No Place of Safety by Robert Barnard Page B

There was also an undersized, rat-like person with vicious eyes, who smelled. His name was Mouse. Katy had to keep telling herself that there weren’t many like him. Jezebel was a jolly, uncomplicated girl whose very nickname was a humorous gesture. She kept the supper table lively, and Queenie made for conversation with her variety of begging techniques.
    â€˜You could learn from her,’ said Ben to Simon.
    He looked down with his dull eyes at the funny black face, not seeming to comprehend.
    After supper Jezebel and Tony washed up, and Alan put away. There was chaos if the washers-up were allowed to put away – things would go missing for days. That was the last duty of the day, however. Once or twice, on fine evenings, Alan and Katy had gone with Ben to the pub and sat outside with a soft drink. They were never quite sure that they were welcome, though, and they were unused to pubs. They told themselves that, after all, they had been together, the three of them, all day. Tonight Ben just said he was off for a pint, and they respected his privacy. He had been on duty since before breakfast time, with odd jobs, shopping, and a long confessional session with Bett Southcott. Alan and Katy settled down to a game of Scrabble, sometimes interrupted by people coming down for a mug of coffee, or their having to get up to shout up the stairs to tell someone to turn their tranny down. The Centre was never entirely quiet until about midnight, but most of the noises were expected and comfortable.
    They were getting into a routine – a routine that would have been unimaginable only a few weeks before. Sometimes Alan and Katy felt like pinching themselves to make sure their new life wasn’t a dream.
    It was coming up to ten o’clock, and they were watching a feeble sitcom on television, when the front door bell rang. Alan pressed the mute button and went out to the front door. Katy, impelled by she knew not what except that she thought it was a female voice, went to the hall door to listen. Whoever she was, she was urgent, impassioned. Katy wentout into the hall, then to the front door to stand beside Alan.
    â€˜I’ve told her there’s no room,’ Alan said, turning to her.
    The girl outside was brown-skinned, dark-eyed, and very beautiful. She looked about seventeen, and was carrying a small suitcase. She was clean, almost well dressed, in the Western manner, and she did not look like a candidate for the Centre.
    â€˜Please. Please . You’ve got to help me,’ she said, her black eyes turning to Katy. ‘My father is trying to force me to marry a terrible man. A horrible person, someone I hate more than I can explain. I’d commit suicide rather. If I sleep rough my father will find me. I would stand out. If I go to relatives they’ll send me back home. Please! Please help me!’
    Katy’s decision was immediate.
    â€˜You can sleep with me in my room,’ she said, standing aside. ‘Tomorrow we’ll talk it over with Ben. He’ll know what to do.’

CHAPTER 6

Sanctuary
    Katy and Alan made no bones about it: they were not going to wait up for Ben, not going to ask his permission. By the morning he could be presented if not with a fait accompli then at least with a situation that would seem to have been temporarily solved.
    It was not that they mistrusted Ben, doubted his sympathy or compassion. They knew him, their newly discovered father, or thought they did. His instinct would be to offer the girl the protection of the Centre. On the other hand, they remembered the note of caution he had sounded after his talk with Dickie Mavors: they had to be more careful who they took in. And there was no doubt that the newcomer fell well outside the usual category of young people for whom the refuge was set up.
    Her name was Mehjabean Haldalwa, but she said she was known at school as Midge. That Katy found out, and much more, as they talked before sleeping together in