Читать книгу The Other Wife: A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense - Juliet Bell, Juliet Bell - Страница 23

Betty

Betty was pulled along by Mrs Mason’s tight grip on her hand, through the mass of bodies rushing and pushing their way through the shops. Betty had never seen anything like this.

Bankstown Square, Mrs Mason said, was the biggest shopping centre in the whole country, with all sorts of new and interesting shops that everyone wanted to see. That’s why Mrs Mason had to come here to buy Betty’s new summer clothes. Betty had thought it was summer already, but apparently that wasn’t right. Summer and winter were backwards here and even winter wasn’t really cold.

Betty’s legs were tired and Mrs Mason was laden with carrier bags from all the shops they’d been in. Mrs Mason hadn’t let her try on one of the new miniskirts that were so popular. She was apparently too little for that sort of thing, whatever that sort of thing was. Her dresses were all pretty and frilly. Betty didn’t really like them, but she didn’t tell Mrs Mason that. She thought that that would make Mrs Mason sad.

They swept out of the big sliding doors into the sunshine. Mrs Mason pulled her hand away for a second to reach into her pocket. That was it. Betty was too tired. She shuffled backwards away from Mrs Mason and sat down on a low wall outside the shops. The sun was hot on her face and she closed her eyes for a moment, away from the bustle and the noise. It was almost warm enough to imagine that she was back in her real home in front of the blazing fire.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before she opened her eyes again, but when she did she couldn’t see Mrs Mason anywhere. Betty clambered up onto the wall, but even up on tippy-toes she couldn’t see Mrs Mason. There were too many people pushing their way into the shopping centre, or fighting their way to the car park.

‘Eliza!’

She heard the voice and jumped off the wall. She tried to run towards the voice, but there were too many people in the way.

‘Eliza!’ The voice was further away now. It seemed to come from outside the car park, near the street.

Betty stopped and tried to listen. Where was Mrs Mason? She had to find her. Mrs Mason was the only person she knew, the only person who cared about her.

‘Eliza!’

The voice was closer this time. Betty set out more confidently, striding in what she hoped was the right direction.

The next sound made her stop. It wasn’t a voice. It wasn’t Mrs Mason calling for her. It was a growl of an engine, then a screech of brakes, and then a cry. The crowd around her stopped milling in all their different directions and turned, like Betty, towards the cry.

Then the voices all started up at once. ‘Someone go into one of the shops and call the ambos.’

‘What happened?’

‘Is she all right?’

‘Oh my God.’

Betty pushed and shoved as hard as she could to get to the front of the crowd. Mrs Mason must be in the crowd, so if she could get to the front Mrs Mason would see her, wouldn’t she? And then everything would be all right.

But she couldn’t get through. The throng of people was too great. Eventually she called out. ‘Help me!’

A woman’s face appeared, ducking down to her level. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Mrs Mason….’ Betty gulped out the words but couldn’t finish.

‘Mrs Mason? Is that your mother?’

Betty shook her head. ‘I live with her.’

‘OK. I’m sure we can find her.’

Betty let the stranger lift her up and carry her through the crowd, shouting at people to let them through.

‘Can you see your lady now?’ The woman turned around so Betty could look at the people gathered.

Betty shook her head. The woman turned again. Then Betty saw Mrs Mason. She was lying in the street. There was a motorbike on its side right next to her, and a man dressed in black leather sitting on the pavement. A truck was stopped on the other side of the road, its cab twisted away from them at a funny angle. Betty cried out.

‘What’s wrong?’

She couldn’t make the words. She stuck out a hand, finger pointing towards the figure stretched out on the road.

‘Oh dear God,’ the woman muttered. She turned her body so Betty couldn’t see Mrs Mason lying on the road, but it was too late. The image was fixed inside her head. Eventually a siren sounded and a couple of cars with flashing lights pulled to a stop in the empty street alongside the abandoned truck. The woman who was still holding Betty stepped forward to the men who jumped out of the cars.

‘I think this is her little daughter,’ she whispered.