I didn't read the gospel today and I
haven't been to confession. I haven't even
bothered to reach sanctity - neither yesterday nor
the day before. I haven't kept a single commitment in
a week and I missed the
group's last meeting. I'm furious with myself, but so happy! He's back.
He came to meet me after lectures. He caught up with
me on the way to the bus stop. Did
you forget something, Miss? My God! His voice! Whispering, clear and
soft. I was paralysed. I was frozen to the spot.
He whispered, "Helena? Can I have a word?" I turned round
and there he was, holding onto my bike. Miss Thomson's
bike - the one I thought had been stolen on
the night of the party. He'd found it. It
had only been moved somewhere else. That
particular night, he didn't want me
to go home alone and he walked me back. He hadn't
disappeared, he'd been unwell and was really sorry that
he hadn't been able to see me. I rode home with
my head in the clouds - I must
have almost been run over a dozen times!
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