Tessa Hadley - Sunstroke and Other Stories

— Are you all right? Nia stood over her, surly because she was worried.

— Don’t fuss, said Helen. — I’m an old woman.

She undressed down to her petticoat, so as not to rumple her suit, and lay on her back on her twin bed, her head propped on the pillows in the careful way Nia recognised as protecting her hairdo. The room was bright with evening sunshine. They had made its seediness homely with their clothes hung about, their scarves and beads and books mingled together, their flannels and bottles and sponge bags on the sink.

— Where would you like to go to eat tonight?

Helen sighed. — I’m so comfortable here.

— We don’t have to go out, said Nia, full of doubt. — But won’t you get hungry?

— I’m not worried about me. But what about you, darling? You’ll need something.

Nia went to find the delicatessen they had noticed a few blocks away, to buy food they could eat in their room. It was the first time she had been out alone, and it was a relief to be able to use her long stride instead of continually adjusting her pace to her mother’s. She felt as if she was really part of New York at last, choosing cold meat and bread and olives, and fruit juice. She bought yogurts, too, forgetting that they didn’t have spoons; it was Helen who suggested that they could scoop these up with the wrong ends of their toothbrushes. While they ate their picnic they became deeply involved in a real-life courtoom drama on the television, debating it passionately. When that was finished they undressed and climbed under the bedcovers and fell asleep, even though it was very early.

Some time in the night Nia half woke and was confused, not knowing where she was. Outside on the street a car started up, and then the drone of its engine faded into the distance. She lifted her head off her pillow in the incomplete dark, and knew from the smell of face powder and cake and the light snoring that her mother was somewhere close by. She seemed to feel the radiation of her heat; and she remembered the seersucker pyjamas, dotted with little blue rosebuds.

— I’m still here, Nia thought, reassured and happy, falling back easily into her sleep. — She’s still here.