better now, not her face as that was partially obscured by a hood or scarf round her head, but enough to see she was fat and shabbily dressed.
'I'm a policeman,' he called out again. 'Sgt Simmonds from Rye.'
He thought he heard a sob, though it could've been only the wind. He walked towards her.
A car sped past in the opposite direction and for a second its headlights lit up her face clearly. To his astonishment it wasn't an old lady at all, but Camellia Norton.
'Camellia!' he gasped. 'What on earth are you doing out here?'
'Is it really you, Mr Simmonds,' she said, moving a little faster towards him.
The rear lights of his car weren't bright enough to see her face clearly, but he sensed she was crying and saw one hand move to wipe her eyes.
'Come on, love, get in the car,' he said. 'You must be frozen.'
Bert hadn't seen the girl for some time, even though he'd run into Bonny on many occasions in the George and the Mermaid. He knew all about their eviction from Mermaid Street and the move to Fishmarket Street, but Bonny just laughed it off and had implied that things were on the up and up for her. As Bonny always looked unfailingly glamorous, despite her drinking and chasing men, Bert hadn't actually believed all the rumours about how dreadful her daughter looked these days.
But now as he put on the car's interior light to get a better look at Camellia, he was shocked to find they weren't rumours but truth. He knew she must be fourteen now, but she looked much older because she was so fat. Her complexion, which as a young child had been clear and glowing, was now sallow, with a crop of vicious spots on her chin and forehead. She pushed back her hood to reveal hair which, aside from being dull with grease, also appeared to have been cut off abruptly with garden shears, and her thin gabardine school mackintosh was several sizes too small, pitifully inadequate against the wind and cold.
Bert took her icy hands between his own and rubbed them. They were red and chapped, nails bitten down to the quick.
'What's happened?' he asked gently. He could see she was trying not to cry, too cold to even shiver. 'Why are you out here all alone?'
'I lost my bus fare/ she said weakly, turning her face away from his, as if unable to meet his close scrutiny.
'Well, you're all right now,' he said comfortingly, shocked that she'd already walked some four or five miles from Hastings and appalled at how she might have ended up if she had walked the entire way home to Rye. 'A hot bath and a cup of tea will sort you out. I'd better get you home. Your mum will be worried about you.'
'She isn't there,' Camellia said in a small voice as Bert started to drive. 'She's gone away for the weekend.'
'What! And left you on your own?' Bert's head jerked round to her in astonishment. 'Surely not?'
'She goes away a lot these days/ Camellia shrugged. 'I'm usually all right, but this time she forgot to leave any money for the meter.'
The story came out in fits and starts. It was clear Camellia didn't want to divulge anything, even to someone who knew her mother as well as Bert did. But once she got going it came out like a torrent.
On Friday evening she had arrived home from school to find her mother had gone away. She got herself some fish and chips, then settled down to watch television. She hadn't even finished eating when the meter ran out and she went round the house with a candle looking for a shilling.
When she failed to find any money she went to bed, but a further search this morning brought nothing more than sixpence and a few pennies.
'I couldn't ask any of the neighbours,' she whispered in shame. 'They talk about Mummy enough already. I had just enough to get almost into Hastings on the bus. I took one of Mummy's rings to the pawn shop in the Old Town.'
Bert thought this was very resourceful of her, such a solution would never have occurred to him. But then Bonny had probably acquainted her with such places.
'The man gave me two
'I'm a policeman,' he called out again. 'Sgt Simmonds from Rye.'
He thought he heard a sob, though it could've been only the wind. He walked towards her.
A car sped past in the opposite direction and for a second its headlights lit up her face clearly. To his astonishment it wasn't an old lady at all, but Camellia Norton.
'Camellia!' he gasped. 'What on earth are you doing out here?'
'Is it really you, Mr Simmonds,' she said, moving a little faster towards him.
The rear lights of his car weren't bright enough to see her face clearly, but he sensed she was crying and saw one hand move to wipe her eyes.
'Come on, love, get in the car,' he said. 'You must be frozen.'
Bert hadn't seen the girl for some time, even though he'd run into Bonny on many occasions in the George and the Mermaid. He knew all about their eviction from Mermaid Street and the move to Fishmarket Street, but Bonny just laughed it off and had implied that things were on the up and up for her. As Bonny always looked unfailingly glamorous, despite her drinking and chasing men, Bert hadn't actually believed all the rumours about how dreadful her daughter looked these days.
But now as he put on the car's interior light to get a better look at Camellia, he was shocked to find they weren't rumours but truth. He knew she must be fourteen now, but she looked much older because she was so fat. Her complexion, which as a young child had been clear and glowing, was now sallow, with a crop of vicious spots on her chin and forehead. She pushed back her hood to reveal hair which, aside from being dull with grease, also appeared to have been cut off abruptly with garden shears, and her thin gabardine school mackintosh was several sizes too small, pitifully inadequate against the wind and cold.
Bert took her icy hands between his own and rubbed them. They were red and chapped, nails bitten down to the quick.
'What's happened?' he asked gently. He could see she was trying not to cry, too cold to even shiver. 'Why are you out here all alone?'
'I lost my bus fare/ she said weakly, turning her face away from his, as if unable to meet his close scrutiny.
'Well, you're all right now,' he said comfortingly, shocked that she'd already walked some four or five miles from Hastings and appalled at how she might have ended up if she had walked the entire way home to Rye. 'A hot bath and a cup of tea will sort you out. I'd better get you home. Your mum will be worried about you.'
'She isn't there,' Camellia said in a small voice as Bert started to drive. 'She's gone away for the weekend.'
'What! And left you on your own?' Bert's head jerked round to her in astonishment. 'Surely not?'
'She goes away a lot these days/ Camellia shrugged. 'I'm usually all right, but this time she forgot to leave any money for the meter.'
The story came out in fits and starts. It was clear Camellia didn't want to divulge anything, even to someone who knew her mother as well as Bert did. But once she got going it came out like a torrent.
On Friday evening she had arrived home from school to find her mother had gone away. She got herself some fish and chips, then settled down to watch television. She hadn't even finished eating when the meter ran out and she went round the house with a candle looking for a shilling.
When she failed to find any money she went to bed, but a further search this morning brought nothing more than sixpence and a few pennies.
'I couldn't ask any of the neighbours,' she whispered in shame. 'They talk about Mummy enough already. I had just enough to get almost into Hastings on the bus. I took one of Mummy's rings to the pawn shop in the Old Town.'
Bert thought this was very resourceful of her, such a solution would never have occurred to him. But then Bonny had probably acquainted her with such places.
'The man gave me two
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