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I see the agony in her face, how she’s torn between wanting to save herself and not losing me. And then I feel a pair of arms wrap around my legs, holding me up,shuntingme up, allowing Belle to heave me out with the push from below. Once my waist is out, I’m able to climb right through, gasping and choking as I turn and look back down.
‘Luba!’ I scream. ‘Oh my God…Quick, get up on the bath.’
But even before she does, I know it’s hopeless. She’s a good deal shorter than me and, even if she could reach the window frame, there’s no one below to shunt her up.
‘I…I can’t reach…’ she says, teetering on the bath’s edge, her arms straining upwards towards us. ‘Is no good…’ She drops back down onto the floor again, looking around her hopelessly. ‘You go…go, go, go…’
But those are her last words as the floor below her collapses and she drops into the burning void below.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MOLLY – THEN
Molly’s punter finally left and she flung on her robe, desperately wanting to check on Hannah. The terrible screams coming from the room next door had subsided in the last fifteen minutes or so, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She thought she’d heard Hannah’s john leave – the man who’d got her pregnant, claimed to be in love with her – though she couldn’t be sure as her punter had been making too much noise. She’d tried to make him hurry up, but she knew he’d been drinking – his breath reeked of beer.
She opened the door quietly, peering up and down the long landing before venturing out. There was no one there. It was about two, two thirty in the morning now, she reckoned, and while she still heard noises downstairs in the waiting area, she knew things would be winding down soon. They just had to get through unnoticed until then; when Luba turned off the lights and she and Darren went to bed, then Hannah could escape.
Molly crept along to room four and pressed her ear against the wood. Silence, apart from…apart from a whimpering, snuffling sound. Was Hannah crying? She was just relieved the screaming had stopped; thankful the noise hadn’t drawn Luba upstairs. All hell would have broken loose if they’d seen Hannah naked, her swollen belly. She needed to get ready to leave.
‘Han?’ she whispered through the door. ‘Are you alone?’
Nothing. Just the strange sound of someone…crying. Though it sounded as if Hannah was trying to stifle the sound.
She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a little, peeking inside. The room was almost dark, just the vague glow of the dim red bulb from the shaded lamp in the corner. There was a shape on the bed – Hannah. She could tell it was her from the hair, sweaty and matted around her face. She seemed to be asleep. Though as she opened the door further and went in, relieved that the man wasn’t there any more, she instantly realised that something was wrong.Verywrong.
There was something writhing on the bed, caught up in the satin sheets between Hannah’s legs. And there was blood. Gallons and gallons of blood, as if the entire mattress had been soaked in a vat of it. Molly’s hand came up over her mouth, as if that would somehow prevent the vomit rising up her throat.
The bundle on the bed thrashed its arms and let out a whimpering sound, followed by a weak cry.
Molly knew it was a baby but refused to believe it until she dared to creep closer and peel back the sheet to reveal its face.
‘Mother of God,’ she whispered. Itwasa baby. Hannah’s baby.
A sweet little thing with a puckered-up and blood-smeared face and a covering of thick, wet, dark hair. Its eyes blinked up at her, its fists clenching and unclenching around its little lips.
Molly dragged her eyes up the knotted, twisted sheets to Hannah. She was still wearing the kaftan, pulled up to reveal her deflated belly. Her long legs were sticky and crazed with dried blood, as were her hands, her arms, her face and her belly. All of her was drenched in the stuff. And between her legs and the baby was…was…this huge red liverythingswimming in a pool of blood and attached to the baby’s tummy by a rubbery cord.
Molly rushed to the edge of the room and threw up. Her stomach cramped and folded as she retched everything out. Afterwards, she wiped her hand across her mouth and, shaking, she went up to Hannah, putting a hand on her forehead.
‘Hannah, are you awake?’ she whispered. She must be exhausted from the ordeal, was her first thought. ‘Han, it’s me, Molly.’ Again, no response. Molly shook her a little, her hands on her shoulders, then she tapped her cheek lightly. She had to get them both upstairs and clean up in here before Luba noticed what was going on.
‘Han, please, wake up. Your baby needs you. You have to feed it.’
Molly wasn’t sure if it was a boy or a girl, so she peeled back the sodden sheet from around the little bundle. For a moment, she couldn’t move, terrified for the little mite when she saw it was a girl. All along they’d believed it would be a boy –prayedit would be a boy, so it didn’t end up with a life like theirs. But she was perfect in every way.
‘Oh, you sweet little thing,’ she crooned, stroking the baby’s head. ‘Mummy’s very tired, little one. But I’ll take care of you both.’ She heard her voice trembling, knowing she was way out of her depth.Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise, she thought, staring down at the newborn.
Molly put her lips close to Hannah’s ear. ‘Hannah, please,pleasewake up. You need to get back upstairs. Like,now.’
It was at this point Molly felt a chill down her spine. She didn’t want to admit what her unconscious thoughts were telling her. She put her finger under Hannah’s nose, waiting to feel her warm breath. But there was none. Then she dropped her head to her chest to listen for a heartbeat – nothing. She was no expert, so she grabbed Hannah’s blood-caked wrist and felt for a pulse but couldn’t find one. So she tried finding one on her neck, but again – nothing.
‘Hannah…Hannah…no!’ she wailed, not knowing what the hell to do. This wasn’t happening…wasn’t true. She refused to believe it. The baby started to make more noise – a plaintive whimper that quickly transformed into a louder cry. Molly shook Hannah hard, slapping her cheek lightly to rouse her. Then she put her mouth against Hannah’s, blowing in air, though she had no idea what she was doing. After that, she pressed hard on her chest about twenty times with her interlocked hands, pumping and pumping, desperate to get some life into her. Then she pinched Hannah’s nose and blew in more air, then repeated the pumping action. But there was nothing. Hannah just lay on the bed, lifeless and still, her eyes closed and her lips slightly apart.
‘This isnothappening,’ Molly wailed, stroking the baby as it squawked again. ‘Shh, little one, it’s OK.’
She grabbed Hannah under her armpits and tried to sit her up. Perhaps her position was just all wrong and once she was upright, she’d be OK. There was no way…just no fuckingwaythat she was dead. She heaved her up with all her might, dragging her torso sideways so she could get behind her to lift her up, careful that she didn’t pull Hannah onto the baby. With great effort, she got Hannah almost upright but knew that as soon as she let go, she’d loll down again.
‘Look, put your legs on the floor,’ she said, feeling hot tears flood out of her eyes. ‘If you just sit up, you might be able to walk. Please, Han,please, just come upstairs with me.’ More sobs and tears as she struggled to lift Hannah’s legs over the top of the baby and onto the floor. The top half of Hannah’s body slumped forward and she just managed to catch her before she toppled off the bed, her hair falling all over her pale face. ‘OK, Han, you can do this. Up you get. Your baby’s here. She’s beautiful. Absolutely bloody gorgeous, and she needs you, Han, shereallyneeds her mummy.’ She prayed that her words would bring her round, make her wake up and see her sweet little baby.
