Moth Girls

by Anne Cassidy

  They’d watched the news and saw that the police were in and out of the house on Princess Street. It looked as though the area had been cordoned off. Petra watched the comings and goings with great trepidation. All the time she kept thinking about Tina. Where had she gone when she ran out into the dark?

  Petra thought of Nathan Ball in his van. Could Tina have run out of the side gate at just the moment that Nathan Ball’s van returned to the street? Had he seen her come out of the house and out of the garden? He would have realised that she’d been in the house when her dad and the other man was there. Could he have stopped her, spoken to her, perhaps pretended that he was related to Mr Merchant in some way and told her she had go with him?

  Had Nathan Ball taken Tina away somewhere?

  It couldn’t be. Her dad would know. Nathan Ball would have rung him, texted him, turned up on the balcony and told him. Whatever bad things her dad had done he wouldn’t let anything happen to Tina. Would he? He liked Tina; he’d always play his ringtones for her and when he had money he often gave Petra a fiver to give to Tina so that she could ‘get herself something nice’. But Nathan Ball had no link to Tina. Could he have panicked and thought that Tina had seen too much? Maybe he did something to her to keep her quiet. Petra pictured him slipping out of the driver’s seat into the dark street and walking along behind Tina, maybe slipping his hand over her mouth and pulling her backwards to the van.

  Petra faltered. She couldn’t carry on. Her life seemed to have spun off into some dark and cruel place where people did things that she couldn’t understand. Up ahead Zofia paused as if she sensed that Petra had stopped. She turned and came back to her, taking her hand firmly and pulling her forward. Petra walked tentatively as if she were on a kind of rickety bridge and every step might bring the whole thing crashing down.

  At Marya’s old flat Petra waited on the street while Zofia used a key to open the front door. She went in and beckoned Petra to follow her.

  Zofia had a phone in her hand and Petra noticed that it wasn’t her usual mobile. It looked like a basic pay as you go.

  ‘You got a new phone?’

  ‘I need to contact someone and don’t want any records.’

  Zofia was stiff and brusque. She was nervous. It made Petra feel apprehensive. She followed her through the flat. It was sparingly furnished but there were signs that someone had been there until recently: a couple of carrier bags had collected in the corner of the hall and on the table in the kitchen a box of tissues sat next to a half full bottle of Pepsi. The fridge door was held open by a chair and on the windowsill was a vase of flowers that were still in bloom.

  Zofia stood awkwardly at the table. There was a door behind her that led to another room. Petra glimpsed a washing machine through it.

  ‘What have we come for? Are we picking something up?’ Petra said.

  Zofia exhaled loudly.

  ‘Your father is coming here,’ she said.

  Petra was shocked. She looked around as though he might already be there.

  ‘To take me home?’

  ‘No, no. No.’

  She wasn’t ready to see her dad. She didn’t think she ever wanted to see him again. Zofia put her hand on Petra’s arm.

  ‘I have to talk to him. I have to put things straight with him. Otherwise I don’t know what to do about you. I just don’t know.’

  ‘I can’t see him!’ Petra said. ‘What if he brings the police with him? I can’t see the police. I just can’t.’

  ‘He won’t. He doesn’t like police. He’ll be on his own. That’s what I told him. He won’t even know you are here. But I want you to hear what he says.’

  There was a knock on the front door. Zofia looked towards the sound and nodded.

  ‘Is on time. You go into utility room. Shut the door and keep the light off. Just stay there and hear what he says.’

  ‘I don’t want to be here if he’s here,’ Petra said, chewing her lip.

  ‘You have to hear his words. Otherwise you and me cannot be together. You have to trust me.’

  Petra stared at Zofia. Tonight she looked frightened, her face pale. She pushed at Petra’s arm with surprising force.

  ‘Go.’

  Petra went into the utility room. It was small, with only enough room for a washing machine and a tumble dryer. An empty clothes horse stood folded up alongside. She shut the door. There was no window so the room was dark, like a black cubicle. She sat down, her back to the door. She couldn’t hear any sound from the kitchen, only a mumble of voices further away. She wondered why Zofia had asked her dad to come here and not to her own house. Maybe she was fearful of the police following him and stumbling on Petra before she’d decided what to do. Or possibly there were just too many other people around at Zofia’s.

  What would she do? Would she keep Petra with her? What was the point of talking to her dad?

  She heard her dad’s voice first.

  ‘This better be important, Soph. I’m pretty preoccupied at the moment.’

  There was the sound of chairs being pulled out and sat on. Her dad’s voice had a sneer in it. Petra recognised it from times when he was being sarcastic.

  ‘What can I do for you?’

  She pictured him leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed.

  A ringtone sounded. Petra thought it was Zofia’s new mobile. It had a funny old-fashioned sound like bells tinkling.

  ‘Excuse me, Jason.’

  Zofia was answering it.

  ‘Henryk. I am in the flat now. You are outside? Good. Jason is here too.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Her dad’s voice was faintly high, disbelieving.

  ‘My friend, Henryk, is outside. He is waiting for me. He has key. In fifteen minutes he will come in to check that I am all right.’

  ‘Soph … What’s going on?’

  Petra was puzzled. What was Zofia doing? Who was Henryk?

  ‘If you hit me he will know. He is big as you, Jason, and he has weapon. He used to be in the army. He will hurt you.’

  ‘What’s this drama all for, Soph? My daughter is missing, in case you didn’t know. I’ve got more important stuff to deal with than your stupid …’

  It sounded as though the chair was moving, as if her dad was getting ready to leave.

  ‘I know where Petra is,’ Zofia said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She is safe. I want to talk to you about her.’

  ‘She went to you! I knew she would. I came round to you last night. I asked you. You lied to me …’

  The chair legs creaked as if her dad had shifted. Perhaps he’d leant forward across the table.

  ‘No, no, Jason. She came much later. Very late. She was in a state and I know that you know why so please no bully stuff with me. She did not want to see you. She begged me not to contact you or the police.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She is safe.’

  ‘What about her friend?’

  ‘She’s not with her friend. She doesn’t know where friend is.’

  Dad doesn’t know what happened to Tina. This was important to Petra.

  ‘I want to see Petra.’

  ‘She doesn’t want to see you.’

  ‘She’s a kid. She’s twelve. She doesn’t get to make those kinds of decisions.’

  ‘She’s bright. She knows the difference between right and wrong and she knows that you killed accountant.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Petra tried to picture her dad’s face. When he spoke again his voice was different.

  ‘She thought she saw something … She misinterpreted … She …’

  ‘Jason, she knows. She was frightened to death when she came to me. She knows her own father kill accountant. Don’t try to deny it. I believe her. I know what you are like and you talked about accountant for many weeks. I believe it.’

  ‘Soph … It was an accident. We didn’t go there with that intention. It got out of hand. It was a job I had to do for someone else. They were threat
ening me. The old man owed them money. I could have got hurt if I hadn’t done it. The old man just would not say where the money was. Things got rough.’

  His voice was low, just above a whisper. Petra felt her jaw clamping together as she remembered the scene in the house on Princess Street: an old man who was tied and belted to a chair then beaten. Although she hadn’t been able to bear watching the blows she’d heard each of them and then she’d seen him lying twisted on the floor with blood on his shirt collar.

  ‘It was this other guy. Nathan put me on to him. He was out of control.’

  It wasn’t true. Petra felt her head hanging as if in shame. It was her dad who’d started the attack.

  ‘No matter,’ Zofia said, ‘is in the past. Petra does not want to come back to you. She does not want to live with you any more.’

  ‘She can’t say that. She’s my daughter.’

  ‘If you insist that she comes back then she will tell police what she saw.’

  ‘She won’t tell anyone. I’m her dad. It was an accident. I’ll explain it to her. There’s no point in me going to prison for something I didn’t mean to do!’

  Not true. Not true. Petra hugged her knees.

  ‘She might not tell, Jason, but I will. If you make her come back I will go police. I will tell them what she told me. I know names. Mr Constantine. Nathan Ball …’

  ‘Why? What’s it to you? What’s any of it got to do with you?’

  His voice had risen and he had moved position, Petra was sure. Maybe he was leaning across the table and speaking right into Zofia’s face. Maybe his finger was raised up, pointing at her. She’d seen him do that before.

  ‘I care for Petra,’ Zofia said, her voice coming from exactly the same place. ‘I don’t like the life she has with you. Before, when we finish, I have no choice. She is your daughter and there is nothing I can do. But now that you have done this thing you give up right to her.’

  ‘What?’

  Her dad sounded incredulous.

  ‘You bitch … You can’t tell me what to do …’

  The chair’s legs scraped along the floor and Petra’s shoulder blades tensed. Was he going to hit Zofia? If he did Petra would not be able to stay where she was. She would face him. She would not let Zofia get hurt again.

  ‘Jason, Petra knows I am seeing you. If you hit me she will go to police and I will go with her. You will have to kill me if you want me to shut up. And Henryk is outside. He will come in soon. He will hurt you. You should believe me when I say I will not leave Petra with you. You give her a sad poor life. It took me a while to really see it and now I can do something about it. Sit down … We talk … You get away with dead accountant and I take Petra to Poland with me. She starts a new life. We say nothing to police.’

  Petra listened intently. She wished she could see what was going on. Her dad was probably staring darkly at Zofia and maybe she was keeping eye contact, not prepared to back down. A bargain was being made. Her dad’s freedom for Petra to be with Zofia. Was it right? What about Mr Merchant? Did he not deserve some sort of justice? But if Petra gave her information up she wouldn’t be able to be with Zofia, she would live in foster care, and one day her dad would come out of prison and she would have to see him again.

  ‘Why did you even tell me this? Why didn’t you just take her?’

  ‘Because one day other girl will turn up. Maybe alive. Maybe not. Then you would wonder what happen to your daughter and you would think of me. I do not want to see you coming after us in Poland.’

  ‘You’ve thought this all out.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And Petra wants it?’

  ‘She’s afraid of you, Jason. Let her go.’

  Petra heard the sound of a chair moving.

  ‘What makes you think I won’t still come after you?’

  ‘Because wherever I am she will be there and I don’t think you want to give her more pain.’

  She could hear breathing. Her dad went to say something but stopped. There was a sound from the hallway. The front door opened and closed again. Heavy footsteps came up the hall.

  ‘Is this your muscle boy?’ her dad said.

  ‘This is Henryk.’

  ‘Your new boyfriend?’

  ‘You should go, Jason. We don’t need you.’

  Petra flinched. Had Zofia meant to say we?

  ‘She’s here, isn’t she?’ her dad said.

  Petra froze. She stood up stiffly and looked around the small space. There was no way out. If he wanted to see her he just had to push the door in.

  ‘She doesn’t want to see you. Just go, Jason.’

  ‘Get out, Jason.’ A deep male voice. A Polish voice.

  There was a long silence. Petra wondered if her dad was squaring up to Henryk. Or was he looking round the room searching for her? It wouldn’t take a second to work out where she had hidden. Then there were footsteps. For a moment Petra didn’t know whether they were coming towards her or going away. She closed her eyes as she had done the previous night in Mr Merchant’s hallway. If she kept them tightly shut she wouldn’t have to see anything.

  But the footsteps were walking away and then the front door slammed loudly. The utility room door opened and light flooded in.

  ‘You heard everything?’

  Petra nodded. Zofia stepped across and Petra hugged her. Petra could feel her going limp in her arms. She was clammy, her thin arms hanging. Then she seemed to stiffen up and stepped back. Behind her was a man Petra had never seen. He was wearing a khaki jacket and had a football scarf around his neck. He gave her a gruff nod and then walked out of the room.

  ‘You happy with arrangement?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now we go.’

  Zofia locked up the flat. Henryk was walking ahead. Petra looked up and down the street. There was no sign of her dad or his cab. Had she thought there might be? That he would wait for her and remonstrate?

  When they got back to the house Zofia said, ‘Now we will go. We bring bags down.’

  ‘Tonight? I thought you were going on Sunday.’

  ‘No, now. Henryk is here. We take the overnight ferry from Harwich. We drive through Holland. By morning we will be in Germany.’

  They’d already taken the bags and cases downstairs and stacked them in the hallway. Henryk nodded at Zofia and packed the things into the van.

  When they were finished, Zofia introduced him.

  ‘This is Henryk Palka. He is an old friend. I know him from school but then he moved to Krakow and I didn’t see him again until I came to London. He is taking us to Poland.’