Part 6 (2/2)

”Or don't you know the way? Don't you know the way from here?”

”I know it, but I'm not telling.”

”So we're just going to have to drive around. Drive around and around till you get ready to tell us.”

”Well I'm not goin' to get ready. So I'm not.”

”We could go back and see your sister. I bet she 'd tell us.

Must be about quitting time for her now, we could drive her home.”

”She 's on the late s.h.i.+ft, so haw haw.”

They were driving through a part of this town that Jinny had not seen before. They drove very slowly and made frequent turns, so that hardly any breeze went through the car. A boarded-up factory, discount stores, p.a.w.nshops, CASH, CASH, CASH, said a flas.h.i.+ng sign above barred windows. But there were houses, disreputable-looking old duplexes, and the sort of single wooden houses that were put up quickly during the Second World War. One tiny yard was full of things for sale-clothes pegged to a line, tables stacked with dishes and household goods.

A dog was nosing around under a table and could have knocked it over, but the woman who sat on the step, smoking and surveying the lack of customers, did not seem to care.

In front of a corner store some children were sucking on Popsicles. A boy who was on the edge of the group-he was probably no more than four or five years old-threw his Popsicle at the van. A surprisingly strong throw. It hit Jinny's door just below her arm and she gave a light scream.

Helen thrust her head out the back window.

”You want your arm in a sling?”

- 65*

The child began to howl. He hadn't bargained on Helen, and he might not have bargained on the Popsicle 's being gone for good.

Back in the van, Helen spoke to Neal.

”You're just wasting your gas.”

”North of town?” Neal said. ”South of town? North south east west, Helen tell us which is best.”

”I already told you. You done all for me you are goin' to do today.”

”And I told you. We 're going to get those shoes for you before we head home.”

No matter how strictly he spoke, Neal was smiling. On his face there was an expression of conscious, but helpless, silliness.

Signs of an invasion of bliss. Neal's whole being was invaded, he was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with silly bliss.

”You're just stubborn,” Helen said.

”You'll see how stubborn.”

”I am too. I'm just as stubborn as what you are.”

It seemed to Jinny that she could feel the blaze of Helen's cheek, which was so close to hers. And she could certainly hear the girl's breathing, hoa.r.s.e and thick with excitement and showing some trace of asthma. Helen's presence was like that of a domestic cat that should never be brought along in any vehicle, being too high-strung to have sense, too apt to spring between the seats.

The sun had burned through the clouds again. It was still high and bra.s.sy in the sky.

Neal swung the car onto a street lined with heavy old trees, and somewhat more respectable houses.

”Better here?” he said to Jinny. ”More shade for you?” He spoke in a lowered, confidential tone, as if what was going on with the girl could be set aside for a moment, it was all nonsense.

”Taking the scenic route,” he said, pitching his voice again towards the back seat. ”Taking the scenic route today, courtesy of Miss Helen Rosie-face.”

- 66*

”Maybe we ought to just go on,” Jinny said. ”Maybe we ought to just go on home.”

Helen broke in, almost shouting. ”I don't want to stop n.o.body from getting home.”

”Then you can just give me some directions,” Neal said. He was trying hard to get his voice under control, to get some ordinary sobriety into it. And to banish the smile, which kept slipping back in place no matter how often he swallowed it. ”Just let's go to the place and do our errand and head home.”

Half a slow block more, and Helen groaned.

”If I got to I guess I got to,” she said.

It was not very far that they had to go. They pa.s.sed a subdivision, and Neal, speaking again to Jinny, said, ”No creek that I can see. No estates, either.”

Jinny said, ”What?”

”Silver Creek Estates. On the sign.”

He must have read a sign that she had not seen.

”Turn,” said Helen.

”Left or right?”

”At the wrecker's.”

They went past a wrecking yard, with the car bodies only partly hidden by a sagging tin fence. Then up a hill and past the gates to a gravel pit that was a great cavity in the center of the hill.

”That's them. That's their mailbox up ahead,” Helen called out with some importance, and when they got close enough she read out the name.

”Matt and June Bergson. That's them.”

A couple of dogs came barking down the short drive. One was large and black and one small and tan-colored, puppylike.

They b.u.mbled around at the wheels and Neal sounded the horn.

Then another dog-this one more sly and purposeful, with a slick coat and bluish spots-slid out of the long gra.s.s.

- 67*

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