Chapter 7

In the morning Poppy woke me with a mug of fresh coffee, I drank it as she did more exercises.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m fine, I just want to improve my flexibility, just beware that I may fart really badly while I do this, because anal makes you fart.”

“Ok, warning taken on board, probably best to get them out before you get to school.”

“Oh shit yes, noisy wet farts in class will not go down well. I’ll have a poo once you’ve massaged the ointment in my back.”

“I was looking at your back last night, you can hardly see the bruises now.”

“You actually thought about that whilst you were fucking my bum? That’s so nice.”

“I also thought how amazing you look from behind, incredible curves, you definitely have no trouble passing for someone of 19 or 20 with your looks and figure.”

“That’s what you thought when you first saw me isn’t it?’

“Yep, then as I got to know you better, and you bagan to relax a little, I began to see a younger person behind your eyes.”

“Whoops,” Poppy giggled as she did an enormous fart, “I am so sorry about that, but I did warn you.”

I spent the morning clearing out the box room next to our bedroom, it was currently full of junk, old boxes I’d kept in case I had to return faulty items, paperwork I’d never need again, broken shit I intended to get repaired, I piled everything in the hallway then walked to Enterprise to collect my hire car, I’d picked a BMW 5-series, massive over-extravagance but I felt a need to make Poppy’s trip to the hospice as special as possible.

I drove home, packed as much junk as I could squeeze into the car and drove round to the local recycling centre and deposited everything in the correct skips, it took three trips to clear everything, I had a lot of junk in that little room.

Tomorrow I’ll start building Poppy a walk-in wardrobe and dressing room.

At 1pm I pulled up in front of school just in time to see Poppy kissing Katie good-bye, she ran to the car, stopped to wave and climbed in.

“Woo, this is a posh car.”

“I wanted to make this afternoon a little special, so I got the best car they had on the lot. Next time we do a road-trip we’ll use a Porsche, but I need to use a different rental agency for one of those.”

“You’re so thoughtful Alex, thank you.”

“Are you getting serious with Katie then? I saw you kissing her.”

“That was just a friendly little kiss, but she didn’t object, I think we’re making progress.”

Poppy was quiet while I wound through the streets on the way to the M25. I’d been offered two routes by the sat nav, one was 25 miles but crossed London so would take anything from two hours to a week, the other was 61 miles and involved the M25, which can also be a drag, but was running fairly free today.

“What do we tell mum?” Poppy asked as I let the BMW stretch its legs for a while, “there’s a few questions she may ask, the first one is how we found her, the second that springs to mind is where I’ve been these last three years, then there’s who you are.”

“I always feel it’s best to stick as close to the truth as possible, if you start telling wild lies you just end up tripping over yourself, so how about we start with the middle question. The answer there is simple, you spent three years living on the streets, every day a constant struggle, fighting for survival. No need to sugar coat it, her actions led to three years of hell.”

“It wasn’t all hell, I enjoyed a lot of my time on the streets, it wasn’t a barrel of laughs or anything, but we had fun sometimes, other times, yeah, it was a living hell.”

“Ok, we can gloss over the good bits and the really bad bits, just so she knows you’ve not been having a great time for three years.”

“Fair enough, I get that, what about how we found her?”

“I think you elaborate on the truth, you asked Jeremy to find her, you say you’re in a better position now after I found you, so you asked a detective to look for her.”

“Oh yes, that will work, so the last question, who are you to me?”

“Today I’m whoever you want me to be, I can be your guardian, your foster father, your boyfriend, even your social worker if you like.”

“Willing to bet she has no clue how old I am, so I think we’ll go with the truth again, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Fine, anything else we’ll wing it, don’t worry, this will be fine.”

I put my foot down on the stretches with no cameras, and the journey took a little over an hour. I enjoyed the drive so much I think I’ll seriously consider buying a 5-series if I ever decide to buy a car. Living where I do, there really isn’t a lot of point owning a car though.

Poppy held my hand tightly as we walked from the car park to the reception, where I asked for directions to Nichola Robert’s room, the receptionist asked if we were relatives and I told them Poppy is Nikki’s daughter.

“Mmm, we have no relatives listed,” the receptionist said after consulting her computer.

I passed Poppy’s birth certificate across the counter, “I thought this may be the case, Nikki has had a chaotic life and may well be unaware she has a daughter, Poppy has been on the streets for a few years since Nikki abandoned her.”

“Ahh, I see, Mrs Roberts...”

“Miss Roberts,” Poppy corrected her, “she never married.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Roberts was admitted after spending a couple of weeks in hospital, she’d been found in a bad state in an alleyway, I believe she’d been beaten and dumped, the police have requested we inform them of any visitors, are you ok for me to phone them?”

I checked with Poppy and she thought for a while, “I’m not sure how I can help them, I ran away from home three years ago after her boyfriend raped me, but if the police insist I guess you have to. Can I see her please? We’ve come a long way today and I don’t want to have wasted Alex’s petrol on a fruitless journey.”

“Of course, if the police want to speak to you I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”

I slipped my business card across the counter, “here are my numbers.”

Poppy flipped the card over and wrote her number on the back, “here’s mine, I don’t have any business cards yet,” she smiled, “I’m still at college, so they’ll have to ring me in the evening if they want me.”

We followed the directions we were given and found Nikki’s room halfway down a long corridor with identical rooms along either side, her name was scrawled on a dry wipe board on the door.

Poppy knocked and we heard a faint “come in”, she nervously pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit and Nikki was lying on a bed in the centre, she was facing away from the door, looking out of the window. I kind of expected a huge amount of machinery and monitors, but she just had a single heart rate monitor and a drip. The rest of the small room was taken up with a couple of chairs, a TV on the wall and a single vase of flowers on the table. I checked the flowers, the card said simply ‘best wishes, Jeremy’ I showed it to Poppy.

“Oh god, he’s so lovely,” she whispered, “we should have brought some, I’m a bad daughter.”

“Shush, you’re not a bad daughter.”

Nikki slowly rolled back to face the door, she looked puzzled.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice cracking from a dry throat, “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

Poppy grabbed my hand tightly, I gently rubbed her hand with my thumb while I reached for the glass of water and held it to Nikki’s lips.

As I put the glass back on the bedside cabinet Poppy squatted by the bed, close to Nikki’s face, “hello mum,” she said quietly, her own voice cracking from emotion.

“Melanie? Is that you?”

“Yes mum, it’s me.”

“Oh my, I hoped I’d see you again before the end, but I had no way to track you down, how did you find me?”

I sat down and let them talk, I looked closely at Nikki, her face was a mess of scars and bruises, she’d been very badly treated, and I couldn’t help wondering if that’s how Poppy would have ended up in a few more years if we hadn’t stumbled upon each other.

“Well, it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you the rest in a bit, but I asked a nice man to look for you, and somehow he found you.”

“Is that the man,” Nikki asked, pointing in my direction.

“No, he’s another nice man, no, the man who found you sent those lovely flowers.”

“Ahhh, I wondered who sent them, I don’t know anyone called Jeremy, who is he?”

Poppy proceeded to tell an abridged story of the last few years, they cried, they laughed at some parts, and then Poppy reached out for my hand and I knelt with her by the bed.

“This is Alex, he saved my life by taking me into his house and giving me food and clothes, and now I’m back in school.”

Nikki let out a long sigh, “I’m so sorry about everything Melanie, I treated you appallingly. A priest came in yesterday and we talked for a long time. He didn’t look like a priest, but he said he was. We talked about god, and about repenting of my sins, and about forgiveness, and how God doesn’t care about what we did in the past as long as we say sorry. I am sorry Melanie, I really am.”

“I forgive you mum.”

“Thank you...”

Nikki rolled onto her back and let out another sigh as she fell asleep.

Poppy stayed by her side for a few more minutes, then she stood and walked straight out of the room and out of the hospice and into the car park.

I stopped quickly at the reception desk, “as Nikki has no other family please contact me when the time comes, I’ll cover the funeral costs.”

“A man phoned from the Salvation Army yesterday, he said he’d cover them,” she replied.

“That’s Jeremy, he sent the flowers. It’s a kind offer but unnecessary, I’m more than happy to cover any and all costs for Nikki...”

Then I joined Poppy, she was sitting on a bench in the garden, her head in her hands, sobbing her heart out.

“I’m so messed up right now,” she sobbed, “I hate her, but I love her, and she’s dying and we don’t have time for a reconciliation. I forgave her, was that right? Am I even allowed to forgive her, will that count when the time comes?”

I held her tightly, “frankly, who else can forgive her for what she did to you, certainly that’s not a job for a priest, because she hasn’t harmed them in any way.”

“Mmm, yes, I guess that’s right. Should I forgive her though, because she did horrible stuff to me.”

“That’s your decision, I can’t begin to imagine the hurt you’ve suffered, so I can’t say whether you should forgive her or not. All I can offer is some advice, hatred can destroy you, it’s best to let go of the past and start afresh. You have a comfortable life with me, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re making steps towards a decent future.”

Poppy looked up at me, tears still running down her cheeks, “yes, you’re right, I should get rid of all my baggage from the past, and the biggest step is to forgive mum so she can die in peace. Thank you.”

We hugged for a few more minutes until Poppy stopped crying, “do you think the lady inside will let me use a bathroom to tidy up?”

“I’m sure she will, I bet you’re not the only person to cry on this bench.”

After she’d freshened up, Poppy went back to Nikki’s room to say goodbye, because although we planned to come back, there’s no telling whether she’d last that long.

Poppy was lost in thought on the drive home, I played some quiet music to cover the road noise, the 5 series was a nice car, but this model didn’t run to double glazing, and those fancy low-profile run-flat tyres made a hell of a noise.

We returned the car to Enterprise and set off for home, as we turned out of the rental lot Poppy pulled me up short, “I’ve just realised I’ve had nothing to eat since some toast at breaktime this morning.”

“Oh shit, I thought you’d have had lunch at school.”

“Well, I got talking to Katie and kind of lost track of time, can we grab something in one of the cafes round here?”

“Of course, what do you fancy?”

“Something greasy and cheap please.”

I looked around and my eyes fell on a Kurdish cafe I’d eaten at a few times. Poppy took my hand as we crossed the road and entered what I suspected was one of the cheapest cafes in South London.

“I love places like this,” Poppy enthused as she sat at one of the formica tables, both table and chair securely bolted to the floor.

I ordered us both the basic mutton and spinach curry with rice and chapatis, along with a jug of water.

Poppy tucked in the second her plate landed on the table, tearing off a piece of chapati and using it to scoop up the curry. She smiled broadly after the first mouthful, “mmm, this is perfect. We used to eat in a cafe like this near Kings Cross, it was only a takeaway, but they let us girls eat inside to keep warm when it was quiet, and if I gave the guy a quickie we didn’t even need to pay, and I mean quickie, he never lasted more than a minute.”

She took another scoop of her curry and a drink of water, “do I make you uncomfortable talking about stuff like that?”

“Not really...”

“It’s just you don’t comment when I blurt out stuff I realise can be quite shocking.”

“I don’t comment because I don’t know what to say, it’s your past, you don’t appear to be upset by stuff like that...”

“I guess, shit like giving a guy a quick blowjob while he serves my friends, it’s not upsetting, it was quite fun actually, and I do like the taste of boy cum even if his dick isn’t as clean as it could be. It’s some of the other stuff I didn’t like, the guys late at night, they’d get rough when they’re drunk, and they’d try and haggle, like it’s £20 for unprotected sex, they’d pay £100 in some places for that. Me and Evie and the others, we were like the poundland of sex, and they still complained.”

She wiped her plate clean with the last piece of chapati, “mum was the same, she never charged enough, and I guess that’s why she got the bastards, I should really have learnt my lesson, pitched my body in a higher price bracket like Helen said the other day.”

She was looking at my plate, “are you still hungry?”

“Mmm, yes, sorry.”

“No worries,” I called for another plate of curry and the lad brought it over with more chapatis, taking the empty one.

“Wow, I don’t even need to wash this,” he laughed as he took it away.

“It’s all over now though,” she said through another mouthful, “I’m through with that life.”

She scooped up another portion and paused with it an inch from her lips, “oh shit, I hope Belle’s ok, I’d hate myself if she got into trouble and I’m not there to help her.”

She put the food down, “that’s what we used to do, any time someone tried to pick up Belle one of us would step in and offer ourselves, usually me because of all the girls from Max’s squat I’d been doing it longest, and well, I was used to it, and kind of enjoyed some of the minor rough stuff.”

Poppy ate the last of her second helping before continuing, “I guess I was more fucked up than I thought. If I actually enjoyed some of the beatings, please tell me that’s not normal.”

“Well, I can’t really comment. There are people who enjoy being dominated, and even hurt, but that’s really not my scene, even being tied up last week was way out of my comfort zone.”

“You did enjoy that a little though...”

“Kind of, actually, yes, I enjoyed it, even right at the end when I felt I needed to escape to make myself cum because my cock was hurting from the torment.”

“Shit, did making you hang on like that hurt, I didn’t realise.”

“Yes, it hurt, but that orgasm made it all worthwhile.”

“Ok, but next time please tell me if I’m actually hurting you, a little pain can be nice, but not too much, so can we agree that we’ll let each other know when we’re hurting too much.”

I ordered some of the sticky sweets, Poppy enjoyed them very much, as she licked her fingers afterwards she continued, “can we also agree that it’s ok for you to fuck me as hard as you like, because no matter what you do, the fact you’re a fundamenmtally decent person means you’re totally incapable of hurting me like those bastards did, so make love to me nice and gentle when you want to, but also pound me as hard as you like, because I can take anything you can give me Alex.”

I left £20 on the table as we left, it was more than enough to cover all we’d eaten.

“Can I tell you something?” Poppy said as we walked the two miles home.

“Anything you like.”

“Remember that fancy meal we had in the Greek restaurant? Well it cost like 5 times what you just paid, and it wasn’t as nice. Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s your favourite restaurant and everything, and I really enjoyed it, especially those vine leaf things, but I enjoyed that mutton curry more.”

“If I’m totally honest, so did I. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit in a cafe and eat simple food like that.”

As soon as we got home Poppy ran upstairs to start on her homework as I made a pot of coffee.

I poured out two mugs and took them up to the office, where she was deep in a maths textbook, making notes in her exercise book. I booted up my Mac, I’d not checked my emails all day. Among the usual spam there was a message from Jeremy, the subject line said “show this to Poppy...” the message was simply a link to a story on the Evening Standard’s website, I clicked it.

The body found in the Kings Cross area on Wednesday morning has been identified as local enforcer Kenzie Westly.

Westly, 28, was known to the police, arrested on at least 12 occasions for offences ranging from witness intimidation to grievous bodily harm, he was also suspected of involvement in a number of gangland executions.

The body showed signs of being brutally beaten before being killed by a single stab wound to the chest, at the time of publication the police had no suspects, and were not publicly linking this death to that of Xander Phillips, whose badly beaten body was found last week.

I texted Jeremy that I’d read the story, he responded simply with, ‘we also know where P is’.

“Are you busy Poppy?” I asked.

“Five minutes then I’m done.”

I went down to the kitchen and brought up a bottle of Glenfiddich and a couple of glasses. I needed a drink, had Jeremy’s people really just beaten and killed someone for what they did to Poppy?

I could understand the need for vengeance, but to actually carry it out in such a brutal manner, I shuddered to think about it.

“Ok, I’m done,” Poppy said as she slammed the big textbook closed.

“Come read this,” I said as calmly as possible, my stomach still churning.

She came round to my desk and read the story over my shoulder, as she read it she silently reached for my glass and drank my whisky, I poured myself another in the other glass.

“Did I do that?” She asked quietly.

“No, you didn’t,” I answered firmly.

“But Jeremy has done this because of what I told him!”

“And you told Jeremy what Kenzie and his pals had done to you, so Kenzie is the only person responsible for his death.”

Poppy slumped onto the sofa, she’d gone white, I gave her another shot of the Glenfiddich, which she sipped slowly this time.

“Kenzie’s death sounds a lot like Xander’s, but Jeremy says he had nothing to do with Xander’s death and I believe him, because how can he have known Xander was involved in my kidnapping, so what’s going on?”

“My only guess is they made Kenzie’s death look like Xander’s on purpose, to link them.”

The gate buzzer rang, I checked my phone app and got a shock, two police officers, my heart pounded for a moment or two until I came to my senses, this is about Nikki, not Poppy.

“The police are downstairs, they’ll be wanting to talk about your mum, best go and clean your teeth, I don’t want them to smell the whisky on you.”

“Oh shit yeah,” she answered, “I still don’t know what I’m going to tell them.”

I swiped through on the door app to open the gate, and had the front door open as they reached the doorstep.

“Good evening Mr Harrison, my name is PC Smethurst, this is PC Wilde,” he added, indicating the female officer by his side, “we’re here in connection with your visit with Nichola Roberts this afternoon, may we come in.”

“Of course, please come into the kitchen, would you like a coffee?”

They both said yes please, so I put a fresh pot on as Poppy joined us, we took our drinks to the table, PC Smethurst took out his notepad but it was PC Wilde who spoke.

“I understand Nichola Roberts is your mother, Melanie...”

“Yes, but I prefer to be called Poppy now.”

PC Smethurst made a note to that effect.

“Ok, so we’d like to understand a little about why you visited today.”

“Well, it’s a long story, and to save your hand aching from writing it all in that little pad, I’m happy for you to record what I tell you.”

“Very well, you understand that we’ll need you to come to the station and sign the notes once we’ve transcribed them, we’ll also give you a copy of the recording.”

“Yes, I understand, I’ve been through this before, as you’re about to find out.”

Poppy proceeded to tell her story, starting from her early life, to running away after she was raped, to her life on the streets, her own time as a prostitute, her two rescues by now anonymous Salvation Army volunteers, her kidnap and rape, running away again, me finding her and letting her stay, in her own room, her asking a friend to look out for Nikki now she’s safe, and the phonecall to tell us about the hospice.