Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy. Cathy Glass

and will not live long. I have to go home.’

      Bonnie looked into his dark, almost black eyes and searched for the truth in what he said, which was also probably the key to her future.

      ‘You’re going home? On a plane?’ she asked, raising her voice over the noise of the machines, for he’d never said before that he was going home, only that he was going away.

      Vince nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

      ‘For how long?’ Bonnie asked.

      He shrugged. ‘Maybe for good.’

      ‘And your daughter?’ Bonnie said, irritated by his casualness, and still not fully believing him. ‘What do I tell Lucy when she is old enough to ask about her father?’

      ‘I’ll write,’ he said with no commitment. ‘I’ll write and phone on her birthday.’

      ‘Like your father does with you?’ she said bitterly, aware that Vince only ever heard from his father on his birthday. But if she was honest, she knew Vince had never wanted a baby; it had been her decision not to terminate the pregnancy.

      ‘I have to go,’ he said, glancing anxiously towards the shop door. ‘I need to buy my ticket home, but I haven’t the money.’

      Bonnie gave a small, sharp laugh. ‘So that’s why you’re here? To borrow money. No, Vince,’ she said, before he could ask. ‘The little I earn is for me and my baby. There’s never any left over, as you know.’

      ‘You live rent free here in the flat,’ he said, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. ‘You must have some cash you can lend me?’

      ‘No. I have to pay bills – heating and lighting. I have to buy food and clothes. I’ve told you before I have no savings. I don’t have enough for Lucy and me.’ She was growing angry now. A better man would have realized and not asked.

      ‘I’m desperate,’ Vince said, almost pleading. ‘You wouldn’t stop me from seeing my mother when she is dying, would you?’

      Bonnie heard the emotional blackmail, but it didn’t stop her feeling guilty. ‘I don’t have any money,’ she said again. ‘Honestly, I don’t.’

      Vince’s eyes grew cold, as they did sometimes, though not normally in relation to her. It made her uneasy, as though there was a side to him she didn’t know.

      ‘The till,’ he said, shifting his gaze to the far end of the shop where the till sat on a table fixed to the floor. ‘You have the day’s takings. Please. I’m desperate. I’ll repay you, I promise.’

      ‘No. It’s impossible,’ Bonnie said, an icy chill running down her spine. ‘I’ve told you what Ivan’s like. He’s always saying he’ll beat me if the day’s takings are down. He would, I’m sure. He’s capable of it. You wouldn’t put me in danger?’

      But she could tell from Vince’s eyes that he could and would. His gaze flickered to the till again as he nervously licked his bottom lip. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘It’s not just about my mother. I owe people money. People who’ll kill me if I don’t pay them. I’m sorry, Bonnie, but I don’t have any choice.’

      His mother’s illness or creditors? Bonnie didn’t know the truth and it hardly mattered any more; his betrayal of her was complete. She watched in horror as with single-minded determination he walked the length of the shop to the till. She watched from where she stood as he opened the till draw, struggling to accept that he thought more of his own safety than hers and would put her in danger to save himself. But as he began taking out the money – the money she had collected from hand washes, dry cleaning and ironing; which could be £500 or more; and which she took to the flat each night for safe keeping, ready to give Ivan the following morning – her thoughts went to Ivan and what he would do to her if any of the money was missing. She knew she had to stop Vince.

      ‘No, Vince!’ she cried, rushing to the till. ‘No!’ She grabbed his arm. ‘No! Stop. Think of Lucy. Ivan will hurt her as well as me if you take the money.’

      ‘Not as much as the gang I owe will hurt me,’ he sneered. He pushed her from him and continued filling his jacket pockets.

      ‘No. Stop!’ Bonnie cried again. In desperation she grabbed his hands and tried to stop him from taking the money, but he shook her off.

      She grabbed his hands again but his next push was much harder and sent her reeling backwards against the hard metal edge of a washing machine. She cried out as the impact winded her and pain shot through her. Vince quickly stuffed the last of the money into his jacket pockets and without looking back ran from the shop.

      Bonnie stayed where she was, trying to catch her breath. She was also trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Vince had gone, probably for good, and he’d taken all of Ivan’s money – the money Ivan would expect to collect at 8.00 the following morning. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she stood and leant against the washing machine, trying to work out what to do.

      The launderette was uncannily quiet. The dryers that had been working when Vince arrived had completed their cycles and now stood still; the washing machines were in mid-cycle, their drums gently swishing water from side to side. Bonnie looked at the shop door, which was still wide open from Vince’s exit. The chill from the night was quickly replacing the previous warmth of the shop. Before long, if she didn’t close the door, a drunk, druggie or yob would come in. Not that there was any money left to steal, she thought grimly; there was just her safety to worry about.

      Heaving herself away from the support of the machine, Bonnie rubbed her back and began to make her way towards the open door. Despite Vince’s behaviour, Bonnie didn’t condemn him for what he’d done; she believed she deserved it. Abuse was always her fault. Things like this didn’t happen to nice girls. She was bad, so men treated her badly. It was as simple as that. She closed and locked the door, slid the bolts across and turned to survey the shop. Baskets of washing waited to be loaded into machines and dryers, the ironing was half done and the whole shop needed to be cleaned and tidied ready for when it opened at 7.30 a.m. the next day. Bonnie usually did all this before she went to bed. Ivan expected it and liked a clean and tidy shop when he called to collect his money at 8.00 a.m. Even if it took her until midnight to finish, she always made sure everything was done, just as Ivan liked it.

      But not tonight, Bonnie thought. There’s no point in finishing the laundry and cleaning the shop, for the crime of losing Ivan’s money was far greater and could not be put right by a clean and tidy shop. It briefly crossed her mind that perhaps she could say they’d been broken into and the day’s takings had been stolen, but with no forced entry she doubted Ivan would believe her, and she didn’t dare take the risk. Bonnie lived in fear of Ivan, as she did most men who came into her life.

      With a very heavy heart and her back paining her, Bonnie went to the corner of the shop and opened the internal door that led to the flat above. She pressed the light switch and the staircase was illuminated, then she turned off the lights in the shop – all except the night light, which always stayed on. Closing the door on the shop, she began up the stairs, and as she did so she heard Lucy crying. Bonnie knew from the distress in her screams that she’d been crying for a very long time.

      Chapter Two

       Escape

      Halfway up the damp and foul-smelling staircase, with its dangerously frayed carpet, the light went out. Ivan had the light switches at the top and bottom of the stairs on timers so as not to waste electricity: he paid for the electricity on the stairs and in the shop; Bonnie paid for it in the flat. As usual, Bonnie climbed the last six steps in darkness and then groped for the light switch on the landing and pressed it, which gave her another ten seconds of light – enough to open the door to the flat and go inside.

      The door opened directly into the room where Lucy lay,