trying with Ruthie. No matter how many knock-backs she got, she just had to keep slogging away; whether she would admit it or not, Ruthie needed her. And Annie still loved her. She was her blood, her kin. She meant the world to her.
She kicked off her shoes with a sigh and unzipped her dress, then froze. There were shouts and heavy footfalls on the stairs. She hardly had time to turn before the door banged wide open. The picture behind the door fell from the wall and the glass shattered. Pat Delaney was there, a bull-like presence in the doorway, swaying and leering.
‘So here we are, Annie Bailey!’ he said jovially, although his eyes glittered with malice. ‘Not very polite, is it, to come in and not say a proper hello to a Delaney boy.’
Annie held her dress together and looked at him. ‘Hello, Mr Delaney,’ she said. ‘Now please leave my room.’
‘Eeewww! Hoity-toity, aren’t we, Annie Bailey?’ Pat mocked. ‘Not so stuck up around the Carter boys now, are you?’
Annie saw Dolly, Darren and Aretha pile up into the doorway, their faces anxious. Ellie appeared too, half- hiding behind Darren.
‘I asked you to leave, Mr Delaney,’ said Annie. Her heart was beating out a sickening tattoo. ‘Let’s all go downstairs and have a drink, yes?’
‘No,’ said Pat, lurching forward. Annie stepped sharply back. Fuck Chris, clearing off like that – looking after number one, the selfish bastard.
Dolly stepped up behind Pat. ‘I think Annie’s right,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll all go downstairs together and have some fun, how about it, Mr Delaney?’
She placed a hand on Pat’s arm. Pat shook it off, spun around and slapped her hard across the face. She flew backward, knocking into Darren, who caught her with a shout of dismay and put her back on her feet. Dolly touched a shaking hand to her mouth and it came away bloody.
‘Get away from me, you filthy tart,’ said Pat. ‘I’m not interested in your scuzzy arse, it’s this one I want to have a go at. Max Carter’s own personal whore. And good at it too, I’m told.’
‘Hey, you don’t come in here treatin’ people like that,’ said Aretha as she cradled Dolly.
Pat put his face up close to hers. ‘You want to do something about it, girl? You tired of having limbs or something? You want to end up like the other one, without anything to scratch your black arse with?’
Annie blinked. Surely he wasn’t talking about
‘Come here to Daddy, darlin’,’ he oozed. ‘Let’s see what makes you so special.’
‘Get out,’ said Annie, backing away. She’d had enough.
‘You won’t be saying that when I’m in,’ laughed Pat.
To her horror he started fiddling with his fly. He lunged at her, grabbing the front of her dress and pulling hard. It came away, ripping loudly in the stunned silence. Annie staggered and fell to her knees, then Pat was clawing at her, bruising her arms, snatching at her breasts. Then Darren jumped on to his back, and Pat reeled sideways under the weight.
‘Go on, Darren,’ yelled Aretha.
Pat fell against the wall, dislodging more pictures. Annie was aware that she was kneeling in debris, blood on the floor, she’d cut her knee. She felt deathly cold and her head was humming. She was afraid she might faint. Christ knew what would happen then.
But Darren was out of his depth. Pat rammed back against the wall, trapping him with his greater weight against the solid surface. Darren screamed and fell away whilst Pat turned on him as he lay on the floor, a foot raised ready to kick. Suddenly Aretha piled in and caught Pat a double-fisted blow on the chin.
He staggered, then straightened. His face registered dumb surprise. Then he swung at her. She dodged, and fell over Annie. Dolly came charging in then, and hit him over the head with a bit of shattered picture frame she’d plucked from the floor. He went down like a sack of shit. Then he crawled up again.
‘Oh fuck,’ gasped Dolly.
Blood was running down over his face where he had been cut by the sharp edge of the frame. They all watched in horror as he grinned around at them. Annie could remember Max telling her about men who got drunk and drugged and then into fights. You could hit them with a house brick, he said, and they’d just keep coming. They couldn’t feel a thing. They were dangerous because they could feel no pain.
There was no going back from this. They had attacked Pat Delaney. He would neither forgive nor forget it. He would make them pay in blood.
Suddenly he charged at Dolly. Darren came up again and so did Aretha. Ellie was backed up against the banister on the landing, screaming the bloody place down. Aretha jumped on him, her hands locked around his throat. Darren started hammering at his massive head with his fists. Pat was still moving. He collided with Dolly and she went down under his weight with a screech of pain. Annie hauled herself up on to the bed and staggered to her feet. She locked eyes with Ellie, who looked frantic. Then Annie grabbed a sliver of glass from the floor and plunged it into Pat Delaney’s back.
He let out a howl, more animal than human. Annie thought that she would never forget that sound. She tried to yank the shard out again. Her hands were slippery with blood, whether hers or Pat’s she didn’t know. She felt numb. Dolly scrambled out from under his bulk and incredibly he came up again, rounding on them with the glass still in him, roaring out his rage and hate.
Annie looked at him. There was murder in his vile, pig-like eyes. He was going to kill them. She knew it. First her, then the others. He lurched towards her and she scuttled back, hobbling. Her leg was wet from the knee down.
‘Bastard stinking whore!’ Pat’s arms pin-wheeled as he fought to keep his balance. He was losing blood from several places, yet he was still going. Annie rolled back across the bed to get away, and she saw Ellie dash into the room holding the cuffs from the Punishment Chair. Aretha grabbed them and got one on to Pat’s wrist before he twisted on the bed and punched her away. She fell stunned to the floor.
Dolly and Darren leapt on to him on the bed. The cuff was dangling, if they could get it fastened at least his arms would be pinned. Dolly almost had it, but he knocked her away.
Annie piled back into the fray. They were all panting and grunting with exertion, like dogs on a bear. She poured all the hatred she felt for this foul bastard into one huge roundhouse punch to the jaw. Pat’s head snapped back. Annie saw that his shirt was soaked with blood. She hit him again. At last, she got the other cuff closed. She was sobbing and could smell her own sour sweat. He had reduced her to the level of an animal, fighting for survival.
‘Rope,’ gasped Dolly. ‘Ellie, fetch it!’
Ellie was gone again. All four of them were on Pat, trying to hold him where he was. He was too strong. He was throwing them off, one by one. Darren went flying, then Aretha. Dolly was clawing grimly at Pat’s ankles while Annie sat on his chest, her hands locked around his throat. He was going puce with lack of air, but he was still struggling and cursing.
Ellie was back. Dolly grabbed the rope and started trying to get it around Pat’s ankles, but he was kicking and lunging too much. She couldn’t do it. Pat threw Annie off and got back to his feet. Annie was slumped on the floor, Dolly in a tangle with the rope. Darren and Aretha were exhausted. Ellie was clutching at the doorframe and still screaming at the top of her lungs.
Pat Delaney lurched towards her. He no longer looked even human. Blood was pouring down over his head, more blood oozed from his chest. He was making gurgling sounds and was cuffed but even so it was no good. It wasn’t enough. Annie looked up at him, he seemed to fill her entire world. She waited for death. The others were finished. Done for. No fight left. Pat came closer and leaned down towards her. She shrank back against the side of the bed, nowhere left to go, nothing left to do.
