Camellia by Lesley Pearse Read Free Book Online Page B

terrible, and her eyes were now almost embedded in fat. 'Mummy will be cross if she comes home and I'm not here.'
    'I shall be more than cross with her when she does come home,' Bert said tartly. 'She needs a good talking to. I'm taking you round to my mother's, I'll leave a note for Bonny.'
    Camellia's face contorted into an expression of anguish.
    'She can't help the way she is, Mr Simmonds.' She caught hold of his arm involuntarily. 'She's sad inside all the time, that's why she goes out a lot. Please don't get her into trouble?'
    Bert thought about that plea from Camellia later that night when he was cuddled up beside Sandra. He had popped back to his mother's an hour ago and heard a great deal more that made him feel uneasy. Camellia was fast asleep upstairs, but his mother had described the girl's worn underwear, the untreated boils on her neck and chilblains on her inner thighs.
    Camellia had opened up to his mother, as people usually did. But although she had confessed her diet consisted of fish and chips and sandwiches, she had staunchly insisted Bonny loved her. There were descriptions of picnics out by Camber Castle in the summer, days out to Hastings, and weekend trips to London. As Bert's mother pointed out, behind the visible part of Bonny, the drinking, the stream of men friends and wild spending sprees, there was a woman who cared enough to make some occasions memorable.
    'I know it might seem kinder to get Camellia taken away from her mother,' his mother said as he left, catching hold of his hand, her eyes full of compassion. 'But don't do it, son. There is something between them that is fine and good, however it might seem otherwise to you. I can't explain this very well, but I know I'm right. Let's try and make things better for Camellia. Let me encourage her to come here for a bit of home cooking, and I'll teach her a few homemaking skills. Maybe I can help her with a diet too. Bonny's all she's got right now, and they need and love one another.'
    Camellia sat up again as they drove up the High Street. It was quiet now, the shops soon to close and just a few people strolling along.
    'Will you be all right with Mrs Rowlands?' Bert asked. He would have preferred to take her to his mother's again, but the baker's wife had been so insistent that Camellia was to stay with her.
    'I'll be fine,' Camellia said, her tone implying it was all the same to her wherever she was sent. 'Don't worry about me, Mr Simmonds, you've got your own children to think about.'
    That struck Bert as a remarkably adult retort. He felt she meant that his wife would take a dim view of him fussing over Bonny Norton's child.
    'Well, I'll be popping in and out to see you. If things don't work out you can tell me then,' he said.
    Some half an hour later, up in the Rowlands living room above the bakery, after Mr Simmonds had left, Camellia took the offered cup of tea in silence. Mrs Rowlands was talking ninety to the dozen, flitting from the amount of cakes and pies they'd sold that day, to what people had been saying about Bonny's death and then onto what they'd have for tea, without even drawing breath. The room was cluttered with ornaments, china or glass cats, dogs and other animals filled every surface, but it was bright, sweet smelling and welcoming, so very different from Fishmarket Street.
    Camellia couldn't talk, or even cry. All she could think of was that she was finally released from a huge, impossibly heavy burden.
    No more noisy parties, no 'uncle this' and 'uncle that' walking around the house in their underpants or waking her at night with the sound of bestial grunting and thumping. No more cleaning up vomit or finding the kitchen and lounge floor awash with beer and dog-ends blocking up the sink. Never again to face the humiliation of asking for credit at the corner shop.
    She couldn't think of one thing she would miss her mother for. She was used to being alone, she'd been left for long weekends since she was eleven. The only