This Time Next Year(76)

The driver was an elderly Liverpudlian with long greying sideburns and a beige flat cap.

‘Thought you’d be wanting Finsbury Park,’ he said, flashing her a mouth full of cigarette-stained teeth. Minnie shook her head, confused. ‘Fish,’ he said, nodding to her tail, ‘like Finsbury Park.’ He gave her a slow wink, cocking his head at her.

‘Oh I see, ha-ha, very funny,’ she said.

Minnie hopped up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Her mother answered the door. She did a double take and then looked Minnie up and down. Her lips started to move, as though trying to find words that refused to form. Finally she said, ‘What you come as?’

‘Long story. Is Tara OK? What are you even doing here?’

Her mother beckoned her in with a brisk flap of the hand, her eyes darting from left to right as though she were worried about the neighbours seeing a mermaid on the porch.

‘We were just talking,’ said her mother in a whisper, leading Minnie through to the sitting room. ‘I don’t know what set her off but she had some kind of panic attack, clutching her chest. She was trembling all over, gasping like she couldn’t breathe.’

In the sitting room, Tara was lying on the sofa propped up against some cushions. She looked paper white. Her hands were pressed over her eyes and she was gently rocking her head back and forth.

‘I would have called an ambulance but she begged me not to. She shouted for her pills. I turned her bathroom upside down to find the ones she wanted. I figure they’ve kicked in because she’s been like this for the last ten minutes.’

Minnie pulled off the wig she was wearing so she wouldn’t scare Tara. She crouched down next to the sofa and placed a hand on her arm.

‘Tara, it’s Minnie. I don’t know if you remember me.’ Tara glanced at her sideways from beneath her hands. ‘What do you need, what can I do?’

‘Quinn,’ murmured Tara.

‘Quinn’s on his way, he’ll be here soon.’ Minnie gently squeezed her arm. Tara took a rapid panting intake of air, juddering like a breathy machine gun. ‘OK, just breathe, Tara. Look at me now.’ Tara uncovered her eyes, blinking at Minnie. She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Just breathe with me.’

‘I’ve done all this,’ muttered Minnie’s mother.

Minnie exhaled slowly and then inhaled loudly through her nose. Gradually Tara started to focus on Minnie, to replicate her breathing pattern.

‘There you go, perfect, just in and out,’ said Minnie’s mother, then in a different tone of voice, ‘hello.’

Minnie turned to see Quinn standing in the doorway, watching her. He was stock-still, a strange look in his eyes. Minnie smiled up at him – it was a reflex, like a sunflower opening towards the sun. Then she remembered the zoo, the rejection, the fact he hadn’t called her since that day, and she reined it in, turning it into a more perfunctory greeting – a small nod of the head.

Quinn watched her face change and the look in his eyes disappeared. He stepped forward and bent down to his mother, Minnie stood up and shuffled backwards out of the way. Quinn looked her up and down with a quizzical ‘what the hell are you wearing?’ expression, then moved to take her place where she had been crouching next to Tara. He patted his mother’s hand, a precise, rhythmic patting, as though communicating some code. Minnie turned to see Tara’s head relax back on the pillow, her hand folding around Quinn’s.

‘Did she take something?’ Quinn asked, turning between Minnie and her mother.

‘Two of these,’ said Minnie’s mother, stepping forward to hand Quinn a brown pill tube. ‘I wanted to call an ambulance but she was very insistent.’

Minnie’s mother knitted her hands together, twirling her thumbs around each other.

‘It’s OK, you did the right thing,’ said Quinn. ‘Thank you for being here, Connie. I know how much Mum’s enjoyed talking to you these last few months. It will have meant so much to her that you came.’

Minnie looked over at her mother in confusion. Her mother had been talking to Tara for months? Why hadn’t she said anything? Her mother prickled uncomfortably, glancing at Minnie and then rubbing the back of her neck with a hand.

‘I’m going to take Mum upstairs,’ said Quinn.

Minnie nodded. She watched as Quinn gently propped one of Tara’s arms over his shoulder and lifted her from the couch as though she weighed no more than a child. Watching him pick her up sent a spark of memory through Minnie’s mind; that day at the pool – his dripping wet torso. She chastised herself; this wasn’t the time to be mentally undressing the man!

‘Don’t leave. I’ll come back down,’ Quinn said to Minnie as he carried his mother towards the stairs.

When he had gone, Minnie shuffled towards her mother and hissed, ‘So, you have been speaking. Why didn’t you tell me?’

Her mother shrugged and walked off towards a side table full of silver photo frames and ornaments. She picked up a white china dog and examined it. ‘Would you look at that, just like mine.’

Minnie looked at the dog. It couldn’t have been more different to the tacky old ornament her mother was talking about. Tara’s was probably an expensive bone-china collectors’ item; her mother’s had come from the Odds ’n’ Ends shop off Kilburn High Road.