The Victim Page 16

  It was not that far from the truth. If Joly or any of the others came across her, they would accuse her – rightly – of having left them to face the music with the police. And then there was the fact they thought she had killed Georgina.

  Georgina. Beautiful Georgina whose face still haunted her dreams despite the metal gate which Georgie succeeded in putting up around those thoughts during the day.

  ‘You are scared of the police too.’ Sapphire’s tone indicated a statement as well as a question. ‘Yes. Do not deny it.’ She reached across to the pond and gently dipped in her hands, rubbed them together, and then scattered drops over her bare skin to cool herself down.

  Maybe she had done so to give Georgie time once more to think of a reply. She was about to come out with one, a hastily-concocted tale about having a visa check. But then she felt Sapphire’s eyes burning into her. A lie would not wash with this woman, Georgie felt instinctively. Only the truth would do.

  Or part of it.

  ‘Yes.’ This time it was her who reached across to the pond and splashed herself with water. So refreshing in the heat. ‘I am.’

  Sapphire nodded, satisfied. Then both her hands reached out for Georgie’s. They held them for longer than was strictly necessary, yet it was not unpleasant. Nor was it merely comforting. There was a strange sensation of heat passing from the other woman’s skin into hers. A strength which made Georgie feel that her problems were – despite the odds – solvable.

  ‘You do not need to worry.’ Then she grinned, revealing those gold teeth which everyone had around here. ‘We have the police in our pockets, as you English say.’ Then she laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. ‘Indeed, I have one tonight. So you must not worry when he arrives.’

  A policeman was coming here? A hard ball of fear formed in Georgie’s throat. It was all very well Sapphire saying that she didn’t have anything to fear. But the police on the mainland would surely have been informed of Georgie’s death and of the drugs raid. They’d be on the lookout.

  ‘I must go,’ she said quickly.

  ‘No.’ Sapphire’s grip on her arm was firm. ‘You will stay. Have faith. We will look after you. Now go. Go and change.’

  Shaking, Georgie did as she was told. As soon as there was an opportunity, she told herself, she would run before the evening customers arrived. Out of here along with the savings she had squirreled away. But Georgie hadn’t reckoned on the boy. He was waiting by the door, arms folded as if he had been posted there on sentry duty.

  ‘You cannot leave.’ His voice was kinder than before. ‘They will find you. Do not worry. I know about this.’ He pointed to his ears. ‘I hear things. But I tell you this.’ Moving close to her face, he whispered, ‘You might be scared of the police but it is Sapphire and Emerald you should fear. They need you here. You English. Classy. You bring in clients. If you go, they will …’

  Then he made a gesture as if someone was slitting his throat with a knife.

  Georgie stood stock-still. ‘Surely you cannot mean …’

  He nodded. ‘They may not kill your body. But they can make sure that you will not be able to live outside a prison. I have seen it before. You hear Sapphire. The police are good clients. They work hand in hand. If they wish, they can make up accusations. Be careful. Be very careful.’

  Then he held out his hand. ‘I give you good information. Now you pay me.’

  That was outrageous! Yet not liking to offend in this strange world she had found herself in, Georgie found herself dipping into her pocket and giving him a note.

  He shook his head. ‘Not enough.’

  She handed him another. He gave both notes a scornful look and then stopped, like an animal detecting a human. ‘Someone is coming. Go. Behind the desk.’ He grinned. ‘Time to be English queen again.’

  Reluctantly Georgie did as she was told. The boy was right. He was talking to a man on the threshold. A man in full police attire, complete with gun in his belt. She could hardly breathe with fear.

  The boy was smiling and grinning as he led him in, gesticulating that Georgie should take over.

  ‘May I give you some tea?’ she asked in a strangled voice.

  The man, thick-set with a stocky gait, eyed her. Her heart began to pound so loudly that she was certain he must hear it. ‘You are new,’ he stated.

  She nodded.

  ‘You are the English girl.’

  Again, she nodded. How stupid she had been! Why had she allowed herself to be brow-beaten by Sapphire? Why hadn’t she run when she’d had the chance?

  Fingers sweating, she gripped the edge of the table, almost knocking over the vase of artificial flowers.

  Then there was a grin. A broad grin, suggesting he had enjoyed playing mind games with her. ‘You like it here?’

  Another nod.

  ‘You are shy.’ He gave a shake of a head that displayed approval rather than displeasure. ‘This is a good quality. Rare amongst those who do not live here.’

  He sat down expectantly. ‘The old girl, she know I do not have tea.’ He nodded at the curtain behind the desk. ‘I take something stronger. Then I see Emerald. She is ready?’

  Georgie wasn’t sure. But she didn’t care. Instead, relief was flooding her body. He hadn’t arrested her. Yet.

  Diving behind the curtain, she grabbed a glass and a bottle of white liquid. Emerald had told her earlier that this was for the customers who declined the green tea.

  But when she emerged, with the glass, the policeman’s chair was empty. Instead, the boy held out his hand. ‘He has gone in already to Emerald.’ Seizing the glass, he knocked the liquid back. ‘We must not wait.’

  Then he held the half-empty glass back to her. ‘You taste.’

  Not wishing to drink from his side, she turned it round. It burned her throat but immediately, she felt a similar strength to the one she’d experienced that afternoon with Sapphire’s hand.

  ‘Do not fear,’ said the boy, his dark eyes glistening. ‘Whatever you are hiding is safe here. As long as you stay.’

  Over the next few weeks, Georgie learned to feel safer. The women looked after her and, after that evening with the policeman, the boy had become kinder too.

  Yet all the time there was the sense of entrapment. Yes, she was ‘allowed’ to wander out to the markets to buy fruit or fish, but always the boy was sent out with her. When she paused at a clothes shop, he told her that he would be ‘waiting outside’.

  It was almost like being a slave, she told herself, yet at the same time, a pampered one. Besides, where else could she go? It would take a while to save up for a plane ticket. She was saving as much money as possible and keeping it in a secret pocket she’d sewn into her haversack. If Sapphire and Emerald knew she was planning leaving, they wouldn’t be very happy.

  Occasionally, she wondered about ringing home to tell her mother everything. But she wouldn’t understand. In fact, she’d be horrified and possibly call the English police to ‘help’. That wouldn’t do at all. Georgie had heard enough backpacking stories to know that she could, all too easily, end up in prison. This was even more likely if she annoyed Sapphire and Emerald.

  So instead, she carried on with this rather sleepy pattern of green tea round the pool; resting in the heat; and exploring the back alleys of Bangkok, always with the boy in attendance. Again and again, she sought refuge in the bales of cloth, the colours, the feeling of the fabrics as she ran her fingers down them. They seemed to soothe her. Tell her it would be all right.

  ‘You like?’ the boy would often say.

  She’d nod. ‘I like.’

  At times, his constant presence irritated her. At others, she was glad of his protection. Once, a rowdy crowd of Australians tried to chat her up as she bought vegetables in a market. ‘We’ll buy you a beer,’ one of them said.

  Instantly, the boy had slid in between them. ‘Leave her alone,’ he snarled.

  It did the trick. The police officer turned up three times a week, but he never gave her any
trouble.

  Three weeks later, Georgie was changing into her dress – the pink one – when she heard voices outside in the reception area.

  ‘Too early,’ she heard the boy say. ‘You come back later.’

  ‘Can’t you make an exception?’ The voice was cultured. Well-bred. English. ‘It’s my brother’s stag night. We’ve got a full evening ahead and we wanted to start here.’

  Georgie froze. That was Joly’s voice. She would have known it anywhere! He was here. Joly had come to find her. All thoughts of Joly being angry flew out of her head. Maybe he’d understand if he saw her. She would explain. No, she shouldn’t have run away from them. She ought to have stayed and faced the music. As for Georgina, that wasn’t all her fault. It was Joly’s too. Surely he’d understand that?

  Desperation won against common sense. Hastily fastening her dress and leaving her hair loose, she pushed open the door.

  The tall, good-looking boy with sandy hair pushed back to one side stared at her. His eyes ran up and down her body, taking in her dress and false eyelashes.

  ‘Good heavens. What are you doing here?’

  It was the boy on the train. Rufus. The one who had lent her the sky-blue jumper. Instantly, a deep flush vied with her pink dress. ‘I work here.’

  Her voice came out apologetically.

  The boy’s eyebrows raised. ‘As a masseuse?’

  Conscious that the boy’s eyes were on her and that Sapphire and Emerald were, quite possibly, listening, she tried to sound confident. ‘I’m front of house, so to speak. I book in clients.’

  There was a whistle. ‘That’s very enterprising of you, I must say.’

  Enterprising? She didn’t see it that way. It was a job, something that young men like Rufus – and Joly – didn’t need with their trust fund money.

  The boy coloured up. He was almost, she observed with more sympathy than earlier, as embarrassed as she was. ‘I’d like to make an appointment with Sapphire.’ Another blush. ‘It’s not for me. It’s for my brother. He’s on his stag night.’

  Georgie – trying to remember she was really Georgie – took a look at the book. They were genuinely busy that evening. It was impossible to fit anyone in.

  Rufus’ face fell. ‘That’s a shame. This place has a great reputation. That’s why I was surprised …’

  His voice trailed away and he flushed. Then a thought seemed to strike him. ‘What time do you get off? Would you like to join us?’

  Georgie glanced at the boy. There was no need for him to even shake his head. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t finish until midnight.’

  Rufus nodded eagerly. ‘We’ll still be there. At the club on the corner of the road – the one with pink neon lettering. Do you know it?’

  She did. It was a very expensive place, frequented by wealthy ex-pats.

  Again, she felt the boy’s dark eyes on her and his heavy, sullen disapproval.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to get up early. Another time, maybe.’

  Rufus’ disappointment was as clear as the unspoken approval from the boy. ‘See you around, then. It would be great to catch up. We’ve been travelling since I last saw you but came back for my brother’s stag do. The wedding’s next month and we’re flying back in two weeks.’

  ‘I hope it goes well.’ Her voice came out stiff. It wasn’t fair. Why did she have to be cooped up here? Why could she just not say ‘to hell with it’ and go? Yet there was a darkness here; one which was beginning to feel increasingly oppressive since Rufus had come in.

  ‘I’ve still got your jumper,’ she suddenly realised.

  Rufus put up his hand. ‘Please. Leave it. It might give us a chance to meet again.’ But no sooner had he left, than both women materialised silently behind her. ‘I will take over now,’ said Sapphire smoothly. ‘You are needed with Emerald.’ Her lips were unsmiling. ‘She is going to teach you.’

  ‘Teach me?’

  There was a grave nod. ‘You are very lucky. We have decided to train you to be a masseuse.’

  Beano was barking again. There was just time to take him for a walk and then go. Georgie looked down at the scrawled pages in front of her. She’d leave part of the letter and then go. The rest would have to wait.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, kneeling down to rub noses with the dog. ‘I’ll come back. Providing everyone understands.’

  This was the only way, she told herself.

  IF YOUR HUSBAND WANTS HIS MONEY BACK, YOU’LL HAVE TO TELL HIM THE TRUTH ABOUT THAILAND.

  Could she trust this person? Hadn’t life showed her already that she’d put her belief in others, only to be betrayed?

  Yet something told her, as she called for a taxi to take her to the station, that this was the only choice she had.

  ‘Going anywhere nice?’ asked the driver, glancing at her light case.

  ‘London,’ she replied, before realising that she should have made up another place. ‘To see a friend.’

  That part wasn’t true, of course. But already a plan was forming in her mind, rather as it had in Bangkok after bumping into Rufus. She would find somewhere to rent. Get a job. Finish the letter to Sam.

  Then he would finally know the truth about her past. If he forgave her, they might move on. And if he didn’t …

  Georgie could hardly bear to think about that.

  She’d have to find a way of explaining her decision to the children. And as for Lyndsey …

  Georgie took out her phone, scrolling down to the number her friend had given her. ‘Have had to go away. But will visit soon. I promise.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  I was locked up once. At a special sort of school. They said it was for my own good. But it didn’t feel that way.

  One night, I got out. Shimmied down the drain pipe and bruised my leg into the bargain. Not that that mattered.

  I’ll never forget the feeling of freedom. No one to tell me what to do. No one to make me learn things I didn’t want to learn.

  But before I had even reached the gate, I felt a hand on my arm.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  Do you know, those words still strike terror into me?

  Childhood can do some terrible things to you. It leaves marks which no one can ever scrub away.

  People like you wouldn’t understand that. You’ve got everything. And we’ve got nothing.

  When I had my kid, I told myself I’d make it different for him. But I couldn’t. Not unless I did things I didn’t want to do.

  I don’t like stealing. Others get a buzz from it. But not me.

  I’d really like to work in a shop. A clothes shop. Then I could try stuff on and pretend I’m someone else.

  That would be cool. Really cool.

  THIRTY

  It wasn’t easy writing on the train as it bumped and jolted its way across country towards London. Georgie’s hand slipped several times as a result, making the ink splodges look like apologetic exclamation marks. That wouldn’t do at all. She screwed up the page altogether – to the fascination of the elderly woman opposite – and had to begin again.

  Maybe, she wondered, it was fate telling her to keep quiet. But she’d left the first part of her story at home, on the kitchen table for Sam to find when he returned. There was no going back now. She would simply have to send the next part when she got to London.

  Rufus, with his kind face, unsettled Georgie. He was a reminder of what she had run away from. Yet at the same time, he brought back the freedom she’d had. Yes, she had been terrified at the thought of the police chasing her. But now she was almost a prisoner of Sapphire and Emerald, albeit a willing one. After all, where else could she go?

  During the following weeks after Rufus’ visit, she found herself searching for him in the market. On more than one occasion, she caught sight of a group of well-spoken English boys, but when she walked past to investigate further, none was him. She took to sleeping with the jumper under her pillow (along with Georgina’s shell), though she could not say why
. It wasn’t as though she was attracted to Rufus but she felt certain – so strange! – that she would see him again.

  Meanwhile, Georgie was kept busy under the beady eyes of Emerald and Sapphire. Training as a masseuse was more complicated than she’d realised. No one had warned her how much it hurt your hands, or that enormous strength was required to knead someone else’s muscles and sinews. Hour after hour, she practised on both girls, who unashamedly stripped down to their waists. But never, to her relief, further down than that.

  By the time it came to her evening duties as a hostess, Georgie was exhausted. Seeming to recognise this, the women paid her extra. All the more to put away for the flight to Australia – providing no one questioned her passport. Georgie’s heart beat so fast when she thought of this that she considered staying here longer. Emerald and Sapphire would look after her; she was certain of this. As for the police, if they were in the women’s pockets as the boy had suggested, she was possibly safer here than risking deportation.

  Then one day – when the boy who usually came with her was on another errand – about five weeks after Rufus’ visit, she heard a voice shout out across the floating market.

  ‘Georgie!’ it seemed to say, but when she shaded her eyes from the sun to see who was calling, it was hard to make anything out amidst the sea of brown faces and barges, filled to the brim with fruit and vegetables and lace and knick-knacks of every description. The stench of the river and the fish together with the heat made her feel she was living in another world. How she would have loved to have shared this with Lyndsey. But it was too dangerous to send a postcard. Why, oh why, had she ever allowed herself to get mixed up in the world of drugs? She could be at St Martin’s by now, learning the art of design. Pursuing a safe, ‘proper’ life.

  ‘Georgie?’ repeated the voice.

  This time, she could see a tall, fair-haired boy waving from the other side of the river. It was Rufus. Next to him was another boy. Or rather man. He was a different colouring – dark – but taller and slightly stockier.