‘Con is like afourteen-year-old boy with a hormonal surge,’ I say sternly. ‘You are enabling him. I can follow her myself but—’
‘But you can’t bear to let her see you follow her?’
‘Exactly. Would one of Maura’s girls do it, do you think? They could tell me what she’s up to without me having to actually look.’
‘Good plan. Ask them. See you later, babe,’ he says, as I leave.
I head off for my support meeting in cheerful form.
Talking helps, I tell Mildred.
No shit, she replies.
And there was me thinking you were kinder lately, I tell her.
I speak as I find, Mildred says.
Speaking as you find is code for being rude, I remind her.
This evening however, when I walk up the stairs above the phone repair shop, I see a newcomer sitting beside Eileen on the couch. Her hair is a wonderful dark auburn colour and she’s wearingmake-up, lipstick and really elegant clothes. I walk over to introduce myself to her because that’s what everyone does here and I realise with absolute shock that it’s Farrah. Farrah of the mousy hair who almost hides in her chair during the meetings.
‘Farrah,’ I say, actually taking a step back with astonishment, ‘you look ... just ...’
‘Amazing,’ says Eileen enthusiastically. ‘You wouldn’t recognise her, would you?’
‘I certainly didn’t recognise you, at first,’ I say and sit down on the other side of Eileen. ‘Not that you’re not always lovely but this—’
Foot in mouth. Stop talking, Mildred points out judiciously.
Farrah touches her hairself-consciously.
‘I thought I needed a change,’ she says.
‘Change,’ I say smiling. ‘It’s wonderful, it’s not a change, it’s a ...’
I search for the words.
‘It’s a transformation.’
Farrah grins.
‘I used to have this hair colour years ago,’ she said, ‘when I was younger.’
‘Oh, and you’re one hundred now,’ I say with amused irony. Everyone laughs at that.
‘I just got out of the habit of making an effort, I thought if I didn’t draw attention to myself that—’
Ariel has come into the room and she interrupts.
‘If you didn’t draw attention to yourself, then nobody would know it was you and it wouldn’t happen again,’ she says in her light little fairy voice.
‘Exactly,’ Farrah says wryly, ‘but that’s not going to work, is it? I was walking to work the other day and somebody bashed into me, by accident. They were running for the tram andbam! It shocked me, frightened me, and then I realised they didn’t mean to hurt me. They even yelled sorry. But I was shaking because it brought it all back and then I thought, I’m going to keep shaking forever if I don’t do something. Walking down the street is like being in a war zone when your head’s in this place. That’s no way to live.’
‘You’re coming here,’ I say carefully, because just coming here was helping me.
‘I think it’s not enough just to come here,’ says Farrah with determination, ‘I think you have got to really try to make a difference. Do things in another way, because I’m different now. A different Farrah. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that person who can walk down the street entirely without fearbut,’ – she looks at all the faces who are nodding, understanding the way people on the outside can’t. ‘I could completely lose myself and try not to let it happen again, but I’d have to live in a tower and get food delivered. How real is that? Stuff happens and I’ve got to keep on living.’
Eileen, who is so affectionate and wise that she reminds me of Mum, reaches out and hugs Farrah.
