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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: LIES TO KEEP
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HELEN SAT IN SILENCE. Head bowed to the cross, hands folded in front of her. Her eyes were closed but her mind was racing in spite of her motionless body, thoughts straying from the prayer she whispered out of muscle memory.
Our father, who art in heaven.
She was quick to rouse at the harsh sound of a new arrival and the door slamming shut. She turned, as the others did, her hands falling, to witness Polly Gray entering the church. The people who took up the pews opposite Helen gazed at her as though she was God's right hand woman. An angel who wore a spotted grey trench coat and a long black dress as though she was in mourning. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses, but from the stagger in her footsteps, Helen had no doubt that she'd been drinking.
The priest paused to gaze at her, blank-faced but with his lips pressed into a thin, telling line.
"I wish to confess," she announced while striding towards the confessional booths. She didn't wait for an answer.
Father frowned. "There's no confessional today--"
"The name's Shelby."
The corner of Helen's mouth twitched upward into a smirk just as Polly recognised her. The older woman arched an eyebrow, dipping her chin and slurring her name before swinging open the booth door. "Helen."
"Pol."
The door swung shut.
Father hesitated for a second longer before following her, head bowed to his fate. As the silence returned, Helen let her eyes flutter shut. Tommy greeted her in the shadows behind her eyelids, calling to her, one hand around her neck like the noose she often struggled to escape. He cradled Helen to him like a wolf with sheep's fur clumped between its teeth. She lost herself in him, failing to focus when the others retreated from the church; soon, it was just her, the familiarity of God's distant eyes, and the confessional booths where sins were exchanged as secrets.
Just as quickly as that booth door swung shut, it reared open and Polly came storming out. She was quick to press her glasses back onto her face as light poured in from the stained glass windows, though Helen was certain she caught a glimpse of Polly's miserable teary eyes before she hid them away. Without thinking, Helen called her name.
Polly didn't look back, simply replying, "Come."
Helen obeyed, gathering up Tommy's coat -- her coat now -- in her arms before chasing after her. Father emerged into the aisle where he stood and watched the two opposing women depart with a shadow passing across the weathered lines of his face. What could Polly have possibly told him to make him look so concerned?
The cold streets greeted them with a harsh gust of wind. Helen shrugged on her coat, barely managing to puff on her cigarette between each of her shallow breaths. Her stomach was even bigger now, quickly expanding by the day. Before she knew it, she'd have two children to contend with. It was hard enough with just one.
