in hand. Then Owen had appeared out of nowhere and asked why a birthday girl could look so glum. Despite being a couple of years older than me he was just starting his first year, having delayed his education to go travelling. As a result, my adventures had passed him by completely, so in his eyes I was just a lonely girl at the bar. He’d split with his girlfriend before coming here so we had a good long bitch about relationships over the thumping dance music. Before we knew it, this descended into full on flirting. Nothing happened between us that night, but as he left he did invite me to try out his favourite hobby with him one evening.

  When he told me what it was first, I’d laughed. I never saw myself doing something like that. But I thought it over, and with some encouragement from both Alice and Jaz I decided to maybe give it a go. It had turned out to be one of the best decisions I’d made, because not only did it lead to me and Owen officially entering into a relationship, but it had cured my anxiety and self-doubt issues right up.

   Want to have a guess what it is?

   I mean you’ll never guess.  

   Ok I’ll tell you.

   …

   Taekwondo.

   Yes…Sara Philips was now a green belt in Taekwondo.

   I ducked a roundhouse kick from my opponent before scampering back away from another assault, bouncing on the crash mat on the balls of my bare feet while raising my arms into a defensive position to block any incoming attacks. My white Gi outfit had been pulled loose from the green belt about my waist in the scuffle, though my red head protector remained fastened over my head with my brown hair tied underneath it. I sucked on my blue gumshield as I stared my opponent down, ready for the next bout.  

    My opponent was another green belt, a Chinese exchange student who went by the English name of Clarissa. She’d joined the same time as me and was my Taekwondo nemesis…in a good way mind. We’d risen through the ranks together, but she was technically more proficient than I was. Which meant that during our post training sparring sessions she, generally speaking, kicked my butt.

   Not this time though. I was currently 3-1 up with thirty seconds on the clock. But a back kick or kick to my head would score her three points. I had to stay out of trouble. Clarissa’s eyes were fixed on me, desperate to spot any kind of lapse in concentration. I returned her gaze, trying to anticipate her next move. As she gave a feint to her left I misjudged, allowing her the space to swing a back kick. I dodge by darting back, but she quickly followed up with a front kick that hit me in the waist. I wheezed, slightly winded but otherwise fine. It was a friendly bout and there wasn’t much force in it. Still, I hated to think what that would have felt like if she’d meant it.

   “That’s 3-2 to Sara with 15 seconds left!” I heard Owen announce as he stood watching with the rest of the White Rose Taekwondo Society, wearing his own white Gi with his red belt indicating his high proficiency. I took another defensive stance as Clarissa came at me, foot raised high as she went for the big kick that would win her the game. I raised my own leg up to block her assault, my leg stinging from the impact. She was pushed back from my block, and I sensed victory approaching. I darted forward and landed a kick in her stomach. 4-2! But in my eagerness I’d left myself wide open, and Clarissa raised her right foot incredibly high and landed a soft but very direct hit against the side of my head.

    Owen blew his whistle to indicate time was up, and I knew before he announced the score that I’d blown it. That direct hit against my head scored her three points. She’d won 5-4. Beaten again! I allowed myself a growl in frustration before I bowed respectfully to the victor, after which she came over and gave me a friendly embrace. “That was a great bout,” Clarissa complimented.

   “I swear it’s going to be more of an even contest this year,” I told her.

    “I look forward to it,” Clarissa replied. “Off for some refreshments? Bar refreshments that is?”

    “I’ve got Fresher Crew duty, plus my flatmate is performing at the Union. You should totally come along, it’s going to be a good night.”

    “Cool, maybe see you there,” Clarissa replied before she walked off the crashmat towards her gaggle of Chinese friends and started chatting to them in her native tongue.

  I made my way over to Owen, and could see from his expression that I was about to get the full analysis treatment. “There’s no point Owen, I know I shouldn’t have gone for the kick at the end.”

   “Remember my young Padawan to channel your inner Jose Mourinho and park that bus when you’re a point ahead with seconds to go,” Owen told me, before pulling me in for a hug. “But you’ve seriously improved. Those extra lessons back in Carrington over the summer seem to have paid off.”

    “I was just surprised there’s a Taekwondo club in Carrington,” I mused.

    “I’m always surprised at what secrets that town holds, it’s like Narnia there,” Owen joked.

    “Well what am I then? The Lion or the Witch?” I asked.

    “Oh totally the wardrobe,” Owen remarked, before I started wrestling playfully with him.

     “You absolute idiot,” I laughed as he held me back. He successfully repelled my assault and held me in place before giving me a kiss on my beaming face. “You’re coming to the gig tonight aren’t you?” I asked.

     “Wouldn’t miss it,” Owen told me. “Go on, get out of here and meet up with Alice. Promise that I’ll see you later?”

    “That’s a promise,” I insisted as I kissed him goodbye.

    I felt like I was walking on air as I returned to the locker room to get changed. I always felt this way after Taekwondo. Like I could take on the world. Like all my confidence and energy had returned to me. It was incredible how cathartic sport and martial arts could be. It had removed all my doubt and anxieties, restoring my self-belief and making me feel more secure. At first when I told my friends and family they hadn’t quiet believed it (Harriet had had the biggest giggling fit ever when she heard the news) but they had all admitted since it had been good for me. And above all else, it had given me the confidence to pursue a relationship with Owen, which had raised my spirits further.

   I just loved being around him. I actively look forward to the times we’re together and miss him when he’s away. He doesn’t put me on a pedestal or treat me as special because of my past. He just loved me for being me, and when half the world treats you as this Nancy Drew-esque crime solving expert, what more could I ask for?

    So life was good for Sara Philips, after long last, and as I exited the gym to head back to the flat to get changed, I remember amiably thinking what could possibly go wrong from here.

   It was to be that very night where things started to go wrong.



   I returned to an empty flat, a properly empty one this time. I was running late; Jaz’s gig was in less than an hour and Alice was already texting to remind me. I didn’t respond, instead focusing on getting ready. Back on went the orange Freshshers Crew T-shirt, and a fresh pair of dark nylons to go with it. This time I mixed my look up with a bright red pleated miniskirt my mum had bought me for Christmas. I also decided that, given my feet were still killing from last nights high heels and an hour of martial arts, that comfort over fashion was the order of the day. So I pulled on my newest pair of high top converse, black in colour, which I laced up quickly before dashing to my mirror and giving my brown hair a quick straighten and apply some eyeliner.

   It was then my phone started to ring. I tutted to myself. Surely that was Alice hurrying me along again. I didn’t even think to check the caller ID. I just scooped my phone off my bed without even thinking about it. With lipstick in hand I answered the call, held the device to my ear and said, “I’m just at the flat getting ready. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stop fretting, I’m not missing this for anything!”

    “The last words Benedict Norton said to you before he died were ‘I wonder if there’s a PGDA, a Paradise Girl Detective Agency. I’m sure they’ll welcome a girl like you with open arms Miss Philips.’”

    I dropped my lipstick to the floor with a clatter. I nearly dropped the phone too. I felt like I’d been sucker punched, like the breath had been stolen from my lungs, like my head had suddenly become numbed. Before I could suppress them images of Benedict Norton, aka Mr White, filled my vision; the moment he fell from the reservoir dam after being shot by an unknown assailant replaying in my minds eye like it had done for countless nights in the past. For one moment I was weak, and I let terror fill my body.

    The mysterious caller waited a few seconds, and when all they received was silence they answered, “Thought that would get your attention.”

    I recovered my composure and exclaimed, “There is no way you could possibly know that.”

    “I know exactly how that night transpired Miss Philips. Who do you think put a bullet in him?”

    I hesitated again as another revelation hit me like a tidal wave. “…You mean, that was you?”  

    “What, not going to thank me for saving your life?”

    “Depends if that was the intention or the consequence,” I retorted.

    The voice started laughing, giving me a chance to analyse it. It belonged to an older man, deep and powerful, seeming to reverberate through my phone. It was also unmistakeably Irish in origin, Northern Irish if I had to try and pin it down. His voice was relaxed and lilting, completely at ease with himself and indicating he was in complete control. I could also trace a mocking tone, as if he was really enjoying himself, revelling in being in control.

    “You’re an intriguing one Sara,” he told me. “Always defiant and sarcastic even in the face of serious danger. I can see why Benedict found you an engaging, enticing foe. And yet here you are, wasting all that wit and intelligence lounging around wasting your student loan on cheap booze.”

   “Well that’s retirement for you,” I told him. “Whoever you are you don’t need to worry about me. I don’t snoop around meddling in the affairs of creeps like you anymore.”

   “Well we’ll see about that shall we?”

   “What does that mean?”

    “I’m calling to invite you to participate in a little series of games tonight. A chance to flex those old snoop muscles of yours. Down in the village your first clue of the evening awaits. I won’t give too much away, but let’s just say you’ll register your displeasure when you see it.”

   “I told you, I’m not interested in cryptic clues from creepy berks like you anymore.”

    “Well that’s a shame. I know someone who is very, VERY keen for you to get back to your sleuthing ways. In fact, I daresay she’s depending on it…”

    My blood turned to ice. Was he implying what I thought he was? Angrily I yelled into the phone, “You’re bluffing. You can’t tempt me back with threats like that.”

    “Have not my earlier revelations been enough to convince you that I am a man who means business? Ignore me if you want, but you’ll regret it tomorrow morning when you find out you abandoned that poor, defenceless lass to her fate. Decision time Miss Philips, I look forward to finding out what you choose.”

   Then he hung up.

   I sank down onto my bed, holding my head in my hands as I struggled to process what I’d heard. This couldn’t be happening to me. Why now? Why, after all this time, had I received a call from the blue bringing up my past. What did he want with me? Why couldn’t people just leave all that detective crap in the past like I had? I wanted to scream in anger, lash out at the world at how unfair it all was.

   But at that moment my brain clicked into gear. My inner resolve resurfaced, and my determination returned to me. I remembered these feelings; the nerves, the fear, the…exhilaration. My mind suddenly became clear.

   Girl detective mode had been activated.



   The sleepy village of Lower Owlton was particularly sleepy on that warm, late September evening. No kids played in the playground as I ran past; the pub seemed largely empty as I dashed around it; the curtains in all the homes were drawn as I sprinted by. It was a quiet village at the best of times, nestled at the base of the hill on which White Rose University had been constructed, pretty much clustered along one road that led directly to the new facility. A long time ago it was the home to all the servants and farmers who had worked for the Lord who had lived in the old manor on the hill, but after its last Lord died without an heir the manor fell into disrepair, and the village became filled with retirees and farm workers. There was a bit of hostility from the locals to all those rowdy students now spoiling their idyllic retirement, but by and large the two worlds kept apart.

    I have to say that I’d barely been down here myself. It made my task of deciphering this bizarre clue a lot harder. Registering my displeasure? What did that mean? What was there to even register in this village? Clearly something was new here, but what?

   Soon I had searched the whole village save for the big building standing apart from it on the winding lane leading to the main road which connected this region to the rest of Yorkshire and the world. It was a recently constructed sports hall with all-weather sports pitches and gym. This evening though there was a sign hanging on the front gate, stating that due to a fault in the water supply they were closed for the evening.

   This was new. Snoop senses tingling, I ignored the message on the gate and ran along the winding driveway leading to the surprisingly spacious car park. My body was beginning to feel the effects of twenty minutes of almost non-stop jogging, but I was still fit and a capable long-distance runner, I had the energy to keep going. I still had no idea if this was all some windup or not, but I had to get to the bottom of what this was all about.

   The car park was deserted save for a couple of cars and a large white van, and the only illumination came from a solitary lamppost that bathed the car park in a deep orange glow. I came to a halt beside the van to catch my breath and take in my surroundings, only then realising that I was potentially putting myself in serious danger. I was alone and had told no-one where I was. Alice and Jaz would be expecting me at her gig, which was due to start any minute. I felt like I had to tell them where I was, so I pulled out my phone (which I’d tucked in the waistband of my skirt), found Alice’s name in my phonebook and began typing a text message to let her know my situation.

    It was then that the van I was standing beside violently shook.

    My heart leapt into my mouth. Had I just imagined it? No, it was shaking on the spot for certain, rocking from side to side. My nerves now on high alert I studied this vehicle, rooted on the spot by the strangeness of it. At that point, with a jolt in my stomach, I uncovered the meaning of the clue ‘registering my displeasure.’

    The van’s registration plate read M7 WH1TE.

    That was too much of a co-incidence. This van, and whatever was inside it, was meant for me.

    I held my breath as I approached the vehicle, which was still rocking on the spot. Someone, or something, was inside. But who, or indeed what? I cursed my curiosity as I placed my hand on the handle of the back door, and after a deep breath to reassure myself, I opened it.

   I gave an involuntary shout as the first thing I saw was a plain white opera mask.

   Suddenly I was back on Calderwell Reservoir again, trapped with that madman trying to throw me to my death. A wave of fear consumed me, and I was rooted to the spot, numb with terror. All I could think was, ‘no, not him, anything but him!’

   But it wasn’t him. He was dead, and it took my brain a few seconds to remember that fact and register what I was truly seeing.

  There was indeed someone wearing a white mask over their face, but it didn’t seem to be voluntarily. I could tell due to how this figure was bound with seatbelt like straps fastened about their legs and knees, holding them in a kneeling position, with their arms rigidly held in a Y shape by more of these straps wound about their wrists and fastened to opposing hooks in the van’s ceiling.

   The mask was strapped over their face, concealing their face, conspiring to muffle their speech and blindfold them too. I shivered as I recognised it as one of those mask gags that I and my friends had been subjected to on our fateful prom night. Another deliberate tactic to screw with me.

    This person was making repeated muffled exclamations through this mask and frantically jiggling their arms and legs as much as their bonds allowed, having clearly sensed that the van door had opened. I couldn’t see their face, but I recognised the outfit of a purple hoodie, denim hotpants, dark nylons and sneakers. I also recognised the bob cut hairdo with dark red highlights.

    “Lizzie?” I gasped in realisation as I recognised the girl and founder member of the W.R.I.S I had first met earlier that day.

    “WWWWSSSS TTTHHHHRRR, HHHHLLLPP MMMM,” Lizzie cried out desperately, unable to see her rescuer but her struggles increasing in intensity as she sensed rescue was close.

    “OK, calm down, I’ll get you out of this,” I exclaimed as I jumped inside the van, meaning to release her from her bonds as fast as possible.

   But I was clearly out of practice in the rescue department. I’d forgotten the golden rule. Always check your surroundings when going for the rescue…in case you’d blundered into a trap.

   Almost the instant I jumped into the van I was handgagged from behind, with another arm grabbing me around my waist.

    “WWWWWWWTTT TTTTHHH HHHLLL!” I cried through the gloved palm clamped over my lips as my attacker moved fast while still having the element of surprise. Like a flash he pushed me forward towards the side of the van and slammed me against it. “Aaaaahh,” I gasped as the impact winded me, allowing my attacker to remove their hand from my mouth and, with incredible swiftness and strength, haul my hands behind my back. I was stunned, caught off guard, and I failed to do anything as I felt my hands being crossed over before another of these fabric straps was fastened about my wrists, fixing them together.

   ‘…No…not again…’ I thought as I found myself in an all too familiar position.

   ‘…NOT…AGAIN!’ I resolved as my determination returned.

   Before my attacker could do anything with my feet, I made my move. Making use of how he was pressing my body against the van’s side with his own, I jumped off the ground, planted my feet against the metal and pushed really hard. My fightback caught them off guard and I successfully pushed him back with such force that their back collided with the opposing side of the van with a loud thump.

   As they gasped in pain I found myself free of their grip, and so whirled around to face my attacker. It was a man, but with the pre-requisite balaclava I couldn’t see their face. They were much taller and stockier than me. On paper it didn’t seem like much of a fair fight, but I wasn’t the defenceless girl I had been in my teens. I was prepared to fight my corner now. Even with my hands tied behind my back.

   After all, taekwondo is mostly about kicking.

   He let out a growl as he charged at me, but I was ready for him, planting a fast kick against his chest with enough force that again he was pushed back against the van. Now I’d really irritated him, and he snarled as he came at me again. This time I went for a roundhouse kick but now he was ready for me. He blocked my attack, grabbed my ankle then yanked it hard, pulling me off balance. I fell to the floor of the van on my back, gasping in pain as my bound arms were crushed between the metal floor and my body. But I maintained focus, and as he bore down on me I pulled my legs back and provided him with as strong a double kick to the waist as I could muster.

    My strike was true, and I managed to push him so hard that he was launched right out of the van soaring through the air before landing on the tarmacked car park with a loud thud. Over the sound of the moaning Lizzie (who had no idea what was going on), I hauled myself back to my feet, preparing my defences as the attacker lay groaning on the ground, reeling from the impact.

   It seemed like he’d had enough and pushing himself up to his knees he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and held it up for me to see. “Give it up girlie,” he sneered. “You keep on fighting, then it’s the other girl who’ll regret it!”

   “Leave Lizzie out of this, she’s done nothing wrong,” I insisted.

   “Sorry girlie, bosses orders. He knew you couldn’t resist coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.”

   “But why? Who is this boss?” I yelled.

    Pulling himself to his feet and approaching me ominously the balaclava wearing goon said, “You’ll find out soon en…”

    THWACK

    The attacker was cut off mid-sentence by a fist colliding with the side of his head. It was quite the hit, instantly sending the goon into an unconscious heap on the floor. I stared in astonishment at the figure who had come to my rescue by delivering such a blow, standing over the goon while clutching his fingers and wheezing in pain.

   “God, I think I broke a finger,” Daniel exclaimed in pain through gritted teeth.

   “Daniel, what the hell are you doing here?” I asked in astonishment.

    “Well I saw my new flatmate running off in a hurry towards the village with a concerned expression on her face, so I felt I had to make sure everything was OK,” Daniel replied, his eyes fixed on the unconscious goon before he added, “Good job I did.”

   I frowned at him. “Why didn’t you let me know you were following?”

   “Well I don’t have your phone number yet. Also, you’re a really fast runner, you know that?”

    Something about Daniel’s story didn’t add up, but I decided it wasn’t the time to cross examine him. Instead I turned around, allowing him to unfasten the strap binding my wrists, though with his finger still injured from his punch it proved difficult. “Come on, help me get Lizzie free,” I told him firmly once my hands were liberated, leaping back into the van.

   Daniel followed me, but froze when he saw the still bound, gagged, masked and struggling Lizzie trying her best to break free. “Bloody hell…who does something like this?” he breathed.

   “I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” I replied as reached around Lizzie to unfasten the mask strapped across her face. Instantly she recoiled in fear at my touch, so I reassured her by saying, “Lizzie it’s me. It’s Sara. I know how scared you must be right now, but just stay calm, I’m going to remove this mask now.”

   “Mmmmm hhhmmm,” Lizzie murmured as she nodded. I then unfastened the straps fastened about her dyed hairdo, at which the mask fell away almost of its own accord. Lizzie gasped through her newly liberated mouth, blinking as her eyes accustomed to the light. I looked down at the saliva coated bit built into the mask that had conspired to keep her gagged and shivered as I remembered the same sensation myself. No wonder she was breathing in the night air so deeply.

   Eventually Lizzie exclaimed urgently, “07561 827715. That’s the number the person who did this told me to give to you.”

   “That can wait Lizzie, let’s get you safe,” I said as I worked on one the straps binding her arms while Daniel helped with those about her legs.

   “No, you don’t understand,” Lizzie explained, rubbing her wrists. “I never saw who did this to me. He just told me you’d eventually be coming, and when you did I had to give you that phone number. If I didn’t people’s lives would be in danger”

    “OK, just take it easy,” Daniel insisted as we helped Lizzie to her feet. She walked gingerly forward, and we then sat her on the edge of the van so she could stretch her aching muscles. She seemed shaken and a bit pale, but she was otherwise unharmed. “Do you know who did this to you?”

    Lizzie shook her head. “I was just walking back from the societies fair when someone came up from behind me and clamped this sweet-smelling rag over mouth face…was that chloroform? Is this what it feels like? My head feels like it’s trapped in ice.”

   “Yeah it packs a punch,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Then what happened?”

    “When I woke I was tied up like that, and this goon told me you would be coming to my rescue and I had to pass on that phone number to you when you SHIT!”

   The balaclava wearing goon had woken up, and with surprising agility for a man who had been unconscious they leapt up off the ground and stared us down. Instinctively Daniel and I stood to protect Lizzie, and we struck defensive poses as we waited for his attack.

    But instead he just turned and ran away…very fast.

   “HEY, get back here!” Daniel roared, giving chase across the car park but the creep was away, and even as they rounded the corner that led to the main road I doubted Daniel would be able to catch him.

    I decided to stay with Lizzie to ensure she was alright. Now the adrenaline had worn off I began to find myself questioning what had occurred, and realised I was ready and angry for answers. I turned to Lizzie and asked, “What was that number again?”

   “07561 827715” Lizzie repeated. She peered over my shoulder as I typed the number into my phone (which had somehow survived my fight unscathed). As she watched she asked, “I thought you said you retired.”

  “I have,” I replied.

  “But then what do these people want from you?”

   “Whatever it is, they aren’t wishing me a happy birthday.“ I dialled the number, but putting the phone onto loudspeaker so Lizzie could hear as well.

   Only two rings were heard before my call was answered. “Now that was impressive,” said the same, sneering Irish voice I’d heard before. “Very well fought there Sara. Damsel in distress no more it would seem.”

   “How could you…?” I asked before I trailed off. Right above the van was a CCTV camera trained on me and Lizzie. Whoever this was seemed to be watching the whole thing.

    As if to confirm this assumption the voice said, “Peekaboo. God I love this country and its obsession with CCTV. Makes it so easy for crooks like me to play peeping tom. How deliciously ironic.”

    Before I could interject Lizzie spoke, seemingly eager to make a show of strength. “Who are you and what do you want?”

    The man just laughed at her. “Eager to make a good impression in front of your idol Miss Worthington? You should be directing your anger to her. I had you targeted to remind Sara of what really happens to all those nosy little girls she’s inspired. All those silly women who think they have what it takes to put scoundrels like me in my place. They need to be shown that there’s no glory in being a heroine. If you mess with humans devoid of morality, you’ll always come out of it worse.”

    “You sure you didn’t just do it because you’re a demented pervert who likes tying women up?” I retorted. Beside me Lizzie formed an impressed expression on her face. She was liking the famous Sara Philips sass she’d read about.

    The man’s answer however was threateningly ominous. “Sara…I adore tied up women. I was an expert in knot tying and binding techniques before Benedict Norton left short trousers. You think you’ve experienced it all? I would inflict techniques and positions onto your limbs that you wouldn’t believe to be physically possible. I’d envelop you in so much rope all your sneaky hidden switchblades would be as much use as a wooden spoon. I’d keep you restrained for so long you’d forget what it was like to not have rough cord rubbing against your skin.”

   “Yeah, are you done fantasising, because I kinda have a gig to go to,” I retorted.

    For the first time the person down the line lost his cool. “I am not done yet!” he snapped, before he recollected himself, and the suave, smooth voice returned. “Tonight Sara, you are going to have to make a choice. Do you choose the life of the heroine, sacrificing herself for the good of the world, or do you choose a life of blissful ignorance like the rest of humanity? Head to your gig Sara Philips, but when there, I would strongly suggest you try and track down an acquaintance of yours.”

   “What does that mean?” Lizzie demanded.

    “That’s for me to know and you to find out. TTFN Sara, the clock is ticking for the queen of waterfalls.”

      With that he hung up, leaving Lizzie and myself staring at the phone in my hand in stunned silence, not sure what to do next.

    Right on cue Daniel returned at that point. In between deep breaths he gasped, “The twat bolted. This van pulled up at the roadside and he leapt inside. Sara give me your phone so I can call the police, they might still be able to catch them.”

   “No,” I told him firmly.

    Daniel and Lizzie looked at me in surprise. Daniel then remarked, “Er, but Sara, that’s what you usually do after an attempted kidnapping.”

   “Nothing about my life is in anyway usual,” I replied. “Whoever called me has invented some sick game for me to play, and if I raise the alarm I could be putting people in danger. It’s straight out the playbook of Mr…”

   I trailed off. I’d almost said his name without realising. Again, that doubt crept back to haunt me. I was right. The way this game was being played, it was almost like…he’d never…

   Lizzie sensed my new apprehension and grabbed me by the hand to reassure me. “Sara…he’s gone. He can’t hurt you now. This person is some sicko trying to pretend to be like him. You’re better than him…I believe in you…”

   I looked at Lizzie, tried to smile and said, “You know what happens to people who put their belief in me right?”

   Lizzie just smiled and shrugged. “If I can kick half as much ass as Rachel, Abigail and Harriet then I’ll be OK.”

   “Yeah this is all well and good, but what exactly does this…whoever he is want us to do next?” Daniel asked.

    I wracked my brains. It was another clue for me to unravel. The queen of waterfalls. Not a clue. But something about an acquaintance stuck in my head.

   I then realised with an unfolding pang of horror I hadn’t heard from either Alice of Jaz in a while…