Chapter 7: What Roz Knew
I called Roz the next morning.
Hannah gave me the number from the old phone.
She sat at the kitchen table while I dialed, both hands wrapped around her coffee, listening.
Roz picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Roz, my name is Sue.
I'm Hannah's mother.
I'm sorry to call out of nowhere like this."
A short silence.
Then: "Is she okay?"
"She's with me.
She's safe.
But I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
"Okay." Her voice had shifted.
Careful now, but not closed.
"How much do you know?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"How much has she told you?"
"Enough," I said.
"The bruise.
The phone.
The photograph from March."
I heard Roz exhale.
It was the sound of someone who had been holding something for a very long time.
"I've known since February," she said.
"She made me promise not to say anything.
She said she was handling it."
"She wasn't handling it."
"I know that.
I've known that." Her voice cracked slightly.
"I tried.
I kept trying to find a way in.
Every time I got close she'd pull back.
And then he cut off her access to — he made it very hard for her to see people."
"What do you mean, cut off her access?"
Hannah looked up from her coffee.
"He controls the money," Roz said.
"She doesn't have her own account anymore.
Hasn't for about eighteen months.
Everything goes through him.
She has to ask for cash.
He tracks what she spends on the joint card." A beat.
"She bought lunch for the two of us in April and he made her account for every item on the receipt."
I looked at Hannah.
Hannah looked back at me without expression.
"Roz," I said.
"Did she ever tell you about anything before February?
Before the bruise?"
"She told me things had been difficult for a while.
She didn't give me specifics.
But—" She stopped.
"Go on."
"Last Christmas.
We had the work party and Hannah came and Craig picked her up after.
I walked her out.
And when she got in the car I saw his face before he knew I was watching." She paused.
"I thought about that face for a long time afterward."
"What did it look like?"
"Like she was something he owned that had been out without his permission."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Roz," I said.
"The text he found on Hannah's phone.
The one where she said she was struggling."
"Yes."
"Do you have that conversation?
On your end?"
"I have all of it.
Every message she's ever sent me.
I kept them." Her voice was steady now.
"I kept them because I thought someday someone might need them."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Can you send them to me?"
"Yes," she said.
"Tell me where."
After I hung up, Hannah and I sat quietly for a moment.
"She kept them," Hannah said finally.
"She did."
Hannah looked at her coffee.
"I didn't know she was doing that."
"She was looking out for you the only way she could."
Hannah's eyes filled.
She blinked and looked at the ceiling and pressed her lips together.
"I told her not to get involved," she said.
"I told her it was fine.
I told her so many times it was fine."
"I know."
"She didn't believe me."
"No," I said.
"She didn't."
Hannah put her face in her hands.
I moved my chair around to her side of the table and put my arm around her and she leaned into me and cried properly for the first time since the back bedroom three days ago.
When she lifted her head she said, "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to talk to someone who knows what to do," I said.
"Someone who does this for a living."
I had already looked up the number.
I had it written on a piece of paper in my pocket.
May you like
I had been carrying it since the night she showed me the photograph, waiting for the moment she was ready to ask.
That afternoon, Craig's solicitor called Tom's mobile and left a message saying that Hannah had abandoned the marital home and that Craig was seeking legal advice about his options.
