He lied. Turns out like most other men I’d come across this one was no different. I should have known he had absolutely no intention of inviting me round for just ‘coffee. Oh no, more fool me; once again I’d believed a man. I didn’t want coffee anyway, I much preferred tea just like he’d served and this little lie I’d let go. It turned out we both love ‘Yorkshire Tea’ too – result! Robbie was the perfect gentleman when I’d been round, he tried no funny business and had even got the custard creams in (I’d happened to tell him whilst in hospital that they were my fave). We’d spent two hours laughing and joking awkwardly whilst I sat perched on his black pleather couch feeling riddled with guilt that it belonged to him and his wife. I looked around the room of his modest terraced house in a shitty part of Southport. MDF, black pleather and red everywhere. I hate red. It not only reminds me of flat 16 where sheets and lamps were red but it’s just a tacky colour for a home; shiny red backsplashes and feature wallpaper with red flowers is gross and I hoped badly that it was her choice and not his. I couldn’t live with a man who didn’t like traditional interiors and instead liked what I snobbishly called ‘classless tat’. Pictures of his beautiful son were everywhere, with only one picture of them together – their wedding day. God I wished I hadn’t clocked that pic but at the same time I couldn’t help but look as he boiled the kettle. I wanted to see if I could spot any odd body language between the pair of them, as I’d once read in my mums ‘Take a break’ that body language showed us so much more than we realised. She looked glum and he looked hung over, her dress was rank and it wasn’t me being bitchy it was just not nice and drowned her tiny petite Filipino frame. I was no body language expert but that didn’t look like true love and happiness to me!
Two hours spent with the man of my dreams had made me feel even better about my future, though I still had no idea what was going to happen. I wanted him badly but I wasn’t going to be a mistress and certainly not a home wrecker. He’d asked me about what I was going to do now I was out of hospital, I told him how I still wanted to go back to college and become a vet. Robbie encouraged me and said I should go for it, no man had ever encouraged me to do something good for myself, not my dad, nor my ex husband, actually only one teacher Mr.Hanton who always told me I’d end up as an author. Robbie was genuine, calming and most of all he believed in me. There were many questions about ‘R’ and he informed me he’d spoken to Kath the nice nursey who had listened to me break down that day in hospital. She’d broken confidentiality by telling him but I didn’t mind, I was glad he knew because other than him I had no one I could tell. My old friends wouldn’t understand and my new friends Susie et al wouldn’t either, not yet anyway. Robbie only got the information I gave him, he knew the bare minimum, as I couldn’t have anyone steam rolling my plans and freaking out after realising what danger we were really in.
That night was busy on the phones and rob had text me several times yet I hadn’t replied. I couldn’t, I had no time to though I’d read them.
“Shall I bring pizza to yours one night next week?”
Yes yes! I loved pizza and him so that was a plan. I’d have to sort a night off with Ash or Serena so I could spend it phone free and I’d pray to god one of them would do it, I often felt totally alone in this and was desperate for more girls to offer to take the phones but they weren’t total mugs like me. Even if I was ‘off’ I was never was phone-free because they rang me every 5 minutes. They always needed constant reassurance or to be told if someone was a time waster or not, I’d become quite hardened to the time-wasters like a tough land-lady not entertaining the dick heads. Problem was even though I saved all punters numbers in the phones they often rang from different digits. We used to calls all the time from unknown numbers, ‘R’ told me to answer these too as men were just protecting their identity; poor men needing to make sure they were safe from being caught out by their wives, and obviously they didn’t want us girls having their real number in case we felt compelled to call them afterwards because obviously their performance in the sack was mind blowing… dick heads! I didn’t agree with taking bookings from unknown numbers but hey I had no power so just did as I was told. This one lad would ring all the time, divulging his sick fantasies about young kids, he would ring all the time telling us he was in Maccy D’s in Kirkby waiting to kid nap little boys. It made me so sick and angry and all I wanted to do was report him, it got so bad at one time I’d said to ‘R’ I was going to but he went mad at me saying the guy wasn’t doing anything bad and just being an attention seeker. Serena would listen to him and abuse him and Ash would hang up, he often rang up to 100 times a day, getting the number off the various websites ‘R’ had up offering ‘his girls’. When I think about that sick caller I often wonder and pray to god that the bastard has been caught and locked up. To me, it should be simple; we report those who are committing crimes, but not in Liverpool. You don’t snitch, you don’t grass you just accept, keep your head down and move on.
The day after my ‘tea-date’ I was back in the flat, Angel was supposed to be coming but she’d cancelled last minute with some rather crazy excuse about her family. The girls always had elaborate, crazy stories as to why they couldn’t come in, the more crazy the more credible it seemed to them, none of us wanting to just say
“I don’t feel like being fuckt for cash today, in fact the thought is making me sick, and to think of you touching me too is quite frankly going to send me over the edge”
Maybe their tales of woe and misfortune were true? I felt shocked at myself for feeling angry that Angel hadn’t turned up, it meant I might not make as much money as every booking that went through I got a percentage of. Ffs I’d not got anyone else who I could pass of as a ‘teen’, Ash had been seen by everyone it felt and we always needed fresh meat. Susie couldn’t do them either as she was so obviously ‘seasoned’ and offered a totally different experience. ‘R’ had rang me saying that we had a couple of new girls and would I look after them. Of course I would, that was my job but I also had definitely taken the role on as carer too. I realised I was a madamn/maid and felt a real sense of responsibility for them. Susie’s ‘care’extended only to certain girls and since she’d been hitting the ‘lemmo’ harder she had become less bothered especially when it came to the ‘teens’. It was an obvious jealousy as she grafted and put the hours in but the teens just got everyone most days. I didn’t blame her for being miffed at them, she saw them as playing at it and naive and stupid, she saw it for her as a legitimate source of income and profession.
That afternoon the first girl ‘Isabel’ arrived, she was 6ft tall with huge boobs and a baby face. An hour late wasn’t acceptable I’d warned her but luckily her guy was running late too so she managed to get their two minutes after he’d arrived. It was John the reg and as you now know he loved to be the first guy with the new girls. He was a sure thing. 40 minutes later (John always pushed his luck with time limits) she’d got her money and told me she was off to the shop for cigs, she’d be coming back though… Yeh heard that one before and sure enough she was gone.
“These bloody girls”
In her thick Hungarian accent Susie then said
“Stupid girl, told me she was only 14 and off out after this to go drinking in a blokes flat”
“14? What the fuck Susie?, 14? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. She said only 14, she looks so big though, but now she say it I believe”
“Oh god, this is terrible! I need to ring him”
I was so cross I shook. I was petrified and rang him immediately, luckily it had just been me and Susie in the room when she told me. I didn’t want Ash hearing that especially as she’s a young mother. Why had I bothered ringing him when I knew he wouldn’t care? I’d heard the exact things he’d say in my head before ringing him and yet lets face it he couldn’t do anything anyway. I got the whole ‘well its not our fault these bloody girls look so old now’ or ‘they come with fake ID I don’t know if its real or not’. The truth was he NEVER EVER checked them for anything other than whether they were willing to sleep with him for a job, their willingness was the test. The young girls who were barely in their teens turned him on, and later that afternoon confirmed it even more when I was sent the second underage girl of the day to ‘look after’.
“How old are you?”
“16, I mean 18” she said as she nervously giggled
“Where’s your ID?”
“Oh I have it, I gave it to him, he said he was bringing the photocopies for you tonight, I just look real young ha!”
“Ok, well he tells me your name is Lollipop but Lolly for short ok? And your here to make money for drama school?”
“Yeh I want to be an actress or something, I don’t know yet but I want to live in London and become famous”
“Wow, nice! Ok so have you done this before?”
“No, but I will be great at it I sleep with people for free all the time, may as well get paid for it I’m very eager to learn”
There was something so ‘Lolita-like’ about Lolly, a tiny tiny little thing, size 6 tops and about 5ft 2 inches tall with mass of long blonde curly wild hair which matched her demeanour. She was weirdly charming and innocent, sweet and just fairy-like, definitely child-like. A 90s style mini dress hung off her minute frame and her tights were ripped with only a small leather jacket to keep her warm in the rainy gloomy autumn days of Liverpool. She looked like Taylor Momsen as Jenny in Gossip Girl but not as old. She also reminded me of Cassie from Skins too, massively in fact and that made me realise even more how vulnerable she was. I shouldn’t have been making her work; I should have gone straight to the ‘bizzies’ there and then. I was disgusted in myself and well, whenever people say there’s an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other – well I now understood.
Off we went to a rich business mans pent house apartment in the city centre; his apartment was in one of the ‘poshest’ buildings and looked fab. ‘R’ had asked me to take dear little Lolly to her 4 hour booking (yes 4 hours because she was so young). It was odd because I’d not put this booking through myself ‘R’ had arranged it privately which was a first. I quickly realised after dropping her and waiting in the Starbucks whilst I decided whether I was going back to grab her or not that he’d set this up because he clearly was involved in some horrible ring of disgusting ‘men’ who liked pre-pubescent teens and it reminded me of ‘Taken’. Christ, I literally had to pinch myself all the time because I couldn’t believe half of it was going on. I’d had to escort her because ‘R’ was concerned she would go missing on the way, he was right she was certainly the type to go missing and I couldn’t understand where her family were and why they weren’t concerned for her safety; but neither were mine.
It dawned on me the severity of the problem, how many under age girls there truly were who were wayward, missing, vulnerable and at the mercy of disgusting predators who offered them food, shelter, money, mobile phones and attention. I’d also been informed that she would be staying the night and I was to feed and water her. I couldn’t wait to take her for a burger and nurture her after all she’d need it after that booking for 4 hours. I was terrified it would put her off; I didn’t want these young girls getting frightened. Still I wondered how he came about getting the girls, Serena had told me recently that she’d been drugged by him on their meeting for her job as a ‘receptionist’ and when she came round in the seedy hotel room he tried to make out everything was all ok and she’d fallen asleep. He’d also taken her out to some rich friends house who was away, it was a mansion in Greater Manchester and he’d once again abused her – this was before she was a semi-regular in the flat. There was way more going on than I realised with way more people involved too, I preferred not to ask him, he fed me constant bull shit anyway and so from that day with Lolly I decided to start writing things down. Names of girls, punters who wanted the super young, and accounts of what the girls had told me.
Emily had disappeared whilst I was in hospital but had popped up on my Instagram as someone to follow. She had seemed to have converted to Islam and was quoting passages from the Quran as well as posing next to pics of her boyfriend who was the reason she’d converted according to her ‘captions’. She was living in London and working in Boots which I was so happy to see, hopefully not doing anything dodgy anymore and I wondered if she’d perhaps tell me how ‘R’ had come to meet her too because despite everything else he was doing, this clear and obvious pattern was emerging and getting worse. It seemed ‘R’ was sourcing his girls in the most unsavoury and predatory ways and I wanted to hear from Emily what had happened to make her leave. I sent her a follow request and hoped she’d accept.
I was outside ready and waiting an hour before Lolly was due to emerge. I wanted to make sure she didn’t go anywhere, partly because she’d have at least £600 in cash on her but also because this was prime opportunity for her to disappear. Out she came with 30 mins to spare, he’d let her leave early and tipped her an extra £180. I let her keep it and told her not to say a thing, she was totally un-phased by it all and seemed in a daze, almost drugged up. Back we went to the flat walking through Chapel Street past Kurt Geiger where she dragged me in and bought the most ridiculous shoes that had 6 inch heels and made her even more like Bambi on Ice. She was a darling and I wanted to adopt her, I would definitely ‘save’ her and the rest very soon. ‘R’ had told me not to give her any of the rest of the cash and we now had a new rule: We keep the cash for the new young girls and only give them little bits at a time, that way they have to stay……
I agreed reaching a whole new low.