Ring Around Rosie (9 page)

Rosie lay curled in a tight ball on the
filthy mattress, dawn breaking outside the window, the birds gloating as they
sang about the start of a new day and how great it was to be free. She was
exhausted but couldn’t clear her mind of all the men that had leered at her,
studied her; ‘booked’ her for another day. Only Baduwa had been what they’d
called ‘engaged’ that night. She hadn’t talked about it, but she had been taken
off, the same as Rosie had, although she was gone for longer. And when she
returned her face spoke of the horror of what had happened to her, and all the
others could do was hold her tightly in their arms in the hope that they could
replace some of what she had lost.

Rosie knew it was only a matter of time
until it was her turn. She could only imagine what awaited her. Her stomach
churned and twisted with every vicious image, cold sweat rushed her with every
terrifying thought that tried to creep into her mind. Her curled, shaking body
fought the desire to rage and scream and panic, to tear at the windows, not
caring if she ripped her arms to shreds. But how could she? Not when he’d threatened
her family. Knowing they were safe was what kept her going; picturing them
together, probably sad but at least together was reassuring and the only
thought that put up any fight against the others pushing their way uninvited
into her head.

Rosie could hear Baduwa sobbing nearby as
she relived her own horror and knew that soon she herself would be on the other
side of what she knew now, like Baduwa, devoid of any remaining innocence.

Rosie wasn’t sure if she’d slept when the
door opened and food was dumped on the floor, but she suddenly realised how
hungry she was and scrambled to the tray with the other two. She found herself
being less fussy this time, not knowing where or when the next meal would
appear. She forced down the lumpy porridge, chasing each mouthful with a gulp
of milk. There was also toast smothered with margarine that she devoured
hungrily. Rosie couldn’t remember eating with such urgency before, like she was
trying to fill the gaping void in her stomach. Baduwa and Utibe seemed to be
doing the same, although they had eaten like this at their last meal so their
hole must have been there longer.

After the brief distraction that eating
brought, they all crawled back to their mattresses where each adopted the
foetal position to await whatever came next. They didn’t have long to wait.
Griff entered the room with three towels and some soap and nodded towards the
bathroom.

“Wash,” he said, putting the towels on the
floor and placing the soap carefully on top. He looked around at them lying on
the mattresses, his gaze falling on Rosie’s frightened eyes. He managed a
crooked smile at her and then left the room. Strangely Rosie felt reassured by
the small gesture, and actually the idea of a shower was quite appealing, so
she clambered slowly to her feet and grabbed the soap and a towel and went into
the bathroom.

It didn’t look like it had been cleaned in
a while but the water ran hot which was all Rosie cared about as she stood
under its reassuring stream. Rosie imagined all her nasty thoughts being washed
away down the drain, down into the sewer with the rats where they belonged.

It felt a bit pointless putting her dirty
old clothes back on but she had nothing else to wear and she didn’t want to ask
for any others in case they gave her things similar to those she’d worn the
night before.

As Rosie walked back into the room her
heart lurched. Sitting on her mattress, knees up under his chin, was Lo. Rosie
ran to him and pulled him close, but he was different somehow, more rigid. She
let him go and looked at him; his eyes wouldn’t meet hers and she could see
where a bruise was forming on his right cheek. She touched it gently, tears
welling in her eyes. He flinched away and lay down on the mattress. Rosie had
no words, not that he’d understand anyway. She could tell from his body
language he felt she’d let him down and nothing she could say would comfort
him, or any of them. Each had their own demons to battle.

Rosie lay down next to Lo and put her arm
around him. She was so tired and the only place she wanted to be right now was
the one place she could escape, and that was sleep.

It felt like no time at all before the
opening door woke them. Lo immediately jumped up and ran to the furthest side
of the room and cowered in the corner. But they weren’t there for him.

It was Rusty this time, and his face was
positively aglow with excitement as he threw some clothes at Rosie and told her
she had ten minutes to make herself look hot. Rosie scowled at him and
blatantly waited until he had left the room; despite his assurance that he’d
seen it all before, there was no way she was letting him watch.

The clothes were similar to the ones she’d
worn the night before but slightly less revealing, smarter, like she was going
somewhere respectable, which she doubted. Baduwa came and helped her put the
wig on straight; the look in her eyes showing pity again, not in the worst
sense this time but in an empathetic way. She gave Rosie a hug and held her
tight for a while.

“Just be somewhere else when it happens.
Find a good memory and go there,” she whispered. Rosie nodded and pulled away
just as the door opened and Rusty’s smirk showed round it.

“Ready? Ooo, yes you are! Not bad.”

Rosie put on the coat and turned to look at
Lo and the girls once more. She managed a smile before following Rusty out of
the door.

Strangely, Rosie felt numb. It seemed that
she’d shaken all her fear out earlier, or maybe she had managed to wash it down
the drain after all, either way she now felt a kind of acceptance that helped
her put one foot in front of the other and walk.

The journey was a haze of grey. She had no
idea how long it took to get to the large house they pulled up outside. Time
seemed to have lost all meaning, like in a dream. Rosie was ushered in through
the wooden doors and into a large reception room where there were four men
playing snooker and swigging from beer bottles. They were old, ‘forties’ Rosie
thought; a similar age to her dad but different, there was no kindness in their
expressions as they drank her in.

Zaydain marched up to one and shook his
hand. They went into another room, presumably to sort out payment, leaving
Rosie to stand awkwardly in front of the other men. They began to move closer,
like a pack of hyenas stalking their prey, laughter rippling from their lips in
bursts of excitement as they nudged and coaxed each other to get even closer
and perhaps touch her. Rosie cowered against the wall, leaning away from the
stench of alcohol on their breath.

Zaydain entered the room again and they
shrank back like they’d been caught trying to poach the lion’s kill. For the
first time Rosie felt grateful for Zaydain’s presence and wished he wouldn’t
leave her. Maybe if she begged him to stay he would take pity on her. She
suddenly felt her legs run out of the room and her hands battle with the lock
on the front door to get outside, but Zaydain was right behind her and grabbed
her round the waist.

“Please, please, I can’t stay here. Take me
back with you. I’ll do anything you want, I’ll do anything for you, I just
can’t…” Rosie broke down and her legs gave way. Zaydain held her up and dragged
her to a chair in the corner.

“This isn’t negotiable,” he hissed. “These
people have paid for you. You have to earn your keep, I’m not running a
charity.”

Rosie looked up through her tear-filled
eyes into his cold blue ones.

“I can get you the money if that’s what you
want. Please, they’ll hurt me.”

Zaydain dragged her off the chair.

“You were so interested in what was going
on when it had nothing to do with you, but now it does you want out? Well, it
doesn’t work like that, you wanted in, so you’re in.”

“Please… don’t,” Rosie sobbed again.

Zaydain’s face was set in a stone-like
grimace as he dragged her back into the room.

“You have three hours. No marks,” he told
the men.

Laughter trickled around the expectant
group. “Sure, we’ll treat her like the princess she is.”

Rosie could barely stand; her legs shook
uncontrollably as she stood awaiting her fate. She thought of her family, of
how much they would be worrying about her, but at least they didn’t know what
was happening to her, she could save them that heartache at least.
She felt
a hand on her
. She could gloss over what had happened.
Another hand
.
Pretend it wasn’t as bad as they had all imagined.
Between her legs
. After
all they were always protecting her from bad things.
A mouth, a tongue
.
It was her turn to be the adult and protect them.
Something pressing against
the back of her thigh
. They were the best family ever.
Pushing, pushing
.
They would do the same for her.
A sharp pain
. Ted especially; he would
feel so much guilt for letting her go that day on the beach.
Legs buckling
.
She wouldn’t want to make him feel worse.
Something choking her
. She
would see them all soon.

Dillon pulled back the corrugated iron
sheet that covered the entrance to a courtyard. On it was painted
Danger.
Condemned Building
. The courtyard led into a run-down conservatory and then
through a front door into what Ted thought must have been an amazing house many
years ago. Now it had leaks and holes and paint peeling off the walls but the
sweeping staircase and high ceilings told of an affluent past.

They heard barking coming from somewhere in
the bowels of the house.

“Brace yourself,” said Dillon.

Ted looked at him questioningly but he
didn’t have to wait long for an answer as two vast dogs came skidding around
the corner. Their legs scrabbled and scrambled as they tried to get a grip on
the slippery floor and leap at them with their terrifying teeth bared.

“Scud! Missile! Down!” came a booming voice
from somewhere in the house. To Ted’s relief the dogs immediately sat down and
started whimpering.

“That doesn’t always happen,” grinned
Dillon, looking rather relieved. “Sometimes they knock you over before he says ‘down’.
Trig has to have his little amusements. He must be feeling kind today.”

They crept carefully past the dogs,
catching a strong smell of weed wafting through the corridors.

Dillon smiled, “This way.”

They followed the scent, passed many rooms,
the smell growing stronger with every step. At last they came to a large room,
empty except for a few cushions on the floor and a plastic garden table with a
chair where Trig was sitting at a computer, busily banging away at the keys.

“Boys,” he said as he saw them enter.

“Hope we’re not interrupting some private
girl time there Trig,” joked Dillon.

“No, I save the ladies for after dark,
bruv. This is work. ’Ave a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He tapped away some more and then shut the
lid of the laptop, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

“So, I hear your sister’s in a bit of
bovver,” he said looking at Ted.

Ted had always found Trig rather
intimidating. It wasn’t that he was a big bloke – on the contrary, he was
shorter than both he and Dillon – but he had a presence about him, an air of
authority. Ted figured it was from his time in prison and having to fend for
himself. Plus he had a gang that he was the revered leader of. No one messed
with Trig.

“Yeah,” said Ted, not knowing what else to
say.

“Sit down, sit down,” said Trig, indicating
to the many cushions scattered on the floor. They both did as they were told.
“Wanna beer?”

“Bit early for me thanks,” said Dillon. Ted
shook his head too.

“Suit yourselves,” said Trig helping
himself to one from the cool box next to the table. “Kitchen’s too far away to
keep getting them out of the fridge,” he grinned.

“Did you manage to find anything out about
that place,
The Lock
?” asked Dillon.

“As a matter of fact I did,” replied Trig
looking pleased with himself. “Right dodgy place by the sounds of it.”

Ted was confused. “We were there last night
and there was nothing dodgy going on.”

“But were you in the right place? See,
there’s the main club that the world gets to see, a flash and famous joint where
loadsa celebs go, but behind that is something else: a members-only club where
punters can view girls and boys without interruption, in the comfort of the
place. There is no age limit on what might be on display and you can pretty
much order them for whatever you want, for how long you want.”

Ted felt bile rising in his throat. “I will
have one of those beers actually,” he said getting up and walking over to the
cool box.

“We never saw anything like that when we
were there last night,” said Dillon.

“Of course not, this is not a place they
want just anyone to know about,” scoffed Trig.

Did you know there were places like this?”
Dillon asked Trig. “I knew there were some sick muckers out there but this
seems so organised, so premeditated. Someone’s put a lot of thought and money
into this.”

“There was talk in prison, ya know, some of
the real sick inmates boasted about shit they were into and where they could
get it. But I had to dig quite deep to find out about
The Lock
. Seems
it’s protected by some very upper crust, influential people, if yer know what I
mean. People that don’t want to be recognised, and want somewhere anonymous to
satisfy their sick fantasies.”

Ted gulped desperately at his beer, wishing
it was something stronger.

“It’s a massive club set over three floors
with bangin’ tunes. If it wasn’t hell on earth it would be a wicked club to go
to,” snorted Trig. “Shame really.”

“So can we get in there?” said Ted, looking
anxiously from Trig to Dillon.

“We can’t, no…” said Trig beaming.

Ted couldn’t understand why Trig kept
looking so pleased with himself and it was beginning to annoy him.

Just then a door slammed somewhere in the
house. The dogs barked. Trig shouted. There were footsteps getting closer and
closer, then a bunch of people appeared in the doorway.

“…but
they
can,” finished Trig.

Ted looked at the motley collection of
people standing in the doorway. There was a young woman, and two men with what
looked like a beaten drunk hanging off them. The woman strode over to Trig and
sat on his knee, planting a long kiss on his mouth. The men dropped the drunk
on the floor and went and helped themselves to a beer each.

“Nice work. Is this ‘im?” asked Trig
nodding towards the man on the floor.

The bottles hissed as the tops were flicked
off.

“Yeah, this is William Hungerford,” said
one of the men. “Where are your manners?” he shouted, walking over and kicking
the body with a long leg. He towered above everyone and Ted could see why
someone as small as Trig would have a mate the size this guy. “Say howdie-do to
everyone!” The body didn’t move. “Out cold,” sniffed the man.

“Easy, Bill,” laughed Trig. “Don’t freak
out our guests. You know my little brother Dill, and this is Ted whose sister
we’re trying to find.”

“Alright,” grunted Bill, slumping down on a
cushion and slugging from his beer.

“That there is Dave,” continued Trig,
nodding towards the smaller man who was busily rolling a joint. “And this
beauty is Blue,” he said, stroking her thigh.

Blue walked over to Dillon and kissed him
on the cheek.

“Mmm, getting cuter by the day, Dill. You
might have to be my replacement when your brother gets too old and incapable,”
she grinned in Trig’s direction.

“That’ll never happen, baby,” said Trig,
seemingly unperturbed by Blue’s flirtation.

“What’s going on Trig?” asked Dillon,
looking at the man on the floor.

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re probably wondering
what the hell a half dead man is doing in my house!”

Dave grunted like a pig as he sat rolling a
joint. Ted assumed he was laughing but couldn’t be sure.

Trig walked over to the man on the floor
and pulled open his jacket and shirt. He undid something from around his neck
and dangled it from his hand. It was a key.

“William has been very helpful with our
enquiries,” said Trig. “Isn’t that right boys? Tell Ted and Dillon here what
this key represents, my darlin’,” he said looking at Blue.

Blue stood up and took off her coat,
clearly relishing having the floor. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her slim
back. “Well, this beautiful key will get you into The Lock, BUT only as William
Hungerford. Each key has a number that can only be seen under a black light.
This number corresponds with William’s membership number. Therefore no one can
steal the key and get in using it.”

She took the key from Trig and handed it to
Ted. He turned it over in his hand. It was unlike any key he’d seen before; it
was very ornate, old looking, like a key to an ancient tomb or something.

“Has William agreed to help us then? To get
us in?” asked Ted.

They all laughed and Ted felt stupid.

“No darlin’,” soothed Blue. “Not exactly.”
She walked over and sat back on Trig’s knee. “Can I tell ‘im?” she asked.

“Sure babe, you did all the hard work,”
replied Trig.

“Well,” she said, standing again. “I have a
sister who is a makeup artist for films and theatre, ’n’ that. She is going to
make
you
up to look like William, Ted, so you can get into the club.”
Blue did a twirl in the middle of the room, clearly pleased with herself.

Ted looked at the man on the floor; he was
a similar build but was balding and older by about thirty years.

Blue saw his expression and smiled. “My
sister’s very good, don’t worry. The body part won’t be a problem; she’ll just
have to work on your face and hair. The club have his details and photograph on
a computer, and match them to the number on the key, which we have, and your
face, which we’re going to change. There’s no retinal scan or anything so
high-tech. So we’re sorted.” Blue twirled again, her hair fanning out behind
her. All of them were transfixed by her beauty, except Dave, who was lying
wasted on the floor, giggling and snorting like an idiot.

Ted felt overwhelmed suddenly. He’d never
imagined Trig would manage to do so much in such a short time, and all for his
sister. Although he wasn’t sure he was a good enough actor to pull this off.

“Thank you,” was all Ted could say.

“No worries, mate. Any friend of Dillon’s…
Well, except for that prat you used to be friends with, Dill, what was his
name? Radish or something?”

“Ravvy,” replied Dillon, “and he wasn’t
that bad.”

“He was, he was a complete plonker,”
scoffed Trig.

“So when is all this going to happen?”
asked Ted, suddenly feeling nervous.

“No time like the present eh? It’ll have to
be tonight, someone might miss this loser if we hang onto him for too long. Although
I can’t think who,” scoffed Trig.

“But what if Rosie’s not there tonight?”
asked Dillon. “If she even gets taken there, which we don’t know, how will we
know what night she goes?”

The room fell silent.

“That’s a mighty good point, little bruv.
Well maybe we’ll have to keep William for a bit longer.” Trig paused, rubbing
his chin. “Bill, try and get a picture of one of William’s kids, we’ll have to
use that to keep him quiet. And when he wakes up, ’ave ’im call his wife and
tell her he’s had to go on a last minute business trip or something. That
should buy us a few days. Will that be enough for you Ted?”

Ted nodded slowly, unsure how long would be
enough.

Blue clapped her hands with glee. “We
should have been coppers!” she squeaked.

“Nah,” said Trig. “Too corrupt.”

Just then Ted’s phone rang.

“Ted, it’s mum,” came a quiet voice at the
other end.

“Hi, how’s things?” Ted asked, standing and
walking out into the corridor.

“We’re in London now. We just wanted to let
you know, in case you need us for anything. We’re feeling at rather a loose
end. A bit helpless.”

“Any word from the police?”

“They keep us posted with what they’re
doing but they have no leads. She’s just one of many children that go missing
every day.” Her voice was an almost inaudible whisper and Ted had to strain to
hear her.

Ted so wanted to ease her pain by telling
her what he was doing but he wasn’t sure they would approve, and they would
definitely insist he told the police and he knew that if this whole thing went
as high as Trig had said, the police would be no help at all.

“I’m doing all I can mum. I’ll let you know
as soon as I hear anything,” he lied. “Try not to worry.”

“Well, your dad and I are going to look for
her anyway. We’ll take a picture of her and ask around, all day and all night
if we have to. We can’t sit around waiting.”

“I know mum. Good luck and I’ll come by and
see you really soon, ok?”

“Bye darling. We love you.”

Ted snapped the phone shut and stood
staring down the corridor. It was a long tunnel that narrowed and darkened as
it went away from him. He wished he could see a light at the end of it. He only
had a few days. What if she didn’t show?