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I can’t remember a single time when that happened. But then, it’s true that my memory has blanks that refuse to be filled. A black hole in my brain, sucking in all the bad stuff. Self-protection kicking in to redeem the person I’ve become.
‘Let’s meet,’ Jack continues. ‘I have something to show you that might make you change your mind.’
I hesitate, considering that now it’s his turn to bluff. Nothing he says will change my mind. I did what I did, and if I must face my punishment to save my daughter, then so be it. But I will go down fighting.
‘No,’ I say.
‘Six o’clock at the Bull Inn on Eastlands Street.’
‘I already said I’m not meet—’
‘Belle is taking a shower in my bathroom right this minute. You want her home safe tonight, don’t you? Don’t be late, Hannah.’
And the line goes dead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANNAH – NOW
The pub reeks of warm beer and chips, making my already churning stomach flip as I enter. It’s packed with groups of people drinking, mainly middle-aged men crowding beside the bar, waving notes and cards at a couple of stressed-looking barmaids. I study all the tables dotted around the room, sliding between huddles of drinkers, apologising my way to the back of the pub. There’s a pool table and a dartboard and the doors to the toilets, but no sign ofhim.
I weave my way past the bar again and round to the other side where there are a few more tables by the window. And that’s when I see him, sitting with an untouched pint of beer in front of him, and a packet of cigarettes clearly visible in the breast pocket of the plain white shirt he’s wearing.
He’s staring out of the window, watching the rain pelt against the panes, and doesn’t look at me when I sit down.
‘Glad you saw sense,’ he says, still staring out at the wet street.
I shrug off my mac, folding it inside out, and shake out my wet hair. I won’t be staying long enough to dry out properly.
‘What do you want from me?’ I clasp my hands on the sticky table and lean forward. Even though it’s noisy in here, I don’t want anyone eavesdropping.
Slowly, Jack turns to me. His expression remains blank. ‘You owe us, Hannah. For what you did.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I reply, sticking to my plan.
Jack is clearly thrown by this as his mouth twitches. He shakes his head slowly and looks at me as if I’m a naughty child.
‘Fine. Then Belle will be staying at my hotel with me tonight,’ he says in a measured voice. ‘Perhaps she’ll be OK. Perhaps she won’t.’
‘No way is she staying in some shithole with you. I’m going to fetch her and she’s coming home with me.’ I’d tried calling her several times earlier, to check where she was, but there was no reply. And yet again, she had family location sharing turned off.
Jack lets out a laugh and glances away, shaking his head. ‘And where will you be fetching herfrom, exactly?’
Of course, I have no idea where he’s staying.
‘Then I’ll report you to the police for kidnapping,’ I say, calling his bluff.
‘Good for you, Hannah. Good for you. I shall happily tell them that Belle is with me of her own free will. And she will confirm this. She’s eighteen, after all.’
My stomach tightens as I dig my fingernails into my palms, staring at him across the table.
‘She’s looking forward to starting her new job, by the way.’
‘Leave my daughter out of this,’ I say. ‘Why did you want to meet with me?’ I feel the first sting of tears – frustration and anger.
‘I brought you a gift,’ he says, producing a Manilla folder from under the table. He slides it in front of me. ‘A memento.’
I eye him for a moment before tentatively opening the folder, hardly daring to look at what’s inside. At first, I don’t register who’s in the glossy photographs, though I can’t help the gasp. A heavily made-up girl posing in lingerie is not what I was expecting. I dare to lift the top one up and leaf through the others – all similarly gratuitous shots of a young woman. Her breasts are full and her stomach flat, and she has a studded black choker around her neck. In a couple of shots, she’s completely naked.
