Remembering her final ‘Piss off’, I almost carried on, but then the decision was made for me. As I glanced back in the mirror I saw the bus behind me splash through a puddle at the pavement’s edge. The old woman was almost obscured by the sheet of dirty water it threw up, tottering sideways as it soaked her.
Cantankerous or not, I couldn’t leave her like that. I pulled over, earning an irate flash of the bus’s lights. It was possible its driver didn’t know what he’d done, but I couldn’t drive away now. The woman was standing where she’d been splashed, mouthing something at the disappearing bus. Then, hoisting her dripping bags, she set off walking again with slump-shouldered resignation.
I wound down the window as she drew level with my car. ‘Do you want a lift?’
She looked round. Her grey hair was plastered to her head, and water dripped from her eyebrows and the tip of her nose as she scrutinized me.
‘Who are you?’
‘I saw you in the woods yesterday.’ She didn’t say anything, just regarded me with sullen hostility. I tried again. ‘By the ruined church, at the back of St—’
‘I remember, I’m not stupid.’
She still didn’t move. Rain was blowing in the open car window, drenching me as well. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Why?’
‘If it’s not far I can give you a lift.’ I hoped it was nearby: the meeting was due to start soon.
She scowled. ‘I don’t need charity.’
A gust of wind blew more rain into the car. I wiped it from my face. ‘Look, it’s a filthy night. I can drive you home if you like, but if you’d rather walk that’s fine.’
She gave the car a doubtful look before she grudgingly answered, ‘All right.’
I reached into the back and opened the car door. She dumped her wet carrier bags on to the seat, then climbed in after them with a grunt.
‘So where am I going to?’ I asked.
The face in the rear-view mirror stared back at me suspiciously. There was another pause.
‘Cromwell Street. Take the next left.’
I checked the clock on the dashboard as I pulled out: I was cutting it fine if I was going to make the start of the meeting. The car smelled of wet wool and old fabric, and a sour odour that said my passenger didn’t bathe very often.
‘I’m David,’ I said, taking the turning.
‘Good for you. You want the next right. No, that one, are you blind? You’ve missed it now!’
The road was already disappearing behind us. ‘It’s OK, I’ll turn around.’
She sniffed. ‘Don’t bother, you can take the next one instead. They all go to the same place.’
Now she tells me. I tried again. ‘It’s bad weather to be out in.’
‘Not like I’ve any choice when I need shopping, is it?’
‘Aren’t there any shops nearby?’
‘You think I’d be out in this if there were?’
I gave up trying to make conversation. We drove in silence for a while.
‘Lola,’ she said abruptly.
‘Sorry?’
‘That’s my name. Lola.’
The hostility in her voice had been replaced with tiredness. I glanced in the mirror and saw her staring listlessly out of the window, the pouchy face loose and sullen.
She didn’t look like a Lola.
Her street was a few hundred yards from the woods where I’d first seen her. Rows of pebble-dashed terraces ran on both sides of the road. A few had lights on but most looked empty, while some had been demolished altogether.
‘Here.’
I pulled up outside the house she’d indicated. The pebble-dashing was unpainted and starting to spall and the window frames were badly in need of paint. Only the front door looked new, a sturdy slab of panelled wood, glossy with varnish.
Capricious as ever, the rain had all but stopped as I got out of the car. She’d already opened the door and was struggling to climb out herself.
‘Here, let me,’ I said, reaching for her carrier bags.
‘I’ve got them,’ she said brusquely.
I stood back while she heaved herself out. Awkwardly clutching her shopping, she rummaged in her handbag as she went to the front door. But instead of unlocking it she stopped, keys held ready as she fixed me with a stare.
‘If you’re expecting me to pay you, you can think again.’
‘Don’t worry, I was just seeing if you can manage,’ I told her.
‘Well, I can.’
It looked like I’d already outstayed my welcome. ‘OK, then. Take care.’
She didn’t respond. Turning back to my car, I checked my watch, swearing to myself when I saw the time. I briefly considered asking Lola — her name still didn’t seem to fit — for directions to the church hall, but immediately decided it wouldn’t be worth the aggravation. I’d find the place myself.
From behind me I could hear the snick of a lock as she opened her front door. Suddenly, there was an exclamation, followed by an explosive smash of breaking glass. I looked back to see that one of her carrier bags had burst, spilling jars, tin cans and packages onto the ground. The top had come off a container of milk, and bacon, sausages and broken eggs lay in a spreading white pool on the wet pavement.
I put my foot out to stop a tin of baked beans from rolling into the gutter, then started picking up the other groceries that had come to rest nearby. Still standing in front of the doorway, Lola stared down at the ruined food spread around her feet, as though unwilling to believe what she saw.
‘Shall I bring these in?’ I asked, going over with the tins and packages I’d retrieved.
Her expression clouded. ‘I told you, I don’t want any help.’
She turned to thrust her remaining carrier bags inside, then began grabbing the items I was holding. The front door behind her stood ajar, and from inside the house came a low moan. I saw Lola’s mouth tighten, but it wasn’t until the moan was repeated, more loudly this time, that she responded.
‘Give me a chance, I heard you the first time!’ she snapped over her shoulder.
The noise had come from a person, not a pet, I was certain of that. I looked through the open doorway, trying to see inside. The house was in darkness, but now I saw that a bulky parcel had spilled from one of the carrier bags she’d put down. It was a pack of adult incontinence pads.
‘Is everything OK?’ I asked.
She gave me a look as though the question were too ridiculous to answer. ‘What do you care?’
I sighed, giving up any hope of making it on time to the meeting. ‘Look, why don’t I clean this up while you put your shopping away?’
I don’t know if she was tempted or just surprised. She stared at me as though unable to decide what she was seeing. Then she snatched the last tin from my hand.
‘Leave us alone.’
The front door slammed in my face.
Chapter 10
I missed the first ten minutes of the meeting. Although the church hall wasn’t far from where the old woman lived, there were no road signs and by then I was already running late. In the end I had to resort to my satnav, which took me back to streets I’d already been on at least once, before leading me to one that had been frustratingly close all along. The rain was still holding off as I locked my car and hurried across the road. Only a few drops pattered down, but the smoke-coloured clouds overhead promised the break was only temporary.