Lilly jumped off the scales. She felt round and flabby. Even her pyjama bottoms felt tight.
She knew she’d put on some weight but the truth was shocking.
She got back on slowly easing herself toe by toe, leaning against the sink to distribute her mass. Same result.
She exhaled in disgust. She’d always had a womanly figure. Even as a kid her dad used to say you could use her arse as a tray. But half a stone in the space of a few weeks was going some.
She pulled on her dressing gown and looked in her wardrobe. A nice double-breasted jacket and a black polo neck should cover a multitude of sins.
The phone rang.
‘How did you get on?’ asked Dr Kadir.
Lilly checked her clock. Seven-thirty Blimey the woman hadn’t lied when she said she couldn’t sleep.
‘Slowly,’ said Lilly.
‘Excellent.’
Lilly held the phone in the crook of her neck and fished in a drawer for some tights. She found a pair with ladders and some red leg-warmers.
‘You might think so, Doctor,’ she said. ‘But I need answers.’
‘Patience, Lilly, time is your friend.’
Lilly sat on the bed and tried to pull on a pair of pop socks. Christ, she could hardly reach her feet.
‘I’m going back to the prison this morning. I want to push her a little more.’
‘Not too hard,’ said Dr Kadir.
‘I know,’ said Lilly. ‘I know.’
Lilly called into the hospital on the way to High Point, expecting nothing more than an update from the nurse on duty. Like every hospital Lilly had ever been in, this one had the heat ramped up to Sahara levels and she pulled at the neck of her jumper.
‘You can see her,’ said the matron. ‘For a few minutes.’
Lilly crept into the room and nearly collapsed.
There were tubes in Rupinder’s hands and nose, and she was still, so very still. But it was Raj who stopped Lilly’s heart, half-asleep in the chair next to the bed, his head lolling to the side.
He began to rouse and Lilly cursed herself for intruding.
‘Hi.’ He scratched his beard, his voice a raw rasp.
‘Hi,’ said Lilly. ‘How is she?’
Raj turned to his wife and ran a gentle finger across her wrist. ‘They managed to stop the bleed on her brain but there’s still a lot of swelling.’
Lilly chewed her lip. ‘She’ll be okay.’
He nodded but didn’t reply.
Lilly hovered above Rupinder, horrified by the size of her head, which seemed bloated and tight. Her eyes began to flicker but were so swollen the lids couldn’t lift.
‘Lirry,’ Rupinder whispered, without moving her horribly deformed mouth. ‘Lirry? Rat you?’
Raj took his wife’s hand. ‘Yes, Lilly’s here.’
Lilly looked at her friend, broken and in pain, and felt overcome with guilt. She need never have taken Anna’s case, need never have put Rupinder in harm’s way.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and ran out of the room.
Catalina sucks the end of her pen.
She has spent all night thinking about Artan.
In her desperate refusal to relive the past she realises she has lost him. Artan may be dead, but if she denies that other existence does that mean he is also forgotten?
On that first day, when she was numb with cold and terror, he had reached out to her. Given her everything he had.
‘Here,’ says the boy, holding out a dry hunk of bread. ‘Take it.’
Catalina snatches it and rips some off with her teeth.
It’s a lie, all of it. She knows that now. The job, the money, none of it is true. She didn’t want to admit it and clung to the promise of a better life like a totem pole. An au pair. The words are ashes in her mouth.
She left Mama and the babies and went with the woman with her yellow hair, shiny buttons and tight smile. She said her name was Lavinia.
Catalina had got in a car that smelled of sour milk. Lavinia said she was taking her to her ‘new family’. They had driven for hours and hours. At first Catalina had been excited, but soon she was lulled to sleep by the endlessness of the passing landscape.
‘Wake up.’ Lavinia had shaken her roughly.
Catalina had blinked. It was dark outside. ‘Where are we?’
‘Bucharest.’
Catalina had felt a thrill snake through her body. During the time of the communists, soldiers from Bucharest had been to their small town. Her granny had told her all about them.
‘Naughty boys,’ she’d laughed, her pink gums gleaming in the black of her mouth. ‘Such naughty boys.’
Was she going to work here? In Bucharest? She knew there were rich people here.
She had scrambled out of the car after Lavinia, who, she’d noticed, walked with a limp. The house in front of them was old, grey and tired. Catalina was disappointed. She’d hoped she was going to live somewhere fancy.
She had followed Lavinia through a hallway as bare as their own at home. Male voices spilled from the kitchen.
‘Answer only when spoken to,’ said Lavinia. ‘Got it?’
Catalina had nodded and clutched her little grey bag to her chest.
Three men sat around a table, smoking and playing cards. A bottle of vodka sat in the middle. They didn’t look up from their game.
‘I have a good one here for you, Costel,’ said Lavinia.
The man at the far end lifted his head. One of his eyes was half shut, encircled with a half-moon scar.
‘Come over here,’ he said to Catalina.
She was frightened. Was this the man of the house? The boss? But where was the lady, the lazy woman who needed help?
‘Come here,’ he had repeated more gruffly.
Catalina shuffled forward.
‘She’s a pretty one,’ said Lavinia, her voice nervous.
‘Skinny, more like,’ he said.
‘She’s a good girl,’ said Lavinia. ‘She won’t give you any trouble.’
Costel snorted. ‘That’s what you always say.’
He took a mouthful of vodka from the bottle and went back to his cards.
Lavinia had bundled Catalina out of the kitchen and into the room next door. The walls were flaking and there was no furniture. The floor was strewn with blankets and old curtains. Lavinia had opened a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Her hands were shaking.
‘What’s wrong, Lavinia?’ Catalina asked.
‘Nothing.’ Lavinia exhaled a blue plume of smoke. ‘Costel is a difficult man to do business with, that’s all.’
‘He scares me,’ said Catalina.
Lavinia picked a loose piece of tobacco from her tongue.
‘I want to go home,’ said Catalina.
Lavinia sucked on the cigarette, her cheeks collapsing on each side of her face.
‘Don’t make a fuss,’ she said. ‘It will be the worse for you if you do.’
Catalina blinked away tears. ‘I don’t want to stay here.’
Lavinia took a last drag, ground out the dog-end on the floorboards and left Catalina in the room. From the other side of the door she heard the lock banging shut.
Catalina had stared at the empty room. What was she doing here? Why didn’t they take her to her new family?
A snuffling sound came from the corner and one of the blankets moved. Mice. Then another blanket moved, then a curtain.
Catalina screwed up her eyes. It was dark in the room but she could definitely see movement. Sudenly she realised she wasn’t alone. She gulped back her panic and peered into the shadows. Fingers, toes and eyes peeped out from the makeshift bedding on the floor and Anna felt fear sweep through her. The room was full of children.
From his hiding place under an itchy brown rug came a boy, about her age, with a thin, torn shirt and a scab on his lip. He held out some bread.
Catalina lies on the floor with the others and asks him his name.
‘Emil,’ he whispers.
‘Why are we here, Emil?’ she asks. ‘They said I was going to work in a house for a rich lady. Why am I here?’
Emil puts his finger to his lips and she lets the tears come.
‘Don’t cry,’ says Emil. ‘Costel gets very angry if we cry.’
Catalina stuffs the back of her hand in her mouth and chokes back her sadness.
* * *
The letters scrawl under the lines and ink is smudged across the page. Her English is terrible, the words spilling onto the page in the wrong order.
Her pen flashes across the paper.
She is telling Artan’s story. What he did for her.
Her fingers ache and a lump is growing on the side of her forefinger, but she can’t stop. This is for Artan.
Alexia checked her inbox and her voicemail but both were empty. It wasn’t that she thought she’d be inundated with offers, but after the piece in the Mail she had anticipated some interest.
She looked around her flat. It was a new build that the developer hadn’t been able to sell. Even with a brand new MFI kitchen and a residents-only car-parking permit it had lain empty for so long that Alexia got a six-month contract at a knockdown price.
Still, without any money coming in she couldn’t afford even that rent. Steve hadn’t paid her much but it was regular.
Then there was the credit card bill.
She thought of the penthouse in Chelsea Harbour that her father had let her use, with underground parking and a private roof terrace. It would be so easy to pick up the phone. One word from him and she could have any job she wanted.
Her hand hovered over the buttons.
She could have a maid, a concierge. Anything she wanted. Free.
She put the phone down. As her father never tired of saying, nothing in life was free. If Alexia took her father’s handouts there was always a price to pay and a heavy one at that. For a life of luxury she had to submit to his control. Her mother had realised this when Alexia was five years old and had run off with the assistant manager of a DIY store. They lived in Crawley in a tatty semi and her mother trained as a beautician. Alexia remembered she had lovely nails and a dog called Oliver.
She sighed and headed out to the Turk’s Head. As a freelancer she would need another story to sell.
‘Did you manage to write anything down?’ Lilly hoped to God she had.
‘I didn’t get the paper,’ said Catalina.
Lilly wanted to scream. She had two more days before the court expected a full report.
‘Couldn’t you have asked for some?’
Catalina shrugged. ‘I didn’t think about that.’
Lilly closed her eyes and counted to ten.
‘I need you to understand how important this is.’ She took Catalina’s hand. ‘If I can’t get the information I need, I can’t help you.’
‘I do understand.’
The door behind them opened. It was the same guard as yesterday, her cheek full of gum.
‘Time’s up.’
Lilly groaned.
‘You were late,’ said the guard. ‘Again.’
‘My friend is in hospital,’ said Lilly.
The guard pulled her gum into a thin strand that dangled between her teeth and fingers like a pink washing line.
‘Forget it,’ said Lilly.
When she got to reception she was greeted by the guard with the lazy eye. After the débâcle of their last meeting, Lilly’s new tactic was not to look at the other woman at all. She put down a pad of paper and mumbled into her chest: ‘Could you make sure my client gets this?’
‘Another lot?’ said the guard. ‘Is she writing War and Peace?’
‘She didn’t get it yesterday,’ said Lilly into her chest.
‘I took it to D Wing myself.’
Lilly shook her head. God, it was difficult making your point without eye contact.
‘I can assure you she didn’t get it.’
‘And I can assure you she did,’ said the guard.
Lilly was about to lose her temper when her mobile rang. She turned her back on the guard.
‘Bloody rude cow.’
Today was going badly, very badly. If this was David, calling to threaten her again, he was going to get very short shrift.
She stabbed the answer button with her thumb. ‘What?’
‘Miss Valentine?’
It was a man’s voice. Not David’s, but familiar.
‘Who is this?’ Lilly barked.
‘Edward Roberts,’ he said.
Lilly’s heart sank. She had just snarled at the bloody judge.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I am looking at my lists,’ his voice was icy. ‘And I find I am over-committed on Friday.’
Yes. Lilly punched the air. He was going to adjourn the hearing until next week, and that would give her another couple of days to prepare.
‘These things happen,’ she said.
‘Indeed they do,’ he replied. ‘Which is why I will require the parties to attend on Thursday.’
‘Have you got a moment?’
Alexia’s tone sounded breezier than she felt. She slipped onto the stool next to Blood River. He didn’t look up from his book. She watched his even breathing, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled.
She had always suspected the man was off-key, and now she knew the truth. He was a wild animal, out of control, and sitting so close to him filled her with fear.
At last he folded the corner of his page. ‘I saw your piece in the Mail.’
‘What did you think?’
His eyes were diamond hard. ‘Why did you leave the Three Counties Observer?’
Alexia shrugged and took a nervous sip of her tonic water.
‘It was a big story,’ she said. ‘It needed national coverage.’
He shook his head. ‘Loyalty is everything, Miss Dee.’
‘Information is everything,’ she answered.
The corner of his eye twitched. Blood River did not like being challenged.
‘It’s better for all of us if we reach a larger audience,’ she said. ‘My boss at the Observer understood that fully.’
Blood River acknowledged the ground she had given with a nod.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I want to keep up the momentum,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you have anything else planned.’
She didn’t really care who else he intended to give a beating to, but thought she’d better show interest.
‘I have many things in the pipeline,’ he said grandly. ‘But I can’t share them with you.’
‘Of course not,’ she said.
‘Especially not now you’re just another government arse-licking Trotsky hack.’
They sat in silence until Alexia wondered if she should just leave.
‘What do you have planned, Miss Dee?’ he asked. ‘Any projects you’d like to develop?’
Alexia smiled. Blood River didn’t smile back.
‘Actually, I have,’ she said. ‘I’d like to interview the solicitor. Get her reaction to everything that’s happened.’
‘Do we want to give the enemy a platform?’
Alexia wanted to tell him that she didn’t see Lilly Valentine as the opposition, that she hadn’t taken a side, but she knew Blood River’s world view was strictly black and white. If Alexia wasn’t with him she was definitely against him, and she had seen how he dealt with people like that.
‘I think she’ll expose herself for what she is,’ said Alexia.
Blood River nodded. ‘So why don’t you knock on her door and ask her some questions?’
‘I don’t think she’d open it to me.’ Alexia laughed.
‘Nor me, Miss Dee.’
‘I’m pretty certain she’d refuse to speak to the pair of us.’ Alexia leaned towards him. This was why she had come. ‘But I think you may know someone who can help.’
Lilly nearly wrenched the fridge door off its hinges and grabbed pancetta, eggs and cream. Only spaghetti carbonara could soften a day like today.
Thirty-six hours was all she had to prepare. Thirty-six hours to visit her client, get the story straight and cobble together a submission to the court. It was impossible. Utterly impossible. Even if she could get to High Point before visiting began, there wouldn’t be enough time to go through everything. She could only hope Catalina was making detailed notes. She had impressed upon her client how imperative this was, and the girl had seemed to understand.
Lilly reached for the parmesan and a grater.
‘Hello, Lilly’
It was David—he had let himself in with his old key.
She looked down at the pile of shredded cheese. This had always been his favourite dish.
‘Are you psychic about this stuff?’
He didn’t laugh. Lilly could see his face was grey.
‘You didn’t come for your tea?’
He shook his head. ‘You know why I’m here.’
Lilly sighed. In the panic of the new hearing date she’d forgotten all about David and his threat to take Sam to stay with him.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘You are ridiculous.’
David raised himself up to full height. ‘I am doing what’s best for Sam.’
‘Get out of my house,’ she said.
‘I will not leave without our son.’
Lilly let out a snort of laughter and pulled David’s hand behind his back.
‘Ow,’ he yelled. ‘That hurts.’
‘Lilly applied more pressure until his fingers grazed his shoulder blade. Oh, just shut up,’ she said, and led him to the door. ‘You’re a total idiot,’ she said, and pushed him outside.
He stood on the porch and rubbed his wrist.
‘I won’t let this go, Lilly. I will be back.’
‘Not without a court order,’ she said, and slammed the door in his face.
As soon as day breaks Catalina and the other children get up. They have slept in their clothes and only have their shoes and boots to pull on.
It might be hours before Costel unlocks the door, but they know to be ready the second he arrives.
They take it in turns to pee in a bucket. On the first morning Catalina was embarrassed, but when her bladder began to ache and a trickle of urine stung her leg she had no choice.
Four days later she doesn’t care.
‘I hope he picks me today,’ says Nicolae, one of the little ones whose front teeth are just starting to show.
‘And me,’ says another.
Catalina and Emil exchange glances.
Each morning Costel opens the door and takes three or four of the children away. They don’t come back.
The little ones wonder aloud about their fate.
‘Do you think he takes them home?’
‘Maybe another family takes them in.’
Catalina and Emil say nothing.
At the sound of the bolt sliding in the lock, Catalina’s heart starts beating hard in her chest. What would be worse? To stay here, hungry and cold, or to go with Costel?
The door opens and Catalina can smell him before she sees him. Sweat and vinegar and cigarettes.
‘You and you.’
He points at Emil and Nicolae.
‘And you.’
His tobacco-stained finger wags at Catalina.
They follow Costel out of the house and through the city streets. Catalina has never seen so many people, so much traffic. Everyone and everything is moving.
Suddenly an idea strikes her. What’s to stop her running away? She could run and run until she finds someone to help her. Her eyes dart down the side alleys, taking in possible dead ends.
‘If he catches you he’ll kill you,’ says Emil, as if he can read her every thought.
Catalina looks at Costel, with the scar around his sleepy eye, and knows Emil is right.
They move north until they reach the Gara de Nord and Costel stops beside a kiosk at the entrance selling newspapers, cigarettes and chewing gum.
‘Who’s here?’ Costel asks the owner, and slams down some coins.
The man hands Costel a packet of cigarettes. ‘Gabi and Stelian.’
Costel grunts and leads the children to the side of the station. ‘Don’t move.’
Two men and two women are already there. Costel greets the men, and the women shiver in the snow. One has a purple bruise on her cheek. Both have dead eyes. By their short skirts and see-through shirts Catalina knows what they are.
Costel opens the packet of cigarettes and offers them to the men. They each take one and light up. They huddle together and laugh.
Out of the station come some kids. Despite the cold they are in T-shirts; some have no shoes. Most hold a plastic bag to their mouth.
They point and laugh, nudging each other.
‘Fuck off, if you know what’s good for you,’ says Costel, and they move away, but not out of sight.
‘So what do you say, Gabi, are you buying?’ asks Costel.
The man he is speaking to, Gabi, nods, his face almost hidden in a cloud of smoke and hot breath.
‘I’ll take those two,’ he gestures to the women ‘for Moscow.’
The third man rubs his hands together, obviously pleased with his deal.
‘And I’ll give you two hundred for the boys,’ says Gabi. ‘My brother is setting up a dipping gang in England.’
Costel spits into the slush. ‘That’s an insult and you know it.’
Gabi shrugs. ‘Why would I pay more when I can get them for free under the station?’
‘It would take you two weeks to get them off the glue, and most of them are mad.’
‘Okay, okay,’ says Gabi. ‘I’ll give you three.’
‘What about my girl?’ asks Costel.
‘She’s too young,’ says Gabi.
Costel laughs. ‘I thought your punters liked them fresh?’
‘She looks like a skinned rat,’ says Gabi.
Costel laughs but he gives Catalina a murderous look. She’s terrified. She doesn’t want to go back to the house without Emil.
‘Take her with us.’
Catalina realises it is Emil who’s spoken.
The men look at him with incredulity. Costel raises his hand to slap him.
‘Hey,’ Gabi shouts. ‘Not yours to damage any more.’
‘Take her with us, mister,’ Emil repeats. ‘We’re a great team. The best.’
‘You’ve done dipping before?’ asks Gabi.
‘Practically every day,’ says Emil.
Gabi turns to Catalina and she nods furiously, though she has no idea what dipping is.
‘It’s a good pitch,’ laughs the third man.
‘And when her titties grow you can sell her on,’ says Costel.
Gabi puts up his hands up in mock-surrender. ‘Three-fifty for all three, and that’s my final offer.’
Catalina puts down her pen and rubs her wrist. That was the first time Artan saved her. But not the last.