Trapped. Jacqui Rose

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       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      Maggie tucked a sleeping Harley into bed as she looked around the tired room. The woodchip wallpaper had been painted several times, yet it did very little to disguise the damp seeping through the walls, looking like dark angry clouds against a sky of pink. There was a section of the wallpaper which was peeling off completely, and had been patched up by Harley’s colourful abstract pictures.

      The view from the tiny window looked out onto rows of monolithic grey tower blocks overlooking Tottenham Court Road. And with a heavy heart, Maggie knew this was where Harley had called home for nearly thirteen months. She was past furious.

      Kissing her sleeping daughter on her head, Maggie looked once more at her, not quite believing they were finally reunited. She’d washed Harley’s hair and now it lay in beautiful blonde ringlets on her pillow rather than the matted hair she’d been greeted with earlier. Her face was tiny with rounded cheeks, though worryingly they were less round than they had been a year ago. Her freckles almost looked painted on, splayed perfect tiny brown dots spread across her tiny button nose. She was nothing short of perfect.

      Quietly, Maggie closed the door. Giving up smoking hadn’t lasted. She lit up a cigarette, hungrily inhaling the smoke deep inside her lungs, trying to calm herself down. Hoping to stop her head from racing but more importantly, her temper from rising.

      The television in the small lounge was on but the sound was turned off and Gina Daniels sat in the tatty burgundy chair in the corner. Maggie pulled a face in revulsion as Gina crammed another bite of the fried egg sandwich into her already full mouth. The egg dribbled out onto her lips, onto her chin and all over her fingers. Unabashed, Gina sucked the runny yellow spillage noisily.

      Maggie stared at Gina who seemed deep in thought. She had to find a way to get Harley out of the flat but at the moment she didn’t have anywhere to take her. She couldn’t take her anywhere near home; even being on the other side of Oxford Street was really too close for Maggie’s liking.

      In her family only her mum and Nicky knew about Harley and, until her daughter was much older and able to fend for herself, that was the way Maggie was going to keep it.

      When she’d first discovered she was pregnant she’d been beside herself with excitement. She hadn’t thought she’d feel that way, especially as having children had never been high up on her list of priorities.

      Her mother had casually raised her eyebrows when she’d told her, as if to say she didn’t expect anything different. Then when she’d told her the full story, the casually raised eyebrows had turned into a worried furrow. ‘Maggie, be careful. I’m so scared for you.’ Maggie had watched her mum tremble in fear and the surge of hatred towards her father had hit her once again. She’d taken her mother in her arms, trying to comfort her, trying to reassure her it’d be fine. Though she herself hadn’t known how it would be. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I’ll make it okay. I promise.’

      The next person she’d told had been Nicky. He was the only other member of her family she really trusted. Telling Tommy hadn’t even come into the equation. He was lost to himself and over the years her elder brother had become lost to her. She’d tried to reach out but whenever she did, Maggie sensed a dark and powerful rage coming from him which frightened her, not for herself but for him.

      When she’d been three months pregnant her mother had come up with a workable idea. She was going to pretend she was looking at a stretch. It hadn’t been difficult to convince anyone. Nobody had cared or questioned it. Her father had just sniffed when she’d told him she was looking at ten months inside for handling stolen credit cards. No one else had said anything or had even been concerned. Even though she hadn’t really been going away, Maggie had found the reaction painful, but it’d still been the perfect alibi.

      She’d rented a poky room in Brighton and far from being lonely, she’d enjoyed the time away. The feeling of Harley growing inside her had been exciting and beautiful. It’d felt fresh and pure, unlike the rest of her life. Of course she’d missed Soho, it was in her blood, but her mother and Nicky had visited. There’d been days when they’d just walked on the beach together, eating fish and chips, enjoying each other’s company. Simple but so very rare. A world away from the heaving streets of Soho.

      After Harley had been born everything had become slightly trickier. It’d taken a lot of juggling but Maggie had wanted to get back to Soho. Everything she’d ever known was there. It was the tie that bound.

      Her mother was there who needed her; had always and would always need her. And though there were times Maggie wanted to run and keep running, taking Harley far away to build another life, she knew she couldn’t. Because there was no one else to protect her mother. Maggie was trapped. In a way they all were.

      Nicky had found a flat to rent in Holborn for her. Far enough away from Soho, but near enough to be there each day.

      Between her, her mother and her mother’s cousin, they’d looked after Harley, keeping her safe. At first everyone had found it difficult, paranoid someone would get suspicious, but after a time Maggie had realised once more that nobody gave a damn what she did with her life. They were all too busy not giving a damn about their own to worry about anyone else’s.

      It’d all been going so well until the day she’d been nicked. Then bucket loads of shit had hit the proverbial fan. Not that she’d known at the time. When she’d been sentenced she’d made a phone call to Harley’s father begging him to make it right, and he’d told her he would. ‘Between us it’ll be fine. Put your head down, do your time. Okay? And Maggie … I love you.’

      His words however had fallen short of anything remotely resembling the promise made. Nicky’s habit decided it was more important than his niece. Her mother’s cousin needed to go back to Ireland. Her mother had tried – though Maggie didn’t know how hard – but failed to get away from the house enough without raising suspicion. So that’d only left one person. The one person Maggie thought she could rely on. Yet he’d let her down. More to the point, he’d let their daughter down.

      Sitting in the drab smoke-filled flat, it became clear to Maggie why Harley’s father hadn’t helped. It was for one reason and one reason only. He just didn’t care. Maggie Donaldson realised like all the other people in her life, Johnny Taylor didn’t give a damn.

      ‘I want you to start from the beginning, Gina. I want you to tell me why my daughter’s spent the last year in this dive with you. And why she looked so filthy, with holes in her clothes. And believe me, I’m not in the mood for any of your games.’