Jacqui Rose - BETRAYED

Leaning forward, Bronwin’s mother swept her daughter’s mass of blonde hair away from her forehead. She kissed her head before speaking to her sleeping child. ‘Bron, Mummy’s got to go now. But always remember I love you and I’ll see you soon, and Bron … I’m sorry.’

Turning to the doctor, Bronwin’s mum stood up and went into the pocket of her torn jacket. ‘Can you give her this? It’s her birthday card.’

‘Yes, of course. The nurse will see you out. The social workers will be in touch in the morning to sort the other details out.’

Once Bronwin’s mother had left, Dr Berry took a quick glance at the card before throwing it into the bin in the corner. Deep in thought, he stood observing Bronwin as she began to stir.

The door opened, jarring him from his thoughts. He smiled at the entering visitor and reaching out his hand with a welcoming greeting. ‘Thanks for signing those papers, by the way. I thought for a moment the mother was going to be difficult and start making a noise about her parental rights. I’ll just wake her up for you.’

Walking across to Bronwin, Dr Berry gently nudged her. He spoke quietly. ‘Bronwin? Bronwin? Hey birthday girl, you’ve got a visitor. Someone’s here to see you.’

Bronwin slowly opened her eyes before rubbing them gently. She sat up, then screamed. It was the man from the woods with the black shiny shoes.

‘She’s all yours, come and find me when you’ve finished. Oh, and have fun.’ Dr Berry chuckled unpleasantly, tapping the man on his back as he left the room, leaving him sitting on Bronwin’s bed as he began to unbutton his shirt.

Nine years later

The bed was hard and the chair was too. Sparse and unwelcoming. And Bronwin didn’t know why she couldn’t go home, instead of having to stay in a house where she didn’t want to be and didn’t know anyone. It was the same recurring thought she’d had each time they sent her somewhere new.

She’d been in more care and foster homes than she could possibly remember and over time she’d developed a sixth sense. Knowing when people really wanted her or when all they really wanted was the few hundred quid caring allowance they got for taking in the likes of her.

How long had it been now? Eight years, nine even. Nine years of going from one home to another.

She no longer wanted to be, or to feel like, the unwanted teenager. The problem child. Hard to place. Hard to love. She didn’t want to become bitter; hardened to life before she’d reached eighteen.

She was determined to change it. To take control. And as Bronwin stared out of the window at the rainy night she made a decision. The time was right. She was old enough not to have to listen to a bunch of jumped-up social workers telling her what to do. All they really did anyway was to find her a roof over her head – the rest of it was left to her.

Bronwin stuffed her clothes and the bedraggled Mr Hinkles, her childhood teddy bear, back into her bag, then opened the window. She felt the chill of the evening air and the spray of the rain on her face, blown in by the wind. Making sure no one could hear her, Bronwin shuffled onto the ledge. It wasn’t so far down. Seven feet perhaps, maybe eight. Eight feet to freedom.

After a count of three in her head and then another one of five, Bronwin jumped, hitting the ground hard. She rolled on the grass and felt a sharp pain in her ankle, shooting pains up the outside of her leg, but she didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that she was out. Out of the care system that had never cared for her and out of the system that had taken away her mother, the one person she’d cared about.

Getting up from the wet ground, Bronwin ignored the pain. She quickly picked up her bag, making sure no one in the house had seen her. The rain hit down hard on her but instead of it feeling cold, it felt warm, invigorating. She was free. She was finally free. Today was her sixteenth birthday.

Bunny Barker lay back on the silk pillows and smiled. She stretched her long tanned athletic body out, enjoying the feel of her nakedness in the heat of the day. Her natural blonde hair cascaded over the side of the bed, almost reaching the expensive cream carpet that had just been laid.

It was only early July, yet the stifling Soho air made it necessary to have all the windows open, along with the three chrome fans switched to high. It was almost two o’clock, which meant she had another client in less than an hour, although she’d make this her last one of the day. That was the beauty of being her own boss.

No one to tell her what to do or when to do it. Though it hadn’t always been like that. When she was younger she’d worked the streets along with the other girls. Night after night, freezing her ass off whilst fighting off punters, fighting off pimps, even fighting off the other Toms in the street who hadn’t taken kindly to her being around. Then, fortune had come her way and everything had changed.

In the past seven years her life had become unrecognisable, bringing her things she’d never imagined possible. She had almost everything she could’ve wished for. Almost. Because Bunny knew there was one thing missing in her life. One thing life hadn’t ever brought her. And that one thing was trust. Trust was something Bunny had never had.

She wasn’t ever going to take her eyes off the ball. It’d taken her almost the whole of her thirty-three years to make something of herself and she wasn’t going to let anything, even love, destroy that.

She knew a lot of people would argue that being a hooker wasn’t making anything of herself, but Bunny had long ago stopped caring what anybody thought.

Looking round her sumptuous room, decorated in cream and gold, Bunny heard a knock on the door.

‘Come in.’

The door opened and Claudia, her all-round helper, stood smiling. What she would do without Claudia, Bunny didn’t know.

‘Your next client’s here, Bun. He’s early; shall I tell him to wait downstairs or do you want to see him now?’

Stretching over, Bunny dragged on the lit Marlboro cigarette by the bed. She sighed lightly. She was tired. The familiar nightmares had kept her awake again and as a result she wasn’t really in the mood to entertain. Besides, it was too hot and sticky, so the thought of a punter writhing and groaning as he pumped away on top of her didn’t exactly fill her with enthusiasm. Still, at least she’d finish earlier than she thought she would, which meant she could go and pick up the last few bits for her holiday.

She caught her breath. It was silly, but the thought of the holiday gave her butterflies in her stomach.

She’d never been further north than Edgware nor further south than Lewisham, but here she was, about to pack her bags for a few days away in Marbella. And as much as she was excited about it, the idea of it terrified her as well, and although it’d only be for a few days, the idea of leaving behind loved ones scared her.

‘Let him in, Claudia, and once you’ve shown him up, you can get off early if you like.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Totally, babe. This one’s no trouble. If the last times are anything to go by, he’ll be in and out within two minutes.’ The two women giggled before Claudia left the room.

Leaning up on her elbows, Bunny braced herself as she always did before seeing a client. Of course she knew she could give it all up if she wanted, but she just wasn’t willing to. No matter what anybody promised her. This was just something she had to do. She supposed it was no different to the people she saw every morning trooping off to work, wishing they were somewhere else.

When the suggestion of being a kept woman had been presented to her in the past, the idea of it had seemed very appealing at first. Not having to do anything. Not having to worry about anything. But then, as they always did, the old nagging doubts had entered her head and once again it’d boiled down to one thing. Trust. Or rather the lack of it.