Chapter 4

Pippa's bladder woke her, or she'd have slept late. There was just a hint of light as she felt her way to the heads and, once more, she was aware of the discreet sounds of Cherry's movements of the deck above. Finished with business, she pulled on shorts and made her way, barefoot, through the saloon to the cockpit and thence to the deck.

It was cool in the pre-dawn twilight and the deck was wet with dew as she made her way forward, every sense somehow heightened. She sat on the damp coach-roof, immediately aware of the moisture soaking into her clothes. Cherry did not look round.

Sunrise was over land, so they had to wait a little longer and the sky was lighter, before they saw the edge of the sun peeping over the trees. "Not the same, somehow," Cherry commented, turning to Pippa, "but a good start to the day, anyhow. T'ai chi?"

It was a little easier for Pippa the second time and when they finished, she returned Cherry's smile of approval. "I never thought I'd volunteer for exercise," she grinned.

"The secret is finding exercise you like."

Again, CC was at the galley when they went below. "Scrambled eggs this morning," he stated. Cherry looked at Pippa and when she caught her eye, she winked. "Toast for me." she smiled. "I thought," she went on, "we might have a leisurely run up the coast, then head up the Deben to Woodbridge. We can't cross the bar until about seventeen hundred, though, and if we go for Woodbridge, we won't be able to settle until twenty-one hundred or thereabouts. But if necessary, we can moor at the Ferry or Waldringfield."

Pippa was agreeable and CC was happy to be sailing, so that is what they did. Progress was slow when they got under way until the tide had turned, but they got as far up the coast as Orford Light, before turning south to beat for over three hours down the Sledway, to cross the bar (shallow water across the mouth of a tidal estuary which becomes very choppy, particularly at low water and if the wind is against the tide) at seventeen-thirty.

With a fair wind, the wandering channel in the Deben, about nine miles, takes perhaps two hours in a boat like Serendipity, but it's no good getting there more than an hour or so before high water, because, like Maldon, there isn't enough water to float a keel boat at other times.

They took a visitors' berth in the Tide Mill Marina and checked in at the office, did a harbour stow, ate, and went to bed. No one had any problem sleeping.

Not too far away, a fifteen year-old, blonde, blue-eyed sylph called Nadiya (though she'd almost forgotten her name, since for over six months she'd only been addressed as 'Slut', 'Bitch' or 'Cunt'), was having trouble sleeping. Perhaps it was the discomfort of the bruises which covered her body, or maybe the sore, bitten nipples. Then, there was her sore, abused vagina, or the drying semen coating her thighs and sex. Most likely a combination of all with the overweight, smelly man, snoring after having used her, his arm heavy over her slight body.

She'd learned early that crying and protesting only intensified the abuse, so it was only at such times as this she allowed tears to trickle silently down her cheeks. Growing discomfort in her bladder caused her to think longingly of the toilet. Dared she to slip out from under his arm to go relieve herself? Would he awake?

The discomfort – actually cystitis, though she didn't know – intensified and she knew she had to go. Very carefully she lifted the arm and slid out of the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. Blessed relief...

Returning to the bedroom, the man continued to snore. Suddenly decisive, she set about finding the clothes she'd taken off an hour or two previously and with them tiptoed out of the room again and downstairs. She dressed hastily and went to the back door. No key, of course, and she wasn't about to turn on a light to try to find one. The window! She used a chair to climb onto the sink-unit, opened the window without difficulty, and climbed out. It was a drop of maybe five feet – no big deal – but she turned her ankle a little, enough to make walking uncomfortable.

Her clothes were not ideal, intended to make her look like a pre-teen schoolgirl. At least they covered her. She was scared ... unsurprisingly, of course. She knew her very limited command of English would not permit her to pass herself as British. Her experience of officialdom did not inspire confidence in her, either. For now, though, she was free and she needed to get away from the house and get under cover. Time enough to worry about the future when there was less danger of being found by her abusers.

She hobbled along the road, with no idea where best to go. Turned off and crossed the railway line. Came to the river, turned and walked along the path. Boats! Lots of boats. Tied up by floating platforms. No sign of life, though. Walked to the end of what she didn't know to call a pontoon. Climbed onto a yacht with two masts and found the small door into the main cabin wasn't locked. 'Doverchivykh lyudey!' she thought, ('Trusting people'). Out of sight, she groped around and found a bench-seat long enough to lay out on, lay down ... and was surprised by sleep.

Knowing they wouldn't be leaving first thing in the morning and the sunrise would be over land, trees and houses, Cherry allowed herself to sleep in. As a result, Pippa was the first up. She stopped to use the heads en route, then made her way to the saloon, stretching and yawning. She headed for the galley and didn't immediately see their trespasser. When she turned away from the galley, however, she gasped, stepped across the space and shook the girl's shoulder.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?!"

The result was predictable; Nadiya curled up into a ball and retreated into the corner formed by the bulkhead, hull and seat, whimpering. "Pozhaluysta, ne delayte mne bolʹno! Ya budu khoroshim, ya obeshchayu!"

Pippa immediately pulled her hand back, but squatted to bring her face lower and to not tower over the girl. "I don't understand."

"I sorry, not speak good English." Her voice was barely audible, but the terror was apparent.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Pippa said, gently. "What is your name?"

There was only the whimpering response.

"Please, tell me your name."

"Nadiya Ivanovna..." long pause, "Babichev."

Pippa held her position and after a few minutes, the girl met her eyes, the fear still apparent.

"Hello, Nadiya. My name is Philippa. Will you tell me what is the matter?"

"Bad men..." then, "Oni vzyali menya, i menya iznasilovali i izbili menya, to pustʹ drugiye lyudi yebatʹ menya." Then, "I ran away and hid here."

"We should call the Police." Cherry's voice interrupted the conversation.

"Please, no! I think they pay..." the girl's terror clearly intensified.

"Cherry..." Pippa looked at the older girl with distress.

"I'm responsible here," Cherry said. "Am I to break the law?"

"Cherry, she's terrified. If there's someone in the Police who is being paid off, don't you think we should try to protect her? And she's probably here illegally – she'll get sent back where she came from, which is obviously not safe..."

"Hello ... who's here?" CC appeared from his cabin and looked round the saloon.

Nadiya whimpered at his appearance. Pippa turned back to her. "CC is ... a good man, Nadiya. He won't hurt you. Nadiya ... where are you from?" The girl looked at her and swallowed noisily. "Are you thirsty, Nadiya?"

The girl nodded and CC crossed to the galley to remove a carton of orange juice from the little refrigerator, poured a mugful and handed it to Pippa, who held it out to their trespasser.

Nadiya sipped, then drank thirstily. "Spasibo. Thank you." It was little more than a whisper. Then she said, "Tomilino. I am from Tomilino."

The other three looked blankly at her. "Where is that, Nadiya?" Pippa asked.

"It is near Moscow. I lived with Babushka. But she died. Please don't make me go back..."

Pippa turned back to Cherry. "Isn't there anyone we could get advice from?"

Cherry frowned; she could feel control of the situation slipping through her fingers, but she felt for the girl too. "CC, could you see about breakfast? I need to make a phone call." She looked at Pippa. "I won't call the Police ... yet. Or the NSPCC. Or Social Services." She left the saloon to fetch her mobile phone.

On deck, Cherry dialled a number. "Jenni? It's Cherry Thornton. Have you got a minute?"

There was a lot of background noise. "Bit busy just now," sound of sirens in the background and Jenni's voice not directed at the phone, 'Ready about? Lee-oh!' and the phone disconnected. Cherry snorted.

Below in the saloon, "I need ... toilet. And wash." Pippa stood and pointed forward. She escorted Nadiya to the heads – the Porta-Potti one as they were in the marina – and showed her how to get water in the little basin.

"Only cold water, I'm afraid, and you'll have to use my face-cloth and towel."

"Spasibo. You are kind."

Pippa left her to it and went to find something clean the girl could wear. 'Cherry's might be a better fit, but jogging trousers have a draw-string waist and a t-shirt doesn't need to fit'...