‘Or what?’ he snapped. ‘Listen, lady, the only thing I was attempting was to offer my help. You were upset . . . crying. I was concerned for you.’
There was silence for a moment before she uttered, ‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Then defiance returned to her voice. ‘Well, how was I to know?’
‘You could have asked before you whacked me! Just what did you hit me with, by the way?’
‘My handbag.’
‘A handbag! What do you carry in it . . . a ton of bricks?’
‘No, just one. A woman has to protect herself from the likes of you in this Godforsaken place.’
He managed to lift his head then and look at her. The light was poor and it was difficult to tell her age or what she looked like, her face being cast into shadow, but he guessed she was in her early-forties and, from the coat and headscarf she was wearing, appeared just like an ordinary housewife, albeit with her clothes rumpled and a little dishevelled. What the likes of her was doing in this place he couldn’t begin to guess. He wanted to be angry with her for inflicting such unprovoked injury on him, but he also appreciated the reason why she’d lashed out. The characters who frequented this place were about as unsavoury as they came and she would have no reason to believe he was any different. ‘Look, I know I might not look exactly my best,’ he said, ‘but we’re not all thieves, winos, drug addicts or murderers, you know. Many of us haven’t chosen to live this life, but circumstances have given us no choice in the matter.’
Janet Clayton narrowed her eyes and looked him over. What she saw was a shambles of an individual, wearing clothes that should have been cremated a long time ago. It was hard to determine his age and whether he was good-looking or ugly as his face was hidden under a mass of facial hair, and it was her guess that under his holey woollen hat the hair on his head was equally as bushy and matted. The smell coming off him was vile. She doubted his body or clothes had seen soap and water for a very long time. She shuddered as it struck her that he was probably riddled with body and head lice and that she was in close enough proximity to catch them from him. There was one thing that confused her about this man, though. He didn’t blaspheme or have a coarse tone of voice, as she had always expected from low-bred people of his ilk.
Her look of utter revulsion made Glen inwardly cringe. He had lost count of the number of times he’d been viewed in this way by the general public. The humiliation and shame he experienced never diminished. As always he felt a desire to crawl into a hole and hide himself away from critical eyes. Despite still feeling woozy from the blow to his head, he struggled up, muttering, ‘I need to get off.’
Jan watched him stumble away unsteadily, keeping as close to the wall as possible, skirting around the rowdy drunken group gathered around the brazier. The fright and disgust she felt were making her nauseous.
Under normal circumstances she would never have placed herself within a dozen yards of such lowlifes, let alone actually be close enough to breathe the same air as them, but then her circumstances were far from normal at present and she was acutely aware that if she didn’t do something to change them, and quickly, very soon she would look and smell like the dirty creatures she found herself amongst now, being perceived as the dregs of the earth by the rest of society.
But how she’d get herself out of this situation was anyone’s guess.
Thinking of her circumstances brought a fresh swell of miserable tears to her eyes. She felt so alone and vulnerable. She was ravenously hungry but all she wanted to do was sleep for a while, to find some relief from the nightmare she was living. She pulled her coat around her and turned up her collar. Clutching her handbag to her, she slumped back against the hard wall and tried to make herself comfortable on the uneven ground, but just as she was about to close her eyes she realised with horror that several of the inebriated men around the brazier had noticed her and were taking more