to come in for a bit, if you like?’
Her hand freezes on the gate latch. She still has her back to me, but she’s stopped moving.
‘Just stay and catch your breath for a few minutes. You could obviously do with a bit of time to regroup.’
At this, she turns, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks.
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ I soothe. ‘Come on. It’s hot out here. You’re obviously upset and in a bit of a state. You can have a quick drink and then leave, if that’s what you want.’
She doesn’t reply. But she also doesn’t make another move to go. The air is still and quiet. A car door slams in the distance.
‘Would that be okay?’ she asks, so quietly I can barely hear her. ‘To have a drink? I’m pretty thirsty.’
‘Yeah, of course.’
She swallows and wipes her face. ‘It wouldn’t be for long… I just need to get off the road. I need to stop him from…’ But she shakes her head and tails off.
‘Come on.’ I gesture to the back door. ‘Come on, come inside.’
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