Read Online After Hours by Jenny Oldfield - Free Book Online Page A

of the Mission contained more men’s dormitories. Glancing to either side, she could see barrack-like rooms, each of which gave beds to thirty or forty men. ‘Just “Annie”? Is that all?’ She grasped at a straw. After all, there were hundreds of Annies round here, lots of room for Hettie to have jumped to the wrong conclusion.
    â€˜At first, yes. I had to help him to bed, he was so drunk. He moaned the name “Annie” over and over, then it was “Paradise Court”. He held on to my arm. He told me he’d left his Annie down the court and gone away to sea. But now he’d come back to find her.’ Hettie stopped and turned helplessly. ‘I prayed hard, Fran. And God forgive me, I prayed for him to go away and never come back! I was glad when he went the next morning, poor old sinner. And I can’t tell you how much I dreaded seeing him come through them doors again!’
    â€˜But he’s here now?’ A deadening feeling had seeped into Frances that the old tramp’s story might indeed be true, and that here was someone who could turn up out of the blue after twenty-odd years and set their lives in turmoil. Her voice flattened out into a monotone, jerking between her narrowed lips.
    Hettie breathed in sharply. ‘I was in Reception earlier on, helping the major with admissions. The major calls out names and issues blankets, I write down the name and give each man a number for his bed ticket. “Wiggin,” the major says. It comes over loud and clear, the first time I’ve heard it. My hand can hardly write it down for shaking. I look up and see he’s back right enough. And now I’ve got his last name and a face to put it to.’
    â€˜So you telephoned us? It’s all right, Ett, you did the right thing. We’ll help you sort this out if we can.’ Frances managed to control her fears and take charge. ‘Show us where he is and let’s see what we can do.’
    â€˜It’s Annie and Pa I’m worried about,’ Hettie whispered, leading the way into a dormitory. ‘Whatever’ll we do, Fran?’
    Frances gave her a brief shake of the head. The three women went in at last, and two of them being in civvies attracted a certain amount of attention. Eyes swivelled in their direction from the bunks and from groups of men huddled by radiators. ‘Oo-er!’ came the old-fashioned call from shrivelled, cracked lips. A cackle went, up, fuelled by Sadie’s obvious blushes. Then a lone baritone voice struck up into the sudden silence.
You are the honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee,
I’d like to sip the honey from those red lips, you see ...’
    Sadie shuddered and forced herself to walk on.
    â€˜This ain’t the place for the ladies to kip,’ another, rougher voice called out. ‘You missed your way, I think!’ His laugh turned into a hoarse cough.
    â€˜Ain’t we the lucky ones?’ someone else cried. ‘Good tommy in our bellies and fine lady visitors!’ His wild eyes stayed riveted on Sadie’s fashionable short skirt.
    â€˜Nah!’ His companion from the bunk above cut in. ‘They ain’t no fine ladies. They’re soul-snatchers, just like the rest!’ He sneered and spat on to the floor, before rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head.
    Hettie, used to the name-calling, went right down the central aisle, reading off the number on the end of each bed. But when she came to the one supposedly occupied by the man who called himself Wiggin – number 407 – she came to a sudden halt.
    â€˜Is this it?’ Frances had followed close on her heels. She stared at the empty bed, the blanket thrown to one side.
    â€˜Where is he?’ Sadie panicked more at the idea that the man was lost than at the previously dreaded idea of having to confront him. He might drift back on to the streets, find his way down to Paradise Court before they could check