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‘But as you said yourself, he’s not technically, is he? You’re not being rational, Rob.’
‘And neither are you! This is our daughter we’re talking about here, Han, and you’re acting as if you’re not that bothered that she’s intent on leaving school and marrying a bloke twenty years older than her.’
‘Mydaughter,’ I spit back, instantly regretting it.
‘Oh, I see. You’re playing that card again, are you? It’s what you always do when there’s a problem. Suddenly she’syourdaughter.’ He paces about, his fingers riffling through his hair. ‘Fuck’ssake…’ Rob bangs his fist against the wall – not hard, but enough to make me jump. ‘You know that’s not how I feel.’
‘Did Jack’s comment about you not being her biological father get to you, is that it?’ More regret. I’m lashing out at Rob simply because there’s nowhere else for my frustration and fear to go.
He spins round, glaring at me. ‘Have you been drinking, Hannah? You’re being irrational.’
I fold my arms. There’s no point arguing my corner. Rob always has to have the final word. The problem is, so do I. It’s something I learnt the hard way over the years, standing up for myself. It was the only way to survive.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I know you care about Belle as if she’s your own.’
‘Then whatdidyou mean?’ Rob stares at the drinks trolley over in the corner – a couple of his favourite bottles of whisky sitting next to clean tumblers. I notice the indecision on his face – too late for a drink, yet too early for coffee. It’s the no man’s land of night-time.
‘Look, I’ll have a proper talk with Belle today. I’ll try to get her to see that she’s making a huge mistake.’ I rub my hands down my face – exhausted yet too stressed to get back to sleep now.
‘If you think that’ll work,’ Rob says.
I nod. ‘I’ll give it my best shot. Just call off the hounds, will you? Save that as a last resort, if you must.’
Rob hesitates before nodding solemnly. ‘For now,’ he says, and goes out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Once I hear him go back upstairs, I open up my statements again, staring at the figures. It doesn’t take an accountant to know that the only way I’m able to get my hands on the sort of money it will take to get rid of Jack is by selling the house. But that will take time, which I don’t have.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MOLLY – THEN
As the weeks passed, Molly fell into a kind of rhythm at the Cloisters, something akin to a routine, which, in turn, provided a vague feeling of security – but only because the alternative was so dire. Deep down, she was far from content or happy. Waking up with a pounding head and a mouth so dry it felt as if she’d choked on sawdust had become the norm. She wasn’t eating much – she felt too anxious for that – and even the smallest of the clothes on the rail were starting to hang off her. While the other girls woke to an insatiable urge for McDonald’s, Molly sipped on Diet Coke and smoked weed. Darren kept them well supplied with drugs, though they came at a cost. But she’d been getting good tips and figured that whatever deadened her brain was worth it.
It was still better than where she’d come from. Just.
Until work started in the late afternoon, Molly mostly hung around the top floor rooms. A couple of times she’d been out with Hannah to get food – just things they could shove in the microwave, which she subsequently picked at. Sometimes the two of them sat outside on the flat roof, high above the city, staring at the rooftops and imagining what was going on inside the buildings around them. Hannah had sworn her to secrecy the first time she showed her how to climb out of the skylight in the bathroom, giving Molly a leg-up, after which Molly helped Hannah out as she teetered on the edge of the bath. Being young and lithe, they managed it easily – another reason why they felt safe up there, despite the sheer drop around them. No one would find them. Molly felt exhilarated – it was their special place, just her and Hannah at peace, smoking and talking.
‘I wish I was someone else,’ Hannah had once said, gazing at the skyline. ‘With a perfect future coming my way. A husband, a house, a family. Imagine that…’ But Molly couldn’t, not really, though it wasn’t for want of trying. Even up here, away from everything going on in the building below, Molly felt welded to her lot in life, and only saw a future that consisted of struggling and surviving rather than enjoying.
After they’d whiled away the mornings, Molly would shower. She’d learnt to get one in before the others got ready so that she had hot water, though once or twice she’d been beaten to it and had washed in cold. Then, as she sat doing her hair and make-up, she’d pour the first vodka, mixed with Diet Coke, relishing the taste as it trickled down her throat. Oblivion was on its way. Later in the evening, between punters, she’d swig it from the bottle.
‘Darren was looking for you earlier,’ Hannah said one day, drying her legs, her foot up on a stool. ‘Did you see him?’
Molly nodded. She’d seen him, all right.
For some reason, she couldn’t be bothered getting ready today. She was tired and her body felt weak. She stared in the mirror at her bony shoulders, her protruding collarbones, the way her eyelids had turned into grey hoods, making her appear half asleep all the time.
‘And?’ Hannah was slathering cream on her legs, working her way up. She stopped, pointing at the ink on her thigh, watching Molly. ‘Are we sisters now?’
Molly nodded. She hadn’t dared look at it yet and her skin still burned. She’d cried as it was being done but knew there was no point in kicking up a fuss. The consequences would have been worse.
‘Let’s see, then.’
Molly swung round on the stool and lifted up the towel to reveal her leg – milky white with opal veins showing through her skin. For the first time, she looked down at the tattoo.
‘You’re one of us now,’ Hannah said. ‘Vaughn’s girl.’
‘It’s so big,’ Molly whispered, running a finger along the three-inch-long scabs that had formed. The initials VJ had been inked into her skin in a greeny-black colour, and above that was a crown. It looked as though a child had drawn it.
