“Go on, get aht! Me and and yer ma ‘ave some business to attend to!”
The little girl looked at her ‘ma’ slouched across the worn and torn sofa, the strap still tight around her upper arm and the syringe, with its old blunt needle, lying on the carpet below her outstretched hand.
“I told yer, get lost and don’t come back until yer got summink fer the table, bloody kid!”
The empty vodka bottle shattered against the wall close by and she ducked instinctively then turned and ran through the door into the street outside.