friend in the world, but I'll be all right. Never mind me. Did they hurt you, are you alright?"
She shrugged and gave him a thin smile.
"I'm fine, it's not the first time I'm sorry to say, but thanks for asking, it makes a change."
The woman struggled and hauled Harry to his unsteady feet. She patted his arm tenderly.
"I'm on me way home, and it ain't much, but you're welcome to stay, it's the least I can do."
Ruth Marker had a small flat in an old house on Poland Street. She lived up at the top of a narrow staircase and had explained to Harry, as she had half helped, half dragged him up two flights of stairs, that below was an old Chinese man and next door a coloured couple. Quickly stripping him of his outer clothes, Ruth discovered that the wound beneath was only superficial, as the layers of cloth had taken the brunt of the attack. She had run down and asked old Mr Chong for help. He had been able to stop the bleeding very quickly and had given Harry some traditional Chinese medicine in the form of tea. After the old man had left the flat, Ruth Marker had cleaned Harry up as best as she could, chattering nervously to him all the time. Royle hadn't taken much in of what she had told him; he had been too tired and too glad of a place to sleep. He had aimed for the worn flower patterned sofa in the corner, but she had steered him over to the bed. Keeping their clothes on, they curled up and with Ruth's arms around him, Harry Royle feeling safe for the first time in many nights, had fallen into a deep dreamless sleep.
The next morning he had woken quickly, the way you do when you suddenly become aware of being in different surroundings. Eyes wide open, he sat bolt-upright. He winced from the pain of the deep cut on his chest and remembered the events of the previous night. The woman from the night before swam into view. She wore a beautiful Chinese, jade green, silk dressing gown, it had two ornate dragons chasing each other across its surface. He noticed in the early morning light she looked much younger, minus her war paint. Harry managed a weak smile. The woman threw him a newspaper, which he caught in an instinctive manner, wincing once more.
"Not much in it as usual I'm afraid, just some Brigadier's daughter who's got the longest nails and a nice story about some old miner who's now mayor, but still signs on the dole, lovely he is, but not much else. I'm sorry Mr, but I ain't got no food in, but we can eat out if you like?"
Harry, half glanced at the paper as he flicked through its pages. He looked up at the woman in the dressing gown, who was now brushing her short black hair. He squinted sideways at her and asked.
"Two questions, first why? And weren't you a blonde last night?"
Turning to look at him, she laughed.
"Fellers like blondes and when I come off duty, the Barnet gets slung in the cupboard, that way she ain't me, you understand? As for why, well you looked like you needed a friend and I can't put me finger on it, but I just got a good feeling about you somehow. And besides all that, me stars said I'd meet something unexpected in me path this week, so I blame fate. I'm Ruth by the way. Ruth Marker."
Harry Royle got off the bed and ran his fingers through his sleep prickled hair.
"Harry Trent, thanks, Ruth, you're very kind."
The woman shrugged off the words and showed him where the shared bathroom was. On his way out the door she handed him a small wash bag and a faded but clean blue towel. He discovered not only soap but a razor in the bag. The water was cold and with no shaving brush, the soap refused to lather properly, and then his raw skin felt the sting of a bladed used to shaving legs. Still twenty minutes later, he not only felt better but looked more his old self too. Just as he finished his wash and shave, he heard a shuffling of feet outside the door and had assumed it to be Ruth. But on opening the door, he saw a bright face beaming at him.
The man was about thirty years old and
She shrugged and gave him a thin smile.
"I'm fine, it's not the first time I'm sorry to say, but thanks for asking, it makes a change."
The woman struggled and hauled Harry to his unsteady feet. She patted his arm tenderly.
"I'm on me way home, and it ain't much, but you're welcome to stay, it's the least I can do."
Ruth Marker had a small flat in an old house on Poland Street. She lived up at the top of a narrow staircase and had explained to Harry, as she had half helped, half dragged him up two flights of stairs, that below was an old Chinese man and next door a coloured couple. Quickly stripping him of his outer clothes, Ruth discovered that the wound beneath was only superficial, as the layers of cloth had taken the brunt of the attack. She had run down and asked old Mr Chong for help. He had been able to stop the bleeding very quickly and had given Harry some traditional Chinese medicine in the form of tea. After the old man had left the flat, Ruth Marker had cleaned Harry up as best as she could, chattering nervously to him all the time. Royle hadn't taken much in of what she had told him; he had been too tired and too glad of a place to sleep. He had aimed for the worn flower patterned sofa in the corner, but she had steered him over to the bed. Keeping their clothes on, they curled up and with Ruth's arms around him, Harry Royle feeling safe for the first time in many nights, had fallen into a deep dreamless sleep.
The next morning he had woken quickly, the way you do when you suddenly become aware of being in different surroundings. Eyes wide open, he sat bolt-upright. He winced from the pain of the deep cut on his chest and remembered the events of the previous night. The woman from the night before swam into view. She wore a beautiful Chinese, jade green, silk dressing gown, it had two ornate dragons chasing each other across its surface. He noticed in the early morning light she looked much younger, minus her war paint. Harry managed a weak smile. The woman threw him a newspaper, which he caught in an instinctive manner, wincing once more.
"Not much in it as usual I'm afraid, just some Brigadier's daughter who's got the longest nails and a nice story about some old miner who's now mayor, but still signs on the dole, lovely he is, but not much else. I'm sorry Mr, but I ain't got no food in, but we can eat out if you like?"
Harry, half glanced at the paper as he flicked through its pages. He looked up at the woman in the dressing gown, who was now brushing her short black hair. He squinted sideways at her and asked.
"Two questions, first why? And weren't you a blonde last night?"
Turning to look at him, she laughed.
"Fellers like blondes and when I come off duty, the Barnet gets slung in the cupboard, that way she ain't me, you understand? As for why, well you looked like you needed a friend and I can't put me finger on it, but I just got a good feeling about you somehow. And besides all that, me stars said I'd meet something unexpected in me path this week, so I blame fate. I'm Ruth by the way. Ruth Marker."
Harry Royle got off the bed and ran his fingers through his sleep prickled hair.
"Harry Trent, thanks, Ruth, you're very kind."
The woman shrugged off the words and showed him where the shared bathroom was. On his way out the door she handed him a small wash bag and a faded but clean blue towel. He discovered not only soap but a razor in the bag. The water was cold and with no shaving brush, the soap refused to lather properly, and then his raw skin felt the sting of a bladed used to shaving legs. Still twenty minutes later, he not only felt better but looked more his old self too. Just as he finished his wash and shave, he heard a shuffling of feet outside the door and had assumed it to be Ruth. But on opening the door, he saw a bright face beaming at him.
The man was about thirty years old and
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