Chapter Five

Two weeks later

Bastion Collymore used his body to shield his eight-year-old daughter. It was the only way to protect her from the driving rain that pounded against his back and onto the pavement beyond the shop doorway, in which they’d made their home for the next few hours. He sighed, satisfied that, at least for now, Lily was dry, albeit he knew that she was cold and almost certainly hungry.

There were so many noises that surrounded them, every one amplified beyond normality. They were noises that during the day would hardly register, would pale into insignificance, but on a cold, dark night were emphasised and felt louder and more dangerous. There was the sound of traffic, the screeching of brakes, the tireless bleeps of a pelican crossing, and the joviality, shrieks and laughter of clubbers and partygoers, all on Christmas party nights out. They were all having fun, all intoxicated and all spending more money in one night than he’d most probably have earned in the past month.

The whole area was lit up with coloured, flashing Christmas lights. They were hung across the street between flashing Santas, stars and Christmas fairies. The flashing was annoying him and he glanced over his shoulder in the hope that they’d magically stop, only to see a man and woman in their late twenties, only ten years or so younger than he was himself, both tightly entwined and pressed into the corner of a see through polycarbonate bus shelter. He could tell by the way their urgency was growing that their actions would soon turn into a sight that he wouldn’t want Lily to witness and he manoeuvred his body to hide the view from his daughter’s eyes, before nervously resting his own from the flashing onslaught. His eyes hurt with an overwhelming tiredness that he knew wouldn’t go away, not until he could sleep properly, not until he knew they were safe.

It had been a long, cold and relentless afternoon of travel that had begun in London. Their day had involved sitting on platforms, waiting for the cheapest trains or buses. He’d even slipped them both into a toilet cubicle on the last train, where they’d hid, silently, until reaching the next stop. The stolen journey had saved them money, yet still they’d arrived in York just a little too late to catch the last bus to Scarborough.

Once again he closed his eyes. He was desperate to sleep, but didn’t dare. Not tonight. He’d lived in London for far too long, had seen far too much and knew exactly what could happen on its streets. Deep down he knew that York would be no different. So tonight he had to stay vigilant, he had to know who was creeping around them and, at all times, be prepared for the unexpected. Above all else, he had to protect his child, and keep her safe. He felt in his pocket for his old army knife, a gift that his father had given to him. It was a weapon that he didn’t want to use, but knew that he would, should he have to protect Lily.

He sighed. He wished he’d had time to plan for this journey, to save up and maybe then he could have afforded a hotel, or at least a bed and breakfast or even a hostel. Anything would have been better than having to sleep on the street, but even after the stolen journey, he only just had enough money left to catch tomorrow’s early bus, meaning the luxury of any kind of safe environment wasn’t an option.

He took in a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn’t. He winced with pain. His arm immediately shot up and clutched at his ribs as a strange crackling sound came from within, quickly followed by the persistent coughing that had plagued him for the past few weeks.

‘Daddy?’ Lily’s young voice whispered in the darkness. Her body inched closer to him, her arms encircled his waist and he felt her lips kiss his cheek. ‘You okay, Daddy?’

She felt cold to his touch and he pulled his overcoat further around her body in an effort to keep her warm. He knew she was scared and hated himself for having to put her through this night. It was a night when most children would be counting down the days as they sped excitedly towards Christmas. With only ten days to go, most little girls would have thoughts of presents under a tree, of family gatherings and of food galore – all while waiting for Santa to arrive with an abundance of gifts for all.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t you worry yourself, my beautiful girl.’ Bastion’s deep, Caribbean twang bellowed out louder than he’d intended and he tried to smile as he looked down at the child. He’d chosen the doorway for its depth and location. He’d guessed it to be one of the less populated areas of town, close to the bus station, yet far enough away that he’d hoped he’d get just a little privacy. The constantly flashing Christmas lights lit up Lily’s beautiful big brown eyes, which stared back up at him like saucers. At just eight years old, she was already a picture of beauty, with the most perfect white teeth and dark, wild Afro hair that had formed a halo around her soft chestnut face. It was a hairstyle that never looked brushed, yet had always looked perfect and Bastion found himself carefully brushing the hair away from her face with his fingers and tucking it behind her ear.

‘I’m so sorry, my girl. You shouldn’t be here; this is no place for you to sleep. Not on a night like this.’ His voice cracked with emotion. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’ He leaned forward, kissing her gently on the forehead. ‘Tomorrow will be a good day. I promise.’ Again, he took in a breath. The breaths were becoming more and more shallow. Every part of his chest hurt, every inch of him felt the cold and a violent trembling began at his toes and worked its way up and through his body, which burned with the heat of a furnace but cooled quickly as the persistent rain soaked through his coat and penetrated his skin.

He pulled at the old army duffel bag that lay by their feet and dragged an old jumper from within. ‘Here you go, princess. Put this on.’

Lily pulled her thin cotton school dress down over her knees, pulled at the coat that was far too small and forced a smile. She looked down at the jumper in his hands, and he watched the tears fill her eyes. ‘I’m okay, Daddy. You wear it.’ She pushed the jumper towards him. ‘You’re poorly, Daddy, you need to get better.’ Her chattering teeth gave her away and a tear dropped down Bastion’s face as he realised that even at such a young age, his daughter was willing to stay cold, just so that he could be warm.

He shook his head. He felt selfish, cruel and had gone beyond self-hatred. Lily was young, innocent and precious. So much wrong had already happened in her life that she hadn’t deserved, which had begun with her mother leaving so many years before.

He thought of Lily’s mother, of Annie. She was a typical working girl, just one of the many that London had to offer. But, of course, she hadn’t been a working girl when they’d met – or so he’d thought. They’d met in a club, he’d asked her to dance and he’d been the perfect gentleman – taking her out for dinners, buying her flowers and courting her just as he’d thought she deserved. The attraction had been mutual, they’d spent every minute they could together and the hours had turned into days. To Bastion she’d been the perfect woman; he’d loved everything about her, from her shoulder length auburn hair, and her petite frame, to the freckles that scattered themselves across her nose. She’d been younger than him by a good ten years but it hadn’t mattered. They’d fallen into a routine; both had had to work, him on the docks and her in the clubs. She’d worked every weekend, but Monday to Thursday of every week they’d be inseparable. Every single thing they did had been in unison, they’d shop together, sleep together and they’d party together. But they’d partied too hard and had gone to one party too many where far too much heroin had been available, and after night after night of abuse, it had been more than obvious that the drugs had finally won – Annie had become addicted. He’d always stayed clear, kept himself clean, and had tried to look after her, tried to help her, and did everything he could to keep her away from the drugs. But the call had been too strong and it was only then that he learned the truth about who Annie really was. She was a prostitute, a high-class escort that only needed to work a few days a week to earn a fortune from rich clients. He’d always thought she’d worked in a bar, that’s what she’d told him, and the revelation of what she really did had been a huge shock. But her need for a heroin fix changed her – she began to lie, began to steal and had quickly lost her job. No one wanted an escort with a drug problem and she’d had no choice but to work the streets, where she was ruled by pimps and soon found herself owing them money. Slowly but surely she’d come to rely on one pimp in particular, Griff, and after losing her own flat through debt, he’d convinced her that she was safer living and working in his brothel, under his protection.

At first Bastion had been furious. He hated what she did and had tried to walk away, but he’d loved her and had hated the thought that other men were near her. After all, in his opinion she’d been far too beautiful to be on the game. He became obsessed and spent every penny he earned paying for her in an attempt to keep her away from the others, not realising that he was helping to keep both her pimp in pocket and her in drugs.

But then, like a miracle, Annie had become pregnant. From an early stage her petite frame had made the pregnancy more than obvious and, much to Bastion’s relief, her pimp had lost interest. He’d stopped making demands and had thrown her out of the brothel, giving Bastion the perfect opportunity to offer her a home, and to clean her up. It had all been a risk, he’d known from the beginning that the baby might not be his, in fact there was a strong chance that it wasn’t. But he didn’t care. This was his only opportunity to get Annie back, this was his chance to be a father and this time he intended to get it right.

At first they’d been happy. They’d decorated the flat, bought a crib, a pram and baby clothes. And, for a while, Annie had tried, especially during her pregnancy and when Lily was first born. But for her drugs and alcohol had been as much a part of her life as the air that she breathed, and it wasn’t long before once again the heroin became a daily addiction. Every day, after work, Bastion returned home expecting her to be either dead or gone. The longer she stayed, the more he hoped that one day she’d clean herself up and they’d finally have a normal family life. It was a future he wanted and wished for, a future that had both Annie and Lily in it.

But he should have known better, he should have never wished for his very own ‘happy-ever-after’, not with Annie. The track lines on her arms became more and more apparent. She’d stopped caring about her appearance, stopped bathing, washing her hair and spent hour after hour crying, shaking, rocking or throwing up. She’d leave Lily to cry and on most days Bastion would come home from work to find that Lily hadn’t been changed, cleaned or fed, and all because Annie had either been as high as a kite or in need of a fix. One way or the other she hadn’t been capable of being a mother.

Bastion’s love eventually diminished. He began to hate her for neglecting Lily. He couldn’t believe how little a mother could care about her own baby and in the end even looking at Annie was so painful that he began to wish her gone. It was something he’d never previously wished for. All he’d ever wanted was to be happy, to be a normal couple with a family, with holidays, Christmas and birthdays. He’d wished so often for a good and happy home, but now, all he wanted was a home without Annie in it.

It had been a cold, dark, winter night, almost eight years before, when he’d returned home from work to find a completely empty flat. He’d opened the door, and been totally shocked by what he’d seen. He’d quickly closed his eyes, slammed the door closed, and had stood on the landing, looking around, double checking that he’d opened the right door, on the right landing, to the right flat. He’d shaken his head violently, and pinched himself repeatedly, before once again slowly opening the door and peering inside. Annie had gone and taken every single one of their possessions with her. The only thing she’d left behind had been Lily, cold, sobbing and alone in her cot in the empty room. In a split second his whole life and dreams fell apart and he was suddenly alone, with a tiny baby who needed him in order to survive.

Bastion shook his head and brought himself back to the present. He’d long since stopped loving Annie and on most days he wondered what he’d seen in her in the first place. She wasn’t the woman he’d originally loved, she’d changed so much and he’d spent years doing everything he could to keep her as far away from Lily as possible. On many an occasion he’d found himself wishing she’d disappear without a trace or that she’d overdose on the drugs and be gone forever.

Annie hadn’t wanted Lily when she’d had the chance, but now, for some reason, she insisted on coming back each Christmas and birthday. She’d turn up, sit for hours, pretend she cared, and even bring a gift for Lily, normally something small, something she’d obviously stolen, whilst all the time rocking, scratching and shaking.

Was he so wrong not to want Annie around? Did he owe it to Lily to allow her mother to visit? Did his daughter have the right to know who her mother was, even if that mother was a dirty, drug-addicted prostitute, who’d abandoned her soon after birth?

He knew he’d wished her gone. But deep down, the good in him had hoped that one day she’d surprise him. Hoped that one day she’d turn up, clean from the drugs, and suddenly become the mother that Lily deserved. Had he hoped for too much?

Bastion gave Lily a stern look, followed by a smile, before pushing the jumper over her head. ‘No arguments, young lady. Don’t I always tell you that you need to do what your daddy says?’ He coughed again, before he pulled the jumper down and over the top of her dress and coat and then laughed as it hung loosely around her legs, covering her feet like a long woollen duvet. He then dug for a second jumper and repeated the exercise. ‘It’s just for one night,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow will be a new day, you’ll see.’ He positioned the large duffel bag as close to the shop door as he could, and placed a third jumper over the top of it to make a small mattress, just big enough for the child. ‘Lie down, princess. Lie down. Try and get comfy.’ He indicated the corner.

Bastion rubbed his tired eyes and watched as Lily curled up and pretended to sleep. He stroked her cheek and prayed that he could stay awake long enough to keep her safe. He saw her eyes flicker and a half smile cross her lips.

‘Hey, do you know what, princess? There are people out there that pay a fortune to go on a camping trip.’ His deep laugh echoed around their small space. ‘Yet here we are, my girl, doing it for free.’ He tried to make a joke, to lighten the mood, but again the coughing began to tear through his tormented body.

‘But … Daddy.’ She opened her eyes and a sob left her throat. ‘We’re not camping, Daddy, are we?’ The trembling in her voice told him what he already knew. She was terrified. ‘Please, Daddy. I want to go home.’

‘I know you do, honey. I want to go home too.’ Nothing was further from the truth, for earlier that day Annie had broken in and had once again emptied the flat. He’d arrived home from work and from bringing Lily home from school, and for the second time all their possessions had been gone, even Lily’s toys. He’d stood, shaking with temper and with sadness, knowing that he couldn’t do it again, he couldn’t replace everything, not a second time. He hadn’t got enough money left and knew that the little he did have wouldn’t last to the end of the month. Their home had become an empty shell and in truth he knew he had no choice but to leave. While they stayed there, Annie would keep coming back, keep taking what she could and he’d never know what they were going home to.

Bastion looked over his shoulder. The flashing lights dazzled his eyes and he caught sight of a man urinating in a doorway across the street, making him gag. The doorway they slept in would most probably have been used as a public toilet too and he swallowed hard in the knowledge that not only was he putting Lily through this awful night, he was exposing her to germs, and disease. His coughing began again; he clutched at his chest. He’d never felt so ill in his life and knew he needed medical help. Help that he hadn’t wanted to ask for, not until Lily was safe and could be properly cared for.

He pulled a piece of newspaper from his pocket. It was old, creased and wrapped in cling film to protect it from the weather. It was an article he’d cut out over a year before. One he’d read over and over. The article showed photographs of a hotel, Wrea Head Hall in Scarborough, which had been almost burnt to the ground. It showed its owner, who’d survived the most horrific of attacks, along with pictures of other people, some who’d survived the atrocity, but then there had been the ones who hadn’t. One of the pictures was of a ‘deceased’ woman, Margaret Croft, and beside her was a picture of her grown-up daughter, Jess. But of course, he’d seen Jess many years before. She’d been so young back then, but he’d never forgotten those big, jet black eyes, that wild wayward hair, or that smile that would have lit up a sky. He coughed again, took in another painful breath and then he held the clipping up to the light so that Lily could see.

‘Lily, do you see this … this young woman?’ He pointed. ‘The one there, she’s called Jess. She’s your sister,’ he said proudly, before pausing, gasping for breath and coughing again. ‘She lives in this big house, do you see it?’ He saw Lily’s eyes grow wide and sparkle as she studied the picture of Wrea Head Hall. ‘Tomorrow, my girl, tomorrow we’re going to go to that house.’ He nodded. ‘That’s right, we’re going to go there. We’re going to go and find your sister.’ He sat up with a determined effort. ‘Her house, it’s by the seaside, not too far from here, and tomorrow we’ll catch the early bus and go find it.’ He nodded. ‘You have to trust me, baby. I have a plan. All we need to do is get a little more money. Enough for some breakfast, and for us to clean ourselves up.’ He patted the bag. ‘I have my good suit in here, you know.’ He nodded and smiled. ‘Hopefully I’ll get us enough money to catch a bus from Scarborough to the hotel. Otherwise we might have to walk, but it might be a long way. Is that okay, princess?’ He watched his daughter nod and then he turned to face the street, held out his hand to a passer-by and lowered his eyes.

‘Please, sir, please, could you spare a coin. We missed the last bus. I need to get my daughter home.’