Free The Last Girl by Penelope evans Page A

the least - limited, generally proceeding on the lines of Harry
lifting the lid off his sandwich and saying: 'Egg again, Larry?'
    'Egg again,
Harry.'
    I didn't say
a word about Mandy, though. Partly because I'd expected her to find her own way
up here, so the introductions could speak for themselves, and partly because if
she didn't, then I would have looked a right Charlie, going on about this girl
who can hardly keep away from her old Larry. And I was right, wasn't I, because
there was no sign of her. Yet she must have known we were here, both of us.
    The next day,
Saturday, I did see her, but from a distance. She was on the other side of the
road, marching off in the Archway direction. My guess was she was making for
one of the parks. But why go by herself, I wondered. If she wanted a walk, I
would have kept her company. And I could have told her this - it was hardly the
weather for it. It may only be October, but you should feel that wind.
    One thing
will come out of this, however. I'm going to tell that Harry what I should have
told him years ago - namely that he can find something else to do with himself
on a Friday night. It's not as if he's a friend or anything. See, I've been
thinking. I reckon he gave Mandy the wrong impression, coming here that night.
I mean there was I, making it quite clear that Larry Mann didn't have a soul in
the world, and then up he pops, making her think there's hardly a word of truth
in it. No wonder she steered clear of me all through the weekend.  Now she's
probably telling herself that Larry's got pals all over the place, and the last
thing he needs is another one.
    So no more
Harry then.
    All the same,
even Harry can't be the only reason. What about us being neighbours? I've seen
more of Ethel this weekend than I have of her, and the last thing you could
call Ethel is a friend. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think she trying
to avoid me.

Chapter Six
     
     
    Isn't that just the way? You can live with a problem night
and day and still not see the answer even when it's staring you in the face.
Come last night, it was a relief when finally it got too late to stay up,
meaning I could relax, stop the waiting and the listening, and think about
getting some much-needed sleep. And it's only then, as I'm climbing into bed,
with my mind on something completely different (whether a hot-water bottle was
called for, to be exact) that the answer hits me, bang, right between the eyes.
    It was the
phone call. Of course. One moment she had been sitting there, full of friendly
interest, practically pleading with me to tell her my life story, and the next
moment she's gone. Vanished. And what took her away? The phone call, that's
what. I have to say - I laughed out loud then. I did! It was so obvious, yet I
hadn't given it a thought. Only it's then the next logical thing occurs to me.
What could there be in a phone call that could make a friendly old kid like
Mandy suddenly become all retiring?
    Bad news,
that's what.
    No doubt
about it - she heard some terrible news that night, and that's the reason she
hasn't been up. Because she doesn't want to let on. I tell you, that girl is
the mirror image of me - a very private person not given to airing her
problems. I reckon she's been down there, huddled away in those rooms of hers,
mulling it over and wishing there was someone she could turn to. Too shy to go
bothering the one person she knows would care. That would be my Mandy all over.
It's enough to make you weep, really it is.
    I got to sleep,
no problem, after that, but naturally she was the first thing on my mind when I
woke up this morning. And by then, one thing was for sure: it couldn't go on.
The poor girl could waste away before anything could be done for her, and whose
fault would that be? Mine - for not doing anything about it.
    Which is why
the first words that entered my head when I woke up were: Something Must Be
Done.
    Only what?
    I can tell
you what I would not be doing for a start.