She transferred her fingertips to her teeth, tap tap tap, eyes darting about. ‘Er… oh God, my mum’ll kill me.’
Tobacco had yellowed the knuckles of her fore- and middle fingers. Probably started smoking at school in order to shake off the goody-two-shoes image her parents had drilled into her, and now she couldn’t stop. Her eyes were big, too big, and her collarbone jutted like the handlebars of a bike. She smoked to stay thin and I guessed it was only her alcohol consumption that kept her weight from plummeting to dangerous levels. She drank to cope, to relax. She didn’t tell me any of this. I caught the vapours on her breath. And I don’t know what it was about her particularly, but something drew me to her – her vulnerability, perhaps, and the ever-present loneliness I was beginning to realise was all around me.
‘Have you told the stationmaster?’ I asked her.
She shook her head. ‘There was no one there. I don’t suppose you have a phone I could use, do you?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, love, I’ve left it at home. You can come back to mine if you like and ring from there?’ I rummaged in my bag, found some tissues and offered her one.
She accepted the tissue but took a step back. I’d been too forward. Dammit. She still saw me as harmless, but she didn’t think she should come to my home just like that. And she was right. Stranger danger. I’d have told Katie the same. Usually, the ones with strict parents are lacking in street smarts, but this girl had seen enough television to be wary. I wanted to reassure her, tell her that she wouldn’t end up in a Netflix documentary, but I knew that would sound wrong.
‘I’m here to see a friend,’ she said. ‘I was meant to ring her from the train but I fell asleep and I only woke up at the stop. I nearly ended up in Liverpool, so I suppose in the rush I must’ve left the bag behind.’
‘Do you know where she lives, your mate?’
‘Erm, Festival Way, I think.’
I smiled. ‘I live up that way. It’s quite a walk from here, but I was on my way back. You can walk along with me if you like. Safety in numbers. Or you can walk a little behind me if you’re not sure. I won’t be offended. I’d call you a cab but we’ve neither of us got a phone, have we? It’s like my mum used to say: we could’ve had bacon and eggs if we had any bacon, except we haven’t got any eggs.’ I gave a little laugh.
‘Erm…’ She met my eye, still not a hundred per cent. Fred and Rosemary West have a lot to answer for.
‘Or I can give you directions, but they’re a lot to remember.’ Archie sniffed at her crotch. Time of the month most probably, but again, not something to say out loud.
‘Your dog’s cute,’ she said.
‘My daughter’s dog. Not that she ever walks him.’
‘Aw, what’s his name?’ She bent and tickled Archie’s ears.
I thought for a second. ‘Fido.’ I cursed myself. Really, Rachel, is that the best you can do?
But she half laughed. ‘Good name.’
‘Our Polly thought it was hilarious, and it was for about a day.’ Two name changes. The second was better by a country mile. I’d wanted the name Polly, but Mark had preferred Katie.
The girl smiled and stood up. The murderous Wests and other assorted famous predators scuttled away, left her brow clear. Meanwhile I tried to remember the last time Katie had smiled at me the way this young girl was doing, as if I’d said something amusing, as if she liked me.
‘My daughter’s about your age,’ I said. ‘A couple of years younger, but round about.’
The old woman has a daughter, she was thinking, judging by her eyes. She won’t do me any harm. God bless the young. They have such black-and-white ideas about things.
‘We’ll be safe as houses,’ I said. ‘We’ve got our guard dog now, haven’t we?’
‘My name’s Jo,’ she said.
‘Pleased to meet you, Jo.’
She didn’t ask my name, which I was quite used to; I didn’t feel any need to give it. Together we walked up Shaw Street towards Greenway Road. To the left, behind the houses, was the off-licence; to the right, the cemetery and St Michael’s church. It started to spit so I pulled up the hood of my anorak.