Page 67 of The Engagement

Meanwhile, they’d spotted signs in local convenience stores for several rooms to let, though God only knew what they’d be like, or if they’d even still be available at the right time. Though ultimately, staying local didn’t seem like a good idea. Hannah needed to get as far away as possible, and she’d already stated that there was no way she was going home. She’d not been back in years, and had made it clear her mum would kill her. In the end, they’d decided that getting to a train station and escaping London entirely would be for the best. It didn’t really matter where she went, as long as there was a hospital where she could give birth and a cheap bed and breakfast for the first few nights. The council would eventually home her, given that she’d have a baby and, if all went according to plan, it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t have any money.

‘A step closer?’ Hannah frowned, propping herself up on one elbow as she watched Molly get down on her knees and sweep a load of discarded clothes off the rug. Then she pulled back the tatty, threadbare thing to reveal the old floorboards. Using what was left of her fingernails, she scratched and picked at a couple of loose nails and then lifted the board.

‘It’s payday soon, Han.Payday!’ Molly glanced up through her ratty fringe, an excited yet terrified glint in her eyes. Her entire body was rigid and shaking.

‘What are you doing down there?’ Hannah was on her feet, looking like a house standing there in the brick-brown kaftan she’d nicked from the vintage shop on their last visit. It concealed her expanding belly well.

‘I might have been out of it last night, but not too wasted to hide this.’ She glanced up, grinning, then peered down at the joists again. The gaps between the wood were thick with ancient dust and, as she reached inside, feeling around, her hand caught on something else – something cold and metallic. Molly lifted out the familiar knife. ‘It’s safe,’ she said, holding it up. A dark line of dried blood was still encrusted on the blade from when she and Hannah had becomepropersisters.

Hannah stared at it, glancing towards the door in case anyone came in. ‘Put it back, Mol,’ she said, sounding nervous. A concerned look swept over her face, though Molly wondered if it was the nausea.

Molly was silent for a moment, studying the sharpness of the blade. ‘Have you ever used it?’

Hannah hesitated, shaking her head. ‘Just put it back, will you?’ She went over to close the door. ‘What were you going to show me?’

Molly did as she was told, carefully putting the knife back where she’d found it, then she reached further under the floorboards again and, after feeling around on top of the joists, she pulled out two silver keys dangling from a piece of grubby string. ‘These are the keys to the rest of your life. The keys to yourfreedom.’ She stood up, taking Hannah by the shoulders. ‘And later on, I’m going to get it for you. The money, Han, don’t you see?’ Molly waited for a reaction, but Hannah’s face was blank.

‘Where…where did you get those from? I mean…’ She stared at Molly – confused, worried and terrified all at the same time. ‘They’ll discover they’re missing, and they’ll bloodykillyou. They’ll kill us all.’

Molly shook her head and looked away, giving a little shudder. ‘If you knew what I had to go through to get them.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Luba has a spare set, and Darren will think he’s just mislaid his. He won’t notice for a while yet. And they’re both out later – I overheard them talking last night. Vaughn won’t be back for several weeks and his last drop-off is still stashed in the office. The cash levels will be crazy high right now. I know Luba’s routine. It’s like a perfect eclipse – we can’t wait any longer, you’re getting so big. What are you now? Seven, eight months?’

Hannah bit her lip and looked away as if she wasn’t sure. Or perhaps shewassure but didn’t want to say. Either way, Molly knew she didn’t have time on her side. She dropped to her knees and spoke in an excited whisper at Hannah’s bulging tummy disguised beneath the kaftan. ‘I’ll make sure you’re OK, little one. You and your mummy are going to have a good life. You’re going to be free.’ Then she screwed up her eyes, wishing she could say the same for herself.

* * *

As luck would have it, it wasn’t shaping up to be a busy night at the Cloisters, though even if it had been, Molly would have still pressed on with her plan, knowing there wouldn’t be another opportunity like this. Some days went like that. There’d either be a queue of impatient punters in the waiting area, pacing up and down as they waited for their favourite girl –anygirl – to become free (sometimes they’d bring in their own booze to pass the time, and although that wasn’t really allowed, Luba mostly turned a blind eye to it). And other times, there might be only five or six johns an hour coming in, leaving most of the girls sitting around like lemons, wondering if word had got around that there was going to be a bust or an undercover cop putting in an appearance.

Just after10p.m., Molly feigned a headache. As predicted, Darren and Luba were out and, in some weird twist of fate, Hannah had gone off to a room with the punter who had caused all this mess in the first place. He’d been in to see her a couple of times since he’d got her pregnant, specifically asking for her, pining like a puppy for Hannah, who still hadn’t told him the truth – though he’d have to be blind not to notice her state now. Molly watched from the top floor as Hannah led him upstairs, only catching sight of the top of his head as he followed her up like an obedient little boy. Whether he was pleased or got angry when he saw her naked, that was for Hannah to deal with. Molly had only one thing on her mind right now: the money.

‘Sorry, Gail,’ Molly had said after going downstairs. ‘I feel like crap. I’ll shower and pop a couple of paracetamol, then I’ll be back working again.’

‘It’s quiet anyway,’ Gail, who was standing in for Luba, had replied. Molly didn’t need more convincing, and went up to their bedroom on the top floor and took the key out from its hiding place. Then she grabbed two empty plastic carrier bags that she’d stashed away as well as a couple of pillows off her bed, shoving them inside the bags. Then, checking the landing was clear, she crept down the stairs to Darren and Luba’s floor. Management quarters. She slipped quietly down the side passage at the rear of the landing, her bare feet treading carefully on the creaky old boards. She knew the office was directly above where Gail would be sitting in the reception area, and she didn’t want to be heard. Though Gail was only a part-timer, she’d still be suspicious of any unusual sounds, primed to report anything odd to Darren. No one trusted anyone around here.

She reached the door to the office – the door through which none of the girls had ever passed. Sure, she’d had a glimpse inside a couple of times when Darren or Luba came in or out, and she knew it was where Luba emerged with the vast sums of cash wrapped in cling film to take around Vaughn’s other businesses. There were all kinds of stories about the police sniffing about from time to time, how Vaughn knew people at the Met, bribed them with drugs, girls and God knows what else. Molly knew it was all way more complicated than she’d ever understand, and frankly, as she put the key in the lock, trying the second one when it didn’t fit – which thankfully slid in and turned like a dream – she didn’t care. It represented a ticket out for Hannah and her baby, and that was all that mattered. She’d deal with the consequences later.

‘Jesus,’ she whispered, stepping inside the room and quietly closing the door behind her. She put the catch up on the Yale lock so no one could get in from the outside. The room was a mess – cluttered with rubbish spilling out of bin bags, empty alcohol bottles everywhere along with dirty glasses and plates. Stacks of papers and files were spread all around, as well as piles of clothes and shoes and all manner of detritus that Molly didn’t have time to study.

It was the cupboard she was after – the grey metal double-doored thing over in the corner. One day, when she was feeling especially brave, she’d peeked through the crack in the open door and witnessed Luba retrieving thick wodges of banknotes from it. She’d marvelled at the slackness of it all, keeping so much cash in the building – but that was the thing around here. Men like Vaughn and Darren believed they were untouchable, above everyone else, that no one would dare to cross them, especially not someone like her. Just a common hooker who they believed looked up to them, was grateful to them, was lucky to even be here. Trapped by the need to be wanted.

‘How wrong they fucking are,’ Molly whispered, digging the other key into the padlock on the large cupboard. She was shaking and it took both hands to steady herself enough to get it in. It was stiff but finally clicked and turned, releasing the wide flapped hinge that held the doors closed.

There were six duffel bags inside, two on each shelf, and she’d noted over the last few months that they were emptied out by Luba on rotation. Sometimes it was the blue and yellow ones, sometimes the all-black nylon ones, other times she would lug the dark-grey holdalls to a waiting car. Molly prodded the bags. All full.

‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered to herself, wondering just how much the cash would total. She didn’t dare even take a guess. Stunned by the sight of them, she knew she had to act fast. Below her, through the floor, she heard the goings-on in reception – the bell on the front door occasionally sounding as punters arrived, Gail letting them in, the dulled sound of her chirpy voice greeting them. No matter what sleaze turned up, they were all treated the same: like kings.

Molly unzipped one of the bags on the bottom shelf and swallowed down her fear. Another noise made her pause for a second, but it was just the sound of one of the girls bringing her punter up the stairs, the door banging shut on the floor above as they went inside. She pulled the pillows from the plastic bags and grabbed a couple of the cash bundles, stuffing them inside the carriers. She kept on doing this until the first holdall was empty, then she stuffed a pillow inside it, in place of the cash – fluffing it up to fill the bag before zipping it up again and arranging it exactly how it had been. She repeated the process, but this time she emptied one of the bags on the middle shelf, again stuffing in the pillow when she was done. Feeling the weight of them, she reckoned there must be fifty grand inside at least.

And then she caught sight of the bulging brown envelope on the top shelf, along with a metal tin sitting beside it. With both hands, she pulled down the packet, finding a stack of papers and passports and other documents inside. It took her a few minutes to sort through all of them, but eventually she found Hannah’s passport – her photo showing a young and innocent face that Molly thought could be any of the girls here before they arrived – with her crumpled and folded birth certificate stuffed inside. Along with the money, she was going to need these for her new life, so she dropped them in the carrier bag too. After putting the tatty envelope back how she found it, she gave the tin a quick shake. It rattled as though it contained valuables – perhaps watches or jewellery, all taken from the girls when they arrived. She daren’t risk going through it now, wasting more time, so she shoved it back on the shelf again.

Molly stared down at her haul, wishing she’d brought something more substantial to carry it in. After locking the cupboard, she stood up, feeling the weight of the two bags. The plastic handles stretched, with one straining as if it would break at any moment. She lugged them over to the door, unlocking and opening it a crack to listen out. Just the usual noises she’d expect – the sex sounds that had become part of the fabric of the building, a surround sound of pleasure and pain. Deciding to risk it, Molly stepped out onto the landing and locked the door behind her, moving like a mouse so she didn’t make a sound.

‘Nessa, you up there?’ a voice suddenly yelled from the entrance hall on the ground floor. Gail’s voice. Molly froze at the end of the passage that led on to the main landing area, almost able to see the top of Gail’s head. Vanessa yelled something from the attic, her face appearing over the banister rail as she peered down the stairwell. Molly glanced up, locking eyes with her. She made a ‘shh’ shape with her mouth, praying that Vanessa kept quiet.

‘I’m coming!’ Vanessa called back to Gail, glancing at Molly again. Then she was gone and, a few moments later, Molly heard footsteps rushing down the stairs followed by Vanessa’s voice appeasing and stalling Gail in the hallway, asking if she could fix a broken strap, who her next punter was, had she got any booze…anything to keep her from coming up. Molly grabbed her chance and went as quickly and as silently as she could up to the top floor, gripping the bulging bags of money. Just as she shut the door to their room behind her, she heard footsteps coming up – Gail cursing about something or another, grumbling about it suddenly being busy and customers waiting, that she was going to have someone’s guts for garters if they didn’t get their arses downstairs right now.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

HANNAH – NOW

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