The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  It was an award-winning display. They didn’t fool Colin, though. In fact, they sickened him.

  Violet was the victim here. Not them. She was the one being put in the ground. She was the one who was dead.

  ‘Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes,’ mumbling now.

  Colin rubbed his head frantically. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes as if his brain was swelling inside his skull.

  When he looked up again, people were leaving.

  His breath shortened as he watched.

  The parents were trailing behind the crowd; the last ones to drag themselves away.

  How very noble of them, but they’d still gone, hadn’t they? They’d still left Violet down there all on her own.

  Unable to contain his anger any longer, the familiar surge of rage ripped through Colin like a fierce boiling heat.

  This wasn’t right at all.

  Violet. Such a precious name. Violets were Colin’s favourite flowers too. The tiny heart-shaped leaves looked so delicate, fragile even. In contrast, their colour was so vibrant it was almost fierce.

  Violets bloomed in spring. They’d never survive a cold October. Not buried in the dark ground.

  A ball of panic gripped his stomach tightly as he heard the sound of the JCB starting up. His colleague had already started the backfill.

  But it was too soon: the mourners hadn’t even reached the gate yet.

  Colin hadn’t wanted to be here for this bit. He didn’t want to see it.

  He couldn’t.

  His legs went weak as he stood – rooted to the spot – watching the digger fill in the grave. Staring, trance-like, as the soil poured down on top of the coffin.

  She would be trapped inside now. The weight of the mud trapping her inside the casket for all eternity. He knew she’d be scared down there all on her own.

  Closing his eyes, Colin imagined Violet frantically scraping her fingernails against the casket walls in a desperate bid to get out; her screams muffled by the thick mound of earth above her.

  Wheezing now. Lungs constricted like they were being crushed by his ribcage.

  Doubling over he placed his hands on his knees to steady himself.

  Breathe, Colin. It’s just a panic attack. Breathe.

  Only, his body wouldn’t allow him to. He was losing control. He needed to get back out of his head, away from the twisted blackness of his mind.

  That’s what his counsellor had taught him. All those sessions he’d had as a child.

  He needed to stay grounded. Stay in the moment.

  Wriggling his toes, he pushed his boots into the ground. Stamping his feet manically. Just like she showed him.

  He was here. Safe, standing on the grass, breathing in the cold October air.

  Somewhere, just outside the gates, he could hear the London traffic whizzing past. The rustling of leaves as they blew on the ground around his feet.

  He was out of his head and back inside his body. Here in the moment again.

  Concentrating on his breath for a few minutes, he steadied himself against the tree. He couldn’t look up again. He couldn’t bear it.

  Instead he checked his watch. It was almost five p.m.

  He was late.

  Mother would be waiting.

  He’d been so distracted by Violet that he’d forgotten the time.

  He’d have to hurry.

  Bundling up the heavy black sacks that were bursting with weeds and dead flowers from the graves he’d just tended to, Colin tied a knot in the top of the bag before throwing it onto the maintenance trolley.

  His skin felt damp, prickly. He’d have to shower before returning. Mother hated it when he was late, but she hated it even more when he came home covered in mud.

  ‘Filthy bastard,’ she called him last time. ‘What have you been doing? Rolling around with the dead?’

  Hurrying now down the pathway without daring to look back, Colin dragged his cart behind him.

  Mother would be waiting and he couldn’t have that.

  8

  ‘Okay, girl, show me what you’ve got.’

  Dressed down in her velour tracksuit, the last thing Misty wanted to do today was come to her club on her day off and teach this new girl how things worked around here, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

  She might be the House Mother, but Joshua Harper called the shots around here, and if he was insisting that Saskia go out on the main floor tonight, then that’s exactly what Misty had to make sure happened. But one glance at the nervous look on Saskia’s face confirmed exactly what Misty had already suspected: this girl was going to need all the help she could get.

  ‘Show you what I’ve got?’ Saskia repeated now, her voice shaking with nerves.

  ‘Yeah, dance, honey. Up there.’ Misty pointed to the podium. ‘I wanna see your moves. See what we’ve got to work with.’

  Reluctantly, Saskia stepped up onto the platform.

  Taking her time to stretch and limber herself up for her routine, she was clearly nervous, trying to buy herself some more time.

  ‘Look, it’s just you and me here, Saskia. I know you’re feeling a bit shy, but trust me. This is the easy part. Later, this place is going to be wall-to-wall punters, so the best thing you could do right now is just get on with it. The more time we have to practise the better, yeah?’

  Seeing Saskia nodding her head, Misty took her cue and hit the music.

  Swaying from side to side, awkwardly, Saskia could see her reflection in the wall of glass at the back of the stage. She looked ridiculous. The beat of the music was too fast; she couldn’t keep up. Lifting one leg she swung herself around in a circle, but losing her footing she fell over.

  Shaking her head, Misty switched the music off.

  ‘I’m gonna take a wild guess that you’ve never danced anywhere else except for this fancy ballet school you keep banging on about, am I right?’

  Embarrassed, Saskia shrugged.

  ‘I’ve done some theatre work – a couple of shows.’

  ‘But have you ever worked a pole?’

  ‘A pole?’ Saskia shook her head.

  ‘Yeah, you see that big silver shiny thing hanging out of the ceiling next to you? That’s a pole, and I want you to dance around it, Saskia. It’s part of the main set. You need to include it in your routine.’

  Looking up at the pole, Saskia wasn’t sure that she could do this now.

  The idea of getting out on the stage and dancing in front of a room full of men, in only her underwear, was making her feel sick with nerves. She could barely get to grips with it, even though it was just Misty here.

  ‘Don’t look so worried. Just think of it like your ballet barre, only this one’s vertical. Here.’ Misty climbed onto the stage. ‘Watch and learn.’

  Pressing her body against the cool metal bar Misty slid her body down the length of it, before jumping up high, both hands gripping the bar tightly, and twisting her body back around until she reached the floor. Slow, controlled, sexy.

  ‘That move is called the Fireman. Go on, try it.’

  Standing back, Misty watched as Saskia took her turn.

  Looking up nervously at the pole she wrapped her fingers tightly around the metal bar, a look of determination spreading across her face then as she twisted herself around it; perfectly mastering the move Misty had just shown her, first time.

  Misty was impressed.

  ‘Beginner’s luck? Okay how about this one… ’

  Misty used more speed this time. Leaping onto the bar, her legs splayed out in the air, her toes pointing outwards; effortlessly twisting and turning until she eventually came to a gradual stop.

  ‘It’s called the Corkscrew. You wanna give it a go?’

  Saskia nodded, willing to give it a shot. She mimicked the move once more. Doing the best that she could.

  ‘You got it, girl!’ Misty clapped her hands, surprised that Saskia was picking up the moves so easily. The girl wasn’t bad fo
r a newbie. ‘You’re good. You’ve got good posture; you’re strong too. Your fancy ballet training has clearly put you in good stead.’

  She clambered back down from the podium.

  ‘Okay we’re going to do it all again. Only, this time from the top, and you’re gonna strip off this time,’ she shouted up to Saskia.

  ‘Strip off? What, now?’ Saskia was horrified, her eyes darting over to where the cleaner was mopping the floor. Behind her, one of the other girls, Marnie, was stocking up the fridges at the back of the main bar. ‘But I thought we were only practising?’

  ‘We are.’ Misty grinned. ‘But you need to know how it feels to work your body around that pole in your underwear ’cos that’s all you’re going to be wearing tonight. Trust me, it’s good practice. It feels totally different; you have more leverage against the bar if your skin’s exposed.’ Misty’s grin widened. ‘It’s only taking your clothes off, Saskia. You wanna work this club, then you’re gonna have to hang up your ballet shoes and tutu and don a pair of stripper heels and a lacy thong. If you can’t cut it, the door’s that way… ’

  Not wanting to seem like a prude Saskia did as she was told. Pulling her jumper over her head, she threw it down on the floor, then, gingerly, she stepped out of her tracksuit bottoms. Self-consciously, she stood there in her plain white cotton bra and matching knickers.

  ‘Okay, now we got ourselves a party.’ Misty laughed. ‘Girl, you have got an amazing figure but what is with the granny underwear?’

  Seeing Saskia now blushing profusely, Misty hit the music once more.

  ‘Okay, let’s just go over the moves I’ve already shown you, and I want you to add your own spin to the set too.’

  Saskia, determined to prove to Misty and to herself that she could do this, put everything she had into her set.

  Lifting herself up, she held her weight halfway up the bar. Taking it slow, Saskia worked her way down the pole, incorporating the spins and twirls that Misty had shown her.

  She was really enthralled in it now; lost in the music. Adding speed to her moves.

  Spinning around almost expertly until the track finished.

  ‘Well I’ll be!’ Misty whistled, impressed, as she propped herself up at the bar. ‘That was spot on, girl. You dance like that tonight and you’re going to be laughing all the way to the bank, girlie! You fancy a drink?’

  Breathless, and beaming from Misty’s compliment, Saskia nodded.

  ‘Marnie, can you get us a couple of coffees please?’

  Pulling her clothes back on so that she didn’t feel so exposed, Saskia walked over and joined her.

  ‘You seriously think that I’ll do all right?’ Saskia asked curiously, wondering now if perhaps she could really do this.

  ‘Oh, I’m not gonna lie to you. When you get out on that stage tonight you’re going to need nerves of steel. The punters are going to take one look at you and they are going to want to devour you whole, girl!’

  Saskia’s face paled. Misty didn’t want to scare the girl off completely, but she felt she needed to forewarn her. Working the club was hard going and Saskia needed to be ready for it. The last thing Misty wanted was for Saskia to walk out here tonight, full of confidence, only to see a crowd full of jeering faces and to lose her bottle. The girl needed to know exactly what she would be walking into.

  ‘Harper’s is members only, exclusive, so we generally get a good crowd in. Regulars mainly. There are cameras everywhere and we have security on all the doors. The stage and booths are all covered. Unless you personally give the punters the say so, and that’s solely at your discretion, then it’s a strict “look but do not touch” policy.’

  Saskia nodded, trying to take it all in.

  ‘You work the pole, do your routine, and the whole time you’re up there you are reeling them in. That’s key. You get eye contact with a couple of punters and you make them believe that you are dancing just for them. Make them feel like they are the only man in the room. They’ll be queuing up to get you dancing in the private booths for them after that and that’s where you’ll make your money. We don’t call them “ATM’s” for nothing, girl! You push the right buttons and, trust me, these fellas will chuck out the notes faster than you can catch them.’ Misty smiled as Marnie brought two coffees over. Taking her cup, she stirred in a cube of sugar before taking a sip. ‘Private dances are four minutes long and fifty pounds a pop. No longer than that. With your cracking little figure you’re going to be killing it.’

  Misty had to hand it to Joshua; despite the fact that Saskia had never danced before, he’d been right on the money. With a bit more practice this girl could be a real asset to Harper’s Palace.

  ‘So what’s your story? How come Mr Harper hired you? No offence, but you’re not really the usual type for this place,’ Misty asked, curiously.

  So far, Joshua Harper hadn’t divulged much information on Saskia Frost at all. Astute as always, he was playing his cards close to his chest.

  This girl had come from nowhere and suddenly she was going to be out on the main stage. Something didn’t sit right with Misty.

  ‘My dad passed away of a heart attack. Worst thing was, after he’d died, I found out that he was in a lot of debt. I don’t know if he’d gambled most of it away, or he’d been gambling to try and build some funds, but he’d lost it all. The money. The house.’ Saskia didn’t even know where to begin. ‘It turned out that Joshua Harper had bailed my dad out. Only, the house had been used as collateral, so when my dad died I lost that too.’

  Misty nodded. It was all starting to make sense.

  ‘Joshua told me that your dad passed away. I’m really sorry to hear that.’

  Saskia shrugged, but she was grateful of the girl’s condolences. Misty was the first person to have offered her any that actually sounded like she meant it, but now wasn’t the time to start talking about her father. No matter how genuine Misty seemed. If Saskia got into it all right now – how much she missed him, how heartbroken she felt – she’d only end up crying again, and lately Saskia had done enough crying to last a lifetime.

  She needed to toughen up.

  If she wanted to keep her house she needed to stay focused.

  ‘I know it sounds crazy but I just can’t lose my house as well as everything else. I’ve got to at least try to get it back. That’s why I came here, to ask Joshua to reinstate my father’s debt so that I could try and salvage something back from this mess… ’ Saskia was reaching out to Misty now. She could see the girl was still sizing her up, trying to work out what Saskia was about. ‘I know that you think I can’t do this, but I’m going to put everything I have into it. I’m not going to let you or Mr Harper down. I’m so grateful to Mr Harper for giving me this chance. I don’t know what I would have done without him—’

  Misty laughed then, almost spitting out her coffee.

  Shaking her head, Misty could see that this poor bitch had no idea what she was dealing with. Just because Joshua Harper had offered to help Saskia didn’t mean that he had good intentions. Misty would bet money on the fact that the man had some kind of hidden agenda. Besides, from where Misty was sitting Saskia wouldn’t have even been in this mess if it wasn’t for Joshua.

  ‘Girl, let me give you a word of advice, and this is strictly between me and you, okay?’ Misty lowered her voice then; waiting for Marnie to move down the other end of the bar before she continued. ‘Joshua Harper is a smart man. Whatever deal you’ve cut with him you can bet your life that he’s getting something out of it too. He doesn’t throw in favours for anyone. The man is as ruthless as they come.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know. I mean he didn’t have to give me a chance here, did he?’ Saskia shrugged, wondering if perhaps Misty was just annoyed that Joshua Harper had undermined her by giving her the job in the first place.

  ‘Well, I guess only time will tell, huh!’ Misty shrugged too. Sure as hell, if anyone else had come crawling in here asking Joshua Harper for favours, her boss would have
had no trouble slinging them out on their ear.

  Misty knew her boss well enough to know that something wasn’t quite right.

  Still, who was she to start stirring the pot? Her job was sorting out the girls. Everything else that went on here was none of her business.

  ‘You done?’ Misty asked, draining the last dregs of her coffee before standing back up.

  Saskia nodded.

  ‘Good, ’cos the coffee break’s over and we’ve got a shitload of work to do.’

  9

  ‘My friends, welcome to the Jungle.’ Opening his arms widely, exaggerating his welcome to Lena and Ramiz, Korab Malik led the way through Calais’s overcrowded camp. ‘Follow me.’

  Covering her nose with her free hand, Lena pulled Roza tightly into her chest as she followed her husband. The bitter stench of the encampment had caught her off guard, taking her breath away. Ramiz had promised her a sanctuary. Somewhere she and Roza could rest before they crossed the border to England. This place was anything but – heaving with the heady combination of rotting food, faeces, and who knew what else -– it was like nothing she’d smelt before.

  ‘How long will we have to be here?’ Ramiz asked.

  Recognising the curtness in her husband’s tone, Lena could tell that Ramiz wasn’t impressed either.

  They’d left Albania three days ago: stowing away in vehicles, hiding in the back of lorries; passing through Bosnia and Austria with surprising ease. But now they were in France, and this last part of the journey looked like it was going to prove the hardest.

  ‘Do not worry, my friends, you will only be here for two days. Maximum.’

  Two days? Lena felt nervous, catching the harsh glares that were thrown their way as they walked. The residents of the camp were emaciated, wrapped in blankets, sleeping bags and old bits of curtain as they stared out from the gloom of their hovels, eyeing the newcomers with pure disdain.

  ‘They look angry… ’ Lena whispered.

  ‘Ignore them!’ Korab waved his arms dismissively as he noted Lena’s fear. ‘They see you as another mouth to feed that’s all. Food here is limited. We have charities who come in and give us parcels, but it’s not always enough. These people would fight tooth and nail over a minuscule piece of bread; they don’t want to share the little that they have. The longer they have lived here the greedier they have become.’