It was scandalous he was a waiter. Jobs were ghettos, like how people got trapped.
But if she had told him about Brian.
After dinner Helen had taken out the old photographs again and spread a few on top of the cupboard. She settled Sophie down with a movie and while washing the dishes, crockery and pots she kept the photographs in sight. If Brian’s health wasnt good he should have returned to Glasgow. That was almost like an obvious thing. Because Mum would have been so so pleased, she would have looked after him, and been glad to do it. Mum wasnt old but she was getting old. With Brian there, it would have been mutual, really, looking after each other. His presence alone, it would have been great for Mum. Really. And vice versa. They were close. They always had been. And Mum with the spare room; her flat was spacious, a castle in comparison to the place Helen had. Brian would have been comfortable there and just nestled in and made it his own. Did he have friends from the old days? Who were they? Helen couldnt remember. Did boys have friends? They did but not like girls, not like in the same way. The first time in London she met William Boyle in a pub along Charlotte Street. It was so weird. She was there with another girl from her work and just like ordering a drink and there was William just standing there at the bar. He had been in her class at Primary School and Secondary School so they knew each other quite well. Helen had been so like pleased to see him. But he had changed so much. He was always a talker and so very very cheery, always just cheery, but now he wasnt, he hardly spoke at all when she met him. Helen had to carry the conversation. And he wouldnt come to their table. Why didnt he? Oh he had to go, and that was him and away he went. Whatever it was he was doing, he didnt say but it made you wonder about him and his life because it was like not being comfortable, even if he was guilty, he didnt want to be seen. But it made you wonder, so he had something to hide.
Oh God, if it was Brian, why had he come to London? To disappear. People disappear. But Liverpool was a place, that was where he was, you disappeared there too, why would he come here?
There was no more to see in the photographs. A lanky boy, and quiet. What was she looking for? If he was unaggressive. That was like a criticism. Except he was. To the point of timidity. Quite meek really. Although that wasnt in the photographs. There wasnt much there at all, not if you searched and it was Brian you searched for. Quite a few of Mum and Dad and Helen herself, but Brian was like a shadowy figure, not hiding but not there either, like he hadnt connected properly with the camera or was keeping out the way. Trying not to be seen. But that was silliness. And wrong, that was so so wrong. Very very wrong. Like seeking ways not to help.
Helen was not doing that, she really wasnt. If she could help she would help. Of course she would if it was Brian; she wanted to help him and she would help him. If it was him she would. She just needed to know, if it was him.
And she didnt. It was so so — what? She couldnt even think. She had gone over and over and over it all, every last detail, again and again and again until her head was numb, and her brains, if she had any left. If there was something, she didnt know it. She didnt. It might have been him and it might not have been him. It was like watching a taped movie and you get interrupted by somebody and miss something important, so you have to rewind. Helen had to rewind. No she didnt. The whole day long my God rewinding, what else had she been doing? replaying and replaying, replaying or rewinding, doing both.
To find it. To find it.
The truth of it. She needed to. And she couldnt. Really, she couldnt. Even had she ‘rewound’ to the moment of recognition she could not do more than she had at the moment itself. A rewound moment is not the actual moment. That is a moment in time. She could only think about things and these things were in the past. The only way to find out if the man she had seen was her brother was to see him again, she had to see him, the same man. She had to, to be seeing him. That was the
Oh well.
Helen stopped what she was doing, although she smiled. Actually she felt quite — strange. It was like a — what? a decision. She had made a decision, she knew she had, a massive one, although that was silly, saying that, like it was a sort of
But it was a major thing like it was just so so — it was life-changing. She would have to see him, the tall skinny guy; she would.
Goodness, it was true. Oh well.
She glanced at the clock. Sophie was engrossed. She followed the stories now. Good. Children develop, their mind.
Goodness.
Helen felt quite weird really but okay too like she was just like — okay, really.
This was a moment she did not break and did not want to break. She sat by Sophie and gazed at the television. Soon Azizah had arrived and Helen was in the front room. When she opened the front door for the girl she was already pulling on her coat and ready to leave; she had been getting ready, so now she was, or nearly; everything she was doing she was still doing like still having to do. She didnt need to do anything more, only what she always did, same clothes same everything, same going to work. Not the same going to work. This was not the same. What was ‘same’?
Relax and consider, take a moment. These thoughts were important, so not to rush them either. It was important not to. Helen felt this strongly: and not worry about time. She had plenty time, she allowed this for the journey to work. Helen could miss two trains and like manage in on the third; she could. It was completely fine.
Yes Azizah had arrived, she was in the front room with Sophie. Sophie didnt look at her. Poor Azizah. But it was hurtful. Helen would have felt it. Children are the tough ones. They learn not to be, not to be too tough. Helen had to and so do they all, including Sophie.
Bag, money, travel-cards; keys, wallet, no phone, brolly. That was her, ready to leave and set to leave, now in the hallway, crouching to pull on her boots. It was sad nevertheless, but true. What else to consider? Nothing really. Azizah was a great girl. Helen trusted her with Sophie. She was nothing like Helen. A completely different personality. Her books and her books and her books! She had a definite strength about her and Helen lacked that, she did. She was just a different kind of person. That was that. It didnt make her any the less. People are different.
Sophie relaxed with Azizah. She did. Wouldnt it have been nice if she relaxed with her own mother! Oh but of course she did. What a silly thing to say! Foolishness. Mrs Foolish, Mrs Fool. She was a fool; this is what she was. Mo said she was quirky but it was more than quirky.
She had her coat on, her boots on, bag, money, travel-cards; her hand on the outside door handle. That’s me going! she called, then waited.
Mummy! Sophie came rushing to her. Mummy! she reached her arms round Helen.
A big cuddle, said Helen and winked to Azizah: She’s to be in bed by nine o’clock at the very very very very latest.
Yes, said Azizah.
Helen smiled. Sophie stepped back staring at her, then the blink. Oh Sophie, you’re not going to start crying?
Well you always go.
Yes but it’s work, I have to go to work!
Why?
To earn money.
Yes but Mummy
So we can eat food and pay for things.
Sophie stared at her.
Oh honey! Helen leaned to kiss her. Azizah smiled in the background. A good girl, a nice girl. Helen wanted to say something, pass on to Mo, a message, because it was Mo, if she had told him about Brian. Why didnt she? She should have. She hadnt told Mo because she knew what he would say. I’ll see you in the morning, she said to Sophie.