Page 73 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘I’m glad you are. And I’m sorry if I’ve forgotten to ask you that over the years.’
‘Thank you.’
He hops into the truck. Before closing the door, he calls back to me.
‘Sorry if I went too hard on your boyfriend. I meant what I said about him being an idiot for leaving you. But I think he actually likes you, and whatever reason he had to leave, I think it must have been a good one.’
Eliza
London
Eliza has gone over to Edith’s house to repack her hospital bag. Eliza is used to being in people’s houses, entering their lives, moving things around then putting it back to how it was so they won’t notice a thing, when the viewing is over. A bit like a ghost she, thinks, playing interior dress-up when no one sees then disappearing again.
There is a racket coming from the front door, and Eliza goes to check, wary and with headlines of seniors’ properties targeted for break-ins on her mind. What she sees on the other side of the door doesn’t look like a robber.
‘Oh, sorry. I thought Edith was home.’ The woman is small and covered in children. One strapped to the front of her and one hanging off her arm.
Eliza keeps her hands to herself, seeing that the woman wouldn’t have one free to take hers anyway, but smiles widely.
‘I’m afraid Edith has had an accident. I’m Eliza. I’m here to pack a bag for her and bring it down to the hospital.’
‘Hospital? Is she all right?’ The genuine fear that flies across the woman’s face as she breaks a hand free and wipes a sweaty strand of loose hair off her face tells Eliza that this is one of Edith’s friends.
‘A broken leg. But she is recovering well. Can I get you a glass of water?’
‘Yes, please. Don’t worry—I can help myself. I’m Pushba, by the way.’
The little boy has let go of his mum’s hand now and strolls off towards the garden, knowing his way around the house perfectly.
‘Jake brought a ball.’ Pushba nods towards her son. ‘We’ll be making Get Well Soon cards for Edith when we get home.’
Eliza watches on as Pushba fills a glass with tap-water and drinks.
‘You know, I never had a fucking village,’ Pushba says.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Yeah, she doesn’t know swear words yet.’ Pushpa laughs and nods to her baby. ‘You know, first they sell us the dream of the perfect family. Then when your husband leaves, you think ‘Oh well, at least there’s wine and girlfriends,’ but all your girlfriends have either moved to semi-rural towns up north or still have their husbands. So there you are with no one checking in on you apart from the delivery drivers. You’re covered in baby vomit, fantasise about more than four hours sleep straight and are left with only the wine as your coping strategy.’
Eliza nods. She can’t really relate to her story, but she can at least sympathise.
‘So one day I thought “Screw it, I need baking goods and there must be a village somewhere willing to give me some fucking flour.” I knocked on three doors, and then I found Edith.’
‘We all found Edith,’ Eliza remarks.
Pushba drains her water glass and places it in the sink then smiles at Eliza.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just chatting away.’
‘No worries at all.’ Eliza likes the woman. ‘I was just about to head upstairs and pack a bag for Edith.’
‘I’ll come and help.’
Pushba leaves the garden door open so Jake can find them, and the two women go upstairs.
‘It looks like they were about to change out the summer wardrobe,’ Pushba comments, and Eliza looks at the boxes with wool garments and moth balls balancing at the top. It’s a bit early to bring out the jackets, but then Edith must have had a reason, rational or not.
She runs her fingers over the fabric, before picking the box up and moving it to the side. She doesn’t know why she does it, a life-long habit of feeling pockets before putting things in the washing machine. She is of course not near a washing machine, but in a bedroom; nonetheless, her hand finds its way into a pocket. Then another. Her hand digs around and keeps pulling something out of pockets, placing the finds on the floor. She knows Zara has been looking for this.
