and she swayed.
Della caught her and guided her to a chair.
‘The same thing used to happen to me,’ she said sympathetically.
She looked up as the shop’s manageress bustled out.
‘I’ll take her home,’ she said, in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘I’m her aunt.’
Gina lived in a couple of rooms a few streets away. Recognising a stronger personality, she made no protest as Della called a cab and took her away.
The rooms were much as Della had expected—shabby and basic, but clean and cared for. Having urged Gina to a sofa, she made a pot of tea and sat down beside her while they both drank.
‘I’m Sol’s mother,’ she said. ‘I came to see how you were.’
‘Did he send you?’ Gina asked, with an eagerness in her voice that touched Della’s heart.
‘No, I’m afraid not. I wouldn’t hope for too much from Sol, if I were you.’
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