The bloody handkerchief

“Here”, he held out his handkerchief. “It’s clean”, he added.

She shook her head and shuffled away from his proffered hand, inching backwards into the base of the wall as far as she could, as if hoping it would melt away so she could disappear completely. Blood mixed with tears and snot slowly ran down her face; a cut above her eye and a bloodied nose told a tale of a very recent violent encounter. Her head was bowed, her mousy blond hair hung in unkempt strands around her face.

“I won’t hurt you”, he offered quietly.

He could tell from her revealing clothing, faded and crumpled and now soiled with drips of her own blood, that she was likely one of the street girls who were often seen on the main thoroughfare a couple of blocks over. His girlfriend lived in one of the apartments near here, a lot of students did. He’d been urging her to move in with him in his larger place across town - they’d been dating over 9 months now and it didn’t seem like an unreasonable suggestion. But she was stubbornly attached to her ‘independence’ as she thought of it, and had so far refused. 

This incident was going to lend a lot of weight to his case. In fact, he was really not prepared to take no for an answer any longer.

The girl, she looked maybe 17 or 18 years old, raised her hand gingerly to her face and carefully explored the extent of the damage.

“I could take you to the hospital?” He knew she’d decline even before she shook her head again, more firmly this time. “I’ll be fine” she whispered, then tried to clear her throat. “It’s not so bad” she muttered more loudly, in a tone that may have been supposed to reassure both of them. 

She had started to tremble and Josh felt suddenly foolish for not offering her his coat for warmth, or perhaps just draping over her lower body. It was a grey September day in Felixstowe, and it was definitely too cold to be sitting on the ground, dressed in very little indeed. He went to pull his jacket off to give to her and as he moved, she flinched away, moving as if to get up and flee.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I was just going to give you my jacket!” 

She raised her head and searched his face with her eyes, perhaps looking for any evidence of treachery and hidden motives. 

“Please, my name is Josh, I was visiting my girlfriend over on Duke Street and had just cut through here on my way back to the tube station. I saw a man hurry past me looking, well, shifty…?” He paused as he considered what exactly it had been about the man that had caused him to stop and peer down the adjacent alley, to see what potentially villainous acts of wrongdoing he’d been involved in. And there she was. He sighed. “And I saw you here and just wanted to make sure you were all right. Which you’re not. Let me take you to the hospital to get checked out. Your nose might be broken.”

“I’ve got to go”, she moved to stand up, but swayed towards Josh as she tried to stagger to her feet. He caught her arm gently to steady her but she snatched it away with panic in her eyes, and braced herself against the wall. 

They stood in an awkward silence and she refused to look at him again, her head down and her trembling growing more obvious. She hugged her arms around herself, wishing she could move away from the icy cold bulk of the alley wall, but not trusting her legs to fully support her, or her fuzzy head to know where she should go. 

Carefully, he slipped out of his warm jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She stiffened but slowly relaxed into the warmth of his padded overcoat.

“Thanks”, she mumbled, and looked at him again. “I, I really am fine, I was just dazed is all. That dickhead caught me by surprise, wanted, well, wanted something I wasn’t prepared to give him and got mad when he couldn’t have it. I’m normally more…”, she paused, almost looking surprised by her sudden turn of talkativeness. “But I have to go”, she finished, more firmly.

Josh eyed her with uncertainty. “There’s a cafe just around the corner, people in it I’m sure. Warm. Will you let me get you a cup of tea, take a moment to clear your head and get warm, then you can go wherever you want.”

She thought this over, looking a little stronger now that his jacket was helping warm her icy bones. She’d had worse beatings; the throbbing in her head was already easing to a dull roar and she was pretty sure her nose wasn’t broken. She was mostly annoyed that she’d thought that that john was on the up. She’d seen him a couple of times before she was sure, and none of the other girls had put out any warnings about him. Goddamnit. She was now 30 quid out of pocket - he said he’d just wanted a blowjob - and said he was parked up just around the corner. Goddamnit, how could she still be so naive!?! It was going to get her killed one day.

She sighed. And here she was again, about to break another of her unwritten rules. She could murder a cup of tea…

Josh was surprised when she asked for his handkerchief. “I need to wipe my face. Sal doesn’t like us going in there if we’re…” She paused. “...dressed for work. And she’s unlikely to let us in at all if my face looks how it feels.”

Josh looked only minorly uncomfortable as she smeared blood and mucus on the pristine white cloth. 

“Sorry” she offered. 

“No, no, it’s absolutely fine”, he said. It had been a gift from his sister many Christmases ago - she always complained he was impossible to choose gifts for. He wondered again if this was her life now, a life on the street. And he berated himself again, for the millionth time, that they hadn’t been close enough as siblings that she felt able to confide in him. Confide in him that their step-father… He clenched his jaws and closed his eyes. His shrink had worked with him on this for 18 months now, but the guilt still gnawed away at him. He had always been so busy, so occupied with his job, his life in London. 

“Um, do you want it back?”

He opened his eyes and the girl was holding out his once-pristine and no longer white handkerchief.

“Um, sorry, it’s… I should clean it, maybe, but I don’t know how I would then…” She wondered how she would get it back to him once it was clean. 

“No, no, that’s ok”, he croaked. He took it, stuffed it in his pocket and cleared his throat. “My sister gave it to me”.

“Oh, god, I’m really sorry”, she said nervously, and then “I should go”.

“I’ll tell you about her”, he blurted out, surprising them both. “Let's get that cup of tea.”