Rhia woke up at ten am. Slowly raised her head from the bed. Rubbed her eyes, then put both hands back, leaned on them, getting her bearings, thinking of last night, the walk home. The fat repulsive man she had to push out of her with her knee. She thought of the cash. What she could buy with it. f**k-a-duck. There might be trouble still. That night clerk. She had to fix that. She didn’t know how much to tell Salem if anything.
She let herself fall back on the bed, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, a small face was peering down at her. She had light brown hair, wearing multi-colored pajama pants, a stained pink T-shirt with a black bear on it. She was seven, nearly eight years old. Rhia smiled back and said, ‘Love you, baby.’
‘Time to get up, Rhia.’
‘Call me mum, baby.’
‘Tim
