Free Lola Rose by Nick Sharratt

ever hit anyone. You’re a good boy. And Jayni’s a good girl and I’m not going to risk either of you getting hurt. So we’re starting our new life and we’re going to make it work, right?’
    â€˜Right!’ I said. I nudged Kendall. ‘Say right!’
    â€˜Wrong,’ Kendall mumbled into the pink fur of my denim jacket, but now he was joking.
    He behaved like a little lamb in the housing association office. ‘I’m Kendall Luck and I’m five years old,’ he announced to everyone. His eyelashes were still wet and his little peaky face looked very earnest.
    Everyone smiled and said, ‘Bless him!’
    It was Kenny who got us a home. We waited for ages and then a lady with glasses took down all our details. Mum was fine at first, making up all sorts of stuff, sounding so convincing, even though she was going nibble nibble on her thumbnail. But then we were led into another big room full of waiting people. It took another age before it was our turn to see anyone and then Mum had to start all over again saying the same stuff to a man with a beard while he filled in another form.
    I knew Mum wouldn’t be able to remember every little detail of her story. She’d been making it up as she went along. She had a stab at it, gabbling quicker and quicker to get it over with, but she got stuck when they asked about our schools. She’d made up a name before and they’d written it down. Mum tried to remember it, a vein standing out on her forehead. She looked at me desperately.
    â€˜Tell them the name of your school, Jayni,’ she said.
    Jayni .
    I started saying something quick but the man wasn’t listening. He put down his pen. ‘Jayni?’ he said. He looked at me. ‘I though you were called Lola?’
    â€˜She is; Lola Rose. Jayni’s just a silly nickname – Jayni-Payni, we’ve called her that for fun since she was little,’ Mum said.
    It was clear the man with the beard didn’t believe a word she was saying. ‘Mrs Luck, I get the feeling you’ve been a little economical with the truth,’ he said. ‘Some of your details don’t quite add up. You need to be completely frank with us about your previous domestic circumstances. Now I’m sure you’ve got your reasons—’
    â€˜Yes, I’ve got my bloody reasons,’ said Mum, going red. She yanked at her blouse and showed the man the bruises, still as purple as pansies. ‘We’re running away from the guy who did this to me, right? He’s started on his daughter too – there’ll be no stopping him now. I’m trying to make a fresh start and do my best for my kids. There’s no going back. He’ll kill us.’
    â€˜Have you been to the police?’
    Mum snorted. ‘What are they going to do?’
    â€˜Lock him up?’
    â€˜For how long? And what about his mates? And what happens when he’s let out? What happens to us then?’
    â€˜I take your point, Mrs Luck. I do understand.’
    â€˜No you don’t. You can take my point and shove it straight up your bottom,’ said Mum, standing up. ‘I suppose you’re not going to find us somewhere to live now?’
    â€˜That sort of abuse isn’t helpful, certainly. I will still try to help you but I can’t work miracles. I’ll put your family on our waiting list.’
    â€˜And what are we supposed to do meanwhile? Sit in the gutter for six months?’
    Mum called him a very very rude name and then stood up. ‘Come on, kids, we’re going. This is a waste of time.’
    Kenny looked at his hands. He looked at the chair he’d been sitting on. He looked under it. His mouth went into a letter-box shape and he started howling.
    He howled and howled and howled. He wouldn’t stop when I picked him up. He wouldn’t stop when Mum picked him up. He wouldn’t stop when the lady with glasses brought him a