Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
APRIL
T he lady turns back as I walk through the door.
“Oh, my dear,” she says, wrinkling her nose as she steps closer.
“Sorry… I got caught in a fire,” I say, my throat constricting around the words both from lack of use and emotion. My eyes fill.
“Oh heavens. You were there? Come in, my lovely. How can I help?” she says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
“Ms April?” Another lady appears from the back, her face a picture of horror and shock as she takes me in. I recognise her instantly. It’s Jonah’s Nan, one of my younger students. She brings him to class because his mum and dad work shifts.
“Hi, Dorrie,” I say weakly.
“What on earth? Come in and sit down. Val, this is Ms April, Jonah’s dance teacher. Oh lordy, the fire? Are you okay? I saw it on the news this morning.”
I blink back tears, as I’m led to a chair near the back of the shop.
“Sit down, love,” Val says, my movements delayed as my brain tries to stay focused. Someone places a cup of steaming tea in my hand as the two women fuss around me.
“We’ve got you.”
I sit and do as I’m told, no longer having the energy to argue as the events of the past few hours finally hit home.
“Let’s get you sorted with some clothes,” Dorrie says, ushering Val into the shop. They move through the rails, grabbing a few items. “I know. We had a new batch of clothes arrive yesterday. They’ve been through the washing machine. I was about to label them up,” she says, disappearing.
I hug the mug of tea, taking small sips as I listen to her crashing and banging.
“Here you go,” she says, coming back with some jeans and a couple of jumpers. Holding them up. They look brand new. “These should fit you,” she says, winking. “Skinny person that you are.”
She rubs a hand over her own generous midriff and laughs.
Val appears with a bag in which she is putting other bits and pieces.
“Some shampoo, conditioner, soap. Rejected Christmas pressies, everyone likes to donate. I’ve also put in some towels. One of the local factories has been giving us their seconds to sell. They’re brand new and perfectly good, if you ask me.”
She takes the clothes Dorrie is holding and folds them into the bag.
“Thank you,” I say, my head struggling to make out what they are saying as exhaustion sets in.
“Oh, honey, you’re in shock. You need to get showered. Is there somewhere you can go?” Val asks, kneeling in front of me, her hand gently squeezing my shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, giving them both a weak smile .
I don’t miss the look that passes between them. Most of the locals know I live on site. It was the worst-kept secret.
“Have you got somewhere to stay?” Val asks.
I give them a smile and nod. “Yes, my best friend. He’s currently at work. I can stay at his place,” I lie.
After a lot of convincing, the two women finally let me leave, although they refuse to let me pay for any of the items they’ve packed for me. “We are a charity, set up to help those in need. You, my love, need some charity and love today.”
Their kindness floors me, and I tell them I’ll repay them.
I make my way to the outskirts of the main shopping area and find myself outside the one place I hoped I’d never need to revisit. Somewhere, I’ve made countless donations since I opened the dance school. It was there for me once, and here’s hoping it will be there for me again.
I ring the buzzer.
“Hello,” a voice comes over the intercom.
“Hi, I need…” the door buzzes before I can say anymore.
I push it open as I hear the click and step inside. A familiar smell hits my nose, and I’m transported back to when I first arrived in the city at nineteen, with not much more than the bag on my back.
“April?”
Dawn, the manager, appears out of her office.
“Hi,” I say, offering her a weak smile. “I need somewhere,” I cough as I clear the lump from my throat. “I need somewhere to stay,” I say, close to tears.
She nods once and beckons for me to follow her.
“You remember the routine?” she asks. “It’s twenty a night.”
She hands me a clipboard holding the relevant paperwork, which I fill out and pass back.
“Are those your belongings? ”
She points to the bag I have over my shoulder. The one Val and Dorrie put together for me.
“Yes,” I say.
She hands me a key. “This is for your locker. Items left lying around tend to walk. We added lockers to ensure the safety of each person’s belongings.”
She grabs a towel and hands it to me.
“Get showered before the rest of the rabble get back. You’re in 2b. The other girls in there are nice. They’ve just left for work, so you’ll have the day to yourself.”
I don’t ask what they do. This is little more than a shelter for those down on their luck.
“Thank you,” I say, heading towards the door.
“I’m sorry, April,” she says. “The fire, it’s all over the news. If there’s anything I can do,” she says.
“Somewhere to lay my head. It’s been a long night,” I say before leaving her.
I can feel her eyes burning into me as I drag my weary body up the stairs.
I strip out of my clothes and place teddy on the sink. I step under the hot water, hissing as it hits my back. I turn around and catch sight of the welt-like bruises in the mirror. Remembering how the window hit me as I climbed through. Luckily, the shower room is empty, the water piping hot. The water runs through my hair and down my body until the pain subsides, and it washes away the grime and smoke of the previous evening. I close my eyes and let the water hide my misery. I gasp for breath, choking on the tears I can no longer contain. The sound of the water drowns out my sobs.
I grab the shampoo that Val put in my bag. Mango and apple. Adding a generous amount to my hand, I massage it into my scalp, washing away the smell of my burnt-out life. I rinse and repeat, before adding the conditioner. I almost cry again when I see a brand-new hairbrush set in the bag. It’s amazing what people give away.
Wrapping my hair in a clean towel, I change into one of the sets of clothes the women provided. I pull on the clean jeans. They’re a little baggy, but beggars can’t be choosers, and you never look a gift horse in the mouth.
The dorm room is empty when I let myself in. I spend time towel drying and de-knotting my hair before pushing my bag up against the wall and lying down. I curl into a foetal position, hugging teddy and my knees into my chest. The tears come again, only this time silently, and I let them fall. Better out than in, as Di would say. I’ll need to get a phone to let her know I’m okay, but at this moment, I’m too exhausted to think.