Chapter 12: We are here

And so it was that Helen grew, with love and without love. And the harshness of her name, and the loneliness of her life were softened by the messages that she received from time to time, and the knowledge that she was never alone. 

Helen's young years were not the hardest of childhood years. She was kept warm, and she was fed, and clothed. She was schooled, and taught to behave, and how to keep safe. She had books, and toys, and was taken on seaside holidays and days out. 

But when she looked back, she would tell you that she never felt good enough, that she always had to be better, and that she was ashamed. 

When she looked back, she found it hard to see what it was that she had to be ashamed of. All she could see was a very good and quiet girl, who didn't mind, and who just wanted to be loved. 

Further back, she thought she could see a girl with a lively spirit who sang, and danced, and was the ruler of her own domain. But her memory was poor, and she saw these images and imaginings only dimly. 

When Helen was eight years old, her world was ripped apart when her mother sat her down to tell her that she was leaving. Tears were on her mother's face, but Helen sat, dry-eyed and numb. And, while her mother talked, the girl began to deftly dissect the place within her where her feelings lived. 

And, as she cut away, she thought she heard two small voices pleading with her to stop. She paused, listening intently. The voices were clear, and strong, and loud, and Helen suddenly realised that the voices were not coming from outside, but from within.