The white-coated driver stepped out of the van and hurried into the delivery room. There was an urgency in his step that worried Roxy. Minutes later he reappeared with Mr Dyce. They were carrying a stretcher with a comatose Anne Marie lying in it. Roxy could just see her face as she was slid inside the ambulance. Why was she asleep? Was she so exhausted? Roxy felt herself tingling with excitement. She watched impatiently, because any minute now, little Aidan, her little godson, would be carried out, wrapped tight in a blanket. Or perhaps he would be in a tiny bassinet. She pressed herself close to the window to watch. Mr Dyce spoke to the driver for a moment, and then, the driver turned and closed the back doors of the ambulance.
Roxy felt like shouting. Why were they sending Anne Marie away without her baby? The driver got back into the van, and Mr Dyce slapped the doors. He watched the van move off before he disappeared back inside the delivery room. Now, Roxy began to panic.
Where was Anne Marie’s baby?!
Roxy almost leapt from the window seat. Where was Anne Marie’s baby? There was no way Anne Marie would have agreed to being separated from Aidan. She would have died first. Roxy ran in a fever, down the rickety stairs of the library, her footsteps echoing into the silence. She pounded along the corridors, not caring who heard her, blitzing her way through the long halls, sending dust flying, her footsteps the only sound breaking the eerie silence.
She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. The Dyces could have no explanation for this. She would not be fobbed off with another lame, ‘logical’ excuse. She owed it to Anne Marie, and her baby. Oh, how she wished she had insisted on going into the delivery room with Anne Marie. Her mind was ablaze with anger at herself as she ran back into the main house. She pulled open the door and slid back in front of the table, almost knocking it over, not caring now how much noise she made, or who heard her. She held her bump in front of her as if to protect it. Yet still the house seemed quiet as if no one else was there at all, except herself.
The smell of spices and garlic from the evening meal still lingered in the air. She wanted to tell the other girls, wanted someone to talk to, but none of them spoke English. She had no one to confide in.
The tables had turned. When she first came here, they were the ones left out of any conversation. Now it was her.
She ran to the door of the Dyces’ apartments, marked PRIVATE, and thought once again, with a chill in her heart, that when you walked through that door you were never seen again.
‘Mrs Dyce!’ She yelled it so loud it was more like a scream. ‘Mrs Dyce, open this door!’
She wanted to crumple to the ground, but she wouldn’t. She would be strong, for Anne Marie and Aidan.
It was Mr Dyce who opened the door. He let out a gasp when he saw her and bent down and tried to put his arms around her. Roxy shrank back from him.
‘My dear,’ he called back into the room. ‘Come and help me. It’s Roxy.’
Roxy stepped away from him clumsily. ‘Where’s Anne Marie’s baby?’
His face paled. ‘What?’
‘I saw Anne Marie go off in an ambulance.’ She was talking through gasps of breath, almost panicking, but she would have an answer. ‘But not her baby. Not Aidan.’ And this time her voice was a scream. ‘Where’s Anne Marie’s baby?!’
The door was suddenly hauled wider and Mrs Dyce stood there, all in white, straight from the delivery room. ‘You saw Anne Marie … where were you?’
Roxy ignored that. Wouldn’t have told her anyway. ‘I saw her, and I know the baby wasn’t with her, and Anne Marie wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her baby.’
Mrs Dyce took her arm, she was trying to lead her inside that room. Roxy pulled back from her with all the strength she had. No. She wouldn’t go in there.
Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
The words leapt into her mind unbidden, like a warning.
Yet Mrs Dyce’s voice couldn’t have been more soothing and gentle. ‘Please come in while we talk to you.’
Roxy shook her head. ‘Tell me here,’ she said.
Some of the other girls had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, watching curiously. Not understanding a word. Maybe that was what decided the Dyces to tell her in front of them.
Their faces were grim and Roxy felt her legs go weak beneath her. This was bad news. Mr Dyce caught her and lowered her gently into the worn armchair against the wall.
‘Tell me,’ Roxy said again.
Mr Dyce crouched beside her. ‘We were afraid there might be complications, that was the reason Mrs Dyce didn’t want you to come in at the birth.’
Mrs Dyce sat on the arm of the chair, put a hand on her shoulders. ‘You have to be strong, Roxy.’
Roxy felt as if an icy hand was squeezing her heart. Strong, for what?
‘Anne Marie’s baby is dead,’ Mrs Dyce said softly.
Roxy began to shake. Dead? NO! Not little Aidan. She could picture his little hands reaching out to her. He was her godson. His mother was her best friend.
Roxy’s throat was too tight even to cry. Anne Marie had wanted her baby so much. The first person in her life who would love her.
No! No! No! No! No!
It was too painful to take in. ‘How can he be dead?’
Mrs Dyce spoke as if she was holding in tears too. ‘It happens sometimes. The cord goes round the baby’s neck while he’s in the womb. We did everything we could, Roxy.’
Roxy covered her ears with her hands trying to blot out the words, but she couldn’t blot out the picture they created in her mind.
Mrs Dyce held her close. ‘See, how upset you are. Can you imagine how you would feel if you’d been in there with her? Was I right not to let you go?’
Logical. Just as Roxy had expected. She was always so logical. But Roxy had some logic of her own.
‘If you knew there was a risk of complications, why wasn’t she sent to a hospital?’
Mrs Dyce had the answer all ready. ‘As soon as we realised there were going to be complications, we sent for an ambulance to take Anne Marie to the hospital, but it would have been too late anyway. Nothing could have saved Aidan.’
Roxy leapt to her feet. ‘I want to see Anne Marie! Take me to see her.’
The girls watching looked at each other, as if they were wondering why she was going crazy. Roxy shouted at them, ‘Anne Marie’s baby’s dead! Baby dead!’ They looked baffled. She had seen those same expressions before. The picture came back to Roxy of the night Aneeka had screamed almost those same words, ‘Kill baby’.
No one had listened to her either.
‘No, Roxy. You can’t see Anne Marie. That would be the worst thing you could do. Anne Marie sees you, and knows you’re going to have a healthy living baby … and her baby …’ Mrs Dyce didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to.
‘But she’ll need me, someone to talk to. I’m her friend.’
Mrs Dyce stood up, put her arm around Roxy’s shoulder. ‘She’ll get professional counselling in hospital.’
‘But she won’t have me.’
‘She might worry even more if she saw you. In case the whole thing harms your baby. You must see that, Roxy.’
She couldn’t stop the tears then. She cried for Anne Marie, all alone in a strange place. She cried for little Aidan. And she cried for herself.
The Dyces had never done her any harm, they had only ever shown kindness to her, and yet there was too much mystery here in Dragon House. Questions that refused to be answered by their logic. She would not trust them. She would never trust them.
Everyone disappears, she kept thinking. One by one, they’ve all gone, and now I’m alone.
No. Not alone. Never alone now. She held her hands around her bump protectively. Here was the only person she could talk to now. The only one she could trust. Her baby. And all he had was Roxy.
She had to calm down, she told herself. If she panicked, if she lost control, they would lead her off, the way they had led Aneeka. So she stopped crying,
and let them take her back to her room. Mrs Dyce sat with her until she thought she was asleep. She even made her hot chocolate. Roxy only pretended to drink it, though she doubted they had put anything in it. They had an investment to protect.
Because as she lay on her bed staring at Anne Marie’s empty bed she was sure she had figured out at last what it was they were doing here.
Anne Marie’s baby wasn’t dead. She was sure of it. With a growing sense of horror she realised that they were taking the babies and selling them for adoption, whether you wanted it or not.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Dyces had pretended to Anne Marie that Aidan was dead. How could they be so cruel? Anne Marie would want to die now too. Now Roxy understood why each girl was whisked away after she’d had her baby, whisked off to another place, with no contact allowed. They had told all the girls, the ones who wanted to keep their babies at least, that their babies had died, and it would be too much of a coincidence if none of the babies had survived. She tossed and turned the whole hot night. It was all she could think of. It haunted her dreams. Maybe, there was still time for her to save Aidan, get him back for Anne Marie.
But how? She was only fourteen. She was pregnant, clumsy and powerless.
But smart.
By morning she had figured out what she was going to do.
Now she knew why the new girls, the replacements, were either illegal immigrants or asylum seekers. First they weren’t able to communicate with each other, or her. They couldn’t share knowledge. What was the phrase she had heard a few weeks ago when she’d found the secret room?
‘Economically viable.’
More babies to sell, especially if they could sell them all.
It made her physically sick to realise what it meant. They could make more money, sell more babies.
‘It’s as if we’re just cattle.’ She said it aloud. But she was alone in the room now, and the empty bed, Anne Marie’s bed, only made her cry all the more.
She knew what she had to do. She would pretend to believe the Dyces’ story and she would ask to go home. All innocence, she would say she realised now how much she needed her mother. They’d let Sula go home. So why not Roxy?
Home. At home she could tell her mother all about this vile place, she would go to the police and their horrific little trade would be stopped. And Anne Marie would get little Aidan back.
But first, she had to make the Dyces believe she was completely taken in.
She found Mrs Dyce loading up her car. The Morris Minor. She had trusted them because of that car. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to drive a Morris Minor! It wasn’t hard to make Mrs Dyce believe Roxy had been crying all night. She had. Her eyes were still puffy and red.
‘Have you heard anything about Anne Marie?’ she asked at once.
Mrs Dyce didn’t answer her. She hugged her close. ‘You look awful, Roxy. You must rest all day. I’ll get the other girls to do your chores.’
Roxy forced a smile. ‘Thanks, Mrs Dyce … I’ll be OK, but how is Anne Marie?’
She was afraid of the answer. Anne Marie thought Aidan was dead. He’s not, Anne Marie, Roxy thought. I’m going to get him back for you. But if she believed he was dead, she might just do something awful.
‘She’s sedated, but … naturally she’s taking it badly. However, you’ll be glad to know that her family are coming over from Ireland.’
Now, Roxy knew for sure Mrs Dyce was lying. All lies. Anne Marie hated her family. They’d never loved her. Aidan was going to be the first person who would ever love her.
But Mrs Dyce knew Anne Marie’s story too. She had become a mother substitute for Anne Marie, who confided in her totally.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Roxy. All Anne Marie’s talk about her family, never going back to them, how she hated them. I’ve heard it so often, but when the baby’s born, or like now, when a tragedy happens, what’s the first thing a girl asks for? Her mother. That’s what Anne Marie needs now. Her mother. We contacted them first thing this morning.’
‘And Anne Marie won’t tell them about …’ But Roxy hardly needed to ask that. Anne Marie would never tell anyone about Dragon House. Trusting Anne Marie would believe everything she was told by Mrs Dyce. How could this horrible woman deceive someone who loved her so much? How could she separate Anne Marie from her beloved baby? Even worse, how could she pretend that the baby had died?
The thought was so horrific, so cruel, that Roxy began to cry again. She couldn’t stop herself.
Mrs Dyce pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped Roxy’s eyes. ‘Try not to be upset, Roxy. You have your own baby to think about. When I come back from town … we’ll have a long talk.’
Roxy’s nose was running, and she couldn’t stop the tears. ‘I want my mum too, Mrs Dyce. I want to go home.’
Mrs Dyce held her at arm’s length, looking into her tear-stained eyes. If only she could read minds, Roxy thought, and see what was behind the woman’s blue-grey eyes. But then again … what if she could read Roxy’s …?
‘I’ve thought about it all night. Thinking about Anne Marie, thinking about her alone, and now she hasn’t even got her baby. You said it yourself, when a tragedy happens the first thing a girl wants is her mother. I want my mother, Mrs Dyce. I want to go home.’
Mrs Dyce looked off into the distance. She was biting the inside of her lip, thinking hard. Then she turned back to Roxy and smiled. ‘It will take a few days to organise. We have to be very discreet. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Roxy could feel her heart beating like a drum at the thought of getting away from this place, these people. ‘And I’d never tell anyone about here, you know that, don’t you?’
‘I know we can trust you, Roxy. None of the girls who have gone home have ever betrayed us.’
Roxy felt an urge to hug her, stupid though it was. This woman was planning to take her baby, sell it for adoption, pretend he had died during the birth, and yet she felt irrationally grateful because she was sending her home. Stupid or what?
‘I have to go now, Roxy, but I’ll get it organised for you and we’ll talk later. All right?’
Roxy could have leapt with joy as she watched the Morris Minor drive off. She would be home in a few days, and then she would blow the lid off this whole nightmarish little business.
She went back to her room though the sight of Anne Marie’s empty bed made her cry again. ‘I’ll get him back for you, Anne Marie. I promise.’
She lay on her bed and to her surprise, she slept. She dreamt of babies, as she always did these days, babies hiding in the house, Dragon House with dragons lurking in every dark corner ready to lick them up with their long tongues. Roxy was trying to find them, calling out to them, while somewhere in the distance Stevens was coming after her, because he wanted those babies to plant in his garden.
She woke covered in sweat. The oppressive heat was always worse in the afternoon. She pulled herself up and considered having a shower, just to cool herself down. Her baby kicked against her, reminding her he was there too, and he was hot.
One of the other girls was in the shower. Dietra, she was called. She was a surly Asian girl who seldom smiled. Roxy hadn’t liked her but now she felt that maybe Dietra was as scared as she had been. Roxy decided for once to be friendly.
‘I’m Roxy,’ she smiled, but Dietra didn’t smile back. Roxy pointed to the girl’s belly. ‘Baby good?’ She gave the thumbs-up sign.
Dietra still didn’t smile. She watched Roxy warily as if she was going to jump her, then she pushed past Roxy and strode out of the bathroom.
‘You’ll be grateful to me one day, kid,’ Roxy wanted to shout after her. ‘I’m going to save your baby.’
Roxy knew then she really was alone. The other girls could do nothing to help her.
She felt refreshed when she came out of the shower and ready for anything. Back in the room she towelled her hair dry. When she heard a car draw up outside, she went to th
e window and watched. Mrs Dyce got out and opened the back door of the Morris Minor. One, two, three new girls stepped out. They looked bewildered, frightened, and pregnant.
More girls. More babies. More money for the Dyces.
‘Economically viable.’
Roxy stepped back from the window before anyone could look up and see her. She had to put an end to this.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roxy had to put on a face, pretend she still believed everything the Dyces said. Lull them into the proverbial false sense of security. They had to send her home so she could tell the world what was happening here.
She went downstairs. Mr Dyce was in the kitchen unloading fruit and vegetables from a box on the table. He looked up at Roxy and smiled.
‘Hello, Roxy. You look very refreshed.’
Such a kindly voice, such gentle eyes. Santa Claus personified. Surely, she had to be wrong. This man wouldn’t be a part of any plan to take babies from their mothers. Then she remembered Aidan and Anne Marie, and she knew she wouldn’t trust him, for their sake. She smiled back.
‘I had a sleep and a shower. I’m sorry I made such a fuss. I was just that worried about Anne Marie.’
‘Of course you were. You’ve nothing to apologise for.’
Roxy began helping him with the vegetables. ‘Lots of supplies,’ she said.
As if answering her unspoken question he said, ‘New girls. Asylum seekers thrown out by their families for bringing shame on them. Poor girls. How can parents be so cruel?’
Roxy wanted to ask, almost did, how did you find them? How did they find you? It was hard to keep her mouth shut and keep the smile fixed on her face. They had to believe she suspected nothing. Had to.
‘And none of them speak English?’ she asked casually.
Mr Dyce shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not. Which makes it doubly hard for them.’
Doubly hard then to understand how these girls could find the Dyces. In that moment, Roxy realised that there must be many more people involved in this operation. This wasn’t just the Dyces. It probably also involved the same kind of ruthless people who brought illegal immigrants into the country, locked in vans; desperate people willing to risk suffocation, even death, for the hope of a new life.
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