Helen

by Arty

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

I bit back a further, more intemperate, response and turned away from my tormentor. On the tip of my tongue was a statement about her total lack of intelligence, humour and humanity; I suppressed it, not because of any feeling for her, but because I knew it would be followed by comments about her parentage and there was no way I could say things like that our mothers were very close friends. The effort of doing so caused me to grind another layer of enamel from my teeth.

Our exchanges were legendary for their ferocity, but we'd both been warned that the next time we got out of hand, we'd both be suspended; another reason for me to stop this. I stalked away from Helen, her taunts ringing in my ears.

One day soon, I promised myself; one day she'd make a mistake and someone other than her cronies would see that she was a harridan who always initiated our altercations. Unfortunately her timing was exquisite in that respect and the authorities only ever seemed to witness my retaliations, and only when they had escalated to point of total unreasonableness; I'd lost count of the times that I'd been caught screaming obscenities at her. She seemed to take an unholy delight in goading me to the point of where I totally lost it; I hated her.

"Jesus, Andrew! What the hell are you playing at?"

"She just gets to me, I can't seem to help it."

"You know what would've happened if someone'd seen you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know; it's just not fair. Why is it always me that gets caught?"

"'Cause you're stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Sez who!"

"Sez me!"

"What makes you so clever then?"

"Standing next to you."

After the carefully scripted lead-in, I threw a mock punch at Simon and we fell into our well-worn stunt fighting routine. A few interested spectators gathered at the prospect of a fight, especially between two 6th formers, but they drifted away when the realised that it was only us. We stopped after a while, breathing hard and grinning like maniacs.

"Ooooo look at the ickle, wickle boys, play fighting like puppies. It's so adorable." The over-cutesy tones of Helen washed over me and instantly the euphoria of the moment faded. I opened my mouth to respond, heedless of the playground staff converging on us.

"Piss off, Helen!" Simon got in first and dragged me away.

"What's going on here?" The sarcastic tones of Mr. Brown, the deputy head, enquired of us.

"Just a bit of amateur dramatics, sir." Simon was still pre-empting me. Helen smiled over-sweetly at the Deputy Head. Shit, she looked like an angel; it was a pity she was such poisonous bitch on the inside. Mr. Brown looked at her for confirmation.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes, sir. Just another lesson from the Simon and Andrew school of play fighting. You know how it is, sir: boys will be boys."

Helen simpered at the hapless Mr. Brown; he was so blinded by the airhead princess act, that he failed to see the bitchiness hovering beneath the surface.

"Careful, Helen, your spite is showing." I muttered to myself.

"You said something Andrew?"

"Me, sir? …" I was saved from further embarrassment by the sound of the bell calling us to registration. For 6th-formers, registration was something of a formality, but Mr. Brown had to go. With a standard admonishment to stop behaving like year 7s - we were nearly eighteen after all - he left us.

I had only free periods this morning, I could have stayed at home, now I regretted coming in. At least if I'd stayed away I wouldn't have had to deal with 'the poisonous bitch from hell' first thing.

"Come on, before she goads you into doing something really stupid."

I let myself be pulled towards our registration room. How had I got to this point? How could somebody hate me that much? Not for the first time I tried to think of something specific that I had done to her to make her dislike me so much, but, as usual, I drew a blank. I suppose I could have just asked her. I smiled bleakly - yeah like that was ever gonna happen.

"Penny for 'em."

"Just wondering why she hates me so much." I knew it was just me that put her into 'poisonous bitch' mode, the rest of the school thought she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. And before you ask it wasn't just jealousy on my part either, I was pretty popular myself. That was part of the problem: she was head-girl and I was head-boy. I had no choice but to interact with her. On days like today I felt like resigning…

"Personality clash." Simon's interjection broke my train of thought.

"What is?"

"You and Helen, it's like you're oil and water or something; you're never gonna mix. Like I said: personality clash."

"I suppose."

"You know I'm right. Anyway, I don't think it's anything you've done, it's just the way things are."

"Whatever you say, Herr Doktor Freud."

"Ahh shaddap!"

Simon continued talking about some girl he'd met last night at the pub, I tuned him out and thought about what I was going to do about Helen…

.oOo.

Our very first meeting had been less than auspicious, sometimes I wondered what would have happened if things had been different. People talk about love at first sight and, if that's true, what about its polar opposite: hate at first sight? It had certainly felt like it at the time.

.oOo.

"Whatcha doin?"

I looked up to see some unknown girl staring down at me. I estimated that she was nine or ten, but I wasn't really interested. I ignored her and hoped that she would just go away.

My hopes were dashed.

"I said, 'watcha doin?'"

This statement was accompanied by the feel of her foot kicking at the exposed soles of my shoes as I sat, legs straight out in front of me leaning back against an old oak tree. She emphasised each word with a gentle kick to my foot. I sighed.

"Reading. Go away and leave me alone!"

I wasn't normally this brusque, even at 10 years old I was expected to be polite to strangers, but I'd spent all morning at the beck and call of my mother and my two sisters and I was desperate to read the last few pages of 'HMS Ulysses'. The book had been hard going at first, but now I'd got into it I was revelling in the description of the fateful last journey of a second-world war destroyer as it protected a north Atlantic convoy. The girl didn't seem to be bothered by my rudeness and responded with a further question.

"Watcha reading?"

"A book. Go away, willya?" I refused to look up and tried to ignore her presence. I attempted, once more, to imagine the cold and the deprivation, the humour and the courage that Alistair Maclean had somehow managed to communicate to me…

"Oww!" The feel of someone pulling my hair, rudely interrupted my trip to Scapa Flow. "What was that for?"

"I asked you what you were reading."

"Go away!"

"Shan't!"

I stood up and stormed across the field, back to the footpath that followed the river - well more of a large stream really - that would lead me back home. Perhaps I could hideaway in my bedroom…

"Hey, give it back!"

"I only want to see what it is."

"You've seen. Now give it back." Who was this girl? And why wouldn't she leave me alone? I made a grab for the book. In the resulting melee we both slipped and fell into the stream.

"Shit! Now look what you've done!"

We stood up - the water was only ankle deep after all - and squared off. I was cross. I was wet and in no mood to take prisoners.

"What I've done? You nicked my book and wouldn't give it back and now it's my fault that we're in the stream!" I paddled downstream and picked up my sodden paperback as it floated away from us. "Look what you did to my book, you… you… you bitch!"

Her face turned white at my last comment and for a fraction of a second I thought she was going to faint. Then her cheeks flushed with anger and her hands balled into fists. I knew, even at the tender age of ten, that in any fight with a girl the boy is always to blame, so I scrambled out of the water and ran off towards my home, ignoring the taunts of my tormentor and squelching with every step.

I never did finish the book either.

.oOo.

It all seemed to go downhill from there; every time that we had met after that first disastrous occasion she was prickly and defensive, always ready to find fault or read an insult into an otherwise innocuous comment. After a while I began to dread the times when my mother and her mother would get together for coffee, because I knew that at some point, somehow, I'd be manoeuvred into doing something for which I'd be punished. By then I knew that she hated me for some reason and it's hard not to react to something like that, especially when you're ten or eleven and not particularly fond of girls in the first place.

.oOo.

"Andrew, play nicely with Helen, please, for me?"

I looked at my mother with something like horror on my face and in my mind. Why did she have to come here? Every time we were together she got me into trouble. I tried to explain what I was feeling.

"Mum, she hates me."

"No she doesn't, Alice says she's very shy."

Shy! I'd never noticed any shyness myself; just the right amount of nastiness, calculated to goad me into doing or saying something that would get me punished. I tried again, hating the desperate pleading that added a whining edge to my voice.

"Please mum, do I have to?"

"Yes, now stop moaning. Go and get yourself cleaned up before they get here."

I shambled disconsolately up the stairs and into the bathroom. I turned on the taps and splashed the water loudly in an effort to fool my mother into believing that I was doing as I was told. I held the soap under the water to get it wet, and then I rinsed my hands and dried them. I wondered why I did this - it was almost as much trouble to fake washing my hands, as it was to actually wash them. I shrugged to myself and the beginnings of maturity took hold as I decided that next time I'd just do as I was told. Even so I wasn't going to hold still for another afternoon's torment at the hands of Helen, so a sneaked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I heard my mother's voice as she welcomed Helen and her mother and then she called up the stairs.

"Andrew, Helen's here come downstairs and look after her."

Frantically I looked around for a means of escape and then I spied the window, left open to air out the room. Knees shaking from excitement and fear I climbed onto the windowsill and out onto the roof of the ground floor extension that had been built onto the room below mine. I could hear my mother shouting up the stairs.

"Andrew, come down at once and stop being silly."

That decided me I ran the two or three steps to the edge of the roof and jumped.

About six feet from the edge of the extension my Dad had terraced the garden. I knew, intellectually, that with the raised bed the difference in height between the extension roof and the garden was only four feet or so and I could jump down that far without any real risk. But knowing a thing and believing it enough to actually do it were two different things and up until now I'd never had the courage, or the motivation, to try it.

The sound of Helen running up the stairs shouting, "it's all right Mrs. Jones I'll fetch him." Was motivation enough and I hit the ground running. Without stopping to think, and frantic to get away I vaulted over the fence at the back of the garden and onto the footpath that separated our garden from the one behind us. Putting my head down I sprinted as fast as I could away from the house, away from Helen and away from a couple of hours of torment.

I had a wonderful afternoon playing with my best friend Simon. It didn't stop me from getting punished when I got home though. I didn't mind, this time I'd got some enjoyment out of being naughty.

.oOo.

The flames danced in the grate and I glanced at the clock a couple of hours before we were together again. I was still amazed at our need for closeness even after twenty-five years; perhaps it was a reaction to the fact that we couldn't stand to be in the same room as each other for so much of our childhood.

.oOo.

"For God's sake Andrew you're eighteen and should be old enough not to get into these childish squabbles!"

The head looked at me with exasperation bordering on crossness. The latest fight with Helen had escalated to the point of me breaking a desk in my frustration. Since - as always - Helen had managed to escape detection of her needling me, my reaction to her final, apparently innocuous, comment was seen as entirely without justification and, in the ordinary way of things, grounds for suspension at the very least.

I looked up and met her gaze, shamefaced. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat as I said what I had to say.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Parkin." I swallowed again, "I must ask you to accept my resignation as head-boy," The words caught in my throat, this was a much harder thing to do than to think it. I tried again, "I'm obviously not able to control myself and that can't be a good thing for someone in my position."

The head stared at me as if I was some sort of Martian.

"I wasn't going to ask it of you, Andrew. But perhaps that might be best. However say nothing to anyone yet, before I have a chance to discuss it with the staff and Governors."

I nodded and stared disconsolately at the floor and flushed with shame as I realised that my eyes were wet with unshed tears. I don't know what hurt more the thought that Helen had won - finally, or that I would be the subject of ridicule and derision as the first head-boy to behave so badly that he had to resign. Angrily I scrubbed at my eyes with the heels of both hands.

"You may go." I turned to leave, "Remember, say nothing to anyone."

I nodded my acknowledgment, unable to speak and left her office.

I felt, rather than heard, the suppressed excitement of the crowd that had gathered at the bottom of the steps outside the main entrance. Various comments floated, out of context, up from the general hubbub.

"Jesus, is it really her?"

"Cor! She's got a nice pair!"

"I think she's a slut!"

I paused at the bottom of the stairs and was surprised to find myself largely ignored. I'd expected to have to turn away questions about what was going to happen to me, but apart from a vague acknowledgement of my presence, no one asked me anything. Instead an anonymous hand shoved a tabloid newspaper into my hand folded to show the naked form of beautiful teenager. The headline screamed 'Teen Tarts Turn Tricks for Treats'. The alliterative headline told me nothing about the story but it seemed to be the start of a series of stories about teenage schoolgirls who were part-time prostitutes for pocket money. The picture that illustrated the piece grabbed my attention, not because she was naked - which she was - but because of the barely suppressed horror in her face.

It was Helen.

Some anonymous voice jeered.

"Bet you're glad to see that she's not so high-and-mighty now?"

A chorus of agreement arose at the comment. It made me angry, were they blind? Couldn't they see the wrong that had been done to her? I had to say something; my silence was being taken for agreement.

"Shut the fuck up!"

I rarely swore so vehemently and the shock of my profanity quietened the crowd.

"Listen to yourselves. You have no idea how this picture was taken. Can't you see how frightened she is in it?"

The silence stretched out and I turned from them in disgust and walked away. I still carried the newspaper and chucked it in the litterbin at the end of the school drive as I passed it. I couldn't go home feeling like this and, almost without thinking I made my way to the stream. I heard her before I saw her. Sobbing. I stopped walking - I knew who it had to be - there was no way that she would want to see me, so I turned as silently as I could and started home. As I reached the corner of the footpath that would take me out of sight of the clearing I looked back and saw Helen standing watching me leave, a strange look upon her face.

The 'phone rang almost continuously that evening and late into the night. Many acquaintanceships were ruined before the night was over, as I was brusque to the point of rudeness with anyone who attempted to gossip about Helen. I didn't sleep well and my dreams were filled with the vision of her, naked.

Morning came far too quickly and I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom feeling like death warmed up. I was not looking forward to morning assembly and the inevitable announcement of my resignation. I groaned silently to myself as I realised that I hadn't told mum that I'd screwed up again. I swallowed the toast that I was chewing having difficulty as the thought of her disappointment brought a lump to my throat. The doorbell rang and I joined Simon for the walk to school. We walked in silence; I couldn't talk about my resignation and he couldn't talk about Helen, I'd made that clear last night. That left us with little to talk about but inconsequential stuff, like the weather and we'd long ago got past the stage of inane chatter.

A knot of girls attracted our attention. They were jeering at someone. I felt my stomach churn; it could only be Helen who was the subject of the taunts. I broke into a run and left Simon behind, dumbfounded at my behaviour. Bullying of any sort made me see red at the best of times, but this, somehow, was worse.

"Stop it! Leave her alone!"

I thrust myself through the melee heedless as to who I injured in my haste to reach her. The crowd lessened as it became clear that others in authority had noticed them and almost before I reached the sobbing girl the majority of the taunting crowd had left. Now that I had reached her I was at a loss at what to do next.

"We should get her home, she can't go to school like this."

Simon spoke quietly in my ear. He was probably right, but I knew that Alice worked in the mornings and wouldn't be home until lunchtime. I made a decision.

"Go to school and tell Mrs. Parkin what's happened and I'll take her home. I'll stay until her mum gets home. I have a free period anyway, so I didn't need to come in first thing anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Only they way you and she are together…"

Unbelievably it hadn't occurred to me! "Oh, Christ you're right. You stay with her. The last person she'll want to be with is me…"

"It's… it's OK, if you don't mind staying until mum gets home…" Helen sobbed out this surprising statement.

"Simon will stay with you, if you'd rather?"

Helen shook her head and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke. "Some of those girls were my friends. If that's friendship I'd rather be with someone who hates me!"

As she spoke I could see the return of some of her fire; unaccountably, this cheered me. Simon and I exchanged shrugs and he set off for school as Helen and I walked slowly back towards her house. I snagged her bag that she had dropped when she had first been surrounded and we walked in silence. I reflected on the two silences, I mean silence was silence wasn't it? So how could the silence, between Simon and me, have been comfortable and the silence now, be so fraught with discomfort? It was a mystery. I looked up to see Helen staring at me, a question in her face.

"What?"

I suppose I spoke more sharply than I intended as she flinched as if I'd slapped her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I didn't get much sleep last night. It makes me grumpy; still that's no excuse, I don't suppose you got much sleep either. So, what did you want to ask me?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm a nice guy."

"Not to me you aren't!"

My angry retort died on my lips as I struggled not to fall into the same old pattern. "You're right, I'm not. But I can't stand to see anyone being bullied especially when…" I stopped, I was about to tell her how I thought she was being coerced in the newspaper photograph, but the last thing she needed right now was to know that I'd seen the picture.

"Especially when, what?"

"It doesn't matter, it'd only make you feel worse and you don't need that right now."

We reached her front door and she fumbled in her schoolbag for the key, she opened the door and let herself in. I stood, waiting as she went into the house. After a minute or so she came back.

"What are you standing there for?"

"You didn't invite me in."

"I thought you'd just follow me in."

"I didn't like to presume, and I take other people's privacy very seriously. Mum drummed it into me when I was very small. Anyway, you need to invite me in."

"Are you a vampire?"

I looked up at the sun and then back at Helen and grinned. "Yeah, I'm a vampire I turn to dust if I get in the sunlight…"

She giggled and blushed, "Oh come in and stop hanging around my front door, people will notice."

I followed her into the kitchen and watched her as she busied herself with the kettle and a couple of mugs. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please."

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Splash of milk and no sugar. Just stick a tea bag in the mug for me."

"Good. I hate using the teapot I always put too much water in and then I have to wait for ages for the tea to brew and it always tastes stewed."

She was about to pour the boiling water over my teabag and I stopped her.

"Can you put the milk in first?"

"Barbarian!" She smiled quickly to take the heat out of her insult and did as I asked. My dad swore that you couldn't taste the difference, but he hadn't caught me out yet.

We sat in silence and I watched the second-hand sweep inexorably around the dial of the kitchen clock. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her start to say something and then decide not to. The silence grew; again I reflected on the different quality of silences. Eventually even I grew uncomfortable and cast around for something innocuous to say.

"It stops the milk from scalding."

The non sequitur flummoxed her.

"Pardon?"

"Putting the milk in first. It stops the milk from scalding. Scalded milk makes the tea taste odd - well it does to me. Adding the hot water to the milk allows the milk to heat up slowly. Doing it the other way round heats the milk up too quickly. Of course you might like the taste of scalded milk, no accounting for taste after all."

Yet another woman was staring at me as if I was some sort of alien being, it was becoming a habit. I ploughed on; might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.

"Anyway there's a reason for it - at least it's the one that I use, and it sounds plausible enough…"

More staring.

"What?"

"What?"

"Do I have a strange growth on my face or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"First Mrs. Parkin, and now you - staring at me as if I was some sort of weird alien or something, I mean."

"Why was Mrs. Parkin staring at you?"

"I'd just resign…" Shit I'd promised not to say anything. "Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk about it."

Helen looked stricken.

"Look I'd better go, I'm not helping you by being here, I'll wait outside until your mum gets here and then I'll go."

I could only guess at how she was feeling, I could see tears starting, and left rather than impose on her the indignity of me seeing her this vulnerable. I sat on the wall that fronted the front-garden and waited for Helen's mother to arrive. I hadn't long to wait, someone had obviously 'phoned her and she had left for home early. She was opening the car door almost before the car had stopped.

"What happened? Where is she? Why aren't you with her? Have you upset her again?" The questions rattled from her with machine gun rapidity and she didn't wait for answers as she walked quickly to the front door and went in. I sat and contemplated what I should do now; I didn't see any point in going back into the house and so I set off back to school.

There was a strange atmosphere of suppressed excitement about the place. It sickened me, how could they be so thrilled at the misery of another? I arrived in time to be informed of a special after school assembly to discuss 'recent developments' - as the school secretary so delicately put it over the school public address system.

I found Simon playing darts in the 6th form centre.

"She okay?"

"Not really."

"I wonder what the assembly is all about?"

I shrugged my shoulders; unlike everyone else, I knew it could only be one of two things.

"We'll found out soon enough." I could never understand the point of speculation about something that was going to be explained in the short term and about which we had no information anyway.

The 6th formers, myself amongst them entered with the stragglers. Our natural curiosity tempered by the desire to appear cool and unconcerned. Before I could sit in my usual place - near the fire exit where I could make a quick get-away - Mrs. Parkin caught my eye and signalled me up on stage with her. Being head boy meant that I wasn't totally unused to being there, but it was still strange enough that I felt uncomfortable being the centre of attention. We were the only two occupants of the stage and I felt terribly exposed. Time to start imagining my audience naked. Trouble was the only person that I could imagine naked wasn't there…

I saw her sitting in the front row, red-eyed and trying not to be noticed. I caught her eye and tried to make a sympathetic face. I wasn't too successful as her friends Andrea and Elizabeth glared at me. Hardly surprising I suppose, I wasn't the most likely source of sympathy and support as far as they were concerned. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Head speaking.

"I've called this assembly in response to a request of the student council. They have received a petition to remove Helen as head girl and …"

This wasn't fair! I jumped to my feet and made my feelings clear, heedless as to whom I was interrupting.

"What the hell were you lot thinking? Couldn't you see how horrified she was in that picture? Are you so bloody self-righteous that you're blind to the misery you're causing?" Mrs. Parkin glared at me, shocked that I would have the temerity to interrupt her. Oh well I wasn't going to be head boy much longer; I ploughed on anyway. "It's so easy to stand in judgement when your own records are so spotless, isn't it? I'm disgusted to be your head boy, if it weren't for the fact that I'd already resigned, I'd resign now!"

I sat down and contemplated the possible results of my intemperate actions. I glanced up at Mrs. Parkin, who patted my shoulder and smiled at me. Now it was my turn to be shocked. My initial outburst had resulted in a stunned silence and there had been much shifting and squirming as I had poured out my contempt at what they had tried to do. The import of my final statement finally broke through and the hall erupted in a tornado of speculation. I looked up from contemplating my shoes and found myself looking at Helen. She was staring at me, with that strange expression and tears streaming down her face. I wondered at what had upset her; at least this time, I consoled myself, it couldn't have been anything that I had said.

The head waited for the noise to die down. I wondered what she was waiting for and then during one of those inexplicable lulls that occur she shouted.

"BE QUIET!"

And the hall was suddenly so silent that all I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears.

"Now that I have your attention, I'll continue. There are two things that I have to say. Firstly, I am aware of the basis for the petition and I shall speak no more of it. There are two reasons for this: the first is that the matter is private and the second is that it is the subject of legal action both criminal and civil. Let me make it clear, speculation about this matter is contempt of court and offenders will be prosecuted. I'm satisfied that Helen is the victim here and I will not condone further victimisation. Is that understood?"

With the rhetorical question ringing in our ears, she ripped the petition in half.

"Secondly, It's true that Andrew has offered his resignation," she paused dramatically. "But the staff and the governors felt that we weren't going to accept it. And after his outburst just now it's nice to be able to render him speechless for a change."

I continued to stare at the Head, while nervous laughter ran around the assembled throng. Mrs Parkin continued speaking.

"That's enough excitement for one day. Dismissed."

I sat, my thoughts in turmoil as I watched, without seeing, the hall empty. Mrs. Parkin patted me on the shoulder again as she left the stage and all at once I was alone with my thoughts. I was still not sure what had gone on. The adrenalin of my outrage had worn off and now I felt drained and tired. I slouched off the stage and tried to sneak out of the fire exit.

Almost as soon as the door had close behind me and hence I had nowhere to escape to, I found myself to be the recipient of a fierce hug. I looked down to see who it was - okay I knew whom it was - I just couldn't believe it. There was no way I could extricate myself from Helen and truth be told, once the initial shock had worn off, I found myself liking it; very much indeed. I stroked her hair and made what I hoped were comforting noises. After a few minutes of this I felt her sigh and relax a little.

"This very nice, unexpected, but very nice indeed. Has anyone ever told you that you give very good hug?"

She giggled. I tried again.

"Look, I don't want to spoil this, but why, Helen?"

She tightened her grip on me again and spoke, "I'm not completely sure, it just feels right, take me somewhere quiet and we'll talk, okay?"

She let go of me, but captured my hand in hers and we started walking away from school. It was obvious where we should go and I headed us towards the stream. The afternoon was drowsy and the quiet of the clearing was broken only by the sounds of the stream and the odd bee. I found my favourite spot and sat down. Helen sat down next to me and leant her head on my shoulder; once seated she took possession of my hand again, playing idly with my fingers, interlacing hers with mine. It felt good.

"How did you know that this was my favourite spot?"

"I didn't. This is my favourite spot."

"Oh."

I wasn't in any hurry and she was spot on, it did feel right when she was near me. Why hadn't I noticed before, just how damn gorgeous she was. Impulsively I dropped a kiss on the top of her head and inhaled the perfume of her hair. She shivered and goose bumps appeared on her arms.

"What's happening here Helen?"

"You looked so content, with your book." It took me a while to work out she was talking of the day that we first met, eight years ago. I bit back a question and let her continue. "You looked like a very young version of my dad, but nicer because he was always cross. Mum and I had just escaped from him and moved here. He hit my mom and sometime me, if I got in the way. He used to frighten me. I wondered if you would be like him, but I didn't think so, because you were quiet. And dad was never quiet like you were. So I tried to talk to you, to see if we could be friends."

"But I'd just escaped a morning of chores and all I wanted to do was read my book."

"He used to shout at mum and call her a bitch, then he would hit her. When you said it to me I knew I was going to be hurt, but you didn't. You ran away and it felt good to make you run away, it was like I was getting back at my father for all times he hurt mum and me and for the times he terrified me."

I reflected how easy it was to get wrapped up in my own troubles, if only I'd let my mum or dad know what was going on, it would probably have been sorted out in next to no time and I'd have been spared eight years of fighting.

"After a while it was obvious that the feeling was mutual and so I didn't feel bad about being nasty to you. I was like a junky, hurting you made me feel so much better, that I couldn't give it up."

She held my hand to her lips and kissed it, I felt the wetness of tears on her cheek and I realised that she was crying as she spoke. I turned to look at her and she held my gaze. I watched as the tears rolled down her cheeks from eyes that were so terribly blue. Why hadn't I noticed how blue they were before?

"I'm sorry, I should have tried to find out why you were doing it to me, but it always seemed easier to run away."

"Why are you sorry? Christ, we were only ten! I could have stopped myself, I knew I was doing wrong, but I couldn't help it. Any time I felt bad about something all I had to do was be nasty to you and it made it all feel better. How sick is that?"

She cried more profusely and there was nothing more to do, except hold her until she stopped. I zoned out a little as I revelled in the feel of her in my arms. The next thing I knew she was kissing me and I was responding. Her hands were frantic as the pulled at my clothes and it felt so right to be doing this, but I knew that now was not the time; not when things were so delicate and so much could go wrong. Cursing my altruistic self, I pulled away from her questing lips.

"Helen, we can't do this now."

"Don't you want me?"

"Of course I do, but things are complicated enough for you, without you having to feel guilty about going too far, tomorrow." I pulled her back into my arms and cuddled her, "We need to get to know one another properly we have to let everyone get used to us. And we need to know if this is real."

"Of course it's real. Despite all my years of tormenting you, you knew me well enough to know that the photographs weren't what they appeared to be and you stood up for me, even though you thought I hated you. Even my best friends had some reservations about me, but you didn't. As soon as I realised that, I knew that I couldn't hate you any more - you weren't my father and I knew something else," She turned at looked me in the eyes. "I love you."

Those three words thrilled me to the core. Her eyes were pools of sapphire with depths that I would happily drown in. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her breath was soft on my cheek. I knew she meant it and I knew the feeling was mutual; eight years of torment were swept away with those three small words.

"I love you, too."

Her smile was dazzling and we laughed like maniacs: great cathartic gusts of laughter cleansing the years of discord and replacing them with love. Eventually we had to leave and we walked hand in hand from the clearing back home.

"What are our parents going to say?"

Helen smiled, "My mum will ask us when we are getting married."

"Straight after we graduate. We'll buy the engagement ring soon and get engaged on your birthday."

Helen looked at once surprised and content, "It's going to take me a while to get used to how much we think alike - I was just going to suggest that."

And that's what we did.

.oOo.

Twenty-five years of marriage, the thought rolled around in my head as I sat and contemplated the flames. It seemed a long time when one thought about it like that, but it seemed like only yesterday that we were two newlyweds, facing the challenges of a life together. The sound of the key in the door startled me, even though I had been listening for it. I looked up from my seat on the settee as my wife of 25 years came into the sitting room.

"Missed you."

"Missed you too, sorry I was late, I had to go out of town to get this."

She passed me a bag with the name of a second hand bookshop emblazoned on the side. I kissed her in thanks and put my hand in to retrieve the book that was inside.

"It's a first edition." She said in explanation.

I stared in delight at the slightly tatty dustcover of Alistair Maclean's HMS Ulysses.

"I thought it was about time I replaced the one that I ruined."

I felt myself grow misty-eyed and hugged her ferociously.

"Thanks, darling." I grinned at her. "Perhaps you'll let me finish it this time."

And she did, eventually.

-Fin-