Ring Around Rosie (12 page)

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he
replied, turning down a busier street to try and lose her in the crowds. Then
he froze.

“What did you just call me?” he asked,
turning to face her as she skidded to a halt just inches from him. She regained
her composure and painted that smile on her face again.

“I called you Ted,” she replied.

“But my name is William Hungerford,” said
Ted forcefully.

“Maybe for tonight but normally your name
is Ted. Look there’s no need for this. I’m happy to come clean with what I know
and why I’m here but I’d prefer to sit down and do it in the relative privacy
of a bar or café.”

Ted looked into her seemingly innocent
green eyes and nodded, following her into a dimly-lit bar with old style blues
music trickling from one of the crackling speakers. They ordered drinks and
found a seat in a corner away from prying eyes and ears – although who would
care what they were up to Ted wasn’t sure, but it all felt suitable to the
situation.

Ted waited patiently for Martha to talk.
She seemed to be taking her time removing her jacket and rummaging in her bag
and then sipping her drink, but eventually she looked up at Ted and smiled.

“I have a brother in the police force. He
happened to mention your sister’s case to me because I have been working on a
piece about child trafficking. It’s taking longer than anticipated because it’s
such a hard thing to keep track of; it’s all so underground and unpoliced that
no one really knows the full extent of the problem. Your sister’s case is the
first one I have heard about that has a beginning to it, a source. Most of the
kids have been in the ‘system’ for ages and their history is untraceable
because of the hidden nature of child trafficking and exploitation.”

Martha stopped to take a sip of her drink.
Ted waited for her to continue but she seemed to have finished.

“What exactly is it you’re reporting on?”
asked Ted, impatiently.

“Well, up until I heard about your sister
it was all just snippets from various websites and a few interviews with
charity workers. I knew child trafficking was big business but there are so few
sources of information. Victims are generally too traumatised to talk about
their experiences and no one seems able to catch the traffickers themselves, so
I’ve been rummaging in the dark, so to speak. I’m kinda new to the journalism
thing and I wanted to make a good first impression… well, actually, I’m really
just studying journalism,” she said sheepishly.

Ted frowned. So she
was
a student. Great,
their story would end up in some student rag, most likely used to mop up sick
after a heavy night out.

  “But I’d really like to tell Rosie’s and
your story,” she rushed. “And I’d really do a good job. And there are some of
our stories that make it to the tabloids, if our tutors think they’re good
enough, so it’s a start.”

Ted studied her anxious face for a moment
as her pleading eyes bore into his. It was hard to resist her and he eventually
found himself nodding goofily like one of those dogs in car windows. Anyway, he
thought, any extra help could only be a good thing. She whooped and threw her
arms around him across the table. Ted froze in surprise and she quickly let go,
looking embarrassed.

Martha pulled out a pad and pen and held
them poised.

“What?” asked Ted. “You mean now?”

“Yeah. Oh, sorry. Did you have somewhere
else to be?” she asked coyly.

Ted shrugged. She was going to be a hard
one to refuse.

It was the end of a long week for Rosie.
She had been locked in the room for six days and the walls were starting to
bear down on her, close in and crush her. But, as she kept telling herself,
anything was better than being engaged every day like the other three had. Each
day they came back a little less complete, like bits of them were being slowly
chipped away. Baduwa had lost her glow of hope and colour. Utibe no longer made
eye contact with any of them; she had completely shut herself away in her own
little world where no one could get to her – a place Rosie knew well. And Lo
would wake in the night screaming, clawing at the walls, fighting to get out of
the nightmare he was trapped in.

Rosie felt like she was in a mad house as
she watched each of them deal with their own horror the only way they could.
Baduwa tried to put on a brave face – for Utibe, Rosie guessed. She still tried
to do her hair and make herself look respectable, but it was like watching her
lose a long fought battle, until one day she just gave up and let herself grow
over like moss on a wall.

Rosie tried to keep them buoyant but it was
like lifting sodden bodies out of deep water. She felt they almost resented her
for not going through the same things they were, like she had been lucky to get
her injuries. But Rosie knew her time was nearly up; her bruises had almost
gone and she suspected Zaydain would want to make back any losses, and fast.

Griff had spent a little time with her each
day when the others were out. She tried to probe him gently for information,
some of which he was forthcoming about but mostly he was buttoned tight. He
told her that he and Zaydain were from Germany originally, that their father
had been strict with Zaydain but ignored him. Their mother was quiet and
unassuming; she knew her place and rarely spoke out when their father was around.
Griff talked about her with affection but also with a little contempt. Rosie
assumed much of it was Zaydain’s influence.

Griff wouldn’t speak about what they did
now; he just shook his head and pressed his lips together. But Rosie got the
impression it was their father’s idea originally; Zaydain seemed to have so
little respect for women that it would make sense, she thought. She could
imagine their father filling his boys’ heads with lies about women and girls,
about how they were a lesser species; existing only to pleasure men.

Rosie couldn’t work Griff out though,
however hard she tried. There was something about him that didn’t ring true but
she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was almost like he was mocking her
sometimes, that he was acting out a character. She remembered back to when
she’d first seen him outside the bunker and Zaydain had mentioned giving Griff
his pills. She wanted to ask him about that but knew it may be pushing it too
far; she didn’t want to scare him off before she’d had a chance to put her plan
into action.

As Rosie sat on her mattress after the
others had been taken to their engagements, waiting for Griff’s usual visit,
she realised this could be her last chance. She’d wanted to wait as long as
possible to be sure she had gained Griff’s confidence, but she was still so
unsure.

Griff entered the room as usual with a bar
of chocolate and a drink. Rosie took them gratefully and offered some to him.
As they sat munching in silence Rosie suddenly began to get cold feet. What if
he didn’t agree? What if he told Zaydain that she had tried to escape? Would
that put her family in danger? But she had no choice. There was no way Ted was
going to find her without another clue, and no other way she could think of to
let him know where she was. It was a long shot anyway but she had to try
something, so she took a deep breath.

“I spoke to Zaydain last night, about you
taking me out, and he said you could. He said they would be out for most of the
day today and that we could go for a coffee together whilst they were gone. He
doesn’t want the others to know though, in case they start asking to go out
too,” Rosie finished, swallowing her heart back down.

Griff looked at her, a slight smile playing
on his lips. It looked like he was going to burst out laughing and tell her
that she must think he was stupid to let her out. But as Rosie watched his face
she could see each thought change his facial expressions and suddenly he was
looking sad.

“Not allowed coffee.”

“Well I don’t think he meant us to have
coffee necessarily, it’s just a figure of speech,” Rosie rushed. “They sell
other drinks. What do you like to drink?”

Griff started shaking his head again and
Rosie feared she’d already blown it.

“What about tea?” Rosie asked.

Griff shook his head more.

Rosie felt desperation tighten her skin.

“They don’t only sell hot drinks you know,
perhaps you’d like an apple juice or a coke?”

Griff shook his head more and Rosie cursed
at herself as she remembered he never had any of the drinks he bought her. She
wracked her brain, desperately thinking of something else to lure him. Then she
had an idea.

“What about chocolate milkshake?”

Rosie held her breath, watching him. He
stopped shaking his head and looked at her, a smile creeping across his face,
lighting it in a way Rosie had not seen before. He nodded excitedly and stood
up. Rosie’s heart leapt. She jumped to her feet and headed straight for the
door. Could this at last be her chance? She dared to let hope seep into her
bones as she imagined the looks on her family’s faces when they saw her. How
she’d blow the lid on this sordid world wide open for everyone to see. She
pictured her face in the newspapers, on TV, her family crying as they spoke of
the hell they had been through. It all felt within her grasp as Rosie almost
skipped down the steps leading out of the block of flats. She could hear Griff
panting with excitement on her heels. If she could just leave the picture
somewhere where Ted might spot it, then he’d know. Her mind started running
wild: maybe she should make a run for it. Why leave a clue when she could just
bolt? She wanted to run right now and never stop, scream at the top of her
voice until someone came to her rescue.

But as she stepped outside she didn’t
recognise this new world, the one she used to be a part of. The buildings
looked more sinister, each face that passed her seemed threatening. How could
she trust anyone now? For all she knew they were all in on it. She glanced at
Griff as he pulled up alongside her. He looked skinny and feeble, vulnerable
even, but this was his world and she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t as much of an
illusion as the rest of it. Every bone in Rosie’s body was screaming at her to
run, but her head was so full of doubt and confusion.

For now all she could do was keep the café
in her sights and walk as if through a tunnel towards it. That was her goal
right now, anything else felt impossible.

They entered the café that Rosie had looked
longingly at so many times and found a table in the corner by the window and
sat down. The cafe was small, only big enough for about ten tables, and each
one felt too close, like it was trying to block her in, stop her from escaping.
Rosie concentrated on breathing, and looked around her for a suitable place to
hide the picture. She spotted a plant behind her on the windowsill and decided
that would be perfect, as the picture would only be seen from the outside and
so was less likely to be removed by anyone in the café.

A waitress appeared at the table, barely
meeting their eyes as they ordered their milkshakes. She looked bored,
distracted, probably wishing she was somewhere else. But Rosie realised she
would give anything to be that waitress right now. To slip into her scruffy
converse, and wait on everyone and anyone all day, hour after hour, if only it
meant she didn’t have to go back.

Griff’s expectant gaze followed the
waitress as she went to prepare their order, and Rosie took the chance to reach
into her pocket and take out the photograph. She unfolded it under the table
and checked the number was still there: fifty-five was scratched discretely in
the bottom left hand corner. Rosie glanced at Griff to be sure he was still
distracted and reached behind her and placed the photo next to the pot plant
and against the window.

But it suddenly felt like a feeble attempt.
What were the chances, really, of Ted spotting a small photo in one of the
hundreds of cafes in London? What could possibly bring him here of all places?
She had to try something else. There might never be another opportunity.

Rosie was suddenly aware that Griff was
wriggling in his chair and guessed their drinks were coming. She caught the
waitress’s eye as she approached the table and longed for her to notice this
odd pairing, to get suspicious and call the police. But there was nothing
remotely observant there as she placed the drinks in front of them.

Rosie looked around the room. Aside from
them, there was an old man falling asleep in his teacup at one table, and a
woman feeding her baby at another. She could see the toilet just beyond the
counter, behind which the waitress now stood staring absently into space. Maybe
she could go to the loo and whisper to the waitress to call the police as she
passed. Would Griff notice? She couldn’t be sure, although looking at his
milk-covered top lip stretched wide in a huge grin of pleasure he seemed more
of a child than a threat. Rosie tried to guess how old he was. He had lines
around his eyes and his hair was thin on the top so she guessed he must at
least be in his thirties, but his eyes held intelligence that wasn’t reflected
in his appearance, much like some animals. Rosie remembered staring into a
pig’s eyes at a farm once and seeing knowledge hidden there that she never
expected, and she got the same feeling from Griff.

A loud slurping signalled that time was
running out.

“Griff, I’m just going to the Ladies, ok?”
Rosie said, standing.

Griff nodded and carried on sucking every
last drop from his glass.

Rosie walked quickly towards the toilet,
her heart pounding as she neared the waitress. Just as she pulled level and was
about to whisper to her to call the police, a shout came from the back and she
scuttled out. Rosie bolted into the loo and shut the door. She’d missed her
chance. 

She sat down to catch her breath and calm
her nerves. Her shuddering body was making the loo seat rattle and she could
now hear the voice that had shouted at the waitress telling her to stop
standing around and do some work.

There was only one option left; she had to
run for it. It was so risky but the thought of going back there, facing more
men like the ones that had hurt her, was more than she could bear. And she
would kick herself for missing the opportunity if she didn’t at least try. If
she could just get a head start then maybe, just maybe, she could outrun Griff.

Rosie stood on her shuddering legs and
peeped out through the door. Her path was clear to the exit. She looked over at
Griff and saw he was on the phone. Could he have got suspicious and be calling
Zaydain or Gabriel? She wasn’t going wait to find out, it was now or never. She
took a deep breath, checked Griff was looking away and walked briskly towards
the exit.

Suddenly the waitress was standing in front
of her blocking the way.

“Not leaving without paying I hope,” she
said, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“No, of course not,” Rosie almost
whispered. “My friend is paying.” She nodded in Griff’s direction as she tried
to get past the waitress.

“He doesn’t seem to be the type to pay,”
said the waitress looking over at Griff who was off the phone and appeared to
be using the straw from his drink to contact other life forms.

Rosie saw an opportunity.

“Please, help me. That man has kidnapped me
and I need to get away, now. Can you call the police? I’m being held against my
will,” she whispered urgently.

The waitress sighed. “Really? You expect me
to believe that whilst you’re heading out the door without paying? You want me
to go back there and use the phone whilst you run off? Please, do I look like a
dumb-ass to you, sister?”

Rosie looked at the waitress in despair.
Why was she not helping?

Rosie couldn’t wait around trying to
convince her, she had to go. Pushing past the waitress, she reached for the
door handle.

“Oy, Bob! This girl’s trying to leave
without paying!”

The moment hung suspended in the air as
Rosie froze in panic, like someone had paused the terrifying scene to savour
her agony. Then they hit play again and the place erupted as she pulled at the
door with all her strength against the resisting hand of the waitress and raced
out through it.

Shouting broke out behind her as chairs
fell in what she suspected was Griff’s haste to chase after her. She wanted to
stop and go back and say she’d made a horrible mistake and wasn’t really
intending to run away, but her feet seemed to have other ideas as they followed
one another faster than she thought they could carry her, along the pavement,
past some shops and a pub.

The skin on her back rippled and fizzed as if
Griff’s breath was already bearing down on her, the fear that he could be so
close spurring her momentum. She couldn’t imagine how her legs were holding her
up, it felt like they were someone else’s as her pounding feet carried her
across a road, past a cemetery on her right and a church on her left, and then
into a park. Rosie wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to go into the park as
there were less people there, but it was an open space where she hoped she
could gather speed.