Bad Little Girl(33)

Claire smiled. There was no auntie. ‘That’s nice for you.’

‘Sometimes I need to. Get away. I mean.’ The girl’s knuckles were skinned, Claire suddenly noticed, and one nail had been ripped to the quick. She touched it, and Lorna pulled her hand away.

‘That looks nasty.’

‘It’s better than it was,’ whispered the girl.

‘Fucking TUNE!’ screamed a man downstairs.

Carl put his head round the door. ‘Pete says to get her to the bus stop.’

‘She’s poorly.’

Carl stared blankly at the wall. ‘Pete says get her out.’ Lorna scrambled up, her face angry, and pushed past her brother, still as stone in the doorway. From the top of the stairs, Claire could see the small hallway cluttered with men. The front door opened to let in someone carrying a crate of beer.

‘I got something for you, Miss, wait.’ The girl was edging back to her room. ‘But you can’t open it till you get home. Do you promise?’

‘Oh Lorna, you mustn’t give me anything that you want to keep.’

‘You don’t want my present,’ she said flatly.

‘Oh, I do! It’s so kind of you. I just meant that, well, I wouldn’t want you to give away one of your pretty things.’ The girl stood silent, and pouted at the floor.

Raucous laughter came from the front room. ‘Mervyn, you dirty fucker!’ sniggered Pete. ‘Look at this! On his phone! You dirty old man!’

Lorna smiled sadly. ‘It’s a silly present. I’m sorry. You don’t have to have it. I’ll take you to the bus stop now.’

And Claire thought, I want to take you away from this house; I want to know what’s happened to you in this house. But she only said, ‘I’d love to take your present. Lorna? Really I would.’

The child looked up through wet lashes. ‘I got it for you. But I won’t give it now. No, I want to wrap it up properly. With a bow.’

‘Well, that’s lovely. Very lovely of you.’

When Lorna smiled, Claire’s anxiety ebbed. Together they walked down the stairs, past the crowded, smoky front room, and once they were outside, Lorna slipped her arm through Claire’s.

‘I’m glad you came. I’m glad you weren’t bit.’

‘Me too,’ said Claire.

‘I knew you’d come.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing. The bus stop is ages away.’

‘Listen, Lorna, will you be careful getting home?’ The child ignored her. She hummed and skipped. ‘Will you be, Lorna? It’ll be dark in a while and you really must promise me to be careful on the way home.’

‘I’m always careful.’

‘I have a bit of money, not enough to get me a taxi home, but enough for you. If I give it to you, maybe you can find a phone box or something and call for one?’ Claire scanned the empty, uniform streets – miles of them. They didn’t build estates with phone boxes – they’d get smashed. ‘Or ask to use a phone in a . . . shop? Or something?’

‘OK.’

‘Please?’

‘OK.’

They ambled along together in the twilight, the streets so quiet that they walked in the road. They talked about books, about films. They talked about Claire when she was a little girl.

‘And we would have been best friends,’ Lorna declared. ‘What were you like when you were little?’

‘Oh. I was quite shy I suppose. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, or a big family like you. I loved animals. Cats.’

‘What games did you play?’

‘Netball? But I wasn’t very good at it, I’m afraid.’ Lorna seemed unimpressed. ‘But I liked reading mostly. The Famous Five. Have you ever read any of them?’ Lorna shook her head. ‘They’re all about a group of children – cousins – who have adventures and solve mysteries. And they have a very clever dog called Timmy who helps them.’

‘What kind of mysteries?’

‘Oh, they find hidden treasure in caves by the sea. And underground stores of gold. And they cycle everywhere and help people. You should read some.’

Lorna picked some leaves off a bush and ripped them up as she walked, saying nothing, and Claire felt embarrassed, felt that she’d disappointed the girl. The Famous Five must seem impossibly boring to a child raised with the internet. That happy connection with another human being began to shrivel and die, and in its place came fatigue, grief, all the old, familiar feelings, swelling forward to greet her.

‘There’s the bus stop.’

‘Thank you, Lorna.’ The girl turned to leave. ‘Oh, listen, here’s the money for a taxi.’

‘All right.’ She already had her hand out, her face a blank. Claire gave her all she had bar the bus fare, about three pounds. ‘Promise me, Lorna?’

‘All right. What’s the name of those books?’

‘The Famous Five.’

‘I like adventures. Here’s the bus. It takes you into town.’

‘Lorna, listen to me. I know you don’t want to talk about it . . .’ – the girl twisted her face and hunched her shoulders – ‘but please listen, and remember. I want to help you, I really do. But I can’t unless you tell me, well, some of the things that have been happening to you. I can help, Lorna, I can, I promise, but you have to trust me? Yes?’