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But they didn’t.
Then Molly felt something hot and wet around her feet and, when she looked down, she saw that more blood was pouring from between Hannah’s legs, mixed up with something else that looked a lot like pee. She pushed her head back so that her head was facing the ceiling, pulling up the lids of her eyes. Her pupils were still and staring, not even flickering, and her skin had gone a funny blue-grey colour that looked nothing like it usually did.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God, Hannah, please,nooo…’ She cradled her around the shoulders, pressing herself against her lifeless body and sobbing into her neck, knowing that it was too late, that her best friend in the whole wide world was dead and there was nothing she could do to bring her back to life. Snot and tears got matted up in Hannah’s blood-soaked hair as she wondered what the hell she was going to do.
And then she heard voices downstairs – Darren and Luba laughing, probably drunk as they usually were at this time of night. Doors banged, and she heard music too. Sometimes one or two of the regular punters would hang about for some weed or booze late into the night.
Molly looked around the room with Hannah still propped in her arms. There was so much blood – and it was all over her now, too. And there was a baby on the bed – a tiny, naked baby who needed feeding and caring for – and she had no idea how to do any of that. Hannah had been intent on breastfeeding, and while they’d stashed away a few baby items over the weeks ready for her escape, they’d not bought any bottles or formula.
‘This is all my fault,’ Molly cried, shaking from grief. ‘What am I going to do? I’m the reason she died…’ She didn’t know who she was talking to – Hannah, the baby, herself or some higher entity that might take pity on her. She wasn’t religious, but if it would help, then she’d go to church and pray every day for the rest of her life if it would bring Hannah back.
‘I killed your mummy,’ she said, sobbing as she stared down at the little baby writhing on the bed. ‘If I hadn’t left her…if I hadn’t gone off with my punter or let that other man in here, if I’d got her to the hospital in the first place, then none of this would have happened.’ She covered her face for a second, trying to rationalise it all, but she couldn’t. It was entirely her fault. ‘The doctors would have helped her, they would never have let her come back here with you if she told them everything, if she confessed what our lives are like.’
Inside her soul, Molly knew it was shame and fear that had prevented Hannah agreeing to go to the maternity unit. And if she dug even deeper inside herself, she knew she’d have probably done the same. People judged, people looked down on you, no one understood what it was like being one of Vaughn’s girls – that you didn’t have a choice because without him, you were nothing. Tainted and marked for life.
Another sound. Someone’s feet tramping up the stairs. Shit. Whatever happened now, Darren and Luba mustn’t find the baby. But what the hell was she supposed to do with it? She could hardly tell them that Hannah had died because of her, that she’d as good as killed the baby’s mother. They’d take the baby away for sure, and God knows what they’d do to her as punishment.
She decided to get Hannah back lying on the bed, hide her under the sheets to make it look as if she was sleeping. It might buy some time. But as she disentangled herself from Hannah, as she tried to haul her body back down, Hannah slumped forward and her bottom slid off the bed and onto the floor, the rest of her collapsing sideways as the dead weight of her crashed down, her head striking the nearby bedside table. She was bent into an unnatural shape and Molly knew there wasn’t a chance of her lifting her up and getting her onto the bed again.
And that’s when she knew what she had to do.
If anything ever happens to one of us, the other takes care of it. Sisters forever, right?
Hannah’s words echoed through her mind as she reached over and opened the drawer of the little table beside the bed. Each room had a stash of basic beauty supplies in case touch-ups were needed – and that included a manicure set. She fumbled to open the zip-up pouch, struggled to get her fingers inside the scissors, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she snipped through the baby’s umbilical cord. She had no idea if it would hurt the poor thing, but she’d seen it done on the TV before, so knew she had to do it. The baby didn’t make a sound as she hacked her way through the gristle. Then she grabbed a hair elastic from the drawer and bound it tightly around the weeping stump. After that, she pulled off a pillowcase and slipped it up over the baby’s legs and body, easing in her arms, finally covering her head.
‘Shh, little one,’ she said, rubbing her tiny back as she gathered up the top of the pillowcase. She’d be able to breathe, but she needed to hide her from view as she went upstairs to the top floor. ‘There, there, everything’s going to be OK.’ Her arms were shaking as she picked up the little bundle, pressing it close to her chest. She had no idea how long a baby could survive without food, but she didn’t think it was very long. She needed to get out, and fast.
So that’s what she did. She crept to the door, glancing one last time at Hannah lying dead on the floor and covered in blood, whispering a silent prayer for her, and she slipped, unnoticed, up to the top floor where she laid the baby on a bunk while she shoved herself into jeans, a sweatshirt and trainers. The television was still playing theBeauty and the BeastDVD that Hannah had had on repeat to get her through labour…the familiar songs ringing through Molly’s ears as she grabbed what she’d need.
Then she opened the wardrobe doors and flung out a few items, revealing the plastic bags of money at the back. Stashing the bundles of notes into Hannah’s suitcase seemed to take forever, and she had to ditch some of Hannah’s clothes to make it all fit in, though she kept out a little romper and a nappy for the baby. Then she carefully tucked the envelope containing Hannah’s passport and birth certificate that she’d also stolen from the office, inside the flap in the lid and zipped up the case.
Ten minutes later and she had the squirming baby wearing a nappy, albeit lopsided, and a towelling suit with poppers down the front. She stopped and stared at her for a moment, wiping the tears from her eyes and marvelling at how perfect she was. She reached out her little finger, placing it inside the baby’s hand. Her little fist closed around it and their eyes met. Molly’s vision was blurry from the tears as she stared down at the baby.
And then she looked up at the TV screen and saw the beautiful princess dancing and swirling in her yellow dress.
‘That’s what I’m going to call you, sweetheart,’ she whispered down at her. ‘Belle. My beautiful princess. Mummy’s going to take good care of you, you’ll see. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.’ She glanced at the screen again. ‘No beast will ever lay his hands on you, I promise.’
Molly wrapped up the baby in a towel from her bed and picked her up, tucking her in the crook of her arm. Then she grabbed the heavy suitcase, and somehow, checking each floor was clear as she went, she crept down the many flights of stairs for the last time.
It was just as she was gently opening the front door on to the street that Luba came out of the reception room, laughing and staggering, a drink in her hand. They each froze. At first, neither of them said anything – just their eyes locking, a shocked expression washing over Luba’s face, her gaze finally lowering to the baby. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out.
Panicking, Molly reached out and grabbed the first thing to hand – a long umbrella from the coat stand beside the door – and, as hard as she could, she jabbed it over and over at Luba’s face. The last strike hit her directly in the eye, making her drop to the floor as she screamed out in agony, her glass smashing beside her.
That’s when Molly took her chance. She grabbed her suitcase again, and holding Belle tightly in her arms, she ran out of the Cloisters and up the lane as fast as she could, knowing that whatever happened from now on, she’d never go back. Ten minutes later, when she finally stopped running, gasping for breath, comforting the crying baby, she stared up at the night sky, her heart thundering as she added another blessing to her list. From this moment on she was Hannah Greene. It was just her and Belle against the world.
CHAPTER FIFTY
HANNAH – NOW
Everyone has been so kind. They couldn’t do enough for us during our stay in hospital, even though A & E was rammed when we were first brought in. Three of the girls from the Cloisters are being kept on the ward for a few days longer to be monitored for smoke inhalation, but their prognosis is good, and they’ve already been referred to social services for care after their release. I explained to the doctors who they were and what their lives were like, how they’d need help getting back on their feet after their recovery and possibly assistance returning to their home countries, if that’s what they wanted. I’d also offered them jobs if they chose to stay on in the UK. I owe it to them to help any way I can.
So Belle and I, plus a couple of the other girls who were discharged with us, consider ourselves the lucky ones. According to the fire crew who rescued us from the rooftop, no one else made it out alive. The flames had raged through the old timbers of the Cloisters – a death trap with outdated smoke alarms and no alternative escape route, according to the crew manager. The fire had sent floor upon floor crashing down as the insides buckled and the roof caved in. It smouldered for two more days.
Darren, Luba, Vaughn and his nurse, the other woman, Gail, and four punters – all dead.
Gone.
My guilt for the tragedy sits right up alongside the part I played in Hannah’s death –realHannah – although perhaps it’s more relief where Darren and Vaughn are concerned. They can’t hurt me or my family any more. Grant Webster came to the hospital before I left, explaining who he was (I didn’t reveal that I already knew he was a police officer), and he informed me that there’ll be an ongoing investigation into the cause of the fire. In time, they’ll no doubt uncover the reason it started, but with so many people in the building, they can’t pin it on a specific person, and apart from Belle, who only has vague recollections of what happened because of the drugs, no one else alive knows it was me. He told me to expect more questioning as well as giving further statements for the investigation, but I will stick to my story. I need to protect my family. Besides, there are worse secrets for me to keep.
