Bad Little Girl(31)

Claire’s hands began to shake with delayed shock, and the sides of her empty stomach seemed to meet in a series of claps. She put her head down onto her knees and prayed she wasn’t sick.

‘You all right?’ The man crouched down. He smelled of cigarettes. ‘You get bit?’

‘No. No. I’m just a bit . . . shaky.’

‘You want a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks.’

‘You want a drink?’

‘No.’

‘Lorna! Lorna, get out here and bring her a drink! Whisky? Vodka?’

‘Fuck’s sake, Pete, more than you give us,’ said one of the men, laughing.

‘When you get bit, I might. Lorna!’

‘I’m not bit. I didn’t get bitten. I feel a lot better now.’ Claire tried to get up, but Pete put a firm hand on her shoulder and pressed her back down, hard.

‘Stay there. Get a drink inside you. Carl, find Lorna.’

Claire thought quickly. This was an opportunity, strangely fortuitous, to find out more about the family. Gather evidence. Something more concrete, as PC Jones had said.

‘I’m here,’ said a small, familiar voice from behind. ‘I brought a beer.’

‘She wants a brandy or something. What do we have?’

‘The beer’s for you.’ Lorna squatted down and peered at Claire. ‘Did you get bit?’

‘No.’

‘It’s Miss Penny!’ The girl’s eyes widened. ‘It’s Miss Penny from school!’

‘See you in court, Pete,’ laughed one of the men, and turned on the TV again.

Pete turned a worried face to Claire. ‘You’re her teacher?’

‘No. No. Not hers. I’m a teacher at the school, though.’

‘Well, look, it wasn’t my fault, the dog. Or Carl’s. I mean we did all we could and you didn’t get bit—’

‘Do you want a whisky?’ asked Lorna.

‘I mean, it wasn’t our fault. I’m sorry and everything, but you can’t say it’s our fault.’ Pete shifted uneasily. One of his friends laughed, while another shook his head. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Carl’s. I mean, more your fault, but the dogs belong to him – he let them out—’

‘I don’t think it’s your fault. Don’t worry,’ said Claire, carefully. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was drinking. People were unpredictable when they drank.

Pete’s face relaxed. ‘You live round here?’

‘No,’ Lorna murmured. ‘She lives in Western Bridge, near the school.’ And then she shimmied away like a shadow.

‘What you doing out here?’

‘I got lost.’ Claire tried to smile. ‘I went for a walk and got lost.’

‘Better walks to be had than this one.’ He stared at her meditatively. ‘School send you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Did the school send you here? Check up on us?’

Claire was honestly bewildered. ‘What? No.’

‘’Cause it’s not our fault if she doesn’t want to go in. Can’t make her go in, can I? They said we’d get some help with her but we never have. Said they’d do some assessment and they never did.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Said they’d assess her. She’s not right, Lorna.’

‘She’s all right,’ said one of the men nearby. ‘She’s all right. Just daft.’

Lorna appeared at that moment, holding a glass of whisky, filled to the brim. She curtseyed as she gave it to Claire.

‘Milady!’

‘She’s not right,’ muttered Pete as the girl settled herself at Claire’s feet like a kitten.

‘It’s nice to see you, Miss.’

‘Said they’d do an assessment. Nik! Nikki! When’d they say they’d do the assessment on her?’ Pete yelled towards the house.

‘She’s not there. Sent her down the town – remember?’

‘Huh.’ Pete opened another beer, thoughtfully, mutinously. ‘One fucking time they send a teacher round, she’s not here and I’ve got to deal with it.’

‘What assessment?’ Claire asked softly. Were social services already involved?

‘I don’t know what assessment. Something. Behavioural something . . .’

‘Really, I wasn’t sent round. I-I’m not even working at the moment. At the school? I just got a bit lost in your area.’ Claire tried to put some steel in her voice but just came off as plaintive. Lorna poked her knee.

‘Nice to see you, Miss Penny.’

‘It’s nice to see you too, Lorna.’ She put the drink on the ground and tried to stand, but the deckchair was angled too far back and getting up was difficult. She put her hand on Lorna’s shoulder to try to boost herself up, but the girl flinched and jerked backwards.

‘Fuck’s sake Lorna – watch the fucking glass!’ And Lorna saved it. One of the dogs licked at the splashes on the paving stones.

Someone turned the volume on the TV up further. Inside the house the dogs began to bark again. A neighbour told them to turn the telly down, a shouting match ensued which ended in the neighbour coming round for the end of the game and a beer. Every time Claire tried to get up, Lorna just smiled and patted her back down to her seat.