by Anne Coates
“Cut this away, will you?” he barked at Hannah. “Wait! Put on these.” He handed her some latex gloves. It was seconds before Hannah realised the implications then immediately did as she was told.
The bleeding had stopped but there were congealed clots in Princess’s pants.
“We’ll need some warm water.”
Hannah was glad to escape to the kitchen; her stomach was heaving. She opened a window and gulped in the cool night air before returning with a bowl of water.
Awkwardly, Hannah bathed between the girl’s legs. It was such an intimate action between women who were all but strangers. Soon the water in the bowl was crimson and she had to change it several times before her task was completed.
James palpated her abdomen. All the time he was quietly reassuring the girl. He exuded confidence and charm and his patient responded with nods and an attempt at a smile, which looked so painful, Hannah had to look away. Suddenly in an ordinary voice James said, “Turn some heating on, can’t you Hannah, it’s freezing in here.”
It wasn’t freezing, but Princess was beginning to shudder with cold and shock. Hannah hadn’t been able to find any sanitary pads so they improvised with one of Elizabeth’s disposable nappies. James gave Princess a pain-killing injection and then, between them, they managed to get what was left of her clothes off, some old pajamas on and the sheet changed.
Hannah covered Princess with a duvet.
“Best to burn all this,” commented James as he removed his gloves. “And be careful.” He rubbed his eyes. Hannah looked so pale he thought she was about to pass out. “Oh Christ, bundle it all into a black bag and I’ll get rid of it in the hospital incinerator.”
“Thank you, I…” Hannah hiccupped, trying to stifle a sob. Now that the immediate danger was over, shock was setting in. James gave her a long look. He wanted to take into his arms but thought she might take it the wrong way. She was so prickly at times. Especially since the baby.
“She’ll sleep for a few hours now,” he said quietly. “When she wakes up, give her three of these every four hours to ease the pain.” He handed her a bottle of pills. “There doesn’t seem to be any major damage to her larynx so that’ll heal itself but she’ll need to see someone in a few days about her abortion.”
“Can’t you…?”
James was already shaking his head. “No, Hannah, I can’t – and don’t look at me like that. I’m just doing this as a favour – to you.” The set of his face gave nothing away as he picked up his bag and walked to the door.
“I don’t know what’s going on Hannah, and frankly I don’t want to, but I suggest you get rid of her pretty damn quick.”
FIFTEEN
“And it’s goodbye from Sue and me and all the Today team, we’ll be on the air from 6.30 tomorrow morning…”
Hannah groaned. She’d overslept. It was a wonder that Elizabeth hadn’t woken her. Then she realised that Elizabeth was snuggled up beside her. She couldn’t remember getting up to her in the night. Thank God, Alex wasn’t due in today. She was becoming more and more disillusioned with the part-time nanny and had started to dread the days she came in to look after Elizabeth. So, she felt, had her daughter. But that was probably transference of her guilty feelings at having to start work again so soon after Elizabeth’s birth.
As the daytime world came into focus, Hannah remembered the girl who was, she presumed, still sleeping downstairs. Hannah wanted to believe it had all been some ghastly nightmare and would have loved to stay in bed longer. Perhaps the girl had left already? It was a vain hope. Princess had looked in no condition to stand up let alone quit the house unaided.
Hannah sighed. I’d better get up in case she wakes and wonders where she is, she thought. Although from the look of her anywhere would be preferable to where she had come from. But how and why did she find me? It was a question Hannah found unanswerable.
Elizabeth stirred beside her.
“Hello beautiful. Would you like some breakfast too?”
Elizabeth beamed.
◊◊◊
For three days, Hannah tended the sick girl. As luck would have it, she had no work on and Alex had phoned in with yet another feeble excuse. Last time she’d been “sick”, Hannah had discovered she’d gone off to help her boyfriend on a decorating job. Hannah had only just made the deadline for an article she was writing and was furious. This time, she was relieved. She didn’t want a witness to Princess’s presence.
Princess said little. Hannah had installed her on the futon in the baby’s room and had moved the cot into her own room.
When she woke that first morning, she looked nightmarish: make-up streaked across her swollen face. Filthy hands. Broken nails. Hair matted.
Half carrying, half pushing, Hannah had managed to get her up the stairs to the bathroom. She was going to leave her to it but she looked so pathetic, Hannah, daughter looking on from her bouncy seat, ran a deep bath and helped Princess into it. Gently she removed the caked make-up, then washed the blonde locks using the shower attachment to rinse and rinse and rinse…
By the time the girl was in a night dress, snuggling into bed, her hair a blonde halo, she looked so young and vulnerable, Hannah felt more than a twinge of guilt at the uncharitable thought of Why me? going round and round in her mind. In the light of day, the drama of the previous night seemed less menacing. Her unwanted guest less of a threat. But even so, Princess was a complication and a presence Hannah could have done without.
Princess slept more than the baby. As she could hardly speak, Hannah left a bell by her bed so the invalid could ring if she needed something. Princess smiled, but never rang. She drank the drinks and soups Hannah put before her. The ice cream raised a smile that transformed the face, which was slowly with turning to its former state. But most of the time she slept.
On the fourth day, Princess appeared wraith-like in the kitchen as Hannah and baby were having lunch. “Any chance of a fag?” was the croaked request.
“You must be joking. After what you have been through?” Hannah was stunned. “Anyway, this is a strictly non-smoking household.” This was said with all the self-righteousness of a reformed smoker. Hannah had given up her 20-a-day habit some ten years before.
“Shit!”
Stung by the ingratitude and impatient at having another person in her home, Hannah said tersely, “No one’s forcing you to stay here. In fact, I don’t remember anyone inviting you.”
Princess’s face was a picture of contrition. “Please don’t chuck me out.” The voice was even more gravelly since the assault. “They’ll find me again.”
“Who will?”
Princess remained silent, her expression gave nothing away. Her stance was guaranteed to exasperate Hannah.
“Who will, Princess?” Her voice assumed a school-marmish tone. The girl was still standing in front of her and was now looking distinctly uncomfortable. It dawned on Hannah, belatedly, that her unwelcome guest was still very weak. “Sit down,” she said abruptly.
Princess sank thankfully into the seat. She pointedly ignored the baby who had immediately tried to attract her attention. Hannah told her to help herself to some food while she took Elizabeth upstairs for her nap.
When Hannah returned, Princess was sobbing soundlessly. “You did know that you were pregnant, didn’t you?” Hannah asked softly.
“No.” The girl’s shoulders heaved. Hannah was acutely aware of her inadequacy as the bearer of bad news and that her own child could be a painful reminder of Princess’s is loss.
“But you do realise you’ve had a miscarriage?”
Princess nodded. She blew her nose noisily into the tissue Hannah handed her. “I’m not crying because of that,” she said jerkily. “It’s just… It’s just…” Another outburst of grief gripped her.
Hannah watched in silence. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being manipulated. She still didn’t know why Princess had turned to her in extremis as it were and already she was regretting her
hospitality. Princess’s sobs were subsiding. Hannah handed her another tissue. “Come on, dry your eyes.” Princess obliged rather theatrically, Hannah thought.
She produced a bottle of brandy left over from Christmas and poured them both a generous measure. “Come on, let’s go and sit more comfortably.”
Princess remembered nothing of the room from the night she arrived. Shafts of sunlight highlighted the frayed furnishings. Elizabeth’s presence was obvious from the scattered toys on the floor and the photographs lined up on the mantelpiece. The room had an air of shabby elegance that was totally lost on Princess. Her idea of journalists was gleaned from films in which women writers lived in sumptuous luxury. This seemed all too homely, but when she thought of her own tiny bedsit and the loneliness, this was, in fact, comfort indeed.
“Why did you come here?” This question shouldn’t have surprised Princess but she looked as though she hadn’t expected it.
She looked slyly at Hannah and took her time in answering. “It was all your fault, wasn’t it?” Princess sounded sullen and defensive. It wasn’t what or how she wanted to explain herself and she was determined to win her over.
Hannah was very still. “What was?” she asked quietly, already knowing and dreading the answer.
Princess gazed at her, her expression inscrutable. “Everything.” She twisted a strand of hair between her fingers. “It was your article.”
Just as Hannah had feared. She wondered if the other women working King’s Cross had taken their revenge. She sipped the brandy. “What happened?”
Princess studied her hair. “Pimps!” She spat the word. “They wanted me to work for them. When I refused, they came round and sorted me out, didn’t they.” She looked at Hannah mutinously, daring her to doubt her.
“You can’t lay the blame for that on me,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “You must have known the risks and you were paid for the interview.”
“And that makes it all right?”
“No, of course not.” Hannah felt exasperated. “It’s a terrible thing to have happened. It’s horrid and I’m sure the police will be sympathetic…”
“The police!” Princess snorted in derision. “You must be joking. They won’t do anything. Why should they? Most of them are taking rake-offs themselves.”
Hannah was silent. Princess was only confirming what she’d already heard and suspected. But there must be some form of legal redress. The judicial system couldn’t be totally corrupt. At least she hoped it couldn’t.
“I’ll have to stay here.”
“What?” Hannah almost dropped her glass.
“I’ll have to stay here,” Princess repeated coolly.
“You can’t.” Hannah’s face flushed crimson and it was nothing to do with a brandy. She was furious.
“Why not – you’re responsible.” Princess did not believe this, she just needed to work on Hannah’s guilt – at which she was succeeding.
“I am not responsible for you,” Hannah said through clenched teeth, “or for what happened to you. You landed in my doorway in a physical mess and I helped you. Not because I felt responsible for your plight but because I felt it my duty as one woman to another.” Hannah pronounced each word with a precision calculated to leave the recipient in no doubt as to her meaning.
Princess, unabashed, changed tack. “I don’t have anywhere else to go and I really need somewhere to hide,” she said in a wheedling tone.
“Agreed. But that’s not here.”
“Why not?”
“Supposing they find you…” Immediately the words were out of her mouth, Hannah regretted them. She’d given ground, gone from the definite no to a possibility, which was the last thing she wanted.
“They won’t.” Princess almost jumped for joy but she sat still, pressing her advantage. “They can’t.”
“How can you be so sure? If you found me, they could too.”
“But I had your address –” Hannah groaned – “at least I learned it by heart. It was on the envelope of money you gave me. I learned it then chucked the envelope, didn’t I?”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” sighed Hannah, getting up to pour another drink. She needed it.
“So I can stay?” Princess sounded almost elated.
“No!” Hannah’s voice rang out. Her hands were clammy. This was emotional blackmail. It wasn’t her fault. None of this. She hadn’t turned the girl into a prostitute. She hadn’t forced the girl to do the interview. “Why didn’t you go to Kathy? You seemed quite pally.” Hannah hated the cynicism in her voice.
“I don’t have her address and I don’t trust her.”
Hannah snorted. “And you trust me?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh come on. How on earth do you know you can trust me?”
“I just know. You’ve got a baby.”
“And what’s that got to do with it?” Hannah barked, immediately defensive.
“I thought you’d understand.”
“Oh, did you? Well you’re wrong. I don’t understand, and what’s more, I don’t want to.”
“You’ve got to help me,” Princess pleaded.
“Got to?” came the harsh reply. “What right do you have to barge into my home?”
“Please…”
Hannah looked at the girl; she didn’t see a hard-bitten whore. She just saw a lonely, unhappy, unloved child. She thought of her own chubby baby and felt almost guilty at how much she loved her. Compassion got the better of her. Perhaps she could let her stay a few more days. It won’t kill me, Hannah thought, to have her here on a temporary basis.
“We’ll work something out,” was all she would commit herself to.
SIXTEEN
Working something out included a new look for Caroline as Hannah now insisted on calling her. Once the obvious bruises had faded, an appointment with Hannah’s local hairdresser at Village Way produced an auburn bob, and a pair of glasses completed the transformation. It seemed strange seeing the girl looking almost virginal, sitting in Hannah’s home, reading Hannah’s books and generally trying to keep out of Hannah’s way.
Caroline continued to ignore the baby, at least as far as anyone can ignore a baby who spent her waking hours giggling and chuckling at her mother. She rarely cried. Hannah could almost feel Caroline’s coolness. She would have described it as resentment. Maybe she was thinking of the baby she lost, but whenever Hannah questioned her, she seemed almost indifferent. She wasn’t in pain. The bleeding had stopped. It was over, a relief.
Contrary to what he had said, James did come back to see Caroline. He examined her with Hannah in the room and then asked to talk to “the patient” alone. Hannah never discovered what was said but James didn’t lose his worried look. He was obviously concerned. He’d taken a blood sample to test for anaemia and gave Caroline some iron tablets to take just in case. Caroline was obviously impressed with James and Hannah was left wondering what had passed between them. And a tiny, irrational part of her was jealous of James’s attention to her.
Alex, the erstwhile nanny, had never come back. She’d sent a brief letter saying she’d found another job and returned the key, also asking for money owed to her for hours she hadn’t worked. Hannah was furious, then couldn’t disguise her horror when Caroline offered to baby-mind.
“I don’t think so, thank you,” said Hannah firmly, hoping the girl had only made the offer out of politeness in the expectation of being turned down.
“Why not?” Caroline asked quietly, pretending an interest in the magazine in front of her but covertly watching Hannah.
“Well, you’ve hardly got any experience, have you?” Hannah said dismissively.
“Did you?”
“I’m sorry?” Hannah immersed in the “Independent”, wasn’t really concentrating on the conversation.
“Did you have any experience of looking after babies before you had Elizabeth?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“I’
m her mother.”
“Big deal.”
Hannah, stung by the girl’s tone, finally looked at her companion. Caroline’s eyes looked a bit too bright and Hannah realised she had offended her. However, she didn’t want to get into a discussion about childcare or Caroline’s part in it. Caroline, she fervently hoped, would soon feel safe enough to leave.
“I’ve already made other arrangements,” she said in a kinder tone. Someone I met at ante-natal classes is going to look after Elizabeth when I need her to. Her little boy is the same age.”
Caroline sniffed but said no more.
◊◊◊
“Why didn’t you get married?” Caroline asked one afternoon, watching Hannah playing with Elizabeth.
“It wasn’t an option,” replied Hannah, observing Elizabeth’s frustrated attempts at stacking rings.
Caroline went silent for several minutes. “Why not?” she asked then looked as though she wondered if she had gone too far. For a journalist who noses into other people’s lives, Caroline thought, she doesn’t like to give much about herself away.
Hannah looked up and smiled. She was at her most relaxed when Elizabeth was with her. “Why not what?”
“Why wasn’t getting married an option?” Caroline’s vocabulary was definitely improving with all her reading and imitating Hannah.
The older woman sat back on her heels and looked at Caroline curled up on the sofa, an open book resting on the arm. “It wasn’t that sort of relationship.” Fleetingly she longed for the intimacy Paul had provided, even at arm’s length. Whatever their relationship wasn’t, it had provided fun, warmth and lots of good sex. It all seemed a million years away now.
Elizabeth crawled onto her lap and Hannah’s expression softened. “When I discovered I was pregnant, Paul, the father, offered me money for an abortion and when I refused, I didn’t see him for dust.” Hannah’s voice betrayed none of the emotion she had felt at the time. She had been stunned by Paul’s reaction, although she had never expected him to be a full-time father. Their relationship had lasted so long because they both enjoyed their own company; neither of them wanted a conventional marriage and joint home. Amazingly, the pain of Paul’s rejection was muted by the joy of carrying his child.
