Chapter 4
Run! Run! Run!
Once upon a time, Molly completed a little under a half marathon every day, bartending in her best friend’s pub and finishing off her night with…
other things. It had been those other things that had given her muscles and inner strength, plus some sneaky skills that could potentially land her in jail.
Now clutching a bairn to her chest and running in heels, she’d had to concede that the old Molly had turned into one with ice lolly-like limbs. Fuck.
Sweat ran down her spine. And the poor bairn on her chest was wailing, perhaps at the state of her mother.
The last time she’d looked in the mirror, Molly had seen a woman whose wild curls had been flattened into perfection, her face dolled up to suit her boyfriend’s status in the company, wearing a black dress that, unfortunately, didn’t hide the extra weight she’d put on.
Now, running in black heels, Molly could feel the heat burning her cheeks, the sweat setting her curls free, and her added weight not helping.
Brides ran away from their wedding. Wives ran away from home. She had run away from a dead man’s memorial.
Was there any further low in life?
Molly sucked oxygen into her lungs, her chest burning with exhaustion. She’d been running for fifteen minutes, and she couldn’t run any longer. Not when she was turning heads and perhaps leading the very man she was running from straight to her.
That’s what happened when you ran away with a bairn and no plans, eejit!
Molly twisted her head around. She’d spent the last three years in Bridgeton, Glasgow. Being a stay-at-home partner and then a stay-at-home mum, her world had revolved around her family. So the once-familiar city centre of Glasgow now looked like a foreign megapolis to her.
Her usual haunts had all been replaced with new restaurants and shops. And the spots she did recognise appeared too posh for her reddened face.
Molly hurried past Queen Street station, running a hand along Rose’s back. Her daughter’s cries had subsided now, sounding more like sniffles.
What if they took a bus?
If she left the city centre, physical distance would keep Johnny from locating them immediately. And she was sure he hadn’t noticed their absence yet. Throwing away her phone had been a wise choice.
Molly ran over to where the bus stop was. A crowd huddled around waiting for the long queue of buses to arrive. They all looked so normal standing there listening to music or engrossed in their phones, their arms laden with grocery bags or work bags.
For once in her life, she longed for that.
The X19 pulled up. Easterhouse. She could go there. Or maybe the 57A to Balornock?
Rose’s wee fist smack straight into Molly’s shoulder. Ow! Molly grimaced. Rose was nearly one, so she didn’t have any strength to hurt a full-ass adult. But Molly, with her ice-lolly limbs and bruised-up shoulder, still felt it.
Rose blinked up at Molly, then whimpered. Oh no, no, no.
Molly wrapped both her arms around her daughter and bounced her. Mummy and baby are going on a wee trip. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that exciting?
Rose was having none of it. She twisted her face and let out a loud wail.
Hell.
Every single person at the stop and some even inside a waiting bus looked at them.
Molly sighed. Fine. She couldn’t fault her daughter.
It had been Rose’s whimpers that had led Molly to get her out of the memorial for some fresh air. She’d taken the baby bag just in case Rose needed any of her supplies.
Then it had struck her.
She was outside on her own, no longer under Johnny’s watchful eye, with Rose and the baby bag. All the necessities for a getaway.
But clearly a happy baby was not on the cards. Molly kissed the top of Rose’s head. Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see what the city centre has to offer, eh?
At this time of the year, Glasgow’s Buchanan Street was almost as busy as during Christmas. This was Glasgow’s pedestrian-only shopping street and attracted a lot of tourists and buskers.
Molly slowed down just a wee bit, enough to blend into the sea of people window-shopping or hurrying towards one of the two major railway stations in the city. The first beats of a drum sounded, followed by a kilt-wearing man playing the bagpipes.
Affixing Rose’s baby bag on her shoulder, her daughter clutched to her chest, Molly strolled as casually as possible.
Once upon a time, planning getaways for survivors of domestic abuse was her side hustle, the other thing she got up to after her bartending gig.
With her best pals, she’d helped so many women escape.
Some had been close calls; others had been easy escapes.
But they had all been deeply satisfying, especially after each woman they’d saved sent them a postcard to say she had gotten away safely.
Then her best pal had disappeared off the face of the earth for a breather.
His break had led Molly to stumble drunk into Johnny’s arms. It had been love at first sight.
Well, she had loved how he had his life sorted and took charge of things: as a top dog at a huge business, he earned a steady, hefty paycheque.
Something she hadn’t ever experienced in her life.
And Johnny had loved her with her trim body, no attitude, and no red, curly hair.
Molly watched Rose pick up a strand of her hair and twirl it around her wee fist. The only reason Molly shared her hair colour with her daughter was thanks to a botched-up patch test. The blond hadn’t suited her at all. It had been the only reason Johnny had let her keep her natural red hair.
Pulling Rose closer to her chest, Molly whispered, Never again. He won’t hurt us again.
That was a mother’s promise to her daughter. The one thing Molly would never ever break. Her dear Rose deserved so much more than the lullaby of screams and the kiss of a slap.
Only how the hell could she get away without alerting David Buchanan’s top security guy? Johnny knew enough people to hunt her through CCTV and facial recognition. Hell, he probably had access to tech she could never even imagine.
A zing of pain shot through her calf. Damn those heels.
She truly couldn’t go on. Maybe if she stopped for a wee coffee, rested, fed Rose, then recalibrated, she would be better for it.
It would mean she’d end up on CCTV, making it easier for Johnny’s men to trace her, but it would also give her time to come up with a solid plan.
Once, Molly’d possessed the ability to think on the fly. But she was no longer the only casualty of this dangerous escape.
Taking a deep breath, Molly pushed through the glass doors of a cafe and out of the stuffy warmth of a summer afternoon. People were packed into the tight space, almost everyone sipping on iced coffees and matcha lattes.
Good. The more people to blend into, the less of a chance of Johnny spotting her. Besides, Johnny hadn’t introduced her to his other colleagues. He usually had more appropriate companions for that.
Reaching into Rose’s bag, she extracted her purse and peeked inside.
The two cards Johnny had given her shone under the light.
She’d only ever used them for groceries and baby products.
After all, she had to stretch her allowance for Rose and her.
Every time she used these cards, Johnny saw how much and where she’d spent the money.
Molly’s lips turned down. What had she become?
She plucked the cards out of the purse and tossed them into the bin. There. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to use them, nor could she be identified.
Then she peered into her purse. One, two, three, four… Bingo! She had ninety pounds with her. That could last her a while if she stretched each pound like she stretched her yoga pants. But for now, she deserved the five-pound coffee. Her wee treat for finally, finally getting away.
Molly plucked the fiver from her purse, then tucked it into her pocket. Balancing Rose on her hip, she joined the queue for the till.
Rose’s wide eyes were taking in the sounds and scents around them. A babel of tongues she hadn’t ever heard before.
Look, Rosie. So many people. Have you seen so many people before?
Her daughter looked up at her, then turned her wee head towards the people. And then it happened. Her lips turned down in a frown. A tell-tale sign of Armageddon.
Fuck! No, no, not again.
Molly performed an about turn, almost slamming into the person behind her. Sorry!
She twisted around the person, then felt her purse start to slip out of her pocket. Shite!
Wah! Rose burst out, causing every head to turn towards them again.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
At this rate Johnny would just need to follow the wails to find them.
Holding her purse between her forefinger and thumb, Molly excused herself through the throng of people. She reached the glass doors again, knowing her celebratory drink would have to wait, and stepped out.
Come on, baby. What’s happened? What’s—Ouch! Molly jerked when someone collided with her bruised shoulder.
Her hand jolted, her first instinct to protect her daughter. The purse she so precariously held on to flew up in the air.
Oh!
At the same time, Rose reached out and clutched her shoulders, right at the spot of her latest bruise.
Pain stung Molly, almost blinding her. She blinked, trying to clear the tears and find her purse. Her ninety quid. She looked down at her feet but couldn’t spot her wee pink purse.
Oh no! She looked up, wondering where the hell it was, when she found a bright smiling face. The man held up her purse in triumph.
Thank y— Words died on Molly’s tongue when he wiggled her purse before turning around and running away.
Running away with all of her money and all of her hopes.