The more she throwed them the blood dripped off

Lay me down me dilly dilly downwards

Down by the green-

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but can you stop singing, please? You’re going to wake everyone up.”

The woman stopped singing with a sharp intake of breath. She raised her eyes from the basket. Lauren heard a high whining sound, another layer of hum but getting louder. It came from nowhere but inside her own ears. Run, it told her, leave, go, now. But her feet were rooted. Heavy as lead.

It took a long time for the woman’s eyes to meet hers and when the moment finally came Lauren had to blink away cold sweat to see her. She was young, perhaps eight or ten years younger than Lauren, but her eyes seemed ancient. She had hair that had formed itself into clumps, the kind of hair, a bit like Lauren’s, that would do that if you didn’t constantly brush it. The woman’s face was grimy, and when she opened her mouth to speak the illusion of a rather dirty youth who could even be beautiful if given a good scrubbing was destroyed. She seemed to have no teeth and a tongue that darted darkly between full but painfully cracked lips. There was something about the way the woman eyeballed her. What did she want?

“You’ve twin babies,” said the woman.

“Yes.” The word had tripped out, travelling in a cough. Lauren wanted it back.

“Ye-es,” the woman drew the word out lengthily, “twin babies. Just like mine, only yours are charmed.”

Lauren couldn’t think what to say. She knew she was staring, open-mouthed at the woman but she couldn’t not.

“Mine are charmed too,” said the woman, “but it’s not the same. Mine have a dark charm. A curse. You are the lucky ones, you and yours. We had nothing, and even then we were stolen from.”

She must have had a terrible time, this woman. And those poor little mites in the basket, what kind of life would they have? There were people who could help her, charities dealing in this kind of thing. She must be able to access something, at least get some new clothes. The long dirty hair hanging in dog’s tails each side of her face was doubtless crawling with infestation. It wasn’t healthy.

“I’m so sorry,” said Lauren, “shall I see if I can get someone to help you?”

The woman stood up and took a few steps around the basket, towards Lauren. The muddy smell became stronger and the air, colder. It seemed to come out of this woman, the cold. There was an odour of rotting vegetation stirred up with the mud and the fish. Lauren wanted to look into the basket but the woman was standing in the way. Closer now, she lowered her voice, breathy, hissing.

“There’s no one can help me. Not now. There was a time but that time passed, and now there’s more than time in between me and helping.”