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Helen shook her head. No. That was one experience she wasn’t going to repeat anytime soon.
‘Anyway, when I got back, Fairy, Aiden, and Chugs were all off dancing …’ Elle shook, her voice straining back anger, ‘… and I told them to look after you! Instead it turns out some nasty, pathetic man tried to take you … Like what is this? What year do we live in that guys think they can …?’
‘Then Ish saved me.’ The pieces in Helen’s mind swirled back together. The creepy guy with the sweaty face receding. Ish sitting next to her. Warm and glowing. Patting her hand. Waving one long arm and calling to Elle. Them carrying her back down the woodland path to the tent. The trees beginning to glow green in the dawn sunlight. The throbbing lights along the path. Happy, safe feelings.
‘Where’s Ish now?’ Helen scanned the tent.
‘He thought you’d be hungry, so he’s gone to buy us takeout at the main campsite.’
Chapter 35
Clothes had erupted over Helen’s bedroom floor. Mud splattered backpacks were ripped open leaving a trail of leggings, organza butterfly wings and glitter. So. Much. Glitter.
The disbanded Shewee was slumped against the utility belt, its pockets unzipped in fury by Elle several hours earlier. Helen really needed to talk to Nessy later. Definitely before Elle did.
‘Oh Helen, what have you done to your dress?’ Her mum picked up the shreds of Helen’s midnight blue prom dress from the pile of clothes and held it up against her body. ‘You wore this? Like this?!’
Her mum’s chosen way to express her affection for Helen was often to fuss. Fuss that she needed to have a haircut, to do her homework, to get an ISA, and especially to hurry up and get a boyfriend …
She hadn’t been surprised at all that they had ended up fleeing the festival, and was now actively pretending to be helping them unpack, loitering, desperate to hear exactly what happened, and who exactly was that tall man in their back garden …
‘I bet Helen looked almost as beautiful last night as she did when she first wore that dress to her prom?’ Elle went into a charm offensive. She didn’t look like someone who hadn’t slept.
Helen’s eyes twitched, briefly remembering not having a date for that stupid prom, Lucy Wheeler prying her with a discreet bottle of Malibu, and throwing up when she got home. Some things never changed.
‘Well you must let me know if you need me to do any washing.’ Her mum started to walk backwards out of the room, somewhat mollified, scooping up clothes as she went.
Henry walked in. His mass taking up most of the door frame.
‘You all right, Helen … I was really sorry to hear about … Nessy wouldn’t have wanted …’
‘It’s okay Henry, it’s not Nessy’s fault …’
Elle’s eyebrows flinched.
‘I think she was trying to be nice …’ Henry shrugged.
‘It was a nice … gesture. How much effort she’d put into that utility belt …’
‘The hand sanitiser was very useful.’ Elle flicked her eyes up to create an expression that restrained itself from a scowl.
‘Anyway you’re home now. Nice fellow you’ve got with you too.’
Helen felt herself blushing. ‘You mean Ish?’
‘Yeah, he’s out in the garden now chatting to Nanny G.’
Helen flicked back the curtain in her bedroom window. Nanny G was sitting in a large wicker chair in the middle of the lawn; Ish was telling her some elaborate story, his arms waving in the air, Nanny G was laughing. She offered Ish some of her (was that alcoholic?) drink, he took a sip, though Helen knew he was teetotal. On the way back from the festival Ish had insisted they stop at McDonalds to get an apple pie and strawberry milkshake for Nanny G as ‘all old ladies love ’em’; and his gesture seemed to have worked wonders.
She hadn’t got the full story out of Ish yet: there hadn’t been a moment, Elle had always been around. Why and how did he show up?
The first thing Helen really knew was that Ish had stumbled back to the tent that morning with four bacon rolls, ‘eat two Hels, ya need the salt …’ like he’d been there all along. She was glad he didn’t bring quinoa this or acai that. Bacon was good. He was wearing an outfit cobbled together from his YouTube videos: a top hat from his Jack the Ripper look, a Sir Walter Raleigh cape, and a plague doctor mask that Elle immediately insisted he threw out. Other than that, and the lack of sleep, he looked … well, he didn’t look bad. Helen had found her half-open eyes drifting down across his brown skin, and unexpectedly defined chest …
‘He’s just a friend.’ Helen shook her head. Why was she always justifying herself?
‘All right then, anyway I’ll leave you girls …’
‘Women …’ smiled Elle sweetly.
