Hello Little Girl

Chapter 13

“Wendy, the phone is ringing!”

The girl groaned and opened her eyes. “I know!”

But she didn’t care. The phone rang once again, an annoying shrill bouncing around the house, and continued on until the caller gave up only a minute later and it was still again.

Wendy knew it was Paul. It had to be. Nobody ever called besides Alan, and he only rang on the weekends.

This was the second time Paul had tried to get in touch with Wendy in three days, and she couldn’t even bring herself to pick up the damn receiver, much less actually talk to him.

Mary appeared in the door frame with a dish rag in one hand and a plate in the other. Wendy was surprised. Usually she was the one ending up with the housework.

“Did you get the phone?” Her mother asked. Wendy didn’t look at her.

“No”

“Why not?” Mary frowned.

“I didn’t want to.” The girl replied shortly. Wendy was an expert on making her mother angry, and she felt like picking a fight.

“What fantastic reasoning.” Mary snapped.

Wendy rolled her eyes and sat up to pull a pack of cigarettes from under her pillow. “It was probably for me anyway. No big deal.”

Mary saw the carton and her heart nearly exploded out of her chest in a fit of rage.

“That may be.” She said, “But I’m curious to know what makes you think you’re allowed to smoke, much less in the house.”

Flippantly, Wendy shook one out of the package, lit it, and took a long drag.

“Highly amusing, but if you’re going to poison yourself, please take it outside.” Mary said, “I don’t want that smoke near Scott.”

Since when have you cared about him? She thought to herself.

“There’s nothing wrong with cigarettes.” Wendy said, getting up and opening her window.

“They’re a crutch for people who can’t deal with their own problems, now take that damn thing outside.” Mary retorted.

Wendy slammed the window down again, “Fine” she said, and strode out of the room. Mary didn’t even have time to think before her daughter had already skipped down the steps and brought the front door crashing shut behind her.

In the other room, Scott woke up from his nap with a wail. Mary stood stunned only for a moment before hurrying to her son.

The sight of Wendy slamming the door replayed over and over in her mind as she rocked Scott back to sleep. He eventually stopped crying, and Mary set him gently back in bed, wondering all the while how the hell she was going to keep their small family from falling apart completely.

Wendy strode quickly away from the house, furiously sucking down the smoke from her cigarette like it was oxygen. She didn’t try to stop crying because for once, she didn’t give a flying fuck. No one cared enough to look at her twice anyway, and for that she hated them and was relieved at the same time.

Her body shook. Nothing made any fucking sense anymore so Wendy just walked, fast and hard, going nowhere in particular but not being able to bear the thought of staying in one place for too long.

Her legs trembled like mad but she forced them to do what she wanted, even though she wasn’t exactly clear on what that was. Still, she pushed herself down the streets of Liverpool, past the school and past the park thinking these wild thoughts about John and Paul and her mother and Alan and her dad and Scott…

That was when she started to cry even harder. Thinking about Scott and how desperate she was for him to turn out better than she ever could. How was she supposed to look after him when she couldn’t even keep herself together? All his life he’d never even had a Father. And for that Wendy felt enormously guilty. She had thirteen years worth of memories involving that man, while Scott had nothing. He needed a Dad, but Wendy could never give him one.

Scott had never cared for any of the men that Mary had brought home, not even Alan. That’s why Wendy was so surprised when he latched onto John so quickly…

John again. Of course.

It was starting to get dark, but Wendy refused to go back or slow down. Not when she was so angry.

Halfway through her pack of cigarettes, John forced his way to the front of her mind again. She could hardly remember the last time they’d spoken, but the image of him tripping off with that red-haired bird was one frozen in her memory.

Now, more than ever, Wendy knew she shouldn’t even give a thought to that bastard, but did that stop her? Obviously not.

It was like the outing with Paul had actually emphasized the absence of John rather than masked it.

The difference between the two lads was astonishing. And in the smallest ways too. Like how John never seemed to care whether you liked him or not, how he was never affectionate and never stopped laughing. Paul was so careful about every move, word, and he treated girls like they were a rarity.

God, Wendy’s head was spinning. This was all too much to handle while sober.

She reached for another cigarette to find the carton completely empty. She cursed loudly at the discovery and tossed it away without a backwards glance.

The streets were thinning out, and Wendy couldn’t have recognized the area during the day, much less in the waning light.

Still angry, still crying, she stumbled around the streets, not knowing where she was going.

It started to rain, and she didn’t even notice she had stopped moving until she realized where she was.

In disbelief, she wiped the water out of her face and looked at the haunting in front of her. Mendips glared down at her like Mimi herself possessed the house. She shivered, partly from the cold, partly because of where she was.

Her hand hesitated on the gate, wondering whether or not it would be ok to pop in for a bit to dry off and warm up. Logical thought escaped Wendy as she pushed open the gate and hurried to the front door. Just as she raised her fist to knock, she froze.

What the fuck was she doing?

This was John’s house. She was unwelcome by both him and his aunt. To ask for hospitality from them would be suicidal of her.

Wendy’s arm fell limply to her side as she stared at the door, wondering what could be going on inside. Maybe John had a bird over, or he might be strumming with the band while Mimi cleared away what was left from dinner.

It was stupid to think she could intrude on them, and especially in such a state. Was she that desperate to get John to notice her again? It would be less humiliating to write ‘pathetic’ on her forehead and send her to carry on through the rest of life like that. At least then she’d be honest.

Wendy continued to stare at the finished wood, absolutely terrified of someone opening the door to find her just standing there. They’d lock her up in a loony bin for standing in the rain staring at a door looking like she’d just taken a swim in the river.

A knot in her throat kept her from swallowing, and it was a whole minute before she could move her feet again. When all motor controls were regained, Wendy turned and walked unsteadily out into the rain.

She could hardly see for crying, and everyone left out on the streets was starting to give her weird looks as they passed by. They were all hunkered down in hats and rain coats and things. Wendy didn’t even have an umbrella with her.

By the time she managed to get home, she was soaked through to the core and couldn’t stop shivering. Even when she’d gotten out of her wet clothes and taken a hot bath, she still couldn’t rid her skin of the smothering chill the cold rain had pounded into her so harshly.