Ruby by Heather Burnside (carter reed txt) 📗

following her. Daisy could feel the tension within her escalating, her mind full of worries about what she might find. Then she spotted her.

Trina was kneeling down on the muddy ground, her jeans covered in soil and twigs. Her top was torn from the shoulder down, exposing her inadequate child’s vest which clung to the outline of a tiny, pert breast. There was a further rip lower down but Daisy was drawn to the area above her daughter’s shoulders. Trina was holding blood-soaked hands over her face and Daisy could see the blood seeping through her fingers.

‘Oh my God!’ yelled Daisy, shocked. ‘What have they done to my poor girl?’

Daisy saw how her daughter’s tear-filled eyes narrowed at her reaction, and she quickly tried to compose herself, knowing that she needed to be strong for Trina.

She pulled Trina’s hands away so she could examine her face, noticing that her hands were covered in mud as well as blood. She flinched at the sight of a large open wound that cut across one side of Trina’s face, and was worried that her daughter might already have contaminated it with her muddy hands. It was still pumping blood and Daisy quickly lifted the hem of her skirt and held it to the wound, pressing it at either side to stem the flow. Trina screeched in pain.

‘It’s alright. Shush, my child,’ said Daisy, soothingly. ‘I need to stop the blood. Then everything will be just fine.’

She could see Trina tense as she tried to be brave and hold back the tears, and a deep hurt blazed within her. Trina, her precious, only daughter. What had she done to deserve this? Her only crime was in trying to protect her younger brothers as any good sister would do. And as Daisy thought about the lasting damage that this attack would have on her daughter, she struggled to contain her own tears.

But she tried to put her heartrending thoughts to one side. She needed to focus on one thing at a time. Daisy felt sure that a wound that size would need stitches but she wanted to stem the blood loss first. After that, she would need to get Trina to hospital. And once the professionals had patched her daughter up, then she would think about how to deal with the fallout.

14

February 1992

Daisy looked across at her daughter who was playing with her younger brother, Tyler, and trying her best to act as if everything was alright. But Daisy knew it wasn’t. As she took in her daughter’s damaged face for the umpteenth time since they had returned from the hospital, she felt a profound sadness. She knew that her daughter would be scarred for life, and that the mental scars would run much deeper than the physical one.

The doctor had said that the wound was three centimetres in length and deep. Therefore, there had been no alternative but to stitch it once they had cleaned it. Daisy had admired her daughter’s bravery; the way she had clenched her teeth and balled her hands into fists to fight back her tears as the nurse stitched her up.

At the moment the wound looked bad, but the medical staff had assured both Daisy and Trina that it would eventually fade. Unfortunately, this had given Trina false hope that it might fade to nothing. Daisy hadn’t had the heart to tell her that although it wouldn’t look as bad as it did now, it would always be there. An upsetting reminder of a wicked act.

Daisy hadn’t gone to the police; she didn’t dare. The fear of reprisals was too strong to take that chance. But she knew she had to do something. What sort of mother would she have been if she let this go without taking any action at all? She looked at the clock. Mr Gallagher would still be at work. It was therefore the best time to pay a visit to Mrs Gallagher while her own children were occupied; Trina and Tyler in the house and Ellis and Jarell playing outside. Mrs Gallagher was the least fearsome of the two Gallagher parents but, nevertheless, the thought of visiting her struck fear into Daisy.

‘Trina, I’m just going out for a few minutes. Will you keep an eye on Tyler for me please?’

‘Yeah, sure. Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere important. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.’

She’d chosen not to tell Trina yet, just in case her visit wasn’t fruitful. Nevertheless, Daisy was determined that, now she’d made the decision, she was going to see it through, no matter how daunting it was. She slipped out of the house with her heart hammering inside her chest and soon arrived at the Gallaghers’ home.

Daisy felt anxious as she knocked on the Gallaghers’ front door, anticipating an aggressive reaction from Mrs Gallagher. She became aware once more of her rapidly beating heart and as she lifted the knocker her hands trembled so much she lost her grip on it. The knocker slipped from her hand, landing softly against the door plate and letting out a low, tinny sound. Undeterred, Daisy took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and lifted the knocker again, this time tapping it firmly against the door plate several times.

As Mrs Gallagher opened her front door she looked Daisy up and down with a scowl on her face and Daisy almost lost her nerve. Mrs Gallagher wasn’t imposing in the physical sense, as she was slight in frame and a bit shorter than Daisy, but she had the harsh, pinched features of someone used to doing battle. Her whole demeanour was aggressive, from the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw to the balled fists and irate tone of voice.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

‘Hello, Mrs Gallagher,’ said Daisy, trying to disguise the tremor in her voice. ‘I’ve come about your son, Kyle.’

Mrs Gallagher tutted. ‘I might have known,’ she said. ‘He’s always getting the blame for summat.’ She sighed dramatically as though