29

Her visit was an unexpected pleasure. They hardly ever had visitors – who in their right mind would come here? – and those that did come were usually up to no good. Thieves or thugs. The police were seldom to be found here and you could forget about Social Services. What a joke they were.

Her mother had jumped when the doorbell went. Marie was so engrossed in Strictly, she hadn’t heard the footsteps coming down the hall. But Anna had. Whenever Anna heard noises outside, her heart beat a little faster. None of the other flats were occupied, so unless it was junkies seeking an empty flat or gypsies on the sniff, then it could only mean they were coming for them. The footsteps slowed, then stopped outside their front door. She wanted to alert her mum and grunted as best she could, but Flavia was doing the Foxtrot and Marie was hooked. Then the doorbell went – clear and confident. Marie shot a look at Anna – a moment’s hesitation – then she decided to ignore it.

Anna was glad. She didn’t like visitors. Didn’t like surprises. And yet she was curious. Because the footsteps down the corridor were light and clip-cloppy. Like someone was wearing heels. That made Anna chuckle inside. She hadn’t heard anything like that since the whores moved on.

The doorbell rang again. Just once – polite but insistent. And then they heard her voice, calling their names, asking if she could speak to them. Marie turned down the TV – perhaps if she couldn’t hear them, she’d think they were out and go away. Pointless really – the light and noise from their flat were like a beacon in the darkness. Then the doorbell rang for a third time and this time Marie got up and padded to the front door. Anna watched her go – she hated being left alone. What if something happened out there?

But then Marie came back, followed by a pretty woman clutching some plastic bags. She kind of looked like a social worker, except she wasn’t depressed and her clothes were all right. She looked around the room, then walked over to Anna and knelt down to her level.

‘Hi, Anna. My name’s Ella.’

She had such a warm smile. Anna liked her instantly.

‘I was just telling your mum that I work for an organization called Shooting Stars. You might have seen our ads in the local newspaper. I know your mum likes to read it to you.’

She smelt lovely. Like roses.

‘Every year we bring Christmas hampers to families like yours that find it hard to get out and about. How does that sound? Good?’

‘We don’t do pity in this house,’ Marie interjected sharply.

‘It’s not pity, Marie,’ Ella said rising. ‘It’s just a helping hand. And you don’t have to take it. There’s plenty of others who’d love to get their hands on these goodies, believe you me!’

The word ‘goodies’ seemed to do the trick. Marie sat quiet as Ella took the tins and packets out of the bag. It was a real treasure trove – Turkish delight and chocolate ginger on top of all the usual stuff – plus soups and smoothies and liquid sherbet for Anna. A lot of thought had gone into it – Anna was surprised anyone cared enough to go to so much trouble. Ella couldn’t have been more attentive, asking Marie a load of questions about Anna – what did she like to have read to her? Was she a fan of Tracy Beaker? What did she watch on TV? Anna basked in the attention.

This year they’d got lucky. This year they were on someone’s radar. Marie was chuffed and the party spirit descended briefly as she went in search of the sherry. Anna looked at their visitor. She was smiling and nodding, but now she seemed tense. Anna thought that perhaps she was on a tight schedule, but she couldn’t have been, because when Marie came back Ella insisted on opening up the mince pies. She didn’t have one herself, but was keen for Marie to tuck in. They were freshly made – a bakery on St Mary’s Road had cooked up dozens of them for free in a fit of Christmas spirit.

Ella seemed to relax after Marie had polished one off. And it was then that things started to go strange. Marie started to feel unwell – faint and nauseous. She tried to get up but couldn’t. Ella hurried over to help, but then suddenly and without warning pushed Marie down on to the floor. What was she doing? Anna wanted to yell and shout and fight, but could only grunt and cry. Now Ella was pinning her mother down on the floor. She was tying her hands roughly behind her back with nasty looking wire. Stop, please, stop. She was shoving something in her mouth, she was shouting at her. Why? What had she done wrong? Then ‘Ella’ looked at Anna. It was as if she was a different person. Her eyes were cold now, her smile even colder. She walked towards Anna. Anna struggled inside, but her useless body was frozen and helpless. Then the woman put a bag over the young girl’s head and everything went black.

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