George: the nervous officer.

I stared at these girls in bewilderment as they flounced around an alleyway, as if it were their home. Perhaps it was still the shock from that security system...but that confused me. How could these girls manage to secure an alleyway? The youngest, and most confident, looked about seven. Then again, I had some gut instinct that she was a good three or four years older than she looked...maybe because I had younger sisters. Fiona is only fourteen, after all. Too young not to have a father...and that's why I wanted so desperately to help these girls. The oldest looked around my age, which she confirmed when I asked her.

'Right, girls...I'm going to have to take down your names. Just for precaution.' I tried to reassure them as this met worried faces. 'Don't worry, I'm not going to have you banged up or anything, but I could perhaps arrange some accommodation for you. I'm sure you'd feel a lot more welcome in a proper house.' I noted their names. Funny...they all had matching initials. Dakota Drake, 10. Anali Andrews, 15. Yolanda Yoeman, 18. Jaymie Jeskins, 13. It was funny how none of them were related. And they couldn't be in the same year at school. Miss Yoeman, the eldest, talked with a slight lilt, as if she could be foreign. I wondered if she was in the same position as me. I scribbled my name and number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. 'If you girls need anything...please call this number. I don't want to tell you off, I just want to offer help.'

The girls peered at the paper. 'Officer David Golding...' the youngest girl frowned. 'But your badge says George.'

'Yeh' I laugh. 'My first name is George, but I always referred to myself as David growing up. Can you imagine what George Golding would look like?' I smirked. I'd never really liked my first name whilst I was growing up-I thought George was an old man's name. The girls, I noticed, exchanged glances at my name. As if it was some in-joke. The youngest one let me out of the alleyway again, past the security system, and I walked away, though a little slower than normal.

Later on at home I realised...the initials. Was it some club, perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn't seem right for four girls to be living on the streets. I picked up my phone and dialled the number of an estate agents. I had money to spare, I wanted to help. They could stay there for a while-the eldest was an adult-while I sorted out where their families were, or see if they had any background. A little help for them before they all moved on. 'Hello, Barnetts? Yes, I was wondering...do you have any appartments on offer in the area?'

The End

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