He pulls a wooden chair from the side of the room and sits on it, still holding Hannah to his chest. Why won’t she speak? Why doesn’t she just push him away?
‘Paul, what’s going on?’ I say, easing myself towards them. ‘Just let her go.’
He stares at me and I stare back.
‘I’ll let her go when I’m ready,’ he says, not taking his eyes off me. ‘But first I want to tell you a few things and if you try anything daft, Sally, then I will slit her throat.’
He moves his arm from beneath her ribcage and it’s then I see that it’s a knife clasped in his hand. He moves it up to Hannah’s face.
‘Paul, for fuck’s sake,’ I cry. ‘Please. Why are you doing this?’
‘Why am I doing this?’ he says calmly. ‘Hmm, that’s a good question. I’m doing this because you left me no choice. I’ve always been a nurturer, a sucker for lost causes. Why do you think I ended up with you? But there came a point when I had to make a decision. I had to remove Hannah from a dangerous situation and put her into a place of safety. You were abusing your child, Sally. Someone had to get her away from it.’
I feel a familiar anger rising up inside me, a memory from a childhood spent trying to hold it in, trying to keep the peace. But if I want to get Hannah out of here I’m going to have to swallow my anger once more. Keep him talking, I tell myself, as I sit down on the floor and draw my knees up, keep him talking until the time is right.
‘Thank you,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Thank you for taking such good care of her.’
Hannah frowns at me. She is confused but I nod my head at her reassuringly.
‘Now if you let her go,’ I continue, ‘I’ll tell the police what a good job you’ve done, giving her a safe place, away from the arguments, away from me. They’ll understand. I’ll tell them it was all my fault.’
‘You stupid bitch,’ he yells, leaping to his feet and pulling Hannah up by the throat. ‘Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? None of us are getting out of here, do you understand that? None of us.’
40
I sit on the floor holding my knees to my chest, staring at the wall in front of me. There’s writing on it in red pen. The one word that stands out, the one that’s written over and over again, is ‘mum’.
‘Touching, isn’t it?’
Paul is smiling. How can the bastard smile after what he’s done?
I stay silent. If I answer back I’m playing into his hands.
‘Look at that,’ he says. ‘Can you read it? It says “Help me Mum”. Isn’t that sweet? Crying out for her mum. But Mum never came, did she, Hannah? She was too busy getting drunk. I said to her, you can write what you like, it doesn’t bother me, because one thing’s for certain – your mother’s not coming. Your mother couldn’t give a shit. And I’m right, aren’t I, Sally?’
I shake my head. My girl was crying out for me and I couldn’t hear her.
David whimpers in the bed and I get up to go and comfort him.
‘Leave him,’ snaps Paul.
‘He’s scared,’ I say. ‘He’s just a little kid.’
‘I said leave him.’
He stabs the wall with his knife and I sit down again, my body numb with shock and fear.
‘Whose is he?’ I say, trying to block out his cries.
Paul laughs and squeezes Hannah tighter.
‘Do you want to tell her or should I?’ he says.
She bows her head.
‘All right, I’ll tell her,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘He’s mine, you stupid bitch. The kid is mine. And it’s your fault.’
David carries on whimpering while all around me the air gets thinner and thinner. I can’t breathe as I sit here listening to the man I once loved describe how he groomed my daughter.
‘You were always pissed,’ he says, flexing his hands tighter across Hannah’s chest. ‘Do you remember when we first met, you were off the booze, said you’d seen the light and gone teetotal? Well, all it took was a little encouragement and before you knew it you were an old lush like your father. I enjoyed that. Watching you destroy yourself. And you were so stupid, so gullible and desperate for love that you actually thought it was you I was interested in, not your pretty little daughter. Before long you were in no fit state to look after Hannah. Someone needed to step in. The girl needed comforting and I was there.’
Hannah turns to look at me. Her eyes are bloated with tears. She looks like a little girl again and I reach out my arms to her.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘She’s sorry, Hannah,’ he repeats my words mockingly. ‘Did you hear that? Mummy’s sorry. Isn’t that nice?’
Hannah cowers as he speaks and I want to comfort her but the knife held firmly to her throat keeps me back.
‘And then one night we crossed the line, didn’t we, sweetheart?’ He prods Hannah in the side. ‘Didn’t we? Shall we tell your lovely mother where you seduced me?’
Hannah keeps her head down but I can see that she’s crying; her shoulders are shaking. I can’t bear this.