Excerpt

"She’s only 14 years old.”

Martine heard one of the ladies say, looking at her with pity in her eyes. After Jackie went to her desk and sat down, one of the women walked up to her.

            “I know of a place that may be able to help you. It’s a temporary place to stay until you find your own place. It’s a home for abused women in Kensington, called Margaret House.” 

She handed Jackie a piece of paper with a number on it. Jackie picked up the telephone and dialled the number.

            Jackie repeated everything she had told her boss to the person who answered and then hung up, went over to the colleague who gave her the number and told her Margaret House had a room for them, but it wouldn’t be available for another week.

            “I have a caravan in my garden, you can stay in the caravan until the room is available,” the lady offered.

            Jackie thanked her and went back to her work. She didn’t say a word to Martine for the rest of the day. At the end of the day, Jackie motioned for her daughter to follow her.

            “Come Martine, time to go.” After a short drive, her mother pulled into the driveway of a house she had never been to before, got out and disappeared inside.

            Martine fell asleep and nearly jumped out of her skin when her mother opened the car door. For a second she didn’t know where she was and then it all came back to her. 

            “Come Martine,” Jackie said, taking her to a caravan in the back garden of the house. 

            “We will be staying here for a while.”

            Martine had never been in a caravan. It was small and cramped, there were two bench-type seats with a table in the middle to the left, to the right was a two-ring gas cooker and a bed was made up at the far end. 

            “I’m going to get your clothes from the flat, I’ll be back soon.” Her mother left, closing the door behind her. 

            Martine couldn’t keep her emotions in any longer and lay her head on her arms on the table and sobbed. She felt so alone and she hurt physically and emotionally. She sobbed until there was nothing left in her, then fell asleep.

            “Martine wake up, I have your clothes and some chips for supper,” Jackie said when she got back, not noticing her red eyes and how run-down she looked.

            “Come and help me get your stuff out of the car.”

            Once again all her belongings were in black bin bags, except for her school bag which was on the back seat. Martine carried them to the caravan and plonked them on the floor, not leaving much space to get to the bed. Jackie told her to put her belongings in the cupboard, which she did before sitting down for her supper.

            Martine loved a bag of hot chips with salt and vinegar, but this time she just couldn’t enjoy them.

            After supper, Martine was taken to the house for a bath and to get ready for bed. She couldn’t wait to get in the warm water and have a chance to wash the shame off her body. With a flannel, she scrubbed every inch of her body until her skin felt clean and then washed her hair - it made her feel a lot better. Back at the caravan, Jackie had made up Martine’s bed and they both turned in.

            Martine woke up a little confused but then realised where she was.

            “Get up and get dressed, we’re going in for breakfast.” Jackie was sitting on the edge of her bed already fully dressed.  The house was old and very tidy, but you could see the family was not well off as there was minimal furniture.

            “Come in, sit down,” a lady said as Martine hesitated, not knowing where to go.

            Martine was brought a bowl of soft porridge made from ground maize, served with butter, sugar and milk. She scooped a spoonful and put it to her mouth, tasting the porridge with the 

with the tip of her tongue. Yummy, thought Martine as she proceeded to finish her warm, creamy and sweet bowl of porridge.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            “I have to go to work now,” Jackie said.

Leaving Martine in the caravan. Soon after, the lady from the house brought Martine a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and a bottle of water.

            “A jam sandwich for lunch and a drink,” she said kindly.

Martine thanked her and put them on the side by the cooker, then everybody was gone and she was alone. Martine lay on the bed and closed her eyes. Thoughts of the last 48 hours filled her head.