went.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Before you go, is everything working out up there?’
How terrible she was for wanting the answer to be no.
‘Yes, it’s fine. Kristina’s parents are very easy-going and the children were completely blown away by all the presents under the tree. They’ve had far too much of course, but we’ll sort out some things for the hospice when we get back.’
Since this was what they did every year, let the children decide which of their many gifts they’d like to donate to those less fortunate, Bel said, ‘I’ve been wondering if it’s a good idea for them to take the toys themselves this year, or do you think they’re still too young?’
He gave it some thought. ‘I’ll run it past Kristina,’ he said, ‘see what she thinks.’
How would Kristina know? She’s not their mother. She’s not even their aunt
. As far as Bel was aware she had no involvement in helping others at all. This was something she and Talia had done, ever since losing their own mother; it was a ritual that belonged to them.
What she said was, ‘I hope she won’t mind if the children decide to donate presents from her or her parents.’
‘I’ll explain the custom,’ he assured her, ‘and I’m sure they won’t have a problem with it. What time are you expecting to be back from the shelter?’
Having no idea, she said, ‘I guess that’ll depend on how much they need me. If it’s late I’ll wait until tomorrow to ring you.’
It was late now, just after nine in the evening, and though she was exhausted after a hectic and challenging day, she felt faintly exhilarated too, which she often did after pouring her efforts into helping others. She’d never been quite as dedicated to it as Talia had, but perhaps she should now try to become more involved. Apart from anything else it was a great way to stop focusing on herself for a while, which she’d certainly have done if she’d stayed at home today. And there truly wouldn’t have been any laughs within her four walls, unlike at the shelter, where in spite of their wretched lot some of the unfortunates could be extremely entertaining. They were an inspiration, she found, a true example of how indefatigable the human spirit could be.
There was an enormous amount of tragedy there too, of course, and though she’d never known the girl found under the viaduct whom the police had now identified as Anca, she couldn’t help feeling a profound sadness at how lonely and possibly afraid she must have been when she’d died. It turned out that Talia had met her at the shelter, but no one there had seen the girl for some time – in fact not until one of the directors had gone to the morgue to identify her. She was Romanian, apparently. Her body had been flown back to her family a few days ago; the criminal gang that had brought her here was the focus of an ongoing police operation.
What an awful Christmas it must have made for her parents, getting their daughter back that way.
Did they speak any English, Bel wondered. She’d try to find out, and if she could get an address she’d at least send a card.
For now though, she needed to let it go, to accept that she’d done all she was able to for today, and that it was OK to feel safe here at home.
‘We each of us come into this world alone,’ one of the shelter workers had reminded her, ‘and alone is how we travel it, and how we leave it.’
That might be true of most people, of course, but Bel hadn’t been born alone. She and Talia had shared their mother’s womb, slept side by side in cots, beds, tents, cars, planes and shared drunken teenage binges. Whenever they looked in mirrors they saw the other’s face staring back at them; whatever they felt, the other felt it too. Bel had even fallen for Nick at the beginning, though thank goodness it hadn’t lasted. The really odd part of that was how guilty she’d felt when she’d realised that she didn’t love him the way Talia did. It was
‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Before you go, is everything working out up there?’
How terrible she was for wanting the answer to be no.
‘Yes, it’s fine. Kristina’s parents are very easy-going and the children were completely blown away by all the presents under the tree. They’ve had far too much of course, but we’ll sort out some things for the hospice when we get back.’
Since this was what they did every year, let the children decide which of their many gifts they’d like to donate to those less fortunate, Bel said, ‘I’ve been wondering if it’s a good idea for them to take the toys themselves this year, or do you think they’re still too young?’
He gave it some thought. ‘I’ll run it past Kristina,’ he said, ‘see what she thinks.’
How would Kristina know? She’s not their mother. She’s not even their aunt
. As far as Bel was aware she had no involvement in helping others at all. This was something she and Talia had done, ever since losing their own mother; it was a ritual that belonged to them.
What she said was, ‘I hope she won’t mind if the children decide to donate presents from her or her parents.’
‘I’ll explain the custom,’ he assured her, ‘and I’m sure they won’t have a problem with it. What time are you expecting to be back from the shelter?’
Having no idea, she said, ‘I guess that’ll depend on how much they need me. If it’s late I’ll wait until tomorrow to ring you.’
It was late now, just after nine in the evening, and though she was exhausted after a hectic and challenging day, she felt faintly exhilarated too, which she often did after pouring her efforts into helping others. She’d never been quite as dedicated to it as Talia had, but perhaps she should now try to become more involved. Apart from anything else it was a great way to stop focusing on herself for a while, which she’d certainly have done if she’d stayed at home today. And there truly wouldn’t have been any laughs within her four walls, unlike at the shelter, where in spite of their wretched lot some of the unfortunates could be extremely entertaining. They were an inspiration, she found, a true example of how indefatigable the human spirit could be.
There was an enormous amount of tragedy there too, of course, and though she’d never known the girl found under the viaduct whom the police had now identified as Anca, she couldn’t help feeling a profound sadness at how lonely and possibly afraid she must have been when she’d died. It turned out that Talia had met her at the shelter, but no one there had seen the girl for some time – in fact not until one of the directors had gone to the morgue to identify her. She was Romanian, apparently. Her body had been flown back to her family a few days ago; the criminal gang that had brought her here was the focus of an ongoing police operation.
What an awful Christmas it must have made for her parents, getting their daughter back that way.
Did they speak any English, Bel wondered. She’d try to find out, and if she could get an address she’d at least send a card.
For now though, she needed to let it go, to accept that she’d done all she was able to for today, and that it was OK to feel safe here at home.
‘We each of us come into this world alone,’ one of the shelter workers had reminded her, ‘and alone is how we travel it, and how we leave it.’
That might be true of most people, of course, but Bel hadn’t been born alone. She and Talia had shared their mother’s womb, slept side by side in cots, beds, tents, cars, planes and shared drunken teenage binges. Whenever they looked in mirrors they saw the other’s face staring back at them; whatever they felt, the other felt it too. Bel had even fallen for Nick at the beginning, though thank goodness it hadn’t lasted. The really odd part of that was how guilty she’d felt when she’d realised that she didn’t love him the way Talia did. It was
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