Outcast by Kerry Barnes

Author:Kerry Barnes [Barnes, Kerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Once Upon A Book
Published: 2021-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Although Kirsten was as hard as nails, underneath her sour face and massive build she had a soft side to her, but she only saved it for the right people. Brenda, on the other side of the street, was suffering from dementia, and Riley had asked Kirsten if she would make sure that his mother had her lunch. He told her he would pay her for her inconvenience. Kirsten would have done it for free because two doors along lived her own mother, for whom she made lunch every day, so another light lunch to make was no skin off her nose, and she liked to help if she could.

With a plate of cheese sandwiches covered in cling film in one hand, Kirsten closed her front door with the other. She put her keys in her bag and walked down her garden path. She would have carried on, but gripping her stone wall, there was a young woman who was dressed in an old-fashioned summer dress that was covered in claret. Instantly, Kirsten placed the plate on the stone pillar and held the young girl up. She was clearly ready to collapse.

‘Dear Gawd,’ she said, as she looked around, hoping that whoever had done this to the young woman wasn’t still about. ‘Let me get you inside, darling. You need to go to the hospital, pet,’ she said, as she took a closer look at the girl’s battered face.

Supporting the injured girl’s arm, Kirsten guided the youngster into her living room. ‘There, love, sit down, and I’ll get you cleaned up and call an ambulance. Give me a minute.’

A creature of habit, Kirsten had a routine that she had to stick to or it would cause her undue anxiety. She hurried to Brenda’s, shoved the cheese sandwiches on a plate in her kitchen, and then sprinted to her mother’s and did the same. ‘Can’t stop, Mum. I’ll see you later,’ she called out, as she closed her mother’s door behind her.

The girl was in the same position on the sofa when Kirsten returned. Wincing at the girl’s injuries, she headed for the kitchen to fill a bowl with warm water and a drop of Dettol. She had a first aid kit and inside was a lint cloth. Her kitchen was like a clinic: it was so clean in appearance and everything was white. She liked to keep a tidy house and prided herself on it.

After pulling a footstool close to the sofa, Kirsten filled the cloth with the warm water containing Dettol. She began by gently dabbing the blood from the girl’s face. ‘Ah, love, what the ’ell happened? I bet a geezer did this to you, eh? Fucking men! What’s your name, sweetheart?’

‘Eden,’ the girl whispered, through blood dribbling from her lips.

‘Eden, shall I call the police?’

Instantly, Eden gripped Kirsten’s wrist and tried to shake her head.

‘Okay, darling, okay. I won’t, but we need to get you to hospital. You might have a broken jaw and your lip may need a stitch, and .

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