Sex slaves, prostitution, violence on city streets… She’d thought at the time that all this stuff had gone over her head, that such concerns would never apply to her. But it was now apparent that her brain had carefully filed all the unsavoury details away and was choosing now as a good time to revisit it all.
Holly ferreted in her pocket for her headphones and turned on her music in a futile attempt to blast away the unwelcome musings. She looked down at her iPod and was reminded that Aunt Susan had bought it for her eighteenth birthday, only a few months earlier.
She felt a stab of remorse then, wondering if maybe she’d been a bit hard on her aunt before she left the house.
Holly was forced to admit that, despite her weak will when it came to her husband, her aunt had a good heart. After all, she hadn’t had to take her niece in and give her a roof over her head. She had been estranged from Holly’s mother, Julie, for several years before Julie’s untimely death.
It wasn’t Aunt Susan’s fault her husband was a perv. They’d married very young, as evidenced by the single photograph on the mantelpiece. Keith had actually been skinnier than her aunt in those days, but he’d still had the same creepy eyes.
But Aunt Susan had let him get away with his crude comments. She had always found a reason to leave the room as he sat openly ogling Holly’s legs in the early days, when she’d still, na?vely, worn a short skirt in his presence.
No, she concluded, as she stared out of the coach window into the failing light. She shouldn’t feel bad. Aunt Susan had known what Keith was like and had clearly made the decision to put up with it.
That had been her choice, no one else’s. She shouldn’t have expected Holly to do the same.
Chapter Twelve
Holly
Holly grasped the handle of Cora’s back door and pushed down, but the door was locked.
As she ferreted in her handbag for the spare keys Cora had given her, she found herself hoping beyond reasonable hope that the older woman was out.
Although Cora had evidently become accustomed to spending long stretches in the house without seeing another soul, she’d also told Holly that every few days she forced herself to head into town. She’d stop at the coffee shop on the corner, she said, and then pick up a few bags of shopping before grabbing a cab home.
Holly supposed that today must be one of those days.
She twisted the key in the lock and stepped inside. As she’d hoped, the house was silent. She could even hear the loud tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, Cora’s pride and joy that had been passed down by her mother’s side of the family.
She closed the door behind her and dumped her bag and keys on the kitchen counter. There, she found a note from Cora.
Popped to supermarket. Back soon x
She felt her shoulders relax a little, and the thumping headache that had developed on the bus journey back from town receded just a touch.
After surviving virtually a full day of Cora’s incessant reminiscing the day before, Holly had thought that she might actually scream if she had to accompany her on one more minute’s meandering down ruddy memory lane.
If she was a decent person, she probably wouldn’t entertain such unkind thoughts. But you couldn’t stop thoughts dead just because they were selfish, could you? If anything, if you didn’t acknowledge them, they’d probably grow stronger.
Holly was overjoyed that Cora had taken her in so readily, but that didn’t mean she had to sacrifice her sanity every single minute of the day from here on in. Or maybe it did. She wasn’t really in a position to be fussy right now.
She poured herself a small glass of orange juice and sat at the scuffed wooden table for a few minutes, allowing the silence around her to trickle soothingly into her bruised ears.
There had been so much noise in town today. Holly had done the rounds of three busy recruitment agencies with their mostly indifferent staff. Her suspicions had been correct. There really weren’t that many decent job vacancies around currently, certainly not for unskilled staff or with training provided.
Once she had explained in the first two appointments that she didn’t possess a university degree or hold a sheaf of impressive qualifications in her non-existent portfolio, she saw their already sparse enthusiasm fade away before her eyes.
It had taken all her resolve not to give up.
When she had entered the third and final agency, Office Cherubs, she was met at the door by a woman with dry brown hair, over-tanned skin and rabbit-like teeth.
‘I’m Karen, recruitment consultant,’ she said, extending a hand together with her self-important title. ‘You must be Holly?’
Holly smiled and nodded, relieved that she wasn’t going to be treated as a pariah this time. She felt hot after rushing across town to get to the building at exactly two p.m., her appointment time.
Karen led her to a quiet corner in the large open-plan office. Various people sat at desks dotted here and there, but nobody showed any interest in her.
Holly sat down and gratefully accepted the glass of water offered to her. She felt dead on her feet.
They had an informal chat and she was relieved that the woman seemed to accept her brief account of work experience without too many searching questions.
‘I think you’d be perfect for a vacancy we’ve just had in literally fifteen minutes ago,’ Karen said brightly. ‘Sales assistant for an upmarket shop in the centre of town. I could send you over for interview first thing tomorrow if you can email me your references before we close up today. How’s that sound?’
‘Sounds great,’ Holly nodded, trying to ignore the voice in her head that was starting to panic a little. ‘I can email them when I get home, if that’s OK?’
‘Perfect!’ Karen beamed, pushing over a pen and some papers. ‘Now, if you can just fill in this application form, I’ll print off the job description and person spec. They’re paying above minimum wage, so I expect this vacancy will prove popular when it goes online in the morning. Must be your lucky day, walking in just as we got it through!’
Holly had managed to complete the application form without too much bother and left soon after, assuring Karen she’d be emailing the references and ID documents.
‘I’ll call you later with the time of your interview and details of where to go,’ Karen had replied. ‘Here’s my card.’
On the bus home, Holly had fretted about whether her paperwork would stand up to scrutiny. The last thing she wanted was anyone raking up trouble for her.
If Geraldine found out where she was, she’d have to up sticks and leave again. Holly would face her when the time was right and not before, otherwise she would have no chance of triumphing.
On the spur of the moment, she’d got off the bus a few stops earlier and walked to the street where she’d lived with Aunt Susan.
She’d already decided she wouldn’t just brazenly walk up to the house and knock on the door. She didn’t want to risk finding Keith home alone or Aunt Susan telling her they’d washed their hands of her.
She’d never received reply to the note she’d sent to her aunt and she’d taken that to mean she wanted nothing more to do with her niece. But now she realised that the chances were, Patricia had never even posted it. The last thing they’d have wanted, with hindsight, was her to keep in touch with relatives who might realise what was happening and convince her to leave Medlock Hall.
No. It was best if she just kept watch, visited a few times. She might get lucky and bump into her aunt. It was bound to happen if she kept coming here.
She had turned the corner and froze.
The terraced houses had now completely gone and in their place stood a sprawling block of offices.
As she had stood there aghast, a woman emerged from the offices.
‘Excuse me!’ Holly had crossed the narrow road. ‘Can you tell me when these offices were built? I’ve just returned to the area and I remember there used to be houses here.’
‘That’s right, we’ve been here… let’s see… about seven years now. Our business was one of the first to move in here.’
Holly had thanked her and watched as the woman went on her way.
In that moment and despite her aunt’s faults, she had felt so completely and utterly alone.
* * *