The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (37 page)

She bought some fruit and a piece of fish for a pie. By the refreshment stall the yummy mummies were out in force, but this time she didn’t begrudge them their cooing, well-fed babies. Ruth’s unhealthy focus had cured her of that.

An older guy was manning Jason’s stall. Disappointed, she turned away. It would have been nice to lean into him and feel his strong arms around her, for him to take away some of the pain by just being there, but she was so used to dealing with things on her own that she figured it would keep.

Instead she wandered aimlessly for a bit, then stopped to chat with Winston. He gave her the low-down on the local gossip. New stalls opening up, the coolest place to hang, who’d been arrested. She let it wash over her and just enjoyed the sound of his sing-song Caribbean lilt.

‘What you done with old Fay?’ he asked.

This startled her. ‘Nothing.’

‘Then how come she sleeping rough now?’

‘Fay’s sleeping rough? Where?’

‘In da park,’ he said. ‘Where else would a body sleep rough?’

Helen could think of a thousand other places: shop doorways, bus stops, dark alleys. ‘Which park?’

‘The one ’bout half an hour from here, on the two feet that God gave you.’

‘Is she all right?’

Winston rolled his eyes. ‘What planet you come from? She’s unhappy.’

Helen wanted to ask more, but Winston had turned his full attention to a customer and was joking and chatting. Absent-mindedly she felt the fabrics hanging from the roof of his stall – the cottons, the woollens, the silks (hah!) – a kaleidoscope of colours and a wealth of textures.

Finally he turned his attention back to her. ‘Well? You fingering or buying?’

She found the park easily enough, a typical suburban park big enough to have its own modest lake, and tracking down Fay could be tricky. She might not be here at all. Helen traversed the park from the north end towards the tube, which ran across the park at the other end, looking to both sides to see if she could spot her.

At the end was a playground behind a low metal fence, kitted out with swings, brightly-coloured climbing frames and a rubbery surface to cushion any falls. Under the watchful eye of their mothers a hoard of children were playing, their young voices shrill over the din from the train passing overhead. Outside the fence was a row of benches, and Helen spotted a familiar figure.

It made sense. Playing children would be a natural magnet for Fay.

She slid down beside her. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

‘You okay?’

Fay didn’t answer. Instead she clutched a handful of faded photographs in her lap. Stupid question, really.

‘You know who I am, I suppose.’

‘Mimi’s daughter. I always wondered what became of you. Have you come to take your revenge?’

‘Not any more.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I think I understand now what happened back then.’

Fay gave a dry laugh. ‘Then you understand a lot more than I do.’

‘I’ve spoken to the dog owner.’

‘What dog owner?’

‘There was a man with a dog that morning on the Common. I remembered him, and I managed to find him. Through a personal ad in the local paper.’

‘How clever of you.’ Fay smiled suddenly. ‘Now you mention it, I do remember a dog that morning when I … when your mother …’ She trailed off. They both knew what came next.

‘Do you remember anything else?’ asked Helen.

‘Not really. It’s so long ago, and my brain was pretty addled.’

‘Not even going for a pee behind a tree?’

‘The dog man told you that? Oh, god, how embarrassing!’ Her attention returned to the photos in her lap, straightening out one which had become crumpled. Then her gaze settled on the children in the playground, and her expression pierced Helen to the bone.

‘You shouldn’t be here. You’re just torturing yourself.’

‘I can’t help it. I lost so much. My life. My kids.’

‘We’ll find them. Okay?’

Fay shook her head. ‘It’s too late. They’re grown up now, they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.’

‘You don’t know that until you’ve tried.’ She paused. ‘You know, maybe we can get some of it back.’

‘How?’

‘By trying to piece it all together. If you don’t remember what happened on the Common, can you remember what happened before you got there?’

Fay was silent for a while. ‘Well, I was following her around a lot. Despite the restraining order I’d be parked outside your house, or near it, sometimes all night sleeping in the car. That morning I’d been there since the night before, and I woke up when your mother came out. She strapped you in your car seat.’ She sent Helen a sideways glance. ‘You looked sort of ill, and I thought she was taking you to hospital, but then she drove to the park instead. I got it into my head she was meeting my husband, and that she’d tried to give me the slip by getting up so early. I’m afraid I just lost it.’

‘Did you see anyone else following her?’

‘Not really. I mean there was a cyclist on the road. One of those fanatics wearing the whole Tour de France get-up, but you can hardly chase a car while riding a bike, can you?’

‘Oh, I dunno, I’ve seen plenty of despatch riders on bikes terrorising other road users.’

Fay laughed quietly. Another tube train rolled past on the track above them, and the children’s voices rose to a crescendo to drown out the noise.

‘I’ve asked you this before, but did you kill my mother?’

‘The truth is, I don’t know,’ Fay replied. ‘I wish I could say for sure, but I can’t. I know I wanted to.’

Their eyes met, and Helen read the apology in them. She knew she should be angry, but for some reason she couldn’t summon up the feeling. If Fay was guilty, she’d paid for it ten times over. Perhaps it was time to let it go.

Reaching out, she took Fay’s hand, which trembled slightly in her own, and surprised even herself by saying, ‘I’m beginning to feel that it doesn’t matter any more. Whatever you did do, I think I understand your reasons. I can’t keep hating you, it’s too exhausting. Let’s concentrate on the future. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was from the beginning.’ She squeezed Fay’s hand. ‘Won’t you come back home with me? Charlie absolutely hates me for chasing you away.’

‘Charlie can be a bit like that.’ Fay rose and gathered up her photos and a few other belongings. ‘But it’s my fault too. I should’ve demanded to know what it was all about. I’m just not very strong.’

No, Fay wasn’t strong at all, Helen noted as they made their way back. She’d used up all her strength in prison in order to survive, but now she’d been set free, she was just like so many other people daily trudging the streets of London, isolated, overlooked, living on the poverty line with no real future ahead of them.

She was going to change that. Together with Jason and the others they would make sure Fay had a good life, and the first thing they’d do was to track down her family, come what may.

‘I’m making fish pie for supper,’ she said as they crossed the road. ‘Fancy giving me a ha—’

She never finished the sentence. Everything happened so fast. An engine revving, Fay shouting and shoving her in the back, making her stumble and fall towards the kerb, dropping her bags. Her knee took the brunt of the impact, her elbow the rest. Red dots swam before her eyes, and she heard a sickening thud. A woman screamed.

And then it was all over. The dark car which had ploughed into Fay turned the corner with a screech of brakes. The shock on the faces of passers-by imprinted itself onto Helen’s mind. She ignored her throbbing knee and the searing pain in her elbow. Ears thrumming and eyes stinging with tears, she crawled to where Fay lay all twisted and bent, and hugged her close.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gentle hands lifted her away, and kind words brought her back to reality.

‘You mustn’t move someone who’s been in an accident,’ said one.

‘That bag lady saved your life,’ said another. ‘The car was coming right at you.’

‘I got some of the registration number,’ said a third, a young man already on his mobile. Detached, Helen thought he looked like an estate agent, with his sleek suit and gelled hair.

They helped her to the pavement and made her sit down. A woman with a pram knelt beside her and pressed a stack of baby wipes in her hand. ‘It’ll help with the bleeding.’

Bleeding? Helen looked at her hands, and the horror of what she saw made bile rise in her throat.

‘It’s not my blood, it’s Fay’s. Oh, god! Is she …?’

‘Fay? Is that her name?’ The woman put her arm around Helen. ‘It was a bad accident, I’m afraid. The ambulance is on its way.’

Helen looked to where Fay was lying. Someone had draped a jacket over her, and her face was ashen, as if she was already dead. Blood seemed to be everywhere – on her clothes, hair, face, on the road. Helen’s vision blurred, and someone helpfully pushed her head between her legs as the world swam and blackened, her heart beating like a drum. The last thing she remembered before a simple partial seizure took hold of her was the gentle hand on her neck …

Jason pushed open the double doors to the waiting room and found Helen with her head resting against the wall. Relief flooded through him, followed by guilt that he hadn’t been there when she needed him.

He wanted to put his arm around her to make sure she was all right, but Charlie beat him to it, throwing herself down in the only available chair next to Helen.

‘Lee told us,’ he said.

‘How is she?’ asked Charlie.

‘In surgery. She … That’s all I know.’

Despite her ability to hold herself together, Jason read the strain in her eyes. On the way here Charlie had filled him in on the loss of her grandmother. He knelt down in front of Helen and took her hand. How could life throw so much shit at one person? Both Helen and Fay were getting more than their fair share. ‘Could you tell us what happened?’

‘I’m not quite sure.’

‘Try, please.’ Jason squeezed her hand.

Sighing, she drew herself up. ‘Winston told me Fay was sleeping rough in the park.’ She glanced sideways at Charlie who sent her a fearsome scowl. ‘I just wanted her to come back, didn’t care about what she might have done. We were crossing the road, talking about … food, I think. I heard a car. Fay pushed me, then she got hit. The driver didn’t stop.’

Just the facts, Jason noted. No grizzly reporting of the gory details, the thud, the screams, the blood, but his mind filled in the blanks for him. He let go of her hand and stood up again, his jaw tight with anger that some people could be so cold-blooded and just drive off after an accident. Helen retreated into herself, and he realised she must think him angry with her. Relaxing his shoulders, he smiled back at her.

‘And what about you? Are you hurt?’

‘A couple of bruises. It’s nothing.’

She looked pale and drawn, with dark shadows under her eyes and her hands clasped so tightly in her lap the knuckles had gone white.

‘When was the last time you ate?’ he asked.

‘Ate? I … I don’t know. This morning maybe. I can’t remember.’

Charlie shook her head. ‘That’s not good. You have to pace yourself, with your epilepsy and that. Low blood sugar can lead to seizures.’

‘Says who?’

‘I read up on it.’

‘Well, if I have a worse seizure than the minor one I had earlier, I’ll be in the right place, then, won’t I?’ Helen snapped.

‘All right, you two, leave it out.’ Jason dug inside his pocket and pulled out a crumpled tenner. ‘Charlie, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and see what you can find? A sandwich and maybe some biscuits or chocolate.’

Charlie sent him a mutinous look. ‘Why me?’

‘Because if Helen does have a seizure, I know how to deal with it. And because I’m asking nicely.’

‘Who’s Nicely?’ she retorted but snatched the tenner out of his hand and stalked off.

‘Thank you,’ said Helen when she’d gone.

‘Charlie can be a bit blunt but she means well.’ Jason sat down, still wanting to put his arm around her, but her body language didn’t invite it so he had to be content with just sitting next to her.

‘You see the good in everybody, don’t you?’

‘I try to.’

‘There’s not much good in me,’ she said.

‘What a load of rubbish.’

She turned. ‘It was my fault.’

‘How so?’

‘I chased her away, then she got run over. That’s what happens to people around me, they get hurt. Sometimes they die.’

‘Like you’re some bad-luck penny?’ He risked putting his hand on her shoulder, felt her stiffen, and moved it again.

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re not, you know. Please don’t blame yourself.’

‘It happened to my mother, and my grandmother.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I heard about that. I’m truly sorry. Not your day today, is it?’ he added, hoping that the joke would cheer her up a little. She didn’t seem to notice.

‘Now Fay’s been hurt as well,’ she said. ‘Who’s next? Charlie or Lee? Maybe you? You better stay away from me if you value your skin.’

‘Fat chance of that. I’m in for the long haul.’

‘Are you?’ She met his eyes, and he read the same warning he’d felt coming off her in spades since he got here. What was
up
with her?

‘If it came to choosing between me and your father, where would your loyalties lie?’

Her question perplexed him. His relationship with his father was complex, and needed careful handling. Helen was always treading so carefully that this sudden heavy-handed approach was like shooting sparrows with cannons.

He opened his mouth to protest against being put in this situation when a doctor approached them, pulling off his surgical mask. ‘Your friend is going to be all right,’ he informed them. ‘It was touch and go for a moment. She was bleeding internally, but we’ve managed to control it. Her hip is fractured, she’s broken several ribs, and has a severe concussion. We’re keeping her in intensive care overnight.’

‘So what happens now?’ asked Jason.

‘I understand it was a hit-and-run, so the police will need to speak to you when they get here. Other than that, there’s nothing more you can do. You might as well go home. We’ll call you if there’s any change in her condition, but I’m cautiously optimistic.’