Free Ring Around Rosie by Emily Pattullo Page A

times with her mum. Her heart lurched at the memory
and tears rushed to her eyes. It was like seeing an old friend, and she felt
homesick for her childhood and the relationship she used to have with her mum,
before everything.
    They turned down Regent Street, past more
shops ornately decorated to tantalise the discerning shopper, then onto
Piccadilly Circus with its unmistakeable light show. Despite how late it must
have been, the city was still very much alive and pulsating with activity.
    Rosie looked at Baduwa and Utibe, their
transfixed faces illuminated by neon, and realised they would never have seen
anything like this before. This place that Rosie had called home for so long
was a wonderland full of possibilities to them. But Rosie now realised it was
all just a mirage, a façade designed to fool anyone stupid enough to be
hypnotised by the bright lights, and it would take more than glitter and
sparkles to convince her otherwise.
    The car swung round the Circus and into
Shaftesbury Avenue, the gateway to Soho. Of course, thought Rosie, that was
where they were headed. The neon lights reduced in size and the streets
narrowed as they wound through them.
    The car then pulled to a stop outside what
looked like a nightclub. The imposing black sign read ‘The Lock’, and Rosie
shuddered. She felt Baduwa’s reaction next to her and reached across the dark
car to grab her hand and squeeze it. Baduwa looked at her and managed a weak
smile. Rosie suddenly felt so sorry for her. Her expectations were crumbling
with each minute and it was evident in her terrified eyes.
    The three of them stood shivering on the
pavement as Zaydain spoke to the man on the door, then they were pushed inside.
The sound of thumping music echoed from somewhere beneath them as they had
their coats removed. Rosie began to feel like a doll, a puppet, whose own
actions were not required as she was pushed and pulled and directed all the way
down to the depths of the club.
    It was a large, cavernous space with
balconies spiralling down over three floors and one vast dance floor at the
centre. Lights flashed and streaked across the club, highlighting the happy
faces of the hundreds of dancers pulsating in one huge mass, like a swarm of
bees in a hive. As Rosie looked closer she saw that along the balconies were
little pockets of seats from where the dance floor could be viewed, and each
pocket was filled with men and women staring intently below.
    The girls were steered round the back of
the balconies and along a corridor to where a large ornate curtain hung,
guarded by two men. They nodded at Zaydain as he handed them a card and pointed
to the keys around the girls’ necks. The men stood aside to let them walk behind
the curtain and through a door. Rosie almost felt like laughing; this seemed
like a joke, a bad scene from a Hollywood film. Surely things like this didn’t really go on?
    Suddenly Rosie had the amusement knocked
out of her as someone collided with her and then ricocheted off the door frame
in her desperation to get out. Rosie watched in surprise as the girl picked
herself up and ran out through the door, tears streaming down her face. Rosie
clutched her winded stomach as she tried to catch her breath. A few seconds
later the girl was dragged back into the room by one of the men who’d been on
the door. She was sobbing loudly. Her eyes caught Rosie’s pleadingly, for what
Rosie was unsure, but she guessed she was about to find out. The girl was
dragged back to a table and slammed down into a seat. Her long hair hid her
face as she cried. Rosie felt Baduwa shiver beside her.
     This room was far removed from where they
had just been. It was small and intimate, with tables nestled in booths
surrounding a much smaller dance floor where there were young boys and girls
dancing together. Some looked awkward but some seemed to be really enjoying the
attention from the people sitting at the tables, their hungry eyes focussed on
the