She follows me onto the patio and through the back door into the kitchen. After the sharp morning brightness outside, it feels really dark in here, almost oppressive, and I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision. I gesture to the table for her to take a seat. She does so, pushing her hair out of her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. ‘Thanks. I’m sorry about all this.’ Her lip trembles.
‘No need to apologise.’
‘But I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have come into your garden. I’ve basically just barged onto your private property. This isn’t who I am.’ Her eyes dart around, taking everything in – the cake ingredients on the table in front of her, the shabby but well-loved kitchen with its chipped counter tops and retro cabinets. She sniffs. ‘I couldn’t think what else to do, where to go. I read about your charity work and then I saw you standing in your doorway earlier, waving your kids off. You looked so nice. So kind. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.’ Her voice is wobbly, yet she’s well-spoken, polite.
‘Honestly, it’s okay. We all need some help from time to time. So… is there anything I can actually do to help?’ I don’t remember seeing her in the road earlier. Maybe she was hiding behind one of the trees. ‘Would you like that drink?’
‘A glass of water would be good. It’s already pretty hot out there.’
‘I’ve got lemonade or orange juice if you’d prefer.’ I make my way over to our big cream-coloured fridge.
‘Water’s fine.’
I grab a glass, drop in a couple of ice cubes and pour some chilled water before taking it over and sitting opposite her. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks.’
I watch her as she drinks. Her arms almost don’t look strong enough to lift the glass, but lift it she does, taking big satisfying gulps until it’s empty. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sets the empty glass on the table.
‘Want some more?’
She shakes her head. ‘No thanks.’
‘Hungry?’
She shakes her head again, but I notice some hesitation. I’ll make sure to give her some food before she goes.
‘What’s your name?’
She takes a breath. ‘Sophie.’ She looks up and our eyes lock for a moment. I see the pleading expression and my motherly instincts ramp up some more.
‘Hi, Sophie. I’m Kelly. Kelly Taylor.’ I know I can’t be more than six or seven years older than the girl, but she seems so much younger than me. What if it was one of my friends or one of my kids who found themselves in trouble? In danger? Wouldn’t I hope that someone would look out for them?
I wonder what’s happened to Sophie to make her so scared. She must be running from a bad relationship. I suppress a shudder at the thought. I need to get her to open up. To tell me just what kind of trouble she’s in. I wouldn’t be a good person if I simply let her leave without at least trying to help.
‘Is there anyone you need to get in touch with? Parents? A partner? A friend? You can use my phone if you like.’
Her face clouds over and she shakes her head.
‘Are you sure? Is there really no one? You’re obviously in some kind of… difficulty.’ I want to suggest calling the police again, or maybe the women’s refuge. But I don’t want to risk her bolting again. If she left now I know I’d worry about her.
‘There’s no one.’ Her face darkens.
‘Look, Sophie, I’m not going to call anyone if you don’t want me to. But if there’s anything I can do to help then why don’t you just ask. If I can’t do it, I’ll say no. But you may as well ask me. What have you got to lose?’ I know I’m opening myself up to trouble here, but I don’t want to be one of those do-gooders who talk the talk and enjoy the power trip of organising fundraisers, but when someone genuinely needs help, they turn their back. I want to be better than that.
Sophie looks as though she’s having some internal struggle. Working out whether or not she can trust me. Finally, her shoulders sag. ‘You’re so nice.’
‘I have my moments.’ I give her a quick smile.
‘Okay, well, I feel really awful asking. I know it’s really cheeky, but, well, I’ve been walking all night and I’m so tired. I just need somewhere to… not to stay, just maybe to hide out for a while.’
‘Hide out?’ I’m a little shocked, and a tiny bit nervous. ‘Who are you hiding from? You said you were trying to get away from someone.’
She bows her head and twists her fingers. ‘I’m sorry, I should probably go. Sorry again for any inconvenience. Thanks for being kind.’ She obviously doesn’t want to answer any of my questions.
‘Don’t be daft. You don’t have to leave right now. You can stay a while longer. Keep me company while I make these cakes if you like.’
‘I can’t. I’m obviously getting in your way. You’re in the middle of stuff. It’s fine. I’m fine now. Much better. Thanks for the drink.’ She gets to her feet and walks towards the door.
