need to say any more. At his words and the expression on his face, Charlie felt as if an icy finger had trailed down his spine and he knew he wouldn’t change places with Ray for anything he could name.
‘We have them completely flummoxed,’ Will told Betty the next day. ‘As Collingsworth said to me today, it’s like the girl has disappeared off the face of the earth. They are convinced too that she had to have help, but they don’t know who, or what or anything.’
‘They don’t suspect you?’
‘My dear girl, this lot would suspect their own mothers,’ Will said. ‘Oh, they have been round to the house. I know their tactics: one keeps you talking while the other has a good poke around, but of course he found nothing.’
‘Why you?’ Betty asked in alarm.
‘Why not me?’ Will said. ‘I shouldn’t imagine that I was the only one. Anyway, you say the girl isn’t well?’
‘Ah, Will, that girl has gone through it,’ Betty said. ‘Her name is Molly. She told us that much, but she doesn’t know her other name. In fact, she doesn’t know much. She is so doped up she was near climbing the walls, shaking and crying all the time, begging and pleading for us to get her that muck that Ray was pumping into her. She didn’t sleep at all last night. Mom has been great, but we took it in turns through the night because she can’t be left. If we have to leave her for any reason we have to lock her in.’
‘She wouldn’t be crazy enough to go out, surely?’
‘Will, when she is in the throes of this addiction she is crazy enough to do anything,’ Betty said.
Betty was right. Molly felt as if she was going mad. Hammers banged inside her head and griping cramps in her stomach doubled her over and caused her to groan and cry out with the pain. She was unable to control her limbs and she shook constantly, and though she was tired, incredibly weary, her mind was jumping about too much to allow her to sleep. She couldn’t eat either, and whatever she tried was vomited straight back. It was gin she craved, or whisky, and the white powders that made her feel better. She begged and pleaded for those.
Added to this, her body either ached or throbbed or stung from the beatings she had received, and she could feel her face was a pulpy bloodied mess, though neither Ruby nor Betty had let her look at herself. She wondered if life was worth living. She was a girl with no past, a very uncertain future and she was bloody scared stiff.
However, Molly did improve, though it was slow, and it was a week later before she realised that her symptoms were easing. She went downstairs for the first time, but only in the evening because it wasn’t safe for her to be up in the day when a neighbour might catch sight of her and start asking awkward questions.
She was frustrated that she could still remember nothing of her past, but Betty told her not to worry about it. ‘Maybe you are trying too hard,’ she said. ‘Let it all sort of fester in your head, like, and then it might come back in a rush.’
‘I really wish that would happen,’ Molly said. ‘You know, Ray must have had me drugged up to the eyeballs most of the time, because I had no idea so much time had elapsed. I was living a sort of half-life. And I thought he was wonderful, you know. That is what I can’t get over.’
‘Don’t think about that any more,’ Betty advised. ‘That was the way he wanted you. Will says you are not the first he has virtually abducted in the guise of being friendly, and the others were all sent to whorehouses. You weren’t to know he was a perverted bully.’
‘Yes, I know, but here you are preparing for Christmas, and I have sort of lost a big portion of my life.’
‘Don’t think about it any more,’ Ruby said. ‘You can give us a hand making all the festive stuff, if you are up to it. Mind, it will be a bit of a frugal Christmas, with rationing biting as tight as it is, but we’ll do our best.’
Molly knew that everyone only got just so much food each week and by living there she was taking someone else’s share. She said, ‘I should get my own ration book. It’s wrong to take your allowance.’
‘Maybe in the New Year,’ Will said. ‘You couldn’t go out with your face looking like that anyway, and it is too soon to be taking to the streets. Remember, if you are spotted and identified, the rest of us are in danger too.’
‘I do see that,’ Molly said. ‘And I would never do that to you – I owe you too much. But how are you managing?’
‘I get extra rations,’ Betty said. ‘I have a special green ration book because I am pregnant and I have extra milk and am entitled to more eggs. Then Mom bought in tinned stuff long before war was declared. She knew that war was inevitable – well, we all did really, after Munich – and she remembered the last war when the gentry bought nearly all the food up in some shops. So every week she would buy a few extra items and put them away. Don’t worry, we get by all right.’
And with that Molly had to be content.
‘Wakey, wakey, Molly.’
Molly had been in an unusually deep and dreamless sleep, and as she struggled to wakefulness she saw Will beside her bed, with Betty and Ruby behind him, big smiles plastered across their faces, and carrying parcels wrapped in brown paper.
‘What’s this?’ Molly asked, though she too was smiling. ‘I am too old to believe in Santa Claus.’
‘No one is too old to believe in Santa Claus,’ Will declared. ‘Look at this special delivery that was waiting for you downstairs this morning.’
‘I know what manner of delivery it was, and it was from no man in a red suit,’ Molly said. ‘And really, you shouldn’t have. I already owe you so much and haven’t two halfpennies to bless myself with to buy any of you anything, even if I could get out to take a look in the shops.’
‘It’s not worth it,’ Will told her. ‘The shops have little stock now. If you ask me, clothes will be the next thing to be rationed.’
‘Well,’ said Betty. ‘I will hardly notice that, but I’d say it might be harder when the baby comes because one thing babies are good at is growing.’
‘You’re right there, girl,’ Ruby said with a chuckle.
Will put in, ‘Well, I’d say Molly has done growing.’ He placed the parcel on the bed beside her, adding, ‘These are things you will need and they are not new, but bought at the Rag Market down the Bull Ring. Open it. Go on.’
Molly unwrapped the parcel to reveal a matching hat, gloves and a scarf in a warm russet colour and of the softest wool.
Will said, ‘Happy Christmas, Molly.’
This sentiment was echoed by the others, but Molly barely heard them for a memory was tugging at her brain. There was another time when this had happened, when someone had wished her Happy Christmas and had given into her hand a parcel containing a hat, scarf and gloves set. The image came into focus and she shut her eyes tight, unwilling to let this memory go. She saw herself receiving the gift, reacting with pleasure and surprise, and she suddenly said, ‘Uncle Tom.’ She had no idea where
