Free The Last Girl by Penelope evans

one. When did that happen?'
    To be honest,
I had a good mind not to answer, but being the man I am, I go ahead anyway.
'Six, maybe seven years ago.' This time I don't look at her. 'Go ahead, laugh,
but that doesn't mean it won't happen again. If a woman's going to go out night
after night when it's all dark, in a neighbourhood like this, what can you
expect? Someone's bound to get the wrong idea. All I'm saying is, a young girl
like yourself should be taking a lot more care.'
    Silence then.
At least she's not laughing. 'Thank you, Larry,' she says at last. And for a
moment it all seems worth it.
    But there was
still one more thing at the back of my mind.
    'What I don't
understand, Mandy love, and I'm sure you'll excuse me asking - how come you're
so hardup? What about your dad? He must have pots of money. Enough surely so
you don't have to be walking the streets of London at all hours.'
    That's all I
said, honestly. Just those few little words, but talk about blue touch paper!
Nothing intentional, of course, but you should have seen the effect. That sweet
little face of hers goes all hard, like water freezing. And her eyes! No
exaggeration, you could have lit a match off them.
    'Listen
Larry,' she says. 'The last person in the world I'd take money off is my
father. I don't need him, and haven't done these last two years. All right?'
    And there's
nothing I can say, because she's slammed the door in my face.
    The funny
thing is, it didn't bother me a bit - for the simple reason it wasn't me she
was upset about, but him - her dad. Either I'm no judge or there's an almighty
difference of opinion there. And it's not just a case of all those thousands of
miles between them getting in the way, we're talking about a major gulf. Did
you hear the way she snapped at me? Seems as if you only have to mention his
name and suddenly you're swimming in shark-infested waters. If you ask me,
something's gone terribly wrong in that family.
    Now for all I
know, it may be her fault. But Larry's not one to take sides, especially not in
a case like this. Because we're in exactly the same boat, Mandy and me, cut
adrift and left to sink or swim. And who's done it to us? Family, that's who.
Which makes you think there never could be two people with more in common.
    It would
explain all those blips, as she calls them, though! Poor girl just hasn't
learned to get angry, that's her problem.
    Still, I
didn't want to leave on an unfriendly basis, so I knocked on the door, just
softly, and called out to her. 'I can see you're busy, Mandy love, but listen
to me. I don't want you worrying about what I told you tonight, about the women? 
You stop at home and nobody will touch you. Larry will see to that.'
     
    All very interesting, you might say. But it goes downhill
after that. You'd hardly have expected to see any more of her that night, but
what about the next night, and the night after? To make matters worse, Friday
night is Harry's night.
    Harry. He
calls in on his way home from the stall. Has done every single Friday, barring
accidents and holidays, for twelve years, ever since Doreen left. It's the
guilt, what with her being his sister and treating me the way she did. I reckon
he only meant to come the once to talk about it, get it out in the open, maybe
do a bit of apologizing on other people's behalf. But then he should have
realized the first time, wild horses wouldn't have persuaded me to mention that
woman's name. Yet he keeps on coming, as if he's still waiting.
    That being
the case, though, it doesn't leave us much else to discuss. Nowadays he can't
even talk about Molly. After years of being a creaking door she surprised us
all by finally pegging out last year. I was sympathetic, naturally, but there's
only so much you can say. And at least she stuck by him, right to the end, so
he can hardly have anything to complain about there. All he's got now, though,
is the stall, and that's hardly a topic for debate. Conversation, therefore, is
- to say