Street Kid Read Online Free PDF Page B

Later, when they’d gone, Leonard showed me two oranges they’d given him, holding them through the bars of his cot. I wished I could have had one.
    Although I wasn’t really expecting anybody to come and see me, I still scanned the queue every day to see if I had any visitors. I’d pretty much given up when one day I saw Uncle George and Auntie Gertie smiling and waving at me through the glass. I felt so warm and happy, it was as if the sun had suddenly poked its head out from between the clouds. I beamed back at them from my cot. By then, my bandages had been taken off so I could sit up.
    ‘How’s my little injun?’ George asked, having settled himself on a chair next to my cot. ‘Feeling better?’
    I told him that I was. Then Auntie Gertie leaned forward. ‘You’ve got a bit of something on your cheek, poppet.’ I’d only recently finished lunch. ‘Here, spit on this.’ She held out a hanky and I spat on it and she rubbed at my face. ‘There, all clean now,’ she said.
    They didn’t stay long and when I saw Uncle George stirring in his chair and glancing at his watch I turned to Auntie Gertie. ‘Can I go home with you?’ I asked. ‘Please!’
    ‘No chuck, not yet. You have to stay here a bit longer.’ She stroked my hand. I saw a look pass between her and George and I knew that my question had upset them both. Feeling too old and powerless to do anything made them feel unnerved and I didn’t think they’d come again to visit. The thought of me, small and vulnerable, in my hospital cot pleading for a home would, I sensed, become a painful memory that they’d want to push away.
    When they left, they blew kisses until they were out of sight. I had an immediate pang of homesickness when they left, but later on I felt comforted by their visit. I’d been sensitive to the fact that the other kids had been wondering what was so wrong with me that no one cared enough to come. Now I’d shown them that I did have friends after all.
    I must have been in hospital another week before Auntie Gertie and Uncle George came again. This time it was to take me home. As I sat on one of the little blue chairs in the ward, I wondered where I would be taken. I hoped I might be going back to the Roberts’ house, but instead we went to the shop. I was relieved that there was no sign of Freda or my father when we got there; and, as the flat was empty, Uncle George and Auntie Gertie stayed over that night to look after me.
    My father and Freda came back late in the afternoon the next day. I slipped quickly to my room and from there heard the row raging downstairs. The Roberts were really angry and I could pick out almost everything the four of them were saying.
    ‘We’ve been horribly deceived by you,’ Uncle George was saying. ‘We thought you were a trustworthy pair but you’re wicked, just wicked.’
    ‘Oh, and I suppose you know everything,’ Freda spat at him. ‘Mrs Craddock makes bloody sure of that.’
    ‘It wasn’t just her, Freda.’ It was Auntie Gertie’s turn. ‘Your fancy man’s wife came round to ours and told us every last detail. That poor little kiddie.’
    My heart turned to ice at Auntie Gertie’s words and my thoughts were spinning round and round, out of control. Mum came. She knew I was here. Why didn’t she take me home with her? I felt my heart breaking. Mum, you must have known how bad it was with him. Why didn’t you save me from them? Don’t you care for me at all?
    Over the next couple of days, a stream of serious-looking visitors came to the house. From under the table I could see men with polished brown shoes and pinstriped trousers pacing the living room, and ladies with court shoes and nylon stockings sitting with their legs crossed, gloves and handbags placed close to their heels. They asked my dad and Freda a lot of questions in serious-sounding voices. At some point, Mrs Craddock was called in for her pennyworth. She used the ‘chicken’ word a lot and clucked her tongue