When she's done with the bread, she cracks open a tin of mushroom soup and starts drinking it cold. She glances sidelong at me. "Thanks," she says grudgingly.
"Don't worry about it," I say. I give her a minute to finish the soup and then as she's opening another tin I say, "So are you sleeping on the streets at the moment?"
All at once she stiffens up, on her guard again. "Maybe."
"I'm not going to report you, you know."
"I know."
"So where are you sleeping?"
"I've got a place," she murmurs, clearly reluctant. I wonder again why I'm bothering. Why does it matter to me what happens to some street girl? But then I think of Darren, and I don't even have to ask myself why.
"It's just . . ." I pause and pull the set of keys I picked up along with the food out of my pocket. "Well, if you need somewhere to stay . . . my father's a landlord. He has properties all over the city, and there are a couple of empty houses that he's doing up. This is the key to one. It's not wired up or anything. No furniture; you'd have to sleep on the floor . . . and you'd have to make yourself scarce during the day, in case Dad decides to go do some work there. Just a place to spend the night--if you want to, that is?"
The girl's looking at me with mistrustful eyes. I hold the key out to her. "It's not a huge deal," I say. "There's nothing there to steal . . . and besides you don't look the type to go thieving. Surely it's better than staying out on the street?"
For a moment I think I've pushed things too far, that I might have scared her off. But then the girl nods slowly, and reaches out to take the key. All the while she's looking at me warily, as if frightened that I might lunge forward and bite her. Her fingers close around mine. She's so cold she might as well be dead.
"Good," I say. "I'll take you there now, once you've finished eating. Okay? You can spend the night there and I'll bring some more food around in the morning."
"Thank you," she says again in that same cautious voice. Then, "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" She sounds genuinely puzzled as well as scared.
I take a moment to think about it. I want to be honest with her. "Because," I say, "you remind me of someone very important to me."
"Who?"
"I'll tell you when I see you tomorrow. Come on."
