The Runaway by Martina Cole Read Free Book Online Page B

quality in his voice and eyes.
    ‘Get out! Go on, mate, get yourself out of here.’ Cathy could hear the sounds of the radio and raucous laughter coming from the lounge.
    The man approached the bed. ‘Come on, love, I ain’t stupid. Got the painters in, is that it?’
    Cathy closed her eyes at this disgusting reference to periods. Leaping from the bed, she screamed out: ‘Mum! Mum! Get in here!’
    The loudness of that voice, coming from such a fragile slip of a girl, took him by surprise. Sidestepping him, Cathy ran into the front room, causing the three of them to fall quiet. The second man sat staring at her in shock.
    ‘Who’s this then?’
    Cathy put her hands on her hips and said nastily, ‘Come on, Mum, do the honours. I have to get up for school in the morning, and there’s a man in my room trying to get his leg over.’
    Madge winked at her and said, ‘He’s all right, girl. Tell him the score and send him back in here. You’re safe as houses, love.’
    Cathy shook her head in consternation. ‘You go and get him, please - he’s your punter, not mine. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him that and all. He seems to think I work with you two.’
    The man walked back into the room as she said that. He was pulling up his flies and belched loudly before saying: ‘Leave it out, girl, you’re ripe for it. Next you’ll be telling us you’re a virgin and your mother’s Lady Docker!’
    The men laughed together.
    Cathy screwed up her eyes in exasperation and Betty stood up. Taking the girl’s arm she said in a soothing voice: ‘Don’t get in a state, Cathy. Come on, I’ll take you back to bed.’
    ‘I’ll come with you.’ The second man’s voice was full of innuendo. ‘See you tucked in, like.’
    Betty looked at him and said laughingly, ‘Stop it, Alan. The girl’s only thirteen. Leave her alone.’
    Alan, a heavy-set man with steel grey Brylcreemed hair and a red nose, said seriously, ‘Thirteen, my arse! She looks old enough to me. Old enough for what I want anyway.’
    Cathy pulled herself from Betty’s grasp. Her voice hard and reminiscent of her mother’s, she said loudly and forcefully: ‘That’s it! I want both of you out - now.’ She picked up the two overcoats from the back of the settee and threw them on the floor.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ The tall thin man sounded amazed.
    ‘You heard. What are you, deaf as well as stupid? I said out.’
    ‘You’ll get a slap around the face, young la—’
    But Ron’s voice was cut off by Madge who butted in: ‘If there’s any fucking slapping to be done, mate, I’ll do it! Now then, Cathy, get yourself back to bed and I’ll sort these two out myself.’
    The girl gritted her teeth. ‘I want them out, Mum.’
    Madge stood up. Pushing out her considerable chest, she said heavily, ‘What you want and what you’ll get is two different things. Now, get back to bed and I’ll see you in the morning. OK?’
    Her eyes spoke volumes and Cathy turned abruptly and walked from the room. The tall man stood in the doorway. She had to squeeze past him to get out.
    He smiled down at her, his breath rank in her face as she made her escape. ‘I’ll see you again, love.’
    She shouted over her shoulder, ‘Not if I see you first, mate!’ Then slammed the bedroom door and made a big production of wedging a chair underneath the handle.
    This was becoming a nightly occurrence and she hated it. Twice in the last few weeks she had been disturbed by men trying to touch her, or had woken to find them leering at her. It was getting beyond a joke. Cathy had long ago come to terms with her mother’s way of life. The taunts of the other kids were like water off a duck’s back now. But as she herself approached womanhood, things were changing, becoming frightening. Because Cathy knew, in her heart of hearts, that if offered enough money Madge would try and talk even her daughter into the ‘life’, something Cathy emphatically did not want. Madge Connor