Are you really going to keep putting up with this? the voice of Evelyns late grandmother echoed again as the lift descended the sixteenstorey block on the outskirts of Manchester.
Their marriage had been troubled from the start. James had taken Evelyn as his wife almost straight out of school, never letting her finish her studies. He encouraged her to drink, to rely on him, and the only thing she managed to achieve was a drivers licence and that only because her father never left the garage, where his friend happened to be a driving instructor.
Evelyn left the flat only when she had to. The sole necessity was to restock the fridge. The alternative to a walk was to hang the laundry on the balcony.
James monitored her everywhere. Even taking out the rubbish required a mobile phone in the pocket of his coat, ready for an unexpected call. Weekends that began on Friday night filled Evelyn with dread. James would arrive demanding dinner, a chilled bottle of his favourite whisky always on the table. After the meal he would, with a sneer, remind her of her worthless, emptyheaded self and ask, When will I have an heir?
When he finished his whisky, he would stumble back to the kitchen, demand, Wheres the ale? Evelyn knew he would ask that later, so she never bought any during the day, stealing twenty to thirty minutes for an evening walk to catch a breath of fresh air.
What are you doing, keeping quiet? the ghostly voice of her grandmother pressed. The lift shuddered between floors. Do you like how your husband treats you?
No, Evelyn whispered, He wipes his feet on my soul.
And thats only now, the grandmother warned. It will get worse. Do you want him to finally loosen his grip?
Lord, no! Evelyns throat went dry. Never.
Then run, love, run!
Where? To my mother? Shes in a onebed flat with a new husband. To my father? Hes remarried. Im a cutoff piece, Grandma. I have no one. Tears blurred her vision, her nose twitched.
The fact youre alone is a blessing, the old woman soothed. Its total freedom, a chance to start anew. Imagine if you had a child
But where do I go? Evelyns eyes widened, the green of her grandmothers stare turning as round as saucers.
A chance will appear soon. Dont miss it. Look out the window often and youll see.
What will I see?
Ive told you enough. Figure it out if youre not foolish. The lift will move. Dont be scared. Go fetch the ale for your dear. And one more thing, the phantom whispered, open the little box I left you after I passed. It isnt empty; it has a double bottom. Search it, but dont be seen. Take only whats inside; leave the box so your husband never suspects your escape.
Whats inside?
Answers to your questions. The lift lurched forward, and though the voice warned her, Evelyn shivered.
The doors opened on the ground floor. A warm evening melted the lingering frost; streams would soon rush, nature would be reborn. Why not her?
James, drunk, sprawled on the kitchen table, snoring like a beast. While his roar filled the flat, Evelyn slipped to the bedroom, shook the wooden box, and a cascade of threads, needles, hooks, buttons, and buttons spilled out the usual trinkets one rarely needs. Her husband, seeing the box, rolled his eyes and muttered, Ill throw it away. Your granny was a character! What a legacy!
She turned the box over, feeling for a hidden compartment. The wood was solid; nothing opened. She pressed the raised edges, but nothing happened. The silence of her grandmother seemed to say, Think yourself. Evelyn sat on the doublebed, ran her fingers over the lid, and a small latch clicked, striking her belly.
Inside lay an envelope, a set of keys, and several sachets with odd slogans: Switch on the brain, Freeze the fear, Ignite attention, Dont be a fool, Kill the weakness, Feed the meat. Her grandmother had always been a bit of a witch in the eyes of the neighbours, though she baked pies and knitted socks like any other.
She opened the envelope. Documents confirming ownership of a cottage the one her grandfather had built without a single nail, tucked away in the countryside. Another paper listed a vintage Mini Cooper, the old family car kept in the garage as a relic.
The letter inside, written in a cramped, looping hand, read:
Dearest Evelyn, the hour has come to open the box. All my belongings, except the flat, are yours. If youre reading this, its time. Take the documents, the contents of the box, and the car. Leave this place. Peace and happiness await you at Granddads house. The first few pounds youll find hidden in the glove compartment; after that youll earn your own. Perhaps youll even finish school. Grandmother
Grandma had known what James would become, which is why shed opposed the marriage. Even after Evelyn disobeyed, she never turned away, offering guidance from beyond the grave.
Evelyn packed the papers, the contents of the box, and the sachets into a folder, fearing there would be no time for deliberation. The first instruction read: Take the Ignite attention sachet, stir its powder into milk and drink. Keep the paper. No other steps followed, but the note warned not to discard it.
The next morning, eyes clear, she examined the mattress and found the folder tucked beneath. The second note instructed: Drink a glass of milk on an empty stomach with the Dont be a fool powder. She slipped into the kitchen, where James still snored, sipped the concoction, opened the window for air, and returned to the bedroom to read the next message: Dont throw the folder away, youll meet an enemy. In an hour drink tea with Kill the weakness. Then, In another hour, drink coffee with Feed the meat. Stay alert.
She followed each task. The strange mixtures filled her with a sudden vigor; her reflection in the cracked mirror showed a toned, athletic figure she never thought possible. Muscles defined, posture straight, eyes bright. James, stirring awake, glared at her.
What have you been doing? he snarled.
Nothing, she replied, her voice steady.
Youve been with someone else, havent you? he hissed, stepping forward.
Fear rose, then a surge of confidence. James lunged, fists flying, but Evelyn blocked every blow with precise, practiced movements, never letting his hands touch her face. Finally, she shoved a palm into his nose; blood spurted, and he crumpled to the floor, pale.
She felt no remorse, only resolve. She opened the folder again. The next instruction read: Well done. Look out the balcony, dress similarly, leave the balcony door ajar. Place your bag where you see it, then drink the Freeze the fear juice. When you collect the car, stop at the café, order a milkshake with Switch on the brain. Dont touch the other sachets yet. Leave quickly. Grandma
Evelyn hurried to the kitchen, mixed the powder, drank, then rushed to the balcony. Below, a young girl lay facedown on the pavement, hair and limbs matching Evelyns, as if a mirror image had been left behind. The girl was barefoot, wearing only a thin black top and grey jeans, despite the March chill.
Evelyn dressed in similar clothes, grabbed her bag, slipped the wallet hidden in the folder, and fled the flat barefoot. By the rubbish chute she found a discarded pair of muddy boots, a battered winter coat, and a thick down jacketenough to cover her.
She left the corpse of the unknown girl with an empty bag, as if robbed, and ran across the courtyard to the street. Taxis were scarce; a trolleybus passed, and she hopped aboard, hoping for a connection to the village where Granddads cottage stood.
At the garage, an old security guard recognized her. Looking for a car, love? Call your dad, hell sort you a decent one.
No, she said, I need the Mini.
Got the keys, he replied, handing her a set. Take a shake from the machine if you like.
She bought cheap winter sneakers, a sturdy coat, and slipped the money shed found in the glove compartment into her pocket. The Minis seats felt surprisingly comfortable, as if the old man had polished them for her.
Driving out of the garage, she heard her grandmothers voice in her head: Look up, see the signs?
Yes, Evelyn smiled, I see them.
Turn left, head for Derby. Youll find what you need there. Safe travels, dear.
She waved at the guard, merged onto the highway, and watched the signs blur past. In the rearview mirror she imagined her grandmothers fluffy red hair, wrapped in a woolly scarf, smiling proudly.
The road stretched ahead, full of possibilities. Evelyn realized that the only thing she ever truly needed to escape was the courage to act, and that freedom is a gift you must claim yourself.
In the end, she learned that no one else can rescue you from a life of oppression; the key lies in your own hands, and the strongest walls crumble when you decide to open the right box.
