by Susan Lewis
‘They’re very good,’ Hamish declared, sliding them on to a plate ready to bring to the table. ‘I’ve already had two.’
Craig promptly picked up his guitar, strummed a few chords and sang something about special days and breakfast, or that was how it sounded. Angie noticed the shine in his eyes as he watched Sasha busying herself with cups and milk and sugar, while Hamish filled the big red teapot with boiling water.
Was it her imagination, or was Hamish avoiding her eyes?
‘Sit down, sit down,’ he urged, waving her to the table. ‘Like I said in my text we have something to tell you, and I think you might need to be off your feet when you hear it.’
Surprised, and not a little perturbed, Angie pulled out a chair and glanced over to the sitting room. ‘Are Lenny and Alexei at work?’ she asked.
‘Both up and out at the crack of eggs,’ Hamish replied, setting the teapot on its cast-iron stand and tapping Craig on the shoulder. This was apparently Craig’s cue to put down his guitar and pay attention.
Angie watched as Hamish filled each mug and Sasha did the honours with milk and sugar. Craig helped himself to a biscuit, and earned a scolding from Sasha for forgetting his manners. He immediately offered the biscuit to Angie minus a small bite at the top.
With a fond roll of her eyes, Sasha pushed down his hand and held out the plate of cornflake cookies.
‘So,’ Angie said once everyone was seated around the table and, oddly, looking at her as though she was supposed to get things started, ‘I can’t wait to hear what this is all about.’
Hamish looked at no one as he said, ‘Actually it’s Craig and Sasha who have some news.’
Angie immediately flashed on pregnancy and almost lost her smile.
‘Craig,’ Sasha prompted gently. ‘You say you want to tell her.’
Craig looked at Angie and took a deep breath as if he were about to sing again. ‘We are going to live in Hartcliffe,’ he announced in a rush. Then, more slowly, ‘Me and Sash are going to live in Hartcliffe.’
Angie’s eyes moved from him to Sasha and on to Hamish who was staring down at his tea. ‘Where’s Hartcliffe?’ she asked carefully.
‘Is Bristol,’ Sasha replied. ‘I have friend there who offer us place to live and job for me in factory where she also work.’
Already seeing at least some of the problems this presented, Angie said to Craig, ‘Do you want to move to Bristol?’
He gave a definite nod.
‘But what about your job at the care home?’
Sasha said, ‘My friend say he can play guitar in band that looks for someone like him.’
Angie’s heart sank. That couldn’t possibly be true, but she could hardly say so in front of Craig. She fixed Sasha with a look she hoped would transmit the doubt without Craig picking up on it.
‘The band watch him on YouTube,’ Sasha explained. ‘They like his old music that Hamish teach him.’
Wishing she knew how worried to be, apart from very, Angie let her gaze return to Hamish. ‘What do you think?’ she asked him.
He cleared his throat and picked up his tea. ‘I say it’s wrong to stand in the way of young people and their dreams,’ he replied in a tone that told Angie he didn’t mean it. ‘Good opportunities don’t come along very often, so we have to take them when they do.’
Realizing how upset he was, Angie turned back to Sasha. ‘Is this really a good opportunity?’ she asked bluntly.
Sasha’s tone was sanguine. ‘We hope so,’ she answered. ‘Is hard to know for certain until we get there, but we think, me and Craig, is worth the risk.’
Craig said, ‘It isn’t good for Sasha to stay here. Bad people are out to get her.’
Angie looked at Sasha.
‘I was sex worker,’ the girl said frankly, ‘and I run away, but first time they find me and make me go back. They grab me in front of Craig and he think is his fault. But is not his fault.’ She glanced down at her clenched hands with their silver rings and chipped nails. ‘I escape again after,’ she said quietly, ‘that is how I am here, but they still look for me.’ She swallowed and added hoarsely, ‘They make me do terrible things.’
Angie could imagine what sort of things, and felt as sickened by them as if they’d happened to her. How close had she really come to taking Shalik’s route out of her misery? She wondered if he was the monster behind Sasha’s exploitation, and felt almost certain that he was involved in some way.
Wishing she could ask what Craig and Sasha’s relationship really was, like siblings, lovers, just friends, she said to Sasha, ‘He’ll need help registering for benefits when you get there, and you know about his episodes. He needs special care …’
‘He will have me,’ Sasha declared, putting a hand on Craig’s and squeezing it tightly.
Angie waited for Craig to withdraw, but to her surprise he didn’t. If anything he seemed happy about the physical contact, in fact about everything that was happening, and since he was free to come and go as he pleased, all she could think of to say next was, ‘When are you planning to make the move?’
Craig said, ‘We are going today.’
Stunned, Angie looked at Hamish and her heart turned over to see how bereft he was already feeling. He’d come to think of this young lad as the son he’d never had, and he clearly didn’t want him to go. However, it didn’t seem he was going to try and stand in his way.
Sasha said softly, ‘I promise I will take good care of him. He very special to me, and I know he to you, so I not let anything bad happen to him.’
‘And I will take care of Sasha,’ Craig informed them.
Hardly knowing what else to say, Angie went for the simplest option. ‘How are you getting to Bristol?’
‘On coach,’ Sasha told her. ‘Is cheaper than train.’
Hamish suddenly said, ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, time’s getting on. I thought you said the bus goes at midday.’
Giving Hamish a sorrowful look, Sasha got to her feet. ‘I understand is hard to say goodbye to someone you love …’
‘Do you want a hand down with your things?’ Hamish asked Craig.
Ten tense minutes later Craig and Sasha were on their way out of the door with brief hugs and promises to stay in touch, even to come back and visit. Angie stood watching them struggle to the gate with Craig’s three boxes and guitar. She wondered if she should offer to take them to town in the van, but decided that Hamish was her priority right now.
Going back to the kitchen she found him clearing the table, his head down and seeming slightly shaky. She wanted to comfort him, but hugging him would embarrass them both, so she simply said, ‘Can I give you a hand?’
‘He’ll be fine,’ he responded stiffly, as though it was what she’d asked.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, because she had to.
He glanced at the Mickey Mouse clock he’d repaired and hung on the wall after Craig had found it somewhere and wanted to make it work. ‘He forgot that,’ he said, ‘and look at the time. I’ve a lot to be getting on with and I expect you have too.’
Understanding that he wanted to be alone, Angie picked up her bag and said, ‘Don’t forget to call if you need anything.’
He nodded awkwardly, and realizing he was in a hurry for her to go now, she went to let herself out.
Grace and Lois were at the back of the school canteen huddled over Grace’s mobile, hardly daring to breathe as they opened a message that had arrived during double History. This had been their first opportunity to read it.
The instant Grace saw what came on to the screen she let out a cry of horror and slammed the phone to her chest.
Having seen enough to utter a gasp of her own, Lois muttered, ‘What the fuck?’ She’d turned almost as pale as Grace and looked just as frightened.
Grace tried to swallow. The roar and clatter in the room was suddenly deafening, the heat unbearable. The image on her phone screen was still burning her eyes. She wanted to scream and cry, to curl up in a ball and die.
>
Lois quickly said, ‘Come on, we need to get out of here.’
Minutes later, having fled along the hall and down two sets of stairs, they were in the library with the glass doors closed and a book lodged between the handles to stop anyone else coming in.
Lois looked at the phone still pressed to Grace’s chest. ‘Is there a message with it?’ she asked frantically.
Grace couldn’t bear to look. If she did she’d have to see herself again, with nothing on. Oh God, oh God, oh God!
‘Shall I check?’ Lois offered.
Finally, because she had to, Grace peeled the phone away from herself and snatched another quick glance at the screen. It had faded to black, so she pressed the home button and looked again. It was still there, that terrible, shocking picture that she was in …
‘Hang on,’ Lois cried, grabbing the phone from her, ‘that’s not you. I mean it’s your face, it’s one of your portfolio shots, but look at the size of those boobs. They’re not yours. Someone’s Photoshopped this.’
Grace looked at it in horror. Lois was right, they weren’t her boobs, hers were less than half the size, but it was definitely her face and if anyone saw it they’d think it was her.
‘Scroll down,’ Lois insisted, doing her best to stay calm.
Grace did as she was told, and found another shot even worse than the first, with legs open and back arched, her face attached. ‘Oh God, I can’t,’ she choked, passing the phone to Lois. ‘You do it.’
After three more equally explicit shots, stuff that belonged on the dark web, Lois thought, she finally came to a message and as she read it her eyes bulged in horror.
Grace pressed her face into her hands. ‘What does it say?’ she groaned desperately.
Even though they were alone in the room, Lois read in a whisper:
Congratulations Grace, you’ve passed the audition and here are some lovely shots for your portfolio. There are others, but we thought these were the best so we’ve shared them with our backers and everyone is keen to see much more of you.
You will receive a text in the morning with an address of where to report for your first day of shoot. I know you won’t let us down or tell anyone else about this. If you do I’m sure you can work out what will happen. Please give my best to your mum, A #SAVINGGRACE
Grace’s eyes were burning with terror as she and Lois looked at one another. They had no idea what to do.
‘You can’t go,’ Lois told her.
Grace shook her head.
‘I mean, you really can’t.’
‘No,’ Grace said hoarsely. ‘But what if …’
‘She’s bluffing.’
Grace didn’t understand.
‘She won’t post those shots for everyone to see. Apart from anything else it’s not you, and she’s the one who’d get into trouble for posting them, not you.’
‘But how would they find her?’
Lois struggled for an answer. ‘They won’t have to,’ she declared, ‘because she won’t do anything.’
Grace took the phone and turned it off, as though this could in some way erase what was on it.
They both jumped as someone tried to open the door. To Grace’s horror it was at least four of the Northsider gang, laughing and bobbing up and down and pointing at her as if …
‘Oh my God,’ she cried, seizing Lois’s hand, ‘do you think they’ve seen them?’
‘No! No, they can’t have,’ Lois insisted only marginally less panicked. ‘She said she won’t post anything if you go tomorrow, and it’s still today.’
The bullies moved away, and Grace turned her tormented eyes back to Lois. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said shakily. ‘If I don’t …’
‘You can’t. Think what might happen …’
‘What else can I do?’ Grace shouted. ‘If anyone sees those pictures, if my mum does, it’ll totally do her head in and with everything else she’s got going on …’
‘Stop!’ Lois cried urgently. She was thinking fast. ‘We know they drugged you last time, so what if they do it again?’
‘Thanks for that,’ Grace cried in a fury.
Lois raised her hands to calm her down. ‘Sorry, I was just saying … But don’t worry, we’ll think of something.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know yet, but cross my heart, hope to die, we definitely will.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Angie was worrying about so much as she turned into the small car park in front of Martin’s office – Grace and how distracted she’d seemed this morning on the way to school, Hamish and how he was coping with Craig’s departure, the extremely alarming call she’d just received from the debt adviser – that she almost drove straight into Martin’s BMW on its way out. Quickly hitting her brakes she began reversing into the traffic, only stopping when he tooted his horn and waved her in.
She did as instructed, and pulled up next to Martha’s Golf as he gave another friendly toot before zooming off to whatever meeting or inspection or evaluation was next on his schedule.
Or maybe, given the time of day and the person in the BMW’s passenger seat, he was on his way to a more social event. The woman, although glimpsed only briefly, was blonde and beautiful and had appeared very comfortable with where she was, next to Martin.
Maybe that was who the toiletries belonged to in his bathroom, and if it was she wondered how long they’d been together, how serious it was, if she could ask Martha about her without making it seem she was more interested than she was. The trouble with Martha was that almost nothing got past her, and even if Angie wanted to deny she felt attracted to Martin – who wouldn’t be? – she knew Martha would tune in right away.
So she wouldn’t ask, because it was none of her business, and she had far too much on her mind already. Wasting her time on the blonde in the car would do absolutely nothing to sort out the terrible shock she’d just had about her council-tax debt.
Checking her phone as she went into the office she found a text from Grace letting her know that she’d be staying at Lois’s. She quickly forwarded it to Emma so she wouldn’t expect her niece for tea, and looked around for Martha.
‘In here,’ Martha called out from Martin’s office, as though she had eyes that could see through walls. ‘There’s a set of drawings on your desk to go over to the retirement village, but have yourself a cup of tea first.’
Shrugging off her coat while composing replies to various emails in her head, Angie took herself into the kitchen and began rinsing out the mugs in the sink. Noticing a faint lipstick mark on one that presumably belonged to the blonde in Martin’s car, she wondered if she should wear lipstick when she met him later. The idea caused a tightening of nerves to shoot through her like a firework. She didn’t want to send any wrong signals and make herself look foolish, but on the other hand she ought to make a bit of an effort. She’d already planned to pop over to Emma’s later to drag a box of clothes from the attic in search of a decent top or dress, and hopefully she’d have time to wash and blow-dry her hair before he picked her up.
‘Did you see Martin on your way in?’ Martha asked, back at her desk now.
‘I almost drove into him,’ Angie confessed.
Martha’s tone was wry as she said, ‘That would have been awkward.’
Angie chuckled. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, thanks. He’s booked a table at Luca’s over at the marina for seven, but it can easily be changed if the time doesn’t work for you.’
‘That fine,’ Angie replied, more than a little relieved to know the evening was still as planned. ‘I’ll be at the flat so I can meet him here.’
‘You need to tell him that, not me. Have you seen my glasses? I’ve put them down somewhere …’
‘On your head.’
Martha felt for them and broke into a laugh. ‘First signs,’ she declared cheerily. ‘Now, I’ve got a – ah, here it is.’ She held up a small brown envelope. ‘Fifty pounds petrol money. Can’t have you out of pocket
with all the running around you’re doing. If you need more, just holler.’
Carrying over the tea, Angie thanked her and picked up the envelope. It was far more welcome than Martha could have known, for she’d been planning to take the bus to the retirement village, then another to Emma’s for a dress and yet another back into town. This would save her at least an hour and a half, so barring mishaps or emergencies she should be able to make herself nice and presentable for a meal at Luca’s.
First, though, she’d better text Martin to confirm the time. As the marina was so close she would suggest she walked over and met him there.
His message came back an hour later. Great idea to walk. We’ll go together and I’ll leave my car at the office.
Angie was ready and waiting by a quarter to seven, having changed in and out of all four dresses she’d brought from Emma’s at least a dozen times, unable to decide which one was right. Too short, too frumpy, too daring, too old … In the end she’d decided on a black silk-blend shift with a discreet crystal neck chain and her kitten-heel ankle boots. Steve had always insisted she had great legs – not long, but perfectly shaped, he’d said – though she was sure he’d pronounce them too skinny now. He also used to tease her that her bottom was irresistible, and that actually she was even more beautiful out of clothes than in, so perhaps she ought to give them up – at least when it was just the two of them at home.
She smiled to herself as the memories came up to make her feel happy and sad, and perhaps a little more confused about this evening than was good for her. However, the upside of holding on to thoughts of Steve was the way it made her feel more confident in her appearance than she had for a very long time. Though her hair was its usual tumble of soft red curls, this evening instead of scraping them back in a messy ponytail she was allowing them to fall loosely around her face and shoulders, with a glittery clip holding them back to one side. She’d have asked Grace to come and style it for her if it hadn’t meant Grace would end up spending the evening here in the flat alone. She’d have more fun at Lois’s.
Feeling a twist of nerves as a text jingled into her mobile she saw it was from Hamish and opened it. Craig and Sasha have arrived safely in Bristol. Better late than never. This last comment told her, as if she didn’t already know, that he’d been waiting for the message like an anxious parent needing to have his mind put at rest.