catching up, not just infuriated because of her pace but also that the very thought of it was taking my concentration away from what I’d previously been thinking about, namely the difficulties in maintaining resonance frequency with a minimum electrical current.
We were about a quarter of the way up the alley when I realised there was someone walking in front of her, someone who had also slowed their pace. A few moments after that, Helen stopped walking. She was about to step into the pool of light created by the street-light; in fact she was partly illuminated by it, her hair a bright orange halo around her head. She looked back, and saw me, then back the other way.
Clearly I must have seemed less threatening than what lay ahead, because she turned then and started walking in my direction, her step quickening. I tutted with annoyance, not wanting to have to stand to one side in the narrow alley to let her pass with enough room between us, not wanting to have to smile or nod or whatever one was supposed to do in situations like this one.
Despite all this, I had a jolt. That’s the only way I can describe it. I don’t even think it was the expression on her face – which was strange. It was that I was looking at her properly for the first time, and she was looking at me, and her mouth was forming the word: ‘HELP’.
She came up to me and behind her was another of the sixth form girls, another of those whom I preferred to have nothing whatsoever to do with. I couldn’t even have told you her name. She was striding in our direction and Helen was behind me, not moving further away, just behind me as though I was expected to do something – stand in between them? Act as some kind of physical buffer so we could all continue to walk home in the same direction?
It was such a peculiar situation. I felt uncomfortable with the whole thing. Not afraid, that would be the wrong word for it.
And I was more uncomfortable with Helen sheltering behind me than with the girl striding towards us both.
She had a knife in her hand. I remember thinking, what’s she got that out for? As though everyone carried knives around with them every day, but to have one out on display was somehow completely inappropriate.
‘Hiding behind Creepy Colin, are you?’ the girl called. ‘Think he’s gonna help ya?’
I had stopped walking and stood at ease, my legs hip-width apart. I felt something else now – excitement. It was the thought of a confrontation, something I usually avoided, but this one had a context that gave me permission to behave in a certain way. I was being threatened, after all. Even if the knife was meant for Helen, it was now pointed at me.
‘She’s got a knife, be careful!’ Helen said from somewhere behind me.
‘Yes, thank you, I can see it,’ I said.
It took one punch to lay her out. I had no idea it was going to be that easy, and if I had realised I would have taken it a bit more steadily so I could make the most of it. I suppose she just wasn’t expecting me to hit her. It wasn’t done to hit girls, even girls who were coming towards you with a knife in their hand, and of all people she probably wasn’t expecting me to cause her any trouble.
Behind me, Helen squeaked with surprise.
The girl, whoever she was, had landed in a heap against the brick wall that marked the boundary with someone’s garden. Somewhere nearby a dog was barking. The girl didn’t move. I looked round at Helen. She was breathing fast, her chest rising and falling, her mouth open with shock. To my surprise, in the light from the street-light, there were tears on her cheeks. I nearly said, ‘What are you crying for?’
But she just looked from the girl to me and then started to walk away, in the direction of home. Her steps grew faster and faster and then she was running, running fast.
I looked down at the white legs of the girl on the floor. She was stirring, making a noise as though she was winded, a kind of drawn out ‘uuhhhhh’ as though she was struggling to get her breath. The knife was on the dirty tarmac where she’d dropped it.
There were many options laid out before me, many.