The redhead smiled, surprised but friendly.
‘Of course. What do you need?’
‘This is my first time here. I’m looking for my sister. She used to live in Latvia, but now she’s here in London. Do you happen to know any Latvian girls here?’
‘I don’t think so,’ the woman replied suspiciously. ‘My family is from Latvia, but I’m British now.’
‘Could we talk for moment? I could offer you a drink.’
‘I don’t think so,’ the woman repeated. ‘A lot of Latvian women live in London. I don’t know if they come here.’
The woman said something to her girlfriends in Russian, which Lia guessed probably meant something along the lines of: ‘Crazy bitch. Let’s go.’
The trio began to leave, but the redhead still said, ‘I’m sorry. I hope you find your sister.’
‘As a matter of fact, I think she’s in trouble, and I need some advice.’
This piqued the woman’s interest.
‘What trouble? What kind of advice?’
‘I don’t quite know,’ Lia said. ‘I think she’s been working in a business where a woman can get into trouble… with clients or the boss.’
The red-headed woman’s gaze hardened.
‘Please. This will only take a minute,’ Lia continued hastily. ‘Sisters have to stick together.’
‘Of course…’
Lia looked at the woman pleadingly.
‘There are a lot of Latvian women in London. In that business where you can get into trouble,’ the woman said. ‘But they always have a boss who handles their problems. I don’t know any Latvian girls who work alone. I doubt there are any. So if your sister is here, her boss will help her. Goodbye.’
Turning, the woman walked away, followed by her friends.
Needing a moment to gather herself, Lia stayed in the toilet queue. She knew that nothing the woman had said gave her any new leads.
It was only midnight. She still had time. She just had to work out how to proceed.
Lia peered back out towards the dance floor and bar. The red-headed woman and her girlfriends were huddled together, talking intimately and glancing in Lia’s direction. Their male companion was gone.
Then Lia noticed him barging his way through the dancing crowd directly towards her, accompanied by another, younger man. Bald and muscled, the second man stared her straight in the eyes.
Fear swept over Lia. She retreated back to the queue.
The men would reach her any moment. She had to get away, anywhere.
Jumping the queue, Lia stepped towards the toilet holding her stomach and repeating, ‘Excuse me, excuse me! Emergency!’
Irritated exclamations followed her, but Lia was already inside. The room was so full that there was barely space to move.
She looked around. No way out but back through the club. On a side wall were two small windows, but metal grilles were visible behind the frosted glass. Going that way without attracting attention was impossible.
Outside it was cold, and Lia’s coat was hanging in the cloakroom.
She could ring Mari. But whatever Mari came up with would take time. Lia just wanted out. The crush in the toilet was stifling.
She had to appeal to female solidarity. She glanced at the women standing by the mirrors.
That sporty blonde looks like she doesn’t take any nonsense from men.
Lia sidled up to the woman.
‘Excuse me. I’m so sorry, but I have a problem,’ Lia said in a low voice. ‘There’s a man out there who’s been bothering me. I’m afraid to go back out. I think he’s going to try to force me to go with him or something.’
‘That’s outrageous,’ the woman exclaimed.
She looked at Lia appraisingly.
‘Can I help? Shall I call the police or the bouncers?’
‘I don’t want anything like that unless he gets aggressive. But could you leave with me? I just want to get out. Just walk me to the door. Then he won’t dare try anything.’
After hesitating for a moment, the woman made her decision.
‘Of course.’
Taking Lia by the arm, she squeezed reassuringly. Lia smiled quickly, and they began moving towards the toilets’ door, arm in arm.
Lia caught her breath as the door opened: the dark-haired man and his bald partner were right there waiting.
‘That one, in the dark suit,’ Lia whispered.
‘Right,’ the woman said, holding her tightly by the arm and glaring at the man. Pressed against each other, they set off through the nightclub.
In order to reach the exit, they had to force their way through the mass of dancing people. Lia tried to keep her eyes down and move as quickly as she could. The woman understood from her grip that now they just had to move.
At that moment, Lia was yanked back, her left arm feeling as though it might be torn from its socket.
Lia cried out in agony and tried to break free from the man in the dark suit who was dragging her aside. The blonde woman Lia had been walking with stared on in shock.
Lia screamed.
‘Help! Rape!’ she shrieked, her voice cutting through the din of the club. The people around them came to an abrupt stop, as if they had been struck.
‘Help! Someone help!’ the blonde woman shouted.
With that, the man in the dark suit released Lia’s arm and left, quickly melting into the crowd. The bald man was nowhere to be seen.
Lia held her arm, which was numb and possibly dislocated. Her whole body tingled with shock and pain.
‘Out. I have to get out,’ Lia said to the blonde woman.
Lia could see the fear in the blonde woman’s face, but she still came to Lia’s aid and made a path for them by waving the dancers away. The crowd parted instinctively. In a moment, Lia was at the cloakroom with her escort.
She realised she was gasping, as if the jerk backwards had knocked all the wind out of her lungs. Lia handed the woman her handbag.
‘My coat,’ Lia managed to say, and the woman dug Lia’s ticket out of her bag.
Noticing that something unusual was afoot, the attendant eyed them.
‘Is anything the matter?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Lia said quickly. ‘No, there isn’t.’
With some effort she managed to get her coat over her shoulders. Her left arm was too sore to put the coat on properly.
‘Thanks,’ Lia said to the blonde woman. ‘What a dreadful night.’
‘That was just awful,’ the woman agreed. ‘You will notify the police, won’t you? There were a lot of people there who saw that man and what he did to you.’
‘Yes, thanks. Of course I will.’
As she stepped out into the air, she felt her legs wobbling.
On the street, Lia had to stop and brace herself against a wall. She had to catch her breath. Despite her idiotic attempt to the contrary, she was still alive and in one piece.
Perkele! What a stupid Finnish girl! Now there’s another perfect Finnish word.
No free cabs were visible on the street. After waiting a moment, Lia started walking towards Waterloo Tube station. She glanced behind her and made sure to keep to the better lit parts of the street. Thankfully no one was following her.
At Waterloo there was a long stagnant queue for taxis. The trains would be running though.
Dozens of people stood on the Tube platform, kissing couples and young club-goers. Lia was starting to feel more secure, and the train would be coming soon, in three minutes.
She had thirteen stops to travel, about thirty minutes. From Hampstead station she would have to walk home, since getting a taxi at this time of night would be like winning the lottery.
The Tube carriage was full to overflowing, so Lia had to squeeze her way in. She set her back against the wall to keep herself firmly upright and protect herself from anything hitting her arm.
The train arrived at Embankment. Lia carefully watched everyone entering the carriage. No man in a dark suit, no bald thu
g.
As the train picked up speed again, the screeching of the tracks mingled with the mirthful buzz of conversation. At a bend in the tracks, the carriage rocked, and Lia could see back into the rear of it. A bald head momentarily flashed into view.
Lia felt as if she had been slugged in the stomach with a lead pipe.
Frantic, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, the man was no longer visible in the mob. The carriage rocked. Again the man came into view.
He was in the same car as Lia and trying to stay out of sight.
Perkele, what a stupid Finnish girl.
Heart pounding, Lia began running through her options.
Get out at the next station? He’ll follow me.
Get out at Hampstead? He’ll follow me and see where I live.
Call the police? He’ll definitely run away, but I’ll have to explain why he was following me. And they’ll record my name.
Lia looked at the time on her mobile. Almost half an hour to Hampstead station.
What if I ring Mari? Maybe I could stall for time in the Tube station. I should be safe with people around. Mari could send someone to help. But that would take time.
Then she remembered Mr Vong. Mr Vong always helped when one of the young students ended up locked out on the street at night. And Mr Vong had a moped. But how could she contact him?
Phones only worked in the parts of the Tube network that were above ground and sporadically in a few places underground near the stations. Lia glanced at her mobile. No signal.
For station after station her phone stayed dead. The Northern Line was just too deep.
The Tube train hurtled on. Lia stared ceaselessly at the corner of the phone. No bars.
As the train slowed on its approach to the next station, a sound further up the carriage caught her attention. Someone had received a text message. As Lia thought, she remembered the same thing happening to her once or twice even though the stations here were so far underground.
A text message only required a momentary connection. It would be nothing short of a miracle if the SMS got through, and she would have no way of knowing if Mr Vong had received it.
Growing ever more anxious, she quickly typed a message before the next station arrived: LIA. NEED HELP. BAD MAN ON TUBE. HAMPSTEAD STATION. MOPED.
The carriage stopped. Lia extended her mobile towards the open door, knowing how empty a gesture it was.
She pressed the green button and waited.
A status bar. After a few seconds, the display of her mobile went black. Lia frantically pressed another button to wake up the phone but was returned to a different screen.
The couple standing next to Lia glanced at her as if she was mad, but she didn’t let them disturb her.
Then the doors closed and the carriage moved again.
Now all Lia could do was wait twenty minutes and seven stations for the train to arrive in Hampstead and then dash to meet an aged saviour who probably wouldn’t be there. Twenty minutes was plenty of time for her to imagine herself kidnapped and beaten bloody or mashed to a pulp in the boot of a white Volvo. She wondered what sort of resistance she would be able to put up against the bald man. At each station she felt an almost uncontrollable desire to rush out of the carriage. She thought of the year in Finland when the fear of physical violence had become a normal part of her life. How on earth could she have let her relationship with her parents grow so distant? Mentally she reproached Mari, who had suggested that she visit clubs looking for evidence of the Latvian woman. She reproached herself for rejecting the offer of a minder. Why had she wanted to pry into this whole ugly business anyway?
She tried to calm herself by breathing deeply, but it didn’t work.
In all of those twenty minutes, Lia never glanced into the rear of the Tube carriage. This required a significant effort, but Lia knew that if she saw the man staring at her, she would instantly start screaming.
The train braked at Hampstead station. Lia edged closer to the exit. Finding that her left arm was almost completely useless, she realised that she had not thought of it once during the whole journey.
When the doors opened, Lia was among the first to push her way out.
When she glanced to the side, she saw the bald man exiting from the other door of the carriage. Now she could see him properly. It was definitely the man from the nightclub, the same face, the same thin, sunken cheeks. Cheeks drawn tight by years of hard training, Lia knew instinctively.
The man cast a glance at Lia as well. For a moment their eyes locked.
The Underground platform had two routes out: the slow lift or the long, difficult stairs. Lia chose the safety of the crowd and joined the crowd queuing for the lift.
She saw the bald man off to the side of the crush. Perhaps he wouldn’t fit in the same lift.
Suddenly there was jostling and shouting. The bald man was trying to force his way towards her, elbowing people out of his path.
The doors opened, and Lia was among the first to shoot in. She turned to watch as the bald man roughly cleared his way towards the lift. Most people sidestepped him in outrage, but a couple of men stood their ground and grabbed him by the coat.
The lift doors closed.
The trip to the surface took ten seconds, but Lia knew the man would not stay to wait for the next lift.
Lia dashed out of the lift towards the Tube station’s barriers, Oyster card in hand ready to touch out. She heard running steps echoing from the stairs.
When the bald man arrived at the gates, Lia was already on the other side.
Now came the moment of truth as Lia ran through the doors.
There on the street in front of the station was Mr Vong. Small, old and frail, Mr Vong sat in the saddle of his blue moped, waiting. He raised his hand.
As Lia rushed towards the moped, she saw how Mr Vong looked on in stupefaction at the man charging after her.
‘Let’s go,’ Mr Vong yelled and kicked the moped into motion.
Throwing herself onto the small scooter, Lia felt pain tear at her left shoulder.
As Mr Vong swept around the street corner, Lia turned to look back. The bald man stood on the pavement anxiously looking for a means of transport to continue the pursuit. The other people in front of the station stared, aghast at his strange behaviour. Some stared at Mr Vong and Lia, the aged Asian gentleman fleeing the scene with a young blonde riding pillion.
Holding on tightly to Mr Vong, Lia swore an oath.
No more of this ever. Not ever.
19
‘That was a bad mistake,’ Mari said.
The next day when Lia related how the evening had ended, Mari repeated this several times.
It was Thursday. Lia was glad that she was on holiday and didn’t need to try to work with her sore arm. And she was happy to be alive.
‘I should have thought this through more thoroughly. I’m sorry, Lia,’ Mari said.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Lia said. She had wanted to go to the club herself, even though Mari had warned her and even offered her a bodyguard.
‘I was being stupid. I’m not the secret agent superwoman I’ve been imagining. I almost lost my mind, I was so afraid when I saw that bald guy in the Tube,’ Lia said.
‘I can believe it. I’m sorry. This thing of trying to have two different jobs going at the same time doesn’t work. It doesn’t give me enough time to think. Now we have to proceed carefully,’ Mari said.
‘Mr Vong is quite the hero. I feel like hugging him,’ she added.
‘So do I. Of course I thanked him last night, but everything happened so fast. There wasn’t time for anything else. I’ll get him something nice as a thank-you gift.’
As Mr Vong sped off into the Hampstead night, Lia had thanked her lucky stars. The bald man would have been able to catch her easily on those dark little streets.
At Kidderpore Avenue, Lia had motioned to Mr Vong that he shouldn’t drive straight up to the hall of residence in case the man had succeeded in fo
llowing them. Mr Vong had driven his scooter a few yards further and from there walked her to their building, entering through the other stairwell.
Mr Vong was too polite to press her for details of how she had ended up in such distress, but Lia had felt the need to explain.
‘That man and his friend tried to attack me at a club and then started following me.’
‘Clearly the kind of person from which one should keep one’s distance,’ Mr Vong observed.
Lia had gone to her flat, and Mr Vong waited for her to lock the door. Lia had listened and waited as Mr Vong returned home and gradually returned to bed.
She didn’t turn on any lights: for the first time, her basement room felt unsafe.
But after Lia had sat shivering in the dark for some time and then gone looking for a torch so she could find some painkillers for her shoulder, the situation began feeling absurd.
Why am I afraid?
She had sat down on her bed. In all probability, she had shaken the man off her trail. How long was Lia intending to huddle at home alone in the dark then?
I’m going to stop being afraid now. I’ve done this before. I can do it again now.
She thought of the woman found murdered in the white Volvo and her agitation abated. Determination rose in its place.
Whoever you were, I’m going to find you. Fear isn’t going to stop me. Fear is only an emotion.
The feeling of numbness had begun to abate. She switched on the lamps and brewed a couple of cups of tea.
She had taken a sleeping pill with the painkiller. As she waited for this to take effect, she searched the back of her cupboard for a book Mr Vong had given her.
It was an old guide to London written in Hong Kong for Asian travellers. At first, Lia hadn’t bothered even to browse through it because it looked so cheap and simplistic. Once she looked at it more closely however, she changed her mind.
The name of the book was London, Good For You! and it contained such chapters as ‘Why London?’ ‘London for women’, and ‘Remember to shake hands’.
The book was silly, its language clumsily translated, rote English. Representing a mixture of 1960s London and an Asian view of British customs unfamiliar to Lia, many of the things the book described had almost died out, such as gentlemen’s clubs and travelling salesmen. But the book also had a disarming sincerity.
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