Suddenly she stopped.
She narrowed her eyes as she saw Sadie step confidently into the ring.
Ordinarily she would never have stood back to let other kids enter a brawl, but something encouraged her to keep her own counsel for a few moments.
Sadie was older than the boy who was being bullied, but the kids who had formed the ring were her own age and outnumbered her three to one. With casual confidence, she stood beside Jamie Brown.
The bullies sneered. ‘What are you then? His girlfriend?’
Sadie’s face didn’t flicker. ‘What do you know about girlfriends?’ she asked quietly.
A blush came to the bully’s cheek. His eyes moved from left to right as he looked to see what reaction Sadie’s comment was getting from his companions; then he made forward as if to attack Jamie Brown. Miss Venables saw the little boy flinch and, in her most authoritarian voice, started to call out the bully’s name. But as she did so, she saw the bully’s friends grab him by the arms and pull him away. They started scuffling among themselves for a moment, but then they caught sight of Miss Venables bearing down on them. Each of them threw her a scornful look, and then turned and hurried away. A final insult – ‘At least I don’t piss my pants!’ – reached her ears, but she let it pass, choosing instead to hurry up to Jamie and Sadie.
‘Are you all right, Jamie, love?’ she asked, kneeling down so that she could be more at the little boy’s level. But Jamie simply looked angry and confused; he turned and ran to the other end of the playground, where he sat with his back to the wall, alone and avoided, as he always was.
Miss Venables turned to Sadie. ‘You should leave that sort of thing to the teachers, Sadie,’ she chided.
Sadie looked calmly at her. ‘Sorry, miss,’ she said, but there was no apology in her voice. She looked over at Jamie. ‘But I don’t see why they have to be so horrible.’
‘I know, Sadie,’ Miss Venables agreed. ‘But sometimes it’s the easy targets that attract the weakest people. Jamie will be all right. I’ll keep an eye on him. Now run along.’
She watched as Sadie made her way back to Carly and Anna, who were laughing good-naturedly. They didn’t seem to have noticed what had just happened, and Sadie rejoined them quietly, only occasionally glancing across the playground to where Jamie Brown was still sitting by himself.
The afternoon passed slowly. Sadie sat at the back of the class with Carly and Anna, her chin resting in the palm of her hand; she stared into space as the teacher at the front droned on and on, his monotonous lesson frequently punctuated by barks of reprimand and tellings-off. It was a typical Friday afternoon.
Carly slipped a note under the table. Her childish handwriting asked Sadie in misspelled English if she still wanted to come round to her house after school. Sadie thought about writing a reply, but instead she just whispered back.
‘Can’t,’ she told her friend. ‘Mum says I’ve got to go back home.’
Carly shot her a surprised look, and Sadie understood why. Her mum never told her when she should be back.
Even when Sadie was younger, she had been allowed to wander round the estate by herself. People came to expect it of her. She was forever knocking on doors, fixing her neighbours with her most appealing smile and flogging whatever goods or goodies her dad had a run on that particular week. She understood how difficult grown-ups found it to refuse such a chirpy young girl and she’d got a taste for it. She would always come home, of course, but she never had to be told.
After the funeral, though, things started to become a bit different. Mum would still never tell her when to be home, and at first that was just because it was the way things had always been. But the loss of her man hit Jackie Burrows hard. Sadie would never forget the first time she got back after school to find her drunk. The bottle of cheap vodka on the smoked-glass coffee table wasn’t quite empty, but it wasn’t far off. An ashtray was full of stubs, and the television was on. Sadie’s mum was comatose on the sofa and, try though she might, the little girl couldn’t rouse her. She shook her, tears streaming down her face and crying at her to wake up; but when she did open her eyes, they just rolled unconsciously to the top of her head before closing again. Sadie had been on the point of calling an ambulance when her mother rolled off the sofa and started vomiting on the carpet.
It had taken her two days to get back on her feet again. Sadie stayed away from school to nurse her, bringing her glasses of water and painkillers. Jackie had begged her daughter not to be angry with her, but Sadie was not angry. In her childlike way she understood. At times mother and daughter held each other and cried and cried, but they never spoke of their sadness. How would they have known what to say?
Since then Jackie had never been that bad. But for several months not a day went by when Sadie didn’t come home to find the ever-open bottle of vodka depleted and the ashtray brimming over. And more than once, when the booze had run out and Jackie was in no state to leave the house, she handed Sadie one of the precious ten-pound notes that arrived in her purse courtesy of the benefits office, and begged, ‘Get us a bottle of voddy, love.’
The first time it happened, Sadie was reluctant. ‘I can’t, Mum. I’m not old enough.’
But Mum looked imploringly at her, a horrible, pitiful desperation in her eyes, and Sadie agreed because she didn’t know what else to do. She took the money down to the off-licence with the grey metal grilles on the front where on a number of occasions she had gone with her dad to sell cheap cases of spirits. The first time she tried to buy vodka the owner had been nervous; but she told him it was for her mum, and she soon ceased to have any problem.
Jackie’s habit grew from bad to worse, and soon she was able to drink the same quantities she had that first time without the devastating effect.
And then, a few months ago, it simply stopped. Sadie returned home one day to discover that for the first time in ages her mum had dealt with the washing – a job Sadie had taken over in some unspoken agreement, knowing that if she didn’t she’d just have to wear dirty clothes. Jackie had folded the clothes and placed them on the kitchen table, and as Sadie walked in, her satchel slung over her shoulder, Mum was standing proudly by her handiwork, dressed and sober. She almost managed to look proud of what she had achieved. No matter that the dirty dishes were piled in the sink; no matter that the house stank of cigarettes. Sadie could tell it was a turning point.
That night Jackie even went out. Sadie lay alone in the darkness of her bedroom, wondering where she was and waiting for her to come back, but towards midnight sleep overtook her; she awoke the next morning to find her mum still asleep. She left for school quietly, without waking her up.
At first Jackie’s evening outings were few and far between. But as the weeks passed, Sadie found herself alone in the house of an evening increasingly frequently. Now and then she would ask her mum where she had been, but Jackie would reply evasively. She was lonely in the house by herself at night, and the creaks and cracks that always sounded ten times louder when the lights were off were frightening. But she never said anything to Mum: she was just glad she had stopped drinking. And when they did spend time together, there would be kisses and cuddles and affection; sometimes they even managed to talk about Dad without crying.
Life was getting better. They were going to be OK. Just the two of them.
The bell rang for the end of school, and there was a sudden cacophony of chair-scraping. Sadie closed the book that she had not glanced at since the start of the lesson and tossed it into her satchel. Most of her share of the chocolate bars she had pinched that morning were still in there, she noticed, as she heard Carly speak.
‘So, why does your mum want you home?’
‘Dunno,’ Sadie shrugged, affecting less interest than she felt.
They wandered out into the corridor and walked towards the exit.
By the time they got there, most of the other kids had left. As they walked through the school gates, Sadie saw little Jamie Brown, the boy she had helped in the playground. He seemed to be in a world of his own, scuffing his shoes as he shuffled along and humming dreamily to himself in that tuneless way that always attracted so much derision from the other kids.
‘You all right, Jamie?’ she asked as they passed.
Jamie looked up as though noticing the girls for the first time – which he probably was. The pungent odour of stale urine hit Sadie’s nose, and she did her best to stop her distaste from showing in her face; but next to her she heard Carly’s voice, half-choking, half-sniggering. She glanced at her in momentary annoyance and then turned her attention back to Jamie. As soon as he had heard Carly, he had hung his head straight back down and started to walk away, his cheek twitching nervously. Sadie strode after him. As she did so, and on a whim, she thrust her hand into her satchel and brought out a bar of chocolate. She shoved it into Jamie’s hand. ‘Here you go,’ she told him. ‘You can have this.’
Jamie stopped once more and stared in astonishment at the foil wrapper in his hand. He looked to Sadie as though he had never seen a bar of chocolate in his life.
‘Go on,’ Sadie said to him, half laughing. ‘It’s not poison.’
A look of indecision crossed the little boy’s face, but eventually he shook his head and handed it back to Sadie. ‘No thanks,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I can’t.’
Sadie and Carly shared a surprised glance.
‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ Carly asked. ‘She just gave it to you, didn’t she?’
‘I’m not allowed,’ Jamie said firmly, handing the chocolate bar back.
‘Who says?’ Sadie asked him gently.
‘My mum.’
Sadie looked at him in confusion. ‘But it’s only a bit of chocolate.’
‘Yeah, but I’m still not allowed.’
‘But she won’t know.’
Jamie looked away, embarrassment shadowing his face. ‘Yeah, she will. She always knows. She gets … angry.’ As he said the word ‘angry’, his voice went hoarse.
Sadie and Carly stood awkwardly, unable to think what to say.
‘Anyway,’ Jamie mumbled, his voice a little aggressive now, ‘it’s nothing to do with you.’ And he strode off, walking with more purpose than before and resolutely not looking back.
‘Weirdo,’ Carly observed, but without much conviction. Sadie said nothing.
It was a ten-minute walk back to the estate, and the two girls remained quiet all the way home. Sadie couldn’t speak for Carly, but she had been shocked by the look on Jamie’s face when he spoke of his mother. It was a look of sadness, certainly, but also of confusion and fear. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to feel those emotions when you were going home.
That thought brought her mother’s farewell words this morning back to her: ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ An involuntary smile flickered across Sadie’s face – like all children, she liked surprises. She liked the anticipation. And most of all, she liked the idea that her mum had thought about doing something for her. It was like the old times, when her dad would arrange little treats for her if he’d made a bit of money.
As they arrived on the outskirts of the estate, Sadie and Carly said goodbye and went their separate ways. In the bright afternoon sunshine, the faceless grey tower blocks almost managed to look cheery, and Sadie continued to daydream as she wandered home, her mind full of what-ifs. What if she were to get back to find the flat as it used to be: full of boxes and the life that her dad breathed into the place? What if they were going out, to the cinema, or McDonald’s? Maybe her mum had rented a video from the shop, and bought them Coca-Cola and crisps.
She wandered up the pathway, put her key in the door and walked inside.
Jackie stood in the kitchen. It was a large room, big enough for a dining table, which they never used. As Sadie stood in the door, her always-present satchel hanging around her neck, she blinked in astonishment. When she had left this morning, the sink had been brimming with dirty plates and pans, and Sadie fully expected to find it so when she returned. Jackie might have kicked the booze, but she was still a long way from being the perfect mum, and it was just a matter of course now for her to have to wash up whatever she needed when she made her sandwich for tea. But this afternoon, the kitchen was pristine. Even the large ashtray had been emptied, although Jackie still had a long, slim cigarette burning between her fingers.
‘Are they new trousers, Mum?’ Sadie asked, a bit disconsolately, as she had been telling her that she needed new school shoes for ages now.
‘Oxfam.’ Jackie smiled a little nervously, stubbed out the half-smoked ciggie and walked forward to embrace her daughter. She planted a kiss on Sadie’s cheek, and the girl turned to look at her mum in suspicious amusement. Mum never kissed her when she got home from school – it just wasn’t something she did.
‘What’s going on, Mum?’ she asked, removing the satchel from round her neck and plonking it in the middle of the floor.
Jackie took her daughter by the hand. ‘Come with me, love,’ she said, unable to hide the quiver in her voice. ‘I want you to meet someone.’
She led Sadie through the kitchen and into the sitting room. As she did so, Sadie felt a lurch in her stomach. Her childish instinct told her what was coming.
The man standing in their sitting room had very closely cropped hair. His face was slightly round and clean-shaven, and his sideburns were sharp and angular. There was a scar, about an inch long, above his right eye, and his lips were pale and pursed. He wore brown trousers, pleated below the waist in such a way that they gave the impression of hiding a bit of tummy, and a pale blue shirt that complimented his piercing eyes. It was his eyes that struck Sadie most of all. They were surrounded by black bags and stared straight at her with a flatness that seemed to contradict the thin smile that spread across his face.
And within seconds of seeing him, she realized that she had met him before. That very morning. He was the man who had sent the shopkeeper packing. The man who had stopped her copping it.
She stared at him awkwardly, her dark eyes narrowing a little and the inside of her mouth suddenly becoming dry. Then she heard her mum speaking.
‘Sadie,’ she said in an emphatically friendly voice, like a hostess introducing two people at a party, ‘I want you to meet Allen.’
She waited for Sadie to say something, but Sadie didn’t.
‘Say hello, Sadie, love. And remember your manners. Allen’s going to be your new dad.’
‘What do you mean?’
Sadie looked round at her mother incredulously. What was she saying? They were in this together, weren’t they? They were mourning her dad together.
Jackie seemed surprised by Sadie’s reaction. ‘Don’t be like that, love.’
Silence.
Allen spoke for the first time. His voice was deep, quiet and not unfriendly; Sadie could not place his faintly Mancunian accent, but to her it sounded almost musical. ‘Why don’t we have a nice brew, eh, Jackie?’ he suggested to Sadie’s mum.
Jackie responded a bit too quickly. ‘Cuppa, Sadie?’ she asked, even though she knew perfectly well that Sadie had never drunk tea in her life. When Sadie didn’t reply and just remained staring at Allen, she turned. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said, almost to herself, as she walked back into the kitchen. But instead of making for the kettle she first picked up a packet of cigarettes on the side, took one out and lit it with a deep drag.
Sadie’s emotions were running riot, and a feeling of physical sickness arose in her gut. She spun round and walked back into the kitchen, wanting to ask her mum a million questions but somehow unable to find the words for even one. Allen followed her and stood in the doorway. The silence was filled by the clattering of her mum getting the tea things together.
When Sadie could bear it no longer she finally spoke. ‘I wasn’t doing anything,’ she whispered.
‘What’s that, Sadie?’ Allen replied, his voice loud enough to be heard by Jackie.
Sadie shot him a spiteful look as her mum turned round to listen. ‘We just met before, that’s all,’ she mumbled.
Allen raised an eyebrow and smiled. ‘No, pet,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Yes, we have,’ she insisted.
‘Sadie,’ her mum reprimanded. ‘Don’t answer back to Allen.’ She turned to her new man. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told him.
‘It’s all right. She’s just getting confused, aren’t you, pet?’
‘I’m not getting confused, I …’ Her voice trailed away as she realized that Jackie was now suddenly too busy making the tea to listen.
Allen approached her, and Sadie became aware of his strong-smelling aftershave. He put his hand into his pocket pulled out a cuddly toy, pink and floppy-eared, and pressed it into Sadie’s unwilling hand. She looked at it briefly. It was not new – she could tell that instantly – and it was the sort of thing that might have been of interest to a child half her age.
‘Squeeze it,’ Allen said.
She did so, and the cuddly toy started to laugh. The laugh lasted for about thirty seconds, during which time the three of them were silent. When it stopped, Sadie looked from the toy back to Allen. He was obviously expecting a ‘thank you’, but she didn’t have the voice to give it to him, and his eyes tightened in momentary annoyance. He looked over her shoulder, across the kitchen and into the hallway. ‘Don’t you think you should pick up your school satchel, Sadie?’ he asked.
Sadie stared at him in astonishment, and then glanced at her mum for some sort of support.
‘Do what Allen asks, love,’ was all she said.
Sadie blinked. She handed the cuddly toy back to Allen, and then turned and walked to her satchel as calmly as her turmoil would allow. She picked it up and hung it on the creaky stair banister where she always kept it; then she ran up the stairs, her feet thumping the floorboards, and slammed her bedroom door behind her. She threw herself on to her bed, hugged her pillow and burst into tears.
After some time – Sadie was not sure how long – she heard the stairs creak as they always did when someone walked up them. There was a knock on the door and, without waiting to be asked, Jackie walked in. She was holding the cuddly toy. ‘Come on, love,’ she said, sitting on the bed beside Sadie and gently stroking her hair.
Sadie continued to whimper into her pillow.
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ Jackie continued. ‘To have a man in the house, I mean.’
‘What about Dad?’ Sadie asked accusingly through her tears.
‘Oh, love. No one’s forgetting about your dad. It’s just …’ Her voice trailed away, and she continued to stroke Sadie’s hair as she waited for the crying to subside. Eventually Sadie sat up and put her head against her mum’s shoulder. Jackie handed her the cuddly toy. ‘You should say thank you to Allen for this,’ she told her daughter.
Sadie looked at it in distaste. She could hardly explain to herself why she found it such an unpleasant thing, let alone to her mum. ‘I’m too old for things like that,’ she said finally. ‘It’s babyish.’
‘I know love, but Allen … He doesn’t have any children, and he just wanted to do something nice for you.’
As she spoke, Sadie felt a hot wave of guilt passing over her, and she knew she had behaved badly. She stared hard at the frayed carpet on the floor in a gesture of apology, but she prayed her mum wouldn’t make her go down and say sorry. ‘Is that where you’ve been going? In the evenings, I mean. To see him?’
Jackie nodded, and brushed a strand of Sadie’s long hair off her face. ‘Allen’s going to look after us, love,’ she said in a half-whisper. ‘He’s going to make sure we’re not lonely, you and me.’
Sadie continued to stare at the floor. ‘Is he going to live here?’ she asked.
‘Yes. If that’s all right with you. Is it?’
For a moment Sadie thought about telling the truth – that she didn’t want anyone else in their house, that she didn’t want anyone else in their life. But then she looked up at her mum and saw the anxiety in her eyes. ‘All right,’ she muttered.
Jackie squeezed her hand. ‘Shall we go down?’ she asked.
Sadie nodded mutely.
Allen was sitting on the sofa downstairs, his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him. When he saw the two of them in the door he sat up straight. Sadie felt her mum give her an encouraging little push, and stepped forward. ‘Thank you for my present,’ she said, without fully catching his eye.
Allen stood up, walked over to her and slid the palm of his hand momentarily down the back of her head. When it reached her neck, she felt him stroke her gently on the shoulder and then squeeze slightly. He stepped over to Jackie. ‘You ready?’ he asked her.
Jackie shot a guilty look at her daughter. ‘Um, me and Allen are nipping out tonight. You’ll be all right, won’t you, love?’
The corkscrew in Sadie’s heart twisted a little further. ‘Yeah,’ she said sullenly. ‘I’ll be all right.’
She pushed past them and hurried back up to her bedroom.
By six o’clock she was alone in the house. It was a light, sunny evening, and from her room looking out over the front of the house she could hear the sounds of other children playing in the street. There was nothing to stop her from going out and joining them, or phoning Carly or Anna, but somehow she didn’t have the enthusiasm. Her mind was saturated with the confusion of her mother’s bombshell; it was like a piece of blotting paper that had soaked up so much ink that you couldn’t see its original colour. She could concentrate on nothing else. At times she found herself crying; then she would find herself unable to cry, even though she felt as though she ought to. She made herself a sandwich, but two mouthfuls in she realized she wasn’t hungry, so she left it half-eaten on a plate by the sink. She ran herself a deep bubble bath – that always made her feel better – but it did no good. She put on her nightdress, which was a bit too small for her, and climbed under her duvet in an attempt to shut out the persistent evening light. Clutching her teddy bear, she bit her lip as the words her mother had spoken echoed in the chamber of her mind.
‘Allen’s going to look after us.’
But they didn’t need looking after.
‘He’s going to make sure we’re not lonely.’
But they weren’t lonely, as long as there was the two of them.
‘Allen’s going to be your new dad.’
But she didn’t want a new dad. She just wanted her old one.
The following morning was a Saturday, and Sadie woke early. The ugly feeling that had been with her until she had finally fallen asleep the previous night had not gone away, and she didn’t feel as if she would ever want to get out of bed. But she was thirsty, so, still wearing her nightdress, she crept downstairs, doing her best not to wake anyone.
Allen was already up, leaning with his back to the sink, a mug of tea in his hand. As Sadie walked into the kitchen, she saw his eyes look her up and down and she felt a sudden prickle of discomfort. He looked at her in an enquiring way, and Sadie found herself almost apologizing for her presence.
‘I just wanted a glass of water,’ she told him.
He acted as though he had not heard her and, instead of moving to allow her access to the sink, he looked meaningfully at the kitchen table.
Sadie followed his gaze. There, on the table, was her beloved satchel. It was lying on its side, the sturdy leather straps unbuckled and the contents spilling out. On top of her few school books, neatly arranged in a precise line from smallest to largest, were the sweets from yesterday.
‘Who said you could look in my satchel?’ Sadie whispered, horrified that anyone would do such a thing and moving swiftly to pack her things up. But again Allen seemed to ignore her.
When he finally did speak, it was slowly and smoothly. ‘That’s a lot of sweets for a little girl whose mam only gives her two pound a week,’ he observed. He sniffed, his nose wrinkling as he did so, and then took a sip of his tea. The blue eyes continued to look at her over the rim of the mug.
Sadie looked at him with what defiance she could muster, but she couldn’t help glancing guiltily back at the table. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve been saving up,’ she retorted.
Allen smiled humourlessly. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mam.’ And then, almost as an afterthought, ‘I don’t think she’d be very happy, do you?’
He turned and poured the dregs of his tea into the sink. Sadie started to pack her things back into the bag, but stopped when Allen spoke again.
‘You didn’t clear your dinner things away last night.’
‘I’ll do it this morning.’
Allen breathed out heavily through his nose, a contemptuous sound. ‘It’s no good doing it this morning,’ he said in a suddenly irritated voice. ‘You made the mess last night. No one likes messy children.’
A thousand different retorts popped into Sadie’s head. ‘I don’t care what you like or don’t like.’ ‘This is my house, not yours.’ ‘What makes you think you can talk to me like that?’ But suddenly she was tongue-tied. She gazed at his back for a few moments before continuing to pack up her satchel. When she had finished, she looked back at him to see that he had turned and was moving towards her; but he stopped in his tracks as soon as she noticed him.
‘You should go and get dressed,’ he told her, his voice quiet again now. ‘Nice girls don’t walk around the house wearing next to nothing.’ He smiled, and the expression seemed out of place to Sadie. ‘Go and get dressed. Then come back down and we can have breakfast together.’
Sadie gathered her satchel in her arms and, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the shortness of her nightdress, ran back up the stairs. She threw her stuff carelessly into her room, and then she shut herself in the bathroom and slid the lock closed. Half of her wanted to run into her mum’s room and slip into the bed next to her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to face seeing the ruffled sheets on the side where Allen had been sleeping, or lying on the linen where his skin had been. She could hear him moving about in the kitchen, but she vowed that she would not leave the bathroom until she heard her mum getting up.
She didn’t have to wait long before Jackie walked down the stairs. Sadie knew what she would be doing – going to find her cigarettes. She listened to the creaking of the floorboards before unlocking the bathroom door and slipping back into her room. She removed her nightie and dressed in a tracksuit – quickly, though she wasn’t sure why. Then she took a deep breath and went back downstairs.
As soon as she walked into the kitchen she could tell that something was wrong. Allen sat at the head of the table, stony-faced, and Jackie seemed unwilling to look her daughter in the eye. A third place was set, with a side plate containing a slice of toast and jam. As Sadie walked in, Allen stood up, picked up the piece of toast, took it to the other side of the kitchen and dropped it in the bin.
‘Sadie, love,’ her mum said, breaking the tense silence. ‘Allen told you he was making you your breakfast, and you let it get cold.’
Sadie was silent, too stunned to speak.
‘What do you say?’ her mum insisted.
The little girl’s eyes flickered between the two of them. ‘I didn’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll get my own toast.’
Jackie glanced at Allen, who almost imperceptibly shook his head. ‘No, Sadie, love. It’s too late now.’ Jackie’s voice was subdued. ‘Try and be quicker next time, all right?’
Sadie opened her mouth to object, but as she did so she caught Allen’s eye. There was something about the stern look he gave her that made her feel suddenly frightened of this man in their kitchen. Too angry and upset to say anything, she turned and left the flat, slamming the front door behind her.
As she made her way to the estate playground, she felt hot tears of indignation welling up in her eyes. Someone called her name in a friendly way, but she didn’t want to speak to anyone and picked up her pace; by the time she reached the playground she was running, and the tracks of her tears were horizontal along the side of her face. It was still quite early, so the playground was deserted as she took her usual seat at the swings.
Sadie just couldn’t understand why her mum was taking his side against her. She hadn’t been out of order, had she? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Then she thought guiltily about the chocolates. It was true that she shouldn’t have stolen them, but they hadn’t done anyone much harm, had they? Not that she thought her mum would see it that way. Sadie really didn’t want Allen to tell Jackie his suspicions, and she hated the fact that this man suddenly had a hold over her.
As the morning wore on, the playground began to fill up – mums mostly, with their kids, but also a few older teenagers, loitering and sharing cigarettes there because there was nowhere else to go. Sadie was used to these people – she recognized most of them and certainly never felt threatened by them – but she didn’t want company this morning; and as the nearby tower block started casting a shadow over the playground, she left with a vague shiver and wandered round the concrete jungle of the estate. By lunchtime, though, she knew she would have to go back: she was getting hungry, and had no money to buy food. And even though she knew she could knock on the door of a neighbour, somehow she didn’t feel like sharing what was bottling up inside her. She headed home.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.