But it wasnt funny why was she smiling? she was smiling, why was she?
It was cold and damp, at least not raining, very quiet, lonely. The car had gone thank heaven.
She would have had a proper flat, not taking terrible chances down alleyways and car-park spaces; behind bushes in grass squares and even the back closes of office buildings, it was appalling, there was always news of prostitutes found dead, and tortured; tortured. Men tortured them, they tortured the women, the worst most horrible things. How could people torture people? Other human beings? What happened in their life? Something must have happened. They couldnt just be evil. Mo said they were like if they had lost God, if they had turned from Him, so they had to find Him again, because it was Hell if they didnt. Mo believed in Hell. He didnt say he did. But he didnt say he didnt. He was supposed to. Hell was there and so were angels like for Catholics and Protestants. If he believed in them. Perhaps he did. Although not Hell, surely not Hell? Not with children. How could you with children? It was horrible if he did. Because just like that was his belief, and he was clever, he was, and just common sense, that was Mo, common sense, so if he believed in Hell. He didnt say he did but he didnt say he didnt.
Although Helen did believe in God. Truly, she did. What else could explain things? She hadnt been sure before but she did now, she really did, she did believe. But not Hell. Imagine children, that was so so unimaginable, just like — unimaginable.
But she would have had a proper flat. She wouldnt have taken such risks. These women took terrible risks. Why do people take such risks? Helen would never have walked the streets.
She smiled at the thought, even she could have laughed; almost she could have. It was so ridiculous. The conversations she had with herself were fantastic. Now she was a prostitute and being choosy about her clientele! What next? Even as a child. Honestly, she hadnt changed. In school she was known for it. She once told her schoolmates that her mother was a famous dancer and her legs were the longest of anybody and had to be insured for lots of money in case they got broken and she couldnt dance. Her pals believed her! What is wrong with an imagination? Children have them, like it or not. They need them too. They take you out yourself, and you need that, coorying down with the blankets over your head, into your own wee world and just safe and away from everything, away, that was all, she wanted that and needed it, like a lot of children, that was her; she was not unique, she was so not unique. She didnt care about any of it, only having to find things out. Children do, they have to. Because if the adults dont tell them. Why dont they tell them? Why dont adults? They dont tell them. Tell the children. So so horrible and unfair. So they have to find out for themselves, if the adults dont tell them. So they make mistakes. Helen made mistakes. Girls do. All children. Sometimes it was funny, like so funny, just how the misunderstandings. Sophie got all mixed up with what she was to do and not to do. Strangers were bad because they said naughty words. No Sophie. Perhaps they did but that wasnt why children had to avoid them. Like taking sweets from strangers; if you didnt take them the strangers would take them away and give them to somebody else; take what away? the sweets or the children? It was comical.
Helen would have gone with anybody when she was a child. It was only natural. Sophie was the same. Only never hit her. Never hit a child. Why hit a child? And if it is not her fault? It is so horrible.
She could have gone to the police about Brian. Only what would she have said? It wasnt the case of a missing person. The person was there. He might not even have been missing like only if he was missing to her and Mum. Because he didnt want them to know where he was. And if he was on the street. Of course he wouldnt want them to know. He would have been ashamed, especially in front of his little sister, even more than Mum.
So if it was him. Either it was or it wasnt. She had to know. She had to.
Only not dwelling on it, one way or the other. If she found him she found him. And if she didnt, better letting it rest, if she could. The past was the past. Why rake everything up? She had no intention of raking everything up. Only like if it was Brian she wanted to see him; she truly truly did. Even to know it was him. Not having to do anything more. She didnt feel she had to. She didnt feel forced. Only if it was him. Why else was she here? If she didnt want to find him. Of course she did. Because if he was ill. Else why was he walking the street? He should have been in hospital. That was it with people, they had no place to go, so they walked about, with that look on their face, my God! The way he stared at them! He frightened everybody.
It was almost like he was mad or something. Perhaps he was, just mentally like how people are ill and should be in hospital. Not mad so much as angry, so so angry; he was, and it changes your brain. How could Helen take him home? Not with a child in the house.
She wasnt going to feel guilty about it, if he was sleeping rough. She had enough problems. If it wasnt one thing it was another. What was she going to do? There was hardly room to swing a cat in their place my God.
Even thinking about it, she hated thinking about it. Thank goodness it was quiet. Although she knew what she was doing: home. Straight home. She had decided. If it was to be it was to be and if it wasnt it wasnt. Then the car from behind. She heard it and glanced back over her shoulder as it passed her by so slowly. Several yards on the driver braked sharply. Helen stopped walking. Two figures were inside. Three. She continued walking, steadily, staring to the front. But as she passed the car began moving and the passenger door swung open suddenly but also like calmly.
How could it be calmly? But it was; and that was the effect it had as if nothing else for it, only just get in, get in, like a trance, the guy calling to her, so getting into the car, if she was to get into the car. Keeping pace with her as she walked. She stared straight ahead.
A guy called to her: Hey, darling … You fancy a little run? You want to come with us? What d’you say? Hey, hey darling, fancy a little run?
She kept walking. The car kept moving. The men were laughing, but the urgency, she knew the urgency, she knew it; men, she knew it, in this man’s voice, almost like a tremble. Hey darling, you are beautiful, yeh, total pleasure guaranteed, you want to come with us?
She kept walking.
You hear what I’m saying, mature man knows the ropes yeh, check the adverts, like your pleasure, yeh, is our guarantee.
The car jerked ahead now and halted. Helen paused then stepped up to the car door and grabbed at it shouting: Fuck off will you! Just fuck off!
She shoved the door shut and strode on. Was it laughter she heard? She didnt know, couldnt make it out, if it was or just like in her head, whatever. Then another car engine and she quickened on faster till she saw it was a taxi thank God and was running and calling, Taxi! Taxi!
It stopped for her. The other car had gone. Cowards, such cowards. She fumbled the passenger door open, but didnt climb inside. She held onto the door handle.
You alright sweetheart? The driver had a concerned look, and genuine.
Helen attempted a smile. It didnt work. She released the handle and backed off, and waved him away.
The driver’s irritation was obvious. Oh well. If he hadnt called her ‘sweetheart’. ‘Dear’ was bad enough, she didnt like ‘dear’, but ‘sweetheart’, that was like ‘pet’ or ‘flower’, bloody dandelion. The taxi had disappeared.
At least she knew what she was doing. Home! Right now. So why let the taxi go for God sake Helen Helen Helen? because she was going mad, simple and straightforward. Mrs Simple. Tomorrow was her day-off.