Page 78 of Savage Protector

He shakes his head. “She lost it. About two weeks after we left. She blamed my dad.”

I nod. “I’m sorry, Bilal…”

Tony has heard enough. “Right, let’s go.”

“Where?” I demand.

“McDonald’s. We’ll talk there, then work out what to do next.”

The conversation flows rather more freely, helpedalong by a family-size box of Chicken McNuggets, half a dozen quarter pounders, and a mountain of fries, all washed down with an ocean of Diet Coke and half-decent lattes. We get a few odd looks from other patrons, our companions are not exactly dressed for eating out, even at such a modest establishment as this, but we can sort that later.

“So, she’s on the game?” Tony clarifies, his voice lowered in deference to ten-year-old’s ears.

Bilal shifts awkwardly but doesn’t deny it. “We were desperate. The rent, food, everything. I worked nights at a petrol station, but it wasn’t enough…”

“It’s okay, we get it. But what about that bloke she left Aston with? Fred, wasn’t it?”

Bilal gives a derisory snort. “That grasping bastard. He took all she earned, as fast as she got it.”

“Where is he now?”

“Gone, and good riddance. But there are more where he came from. Always more…”

I decide to probe a bit further. “One of your old neighbours told me Shahida wanted to be an actress.”

Another snort. “Porn star, more like.”

“Ah.”

“That was Fred’s ‘business’.” He makes little air quotes with his fingers as he describes the trade. “The only reason he took up with Mum in the first place if you ask me. She’s good-looking.”

“I know. I remember.”

“Men will pay…men like reels with Asian women in, but they’re rarer. Cost more. She thought the money was good, well, good enough. And it was, at first. We paid our bills, Sah had a school uniform, and there was stuff in the cupboards for breakfast. I started at college…”

I think we’re all getting the picture. “So, what happened?”

He shrugs again, a hopeless, forlorn gesture. “What always happens? Suddenly, the money dropped off. Fred wanted his cut, because he got her the work, he said. Commission, expenses. We had a house, that one in Carting Street, and he moved in there. He paid nothing towards anything, ate like a pig, helped himself to what he wanted and sold what he didn’t want, even Sarah’s toys and books.”

“What did Shahida do about it?”

“What could she do? He used to knock seven bells out of her if she complained, so she stopped complaining. She was out more and more, working. When she didn’t work, she slept. Not much, but she was exhausted all the time. And she seemed ill but she said she wasn’t. The place fell apart. No gas, no electric, no food in the fridge. No one to get Sarah to school, and she was too ashamed to go anyway because she was dirty and hadn’t the right shoes anymore. I tried, but…”

Tony pats him on the back. “We know you did, but it’s a lot…”

“Mum just disappeared. Went to work and has never come back. At first, I thought maybe she was in the hospital—she wasn’t well, I know that. But I checked, checked everywhere, and no one has heard a thing.”

“Have you seen this Fred charmer? Does he know where she is?”

“He says not. As far as he’s concerned, she’s history.”

“Did he actually say that?” Tony digs.

Bilal nods miserably. “Pretty much.”

“I think we’ll be needing a word with this guy ourselves. Any idea where we might find him?”

Tony’s saying what we’re all thinking, but we have other things to settle first. I check my watch.

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