Petra shook her head. ‘But we’re supposed to look after each other, be there for each other. I failed you.’

‘Oh, nonsense, love. It all turned out okay.’

Yeah, Petra thought, only because I was usurped by that dodgy stranger who’s insinuated herself into your life.

‘I was scared, Mom. What if Ida hadn’t been around, and my phone was broken or something. What then?’

‘I would have called a taxi, an ambulance, anything. We’re not alone, love. And you don’t need to control everything. Trust life, trust society. We’re stronger than you think.’

Helena’s pragmatism brought a little comfort, but still Petra couldn’t forgive herself as she left the ward. The nurse at the desk said Helena was stable, and if the night went well, it was likely she’d be discharged into the general ward in the morning.

Petra wouldn’t be able to see Helena until the morning, so she decided to go home to wait. She should be ten minutes away if there was an emergency, but having seen Helena and heard the doctor’s report, she was feeling positive. Suki had closed the shop for the afternoon – she had some Line Logistics work to do and wanted Petra to take the day off. ‘You don’t believe it matters to anyone if the shop is open or closed, do you, darling?’

As Petra walked out of the hospital, she saw Ida – the real one, the middle-aged unbruised woman, not Petra’s mirror-world hallucination – stepping out of a little blue Fiat 500 in the parking lot. Without thinking, Petra dodged behind the brick pillar at the portico and waited for Ida to pass, trying to find an angle to catch her reflection in the sun-proof laminate on the window.

Though Ida was facing forward, unselfconsciously walking into the reception area, for just a second the young face in the window seemed to look directly at Petra with battered eyes, and smiled at her with bloodied lips. Then the low sun disappeared behind clouds and Petra saw the real woman glance behind her through the glass, like a woman feeling eyes in her back.

20

20 By four-whatever in the morning, Petra had given up trying to sleep and was listening to the early-morning road sounds as she textured her drawing of a drowning girl she’d imagined, drifting serene under the surface of a city river among plastic waste and weed-bearded shopping trolleys, battle-scarred fish surviving and crabs scuttling.