After the Escape

3. Yulia - New Dawn

Eventually, Yulia and the other three women were herded out of the shipping container by two paramedics who wanted to take them to hospital and check them over. It was dark by the time Yulia stepped out of the container entrance but she could see several of the traffickers being loaded into the back of police vans, as well as two waiting ambulances.

She was taken to one side by a paramedic, who asked her who she was and if she was injured. She answered on autopilot; giving her name and assuring them that she was fine, she didn’t even feel the bruising on her face anymore. The much bigger worry was what was going to happen now.

She was here illegally, so it was likely she would be sent home. In theory, this would be a relief; she could see her parents and friends again, and pretend this whole nightmare had never happened. In reality, the people back home who had arranged her passage to the UK were part of a dangerous network of criminals, and would no doubt be displeased that their outfit here had been closed down. If she turned up back home they would probably want to “question” her about what happened, maybe make an example of her and her family to show what happened to those who betrayed them. It wouldn’t matter that she had done nothing to cause their exposure, they wouldn’t care about that.  

So, it was imperative that she was allowed to stay here but had no idea of how she could convince the authorities of this.

The paramedic loaded her into the back of the ambulance, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders because she had started to shake as the adrenaline of the police raid ebbed away and shock set in. Two of the other women joined her, and they drove to the hospital in silence.

They were greeted by some medical staff who must have been briefed for their arrival, as all five of the women were quickly taken to quiet cubicles for a health check and to have their details taken. The nurse or doctor (Yulia wasn’t sure who they were) asked her name, age, medical history and if she was on any drugs, before taking her vitals and drawing some blood.

They also questioned her about how long she had been in captivity and after asking the date, she realised that it had been just over a year since she left her home. They also asked her what had happened during this time, and she could barely bring herself to say it.

Luckily the doctor didn’t ask for details, but understood enough to insist that Yulia needed to have swabs taken for venereal diseases and to have further tests done on her bloodwork. The process itself was very clinical, and Yulia felt that it shouldn’t feel as traumatic as it did.

The moment she was up on the bed with the doctor asking her to lie back and spread her legs her mind was instantly full of horrendous images crowding in on her, making it difficult to breathe. It was over in seconds, but she was left feeling sick and shaken for a while afterwards.

She was then brought a cup of tea and some toast, and left to rest for a while on her own. Her heartrate had slowed back to normal after a while, but she couldn’t relax enough to attempt sleep. She had been told that the police would be coming to question her in the morning, and she had no idea what she was going to tell them if they asked why she had come here.

She must have slept a little, as the next thing she knew it was morning. A friendly hospital orderly came round with the breakfast trolley and she chose porridge followed by toast and jam and a black coffee. Just being able to choose what food she was going to eat had her feeling quite emotional and she hardly dared to hope that this could be a regular occurrence from now on.

Her captors had fed her of course, after all she needed to be alive to make them money, but it was always convenience foods. Nothing home cooked or particularly wholesome, and never quite enough to make her feel satisfied. Apparently ‘no-one wanted to pay for a fat w***e’.

When the police officer arrived around mid-morning to question her she was taken to a small side room. It was a female officer, no doubt because they thought that a woman would be less intimidating for her, and she took great pains to let Yulia know that she wasn’t in trouble. This insistence did little to put her at ease though, as they didn’t know that she had been trying to enter the country illegally yet.

“I want you to tell me all you remember about last night, and the events leading up to it.” The Police officer said, poised with her paper to take the statement.

Yulia had no reason to lie at this point, so she gave them as accurate a narrative as she could from the time that she had been woken up by Timon to when she was taken to the ambulance by the paramedics. The police officer nodded in the right places, and occasionally asked for names of descriptions, but was soon readying to leave. Wasn’t she going to ask anything else, like how she got to this country and into the hands of the traffickers? Or what had been happening to her over the past year?

“What happens now?” Yulia asked, feeling a little panicked at the lack of interest. Was she just going to be left here? Or discharged from the hospital with no money and nowhere to go?

“Social services will come by this afternoon to find you some temporary accommodation so that you can be discharged from hospital and to work out the next steps. We will be in touch if we have any more questions.” The police woman moved to the door, not stopping to acknowledge Yulia’s quiet “Thank you.”

Yulia made her way back to the ward to wait for the social worker to arrive, unsure of what to expect. The lunch trolley came round, and Yulia chose a beef stew which was the closest thing on the menu to the sort of food she remembered from her childhood. It was nowhere near as good as she recalled her Bunica’ making. She also had a cup of tea and chocolate pudding for dessert, finally feeling full for the first time in a long time.

She was sitting on her bed, trying to keep her mind occupied whilst she waited for someone to turn up and collect her. She was counting ceiling tiles, tracing the patterns on the sheet, anything to try and keep her mind off the image of the trafficker falling to the ground with blood pooling around him or worrying about what was going to happen to her next.

 When the social worker finally turned up, Yulia was a little non-plussed. The woman was talking to her as if she was hard of hearing, and that having to collect her was a great inconvenience. The woman asked her a couple of questions, like her nationality and if she had any identification, but didn’t ask how she had ended up here. Yulia was baffled that no one had wanted to know why she was here; surely that was the most important question?!

Yulia’s English was actually pretty good now; she had learnt quickly over the past year to interpret what her captors and clients were ordering her to do, as the consequences of not doing so were unpleasant. But even though she was quite fluent in English, she still didn’t quite understand what was going to happen to her next. All she could work out was that she was being taken to stay somewhere temporarily until they could work out what to do with her.

She found herself herded into the reception area along with the other women from the container. The red-haired girl was obviously British judging by her accent, and was the only one that the social worker seemed to be speaking to normally. The other three women were getting the “loud and slow” treatment as she had done, and seemed just as bewildered as to what was going to happen to them.

Once the social worker had signed some paperwork and spoken to various hospital staff, she herded Yulia and the other women out to the front of the hospital where a minibus was waiting for them. The red-haired woman was following the social worker asking questions about where they were going, and by listening in Yulia managed to glean that they were on their way to “New Dawn” and they would be given some clothes and food there.

The red-haired girl finally gave up her questioning and came to sit in the seat next to Yulia, smiling at her in a “we’re all in this together” way. Yulia realised that having someone who was a native English speaker on side could be very helpful in ascertaining what was going on, so introduced herself.

“I’m Yulia.”

“Hi, I’m Rowan.” The girl replied. “Where are you from? I can’t place your accent…”

“I’m Romanian,” Yulia told her, realising that she hadn’t held a proper conversation with anyone for a very long time. She found herself telling Rowan about how she came to be in this country and that shipping container, minus the intent to come here illegally. After all, the social worker was sitting only a few feet away, and could well be listening in order use the information against her later.

Rowan was a good listener, and the journey passed quickly. They were soon pulling up outside a modern looking, grey painted building, where they were quickly ushered inside. The woman who greeted them was much more welcoming than the social worker had been, smiling warmly and explaining that she had sorted out some space for them to stay.

She was patient with the other women as well as Yulia, who struggled with the language barrier, helping them to understand that they would be sharing rooms temporarily but should get their own rooms before long. Once she had done that she gave them a brief tour of the house, pointing out the kitchen, bathrooms and laundry facilities that they could use. She also explained that there were vulnerable families here, so it was important that they didn’t tell anyone where they were and advised them to go out in pairs if they wanted to go into town. It was nice to know that she wasn’t a prisoner here, even though she had no-one to call or anywhere to go out to.

Yulia was pleased to find that she was sharing a room with Rowan, and gratefully got dressed in the fresh jeans and sweatshirt that had been given to her out of the storeroom by the woman who showed them around. Once they were settled in their room, Rowan went off to speak to the women in reception to see if she could contact her boyfriend, leaving Yulia alone in the room.

Yulia sat on the bed for a little while wondering what to do next. She felt numb, like she couldn’t quite believe that she was really here. She was almost fearful of closing her eyes in case that she would be back in the dingy room back at the warehouse when she opened them, and after a few minutes of sitting anxiously in the silence she went downstairs to the kitchen to see if there was anyone else around.

The refuge lounge was busy and noisy with women and their children all talking or playing. The noise and chaos of it was so different from anything she had seen for nearly a year that it was quite overwhelming, but she forced herself to go and sit on one of the sofa’s on the fringe of the room. This was normal, real, life and she was desperate to be a part of it again.

One of the women noticed her sitting alone and introduced herself, telling Yulia that she was there with her two children after escaping an abusive relationship. She was waiting until her former partner had been tried for Grievous Bodily Harm against her, then she could be relocated safely.

She called over her kids, a little girl who was four and a little boy who was six. Both of them had big owl eyes that looked as if they had seen far too much for their tender years, reminding Yulia of some of the orphans she used to work with back in Romania.

However, she could tell by the way that their mother looked at them and interacted with them that they were loved desperately, something that the orphans never were. Yulia found herself smiling spontaneously as she talked and watched the kids play; another thing that she hadn’t done for a long time.

She was very ready for food when they were called through for dinner, and she was pleased when Rowan appeared again and took the seat next to her. Maybe things were going to be ok…