Mo said she was quirky Read Online Free PDF Page A

remembered it from her own day. Perhaps worse than boys. Did boys even do it? Perhaps they didnt. Girls did, oh my God they did, they were so so good at it too.
    Why did people have to hurt each other? Why did they not accept things, and accept each other. Helen was not clever and knew she was not but that was what she believed. Anyway, you didnt have to be clever to believe that, not if it was the truth. And it was the truth, people did hurt each other.
    Helen shivered. She could have been into bed in one minute; into the warmth. Why didnt she? She didnt want to. She did but she didnt. Her head was too full, she would be tossing and turning. And she had a headache too. Of course that was normal.
    But if everybody was different their thoughts too would be different and all their points of view, everything. You couldnt have everyone different but their thoughts all the same. That was just stupid. Why did people want everybody to be the same? Or act like they did. Usually it was men. But not all the time. You heard women politicians and they were tough as old boots, you saw their faces; they were worse than men, they would tell somebody to push the button for the whole human race, they would give the order. They could be mothers. Of course they could. It was hatred, people hated; why did people hate? They did, they hated.
    She eased La Divina out from beneath the girl’s head. It was just a little furry creature but she had had it since she was ababy. Mo teased her about it. Helen wished he would stop. But maybe it was for the best. It was a new life now and the sooner Sophie got rid of the old stuff the better. But it didnt apply to dolls. There was nothing wrong in dolls. If she could break with the old associations. That was what counted. Mo was good with Sophie, she could have been his own daughter. Helen was so lucky with Mo, but perhaps she wasnt.
    That was an odd idea. What did it mean?
    Nothing. Odd ideas were – odd! And she got them. But she was odd. She was; just hopeless, hopeless. She knew it about herself. If she wasnt hopeless she would never have got involved with him in the first place, her ex, never. And marriage would have been out the question. Marriage! My God imagine marrying him! But she did; it was never a strong point, sense. People thought she was sensible. She wasnt. They thought she was and she wasnt. She had to be thick to have married him. At the same time he was Sophie’s father. So if not for him.
    She lifted the empty glass and rose from the chair, the floorboards squeaking, treading so very carefully when she passed the end of the bed, although Mo would have slept through thunder. She clicked open the door into the hallway, and closed it so very gently.
    That draught under the front door, my God, you could actually feel the chill. Her feet were always cold.
    The light was still on in the kitchen. She had forgotten to switch it off. Oh well, she switched it off now, stepped across between the fallen photographs and settled into the chair. She was tired, sitting with the coat shielding her. It was weary. Weary and tired, that was her. Tiredness. Where did it come from? From living. Exhaustion. She was too weary to smile, she had been working all night dealing cards, dealing cards and taking money, putting up with it all, everything. And now here she was, not sound asleep and she should have been, snug,warm, just warm, the heat from Mo he was so so, so warm, so warm, in beside him and away from everything, and his body, she loved his body; she did, why did she, men and women,
    all these things and in her mind too all just going round and round. Her head lolled, her eyes open; only the tiredness, but not wanting to go to bed, she didnt want to.
    Morning light but shadows lingered. Shadows of our lives. A shadow of our life. What our lives are. Those shadows, into those shadows. Brian at the traffic lights, that look in his eye, it was wild. Why was he staring at her? It was horrible. He didnt