wanted to put off the moment, knowing what he was about to say would wreck her, but he knew that he couldn’t.
‘The same people who killed my business partner have got Donia,’ he said quietly.
Wilma let out a whimper. ‘Got? What do you mean?’
‘Just that,’ he said. ‘They called me and told me they have her.’
‘And they’re going to hurt her?’
He paused again, wished that he could end the call and not say it, but he knew that he couldn’t. ‘Yes, that’s what they told me.’
Wilma’s voice turned into a scream. He moved the phone away from his ear and put his head in his hand. He let her shout, and she was shouting at him, saying that he was supposed to look after her.
‘Call the police, Wilma, please.’
‘I told her to stay away from you, Charlie Barker! I tried to tell her not to, that it wouldn’t end well, but she wouldn’t listen, and now she’s in danger.’
Charlie thought about telling her that it wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t the right time to talk about blame.
He tried to speak calmly. ‘The person who spoke to me said that there was something about Donia that would make me help them. What did they mean?’
Wilma went quiet for a few seconds, and then she said something that sent everything into background noise, blurred, out of focus, the words burning into him like a slap.
‘Charlie,’ she said. ‘Donia is your daughter.’
Chapter Forty-Six
John was outside the old man’s room. There were screams and sobs from upstairs, the sounds of Henry with Dawn, and people digging outside. Arni was on the telephone, and he heard what he said about the girl they had brought back with them, that her name was Donia.
He pushed at the door so that it swung open gently. The old man didn’t look up, but the girl did.
Donia was fastened to a metal strut on the bedstead, a chain wrapped around her wrist and made tight with a padlock. As John went over to her, she shrank back, her feet pushing against the floor, as if that would somehow help.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ she said, the words coming out as a wail.
‘I don’t think anyone knows yet,’ he said.
Her breaths came in gulps. She tried to speak in a whisper. ‘Why don’t you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just want to go home.’
‘Henry has brought you here for a reason. I can’t stop that.’
The old man moaned, but John ignored it. He had learned to do that.
John knelt down to her level. ‘Just be patient, Donia. It will be all right.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong to you,’ she said. ‘You can’t let them keep me. I’m scared. Let me go.’
John shook his head. ‘I can’t do that. I have to wait for Henry.’
There were footsteps behind him, and when he looked round, it was Gemma and Lucy.
‘Have you taken a fancy to her, John?’ Lucy said, laughing.
‘No, no,’ he said, looking at Gemma, flustered, suddenly embarrassed, standing up straight. ‘It’s not like that.’
Lucy went towards Donia and stroked her hair. ‘Why not? She’s a pretty girl.’
Donia pulled her head away, but Lucy grabbed her hair more tightly, making Donia cry out in pain.
‘He’s saving himself for you,’ Lucy said to Gemma, mocking him. ‘Isn’t that right, John?’
He didn’t answer. Instead, he just blushed and looked down.
Lucy gripped the collar of Donia’s jumper and pulled it back, making Donia’s chest jut out, Donia gasping.
‘She is very pretty though, John, don’t you think?’ Lucy said, and reached down with her other hand and pulled up the bottom of Donia’s jumper, exposing her stomach and her bra.
‘Do you like her now, John?’ Lucy said, her voice softer now, but it was pretence, because she was enjoying herself too much, a malevolent gleam in her eyes.
John didn’t respond. Lucy had a close bond with Henry, and so he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
‘Why don’t you party with her, like Henry is with Dawn?’ Lucy continued, pouting. ‘Gemma won’t mind.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ John said quietly, and then stopped himself from going any further. Don’t form bonds, that was the rule – because couples become apart from the group and start to look after themselves.
Lucy yanked Donia’s jumper again, exposing her chest, small beads of sweat running down to the lace of her bra. ‘Final decision?’ she said, laughing. ‘If you don’t, I might.’
There was a loud bang and they all jumped. As John looked round, he saw Arni there. He had hit the doorframe with his cane.
‘Leave her for now,’ he said.
Lucy let go of Donia’s jumper, and she slumped back towards the floor, her head hanging down.
‘If that’s how you want it?’ she said.
Arni nodded. ‘That’s how I want it.’
John followed Gemma and Lucy out of the room, not acknowledging Arni as they went past, who was staring at the captive girl.
As they went back into the hall, Arni didn’t shift his gaze away from Donia, and when he finally turned away, there was a smile on his face.
He was keeping Donia for himself.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Charlie had the phone to his chest. Donia couldn’t be his daughter. It didn’t make any sense. Then he thought of her age. Eighteen. He did the sums quickly. Nineteen years since she was conceived. She was from Leeds, where he went to university, nineteen years ago.
‘Charlie, what is it?’ It was Ted, but his voice seemed faint, as if he wasn’t really in the room with him.
Charlie’s mouth went dry. His fingers tingled with nerves. His daughter? But she is mixed race. Charlie was white.
Then a memory came back to him. A party. The last night of his second year. His farewell to exams for the summer, reckless living, sleeping in until lunchtime. He had to get a summer job, and so he was going the next day, heading for Bridlington, where a friend had fixed him up with some work. There
