But how angry she’d been when Nina told her she was pregnant. Still a teenager, not even finished her course yet, unmarried, though that didn’t count for anything these days. Claire couldn’t understand how the girl had been so foolhardy. It wasn’t as if they’d never discussed birth-control.
Nina brought up her pregnancy quite casually over coffee one Friday when she was back on Arran to celebrate Bethany’s birthday. Claire was completely gobsmacked – this kind of thing happened to other people’s kids, not her sensible, hard-working daughter.
‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded, and Nina raised her eyebrows.
‘I’m going to have a baby, what do you think I’m going to do?’ she replied defiantly. ‘Okay, it wasn’t planned but we’ll manage, Mum. When my course is finished I’ll get a job and find day care. Alan’ll help, too. We’re looking for a flat.’
Claire liked Alan, but he wasn’t much older than Nina and was in the middle of a degree in business studies. It was a chaotic situation if ever she’d seen one. She watched helplessly as her daughter moved into student digs with Alan, only to move out again four months later and heavily pregnant. So there wasn’t going to be a happy end with wedding cake and confetti.
Nina stirred on the bed and opened her eyes. Another lump came into Claire’s throat. All the joy in the world was right there on Nina’s face, and Claire knew she should show her own delight. For shame, she chided herself. Misery-guts. Try to be happy for once in your life.
‘Hello love,’ she said, leaning forward to grasp Nina’s hand. ‘And congratulations, she’s just gorgeous.’ Her voice trembled, and she could see happy tears in Nina’s eyes too.
‘Thanks, Mum. Do you want to hold her?’
A few moments later Claire was sitting with her granddaughter in her arms. How well she remembered the time when Nina was tiny; Lily had come to London and they’d had a positive orgy of baby-worship. Those were the days of effortless happiness, and how very much she wanted to feel like that again, for this new little girl.
Claire came to a decision. She would let the past go, because she had to. The past was unchangeable, and the future was uncontrollable. She would live today and be happy. Misery-guts adieu, Claire.
Decision made, Claire smiled across at Nina. The family had grown, there were three generations again. Claire kissed the baby’s head. Whichever way you looked at it, she was rich as a king today.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wednesday 26th July
Nina jerked awake. What the hell – she was – oh God, she was still stuck in this awful house and Paul was snoring beside her. How unbelievable, she had actually slept here. Her gut cramped and she lay still, panting in shallow breaths until the spasm passed. Thank Christ she hadn’t woken him. Moving as slowly as she could, she turned her head to look round the room. A heavy blue curtain was pulled across the window, but she could see it was pretty light outside.
Fear was sharpening her brain; she was wide awake now. She had to get out of here, and without disturbing Paul. Ignore the rumblings and twitches in her gut, she inched gingerly away from the malodorous body beside her, taking great care not to move her left foot. Paul’s breathing didn’t change, and Nina lay motionless, planning furiously. She had to free her foot. Slowly, slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position, listening all the time to Paul’s breathing. It didn’t change.
The rope was greasy and difficult to loosen with tied hands but at last she felt it slacken. Squinting at Paul and holding her breath, she pulled her foot from the noose. Hah! She was free.
The snoring continued, and Nina rolled over until she was crouching beside the mattress. If the floor creaked now she’d be done for. Slow-motion, nice and easy, Nina, whatever you do, don’t wake him.
Testing the floor at every step, she crept to the door and inched it open. Out on the landing she paused. Should she make a run for it – or creep downstairs one step at a time? Fear was screaming at her to run, quick, as fast as she could, but her head insisted on caution. She inched down the stairs, stepping on the edge of every second tread only, gripping the greasy bannister and going as fast as she dared.
The bottom tread creaked and Nina froze, but no howl of rage came from the bedroom. She scurried through to the kitchen and seized a knife from the drawer, still half-open after her efforts last night. Jamming it between her knees, she rubbed her bound wrists along the blade. A few good sawing movements and she was free. Right. Quick, quick. Hush to the door, and run, Nina, run, as far away from here as you can get.
Fingers trembling, she eased the front door open and squeezed out, the rope burns on her wrists stinging in the coolness of the summer morning. The contrast between the stench in the house and the early-morning air hit her like something solid, but there was no time to stand around taking deep breaths. Away, away; she had to get back to Naomi. Please God her baby was safe in bed at Cassie’s and not tied up in some other hell-hole of Paul’s.
Stumbling down the path, she came to the next hurdle. The creaky gate had fallen shut. With the bedroom window tilted and facing this way, she couldn’t possibly risk opening it. Jagged branches tore at her clothes and scratched her hands as she forced her way through the hedge – which way now, which way? Nina trembled in silent frustration. She had no idea, but Paul’s car was facing right so she turned left and started to jog along the uneven pavement.
The street was deserted; why was no one up yet? Didn’t they have jobs to go to? The combatants of the previous evening were gone, but shards of glass on the pavement marked where the fight had been. And dear God, look at the blood in the gutter. Where the hell was she, anyway? Dilapidated houses and litter-strewn side streets loomed up as she continued down the road. In a different area she could have knocked at someone’s door and asked for help, but not here.
Her heart gave a great leap at the next corner. Yes! Oh, thank God. They had driven down here yesterday. About two hundred metres up this road was a roundabout, and if she turned right there she’d soon be in a more civilised area; she was so nearly safe. Run, Nina, run…
A loose paving stone wobbled under her foot and she stumbled, her stomach cramping yet again. The thought of Naomi spurred her on, her breath ragged in her ears. The next street she crossed was wider. Hallelujah, there were the shops she’d remembered seeing yesterday. Maybe –
Hope plummeted. None were open yet – but she was nearly at the roundabout now. She would flag down a car. That would be safer than knocking at one of these shabby, anonymous doors. Please God she would find someone respectable, some woman driver who would call the police for her. She had so nearly made it, help was within grasping distance.
The sound of her own heavy breathing meant she didn’t hear the car behind her till it drew level. Nina jerked to a halt, dizzy with horror, gaping helplessly as Paul wound down the window; he was laughing, oh God how horrible. This was a hideous caricature of the gentle, shy man who had greeted her the first time on the doorstep of John Moore’s house. He leaned out the window and Nina moaned.
‘Race you to Naomi!’ he yelled gleefully, and gunned the car towards the roundabout.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wednesday 26th July
Horror chilling through her, Nina stood motionless as Paul’s car circumnavigated three-quarters of the roundabout and disappeared. Her feet felt as if they were stuck to the ground. It took a huge effort to wrench them free and run on. Naomi must still be at Cassie and Glen’s; I’m coming, baby, stay safe, Mummy’s on her way.