In which Helen is shocked by Carla
‘I presume Great Aunt Rebecca has left?’ Helen asks as they descend the escalator, one at each end of the pram. She has to strain her head upwards to see Carla.
‘You gathered that from yesterday?’
‘Sort of. But she wrote me a letter.’
They set the pram straight and check the shopping is still in place. They’ve added a few other items on their way through the store.
‘I didn’t know,’ says Carla. ‘What about?’
‘Just a few things she wanted to say before she went.’ Helen remains non-committal. She cannot bring herself to divulge the contents. On first reading the letter she had been angry, then denied it to herself, then finally seen that from the old lady’s point of view there was some truth in it. She does not wish Carla to know what Rebecca said simply because she may agree with it and then the opportunity to salvage their friendship will be lost.
‘I felt that somehow she could see straight through me,’ she tells Carla in a rush of honesty. ‘It made me want to tell her things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Nothing really. Just a feeling that I could.’
‘I still remember she didn’t send us presents,’ Carla says, thrusting open the store door and holding it while Helen manoeuvres the pram through. ‘Mingy Beck! Isn’t it odd how one thing sticks.’
Into Helen’s head pops the memory of the special present of the lightweight silver foil ball on the elastic string. A present to keep quiet about. Yes, it’s odd how something can stick. And what would Rebecca have said if she had told her about it?
Helen stops on the pavement. Yes, that’s exactly what she did want to tell her, but for the life of her she doesn’t know why.
And then she sees something. Someone. Watching their way from the far side of the crowded pedestrian precinct they have emerged into. There is only the tell-tale flop of hair and a cigarette – but Helen instinctively reacts. There is no time for proof.
‘Carla! This way.’ She swivels the pram with a jolt right through a hundred and eighty degrees and swiftly re-enters the shop, Ignoring the annoyed looks of people who were behind her. ‘Come on!’she urges over her shoulder.
Carla is perplexed but is following. Good. There is no time for explanation. She doesn’t wish to break the news to Carla about Stefan, Steve or whoever and his little tricks. They must disappear fast.
She grabs the girl’s arm. ‘Better this way. Nearer to the car.’
The North Street exit is across the shoe department, which is not busy enough for Helen’s liking at this moment. No matter – they’re probably not being followed, but she is driven by guilt and responsibility. Maybe overreacting a bit.
‘I’m on the bus, remember?’
‘Not now, you’re not. Too difficult in rush hour. I’ll take you.’
‘But––’
Helen pushes on and they leave the shop where there are fewer pedestrians and shoppers, but many more side alleyways where they can escape if need be. Helen never imagined she would end up in this position: acting lke a snivelling pickpocket desperate to get lost from view. She is fast wishing she was back in her old predictable existence. ‘Addison would never forgive me if anything happened to you,’ she explains, in a rush of inspiration. ‘He’d blame me, for sure.’
‘Don’t be daft. And slow down! I’m tired.’
‘Sorry.’ Helen is repentant. They are within yards of her parking bay.
‘Helen. I can look after myself.’ She takes the pram from Helen and buries her hand under the mattress. ‘Look!’
Carla doesn’t unwrap the article but Helen feels the shape and pressure of it as Carla pushes it gently at her palm. She stands stock still and stares at the girl, unable to bring herself to speak. Carla must know about Steve. And if so, is deliberately keeping it from Helen for some reason of her own, whilst Helen is deliberately suppressing information about Steve’s attack on herself. Is this what friendship is about? Covering up the terror and sharing the inconsequential? Is this what she dreamed about having and risked everything for?
A dangerous and damaging impulse, which might have untold effect on the pair of them, is fighting at the edge of her awareness, trying to enter consciousness and be expressed. With an enormous effort, Helen displaces it again, as the wrapped object is put once more under the sleeping baby and they walk the last few metres in silence.
