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"I'll take you home now." I'm not like this," she said to the window."Like what?" Alex blurted, immediately regretting it. He rushed to cover his faux pas. "This ... confident?"There was enough light inside that they could see each other's reflections in the glass; she gave his a stern look. "You mean this easy?"Her eyes broke off first, returning to the vague horizon.He knew he'd made it worse by forcing her to articulate it."I'm sorry I brought you up here," he managed.Her eyes locked back on his again; there was a spark of fierceness there. "You know, you're not helping." She looked back outside. "I'm not like this," she said again. "I don't just drop everything and run off like this. I don't invite myself over to people's houses and start drinking their liquor." It was like she'd rehearsed it. Like she was trying to get through a speech.Or an apology."I don't ... do that." The thought made her uncomfortable. She stepped back to break the spell, instead regarding her own. I’d helped Liz a few times but I’d never done this by myself before. I cried the first time I saw a girl here who was my own age. I mean one who was obviously living on the streets. It was a shock that someone my age could end up sleeping in a cardboard box in an alley somewhere instead of having their own bed to sleep in. I guess it made what we were doing here so much more real to me. I still sometimes cry about stuff like that. This girl was going to make me cry, I just knew it.I told Tara that she was in charge of the door since she should know the routine by now. I walked up to the girl and smiled at her.“Hi, my name’s Bec. Come on in. You’re in the right place.”She gave me this nervous smile and took a couple of steps inside. Then she stopped and dug a tattered voucher out of her pocket and showed it to me.“A man gave me this. He said I could get some food.”“Yep. Just give it to my sister and I’ll show you around.”I gestured at Tara and the girl tentatively handed over her.
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She was about Lorraine’s age, Paula guessed, maybe a year younger. Her dress wasn’t expensive, probably from a supermarket. Nothing wrong with that, but she was clearly not at home in her surroundings. Still getting use to being one of “John’s girls,” by the look of it. Her name was Beth, and as Paula had guessed, she was just short of her s*******nth birthday.Beth had watched with growing trepidation as she looked around the room. “Fucking Imogen,” she thought. She had reluctantly agreed to come to this party with her older sisters friend, Imogen. Immy, as liked to be called, had told her she’d have great time, free booze, and a night out in London, “come on, lets go and party,” she had told her. She’d lied to her parents about where she was going. Borrowed the awful dress she was wearing, and here she was, wishing she wasn’t. She felt a little better when she saw the other two women arrive. She had felt scared when it was just her, Immy, and those four old men. Immy seemed relaxed,.

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