Page 70 of The Engagement

I can’t bear the thought of her being in that place with the other girls; the thought of her being used, treated like a chattel. She has no idea that she’s been groomed any more than I did back then.

I stand up, knowing exactly what I must do. ‘Rob,’ I say, ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.’ And I end the call and go back to wait.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

BELLE – NOW

Belle runs. She runs as fast as she can to get away from the Cloisters, not knowing where she’s going, and she’s stumbling and her lungs are burning and tears are streaming down her face. All she knows is that she must keep running until what she saw isn’t in her head any more. Until she’s convinced that it was not Jack she saw coming out of that building and he did not have his arms around a woman, and that he certainly didn’t kiss her. And perhaps if she keeps on running, her phone won’t have been stolen and she can turn it on and call her mum. She’d know what to do, and Belle is sure that it would involve coming down here to fetch her. To take her home. Because right now, she can’t think of anywhere she’d rather be.

‘Double…double vodka and tonic,’ she says to the barman, panting. It was the first pub she came to when she had no breath left inside her and her legs were about to buckle beneath her. She’s sweating and shaking.

‘ID, love,’ he says before making her drink.

Shit, Belle thinks, but then she remembers – the provisional driving licence her dad applied for when she turned seventeen but hasn’t used. Not properly, anyway. A few spins around a car park and the local roads without an L-plate and an illegal drive on her own don’t really count.

‘Here,’ she says, fishing it out of her purse which, thankfully, is still inside the main part of her backpack.

The barman nods and glances at her before making her drink. She hands him a twenty-pound note and goes to an empty table in the corner, fighting the tears welling in her eyes as she sips her drink. But the sips turn into gulps, and before she knows it, she’s back at the bar with her purse and asking for the same again. When she’s repeated this three more times and the pub has filled up with a lunchtime crowd, she starts to relax and believe that yes, she did indeed make a mistake about seeing Jack kiss that woman, that she was probably just a friend, a work colleague, and that she’d been overexcited and on edge about being in London. So she downs her drink, deciding to go back to the Cloisters, to continue with her plan and stop being so silly. So emotional. So childish.Jesus,Belle, she tells herself.Get a grip. This is your new life now. She leaves the pub, stumbling on the step as she emerges onto the street into the heat, the sunlight, the crowds, and she retraces her steps back to Winlow Court. Back to the building with the blacked-out windows and the ominous facade with the stinky bins nearby. She presses the buzzer.

‘Hello…’ a kind voice says a moment later.

‘Hi, it’s Belle,’ she slurs into the intercom, not really thinking that she sounds or feels like herself any more, but that’s a good thing because she doesn’t really want to be. ‘Can I come in?’ she says and, a second later, the door opens.

‘My…’ the woman says. ‘You a beauty.’ She comes out from behind the desk and looks her up and down. ‘My name is Luba.’ There’s something wrong with her eye.

‘Is…is my boyfriend here?’ Belle slurs, feeling sick. She doesn’t mind the taste of vodka, though she mainly drank wine in France, and she hasn’t ever drunk alcohol that fast before. Or as much.

The woman smiles. ‘Darlin’, all your boyfriends gone be here soon. You come about work?’

Belle nods, presuming Jack has forewarned his staff in all the branches that she’ll be joining the team. That’s what her fuzzy brain tells her, anyway. ‘I just want to make him proud, that’s all,’ she whispers, tearful again. She drops down into a chair, noticing the big tank across the other side of the room, the electric-coloured fish darting about between lurid orange and green castles and brilliant white skulls. That’s what it feels like now, as though she’s underwater. Though she’s not swimming, she’s drowning.

‘Oh, don’t cry,’ the woman says. ‘You’ll makeeveryoneproud, you see. Have you had experience?’

Belle stares up at her, dropping her pack at her feet. She unwinds the pale-pink scarf with orange crescents all over it, the one she fell in love with in that shop in Bristol and Jack immediately bought for her. ‘Yeah, loads,’ she lies through heavy eyes. ‘I’ll do anything.’ She hiccups, letting out a small belch.

‘That’s what we like to hear,’ Luba says, rubbing her back. ‘You gone be a favourite here, I know for sure.’

Belle smiles up at this stranger, the woman she met only a few moments ago – the woman who exudes comfort and care, despite the ugly scar on her cheek. Belle allows herself to soak it all up. She can’t help herself.

‘You want drink, to calm yourself down?’ The woman gets up anyway and goes behind the reception desk again, retrieving a bottle and a shot glass from under the desk. ‘Medicine,’ she adds with a chuckle. ‘It’s all gone be OK. You’re safe now.’

‘Thank you,’ Belle says, taking the shot and knocking it back. She doesn’t hear the voice in her head that tells her not to drink it, the feeble attempt by her conscience whispering at her to leave, to never come back, to go to a shop, the police,anywhere, and to call her mum. She’s an adult now and can do what she likes.

Luba pours her another.

‘Belle. Yes, I hear your name before.’

Belle nods. She stares at the fish.

‘A perfect name for a princess. Princess Belle.’

‘I’ve come to surprise my boyfriend,’ Belle says, looking over at Luba again. She has kind eyes, she thinks – even the fake one. Warm pockets in her pale face. Rosy cheeks that radiate love.

‘Your boyfriend,’ Luba says, her eyes narrowing pensively. Through her clogged mind, Belle sees that the penny is dropping with Luba, that she’s finally realising why she’s here – to see Jack. Luba gets out her phone. ‘Is this him?’ The photo is grainy – a group of people in a bar, Luba included, and they all look drunk or stoned, and Belle also thinks they look happy and content and are having fun. It takes her a while, but finally her own penny drops. She bristles.

‘Yes, that’s him. That’s Jack,myboyfriend.’ She jabs her finger at the phone screen, as though she’s poking his face. ‘But wait…are…areyouinvolved with him? I saw you…I saw you earlier with Jack, didn’t I?’ She swears it was this woman she spotted coming out of the building, Jack giving her a kiss. Though Christ knows her brain isn’t working properly and she could easily have got it wrong.

Luba laughs. ‘Oh no, love. No…he just a friend. We are all good friends here. Like a big family. And yes, yes, that’s Jack, and he your boyfriend, I see this now. So no need to worry. Just drink up and know that you are welcome here.’ Luba makes a rumbling sound in her throat, and Belle isn’t sure if it’s a warning or a sound of contentment. All she knows is that something releases inside her, like a valve letting out the pressure that has been building up inside.

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