Finding Focus

 *** CW: contains a description of a panic attack***

They were making their way down the steps at the back of frozen food store, Haid’s (the acronym derived from the company slogan ‘Have an Ice Day’) when Louise stopped and pulled out her phone.

‘Hold on, a minute, Ree. Just got to get a picture of this.’

‘What now?’ Ria turned as Louise held the phone askew, photo taken at an angle to include her own foot.

Ria was as many steps ahead of her as there were years between them, but in spite of her being the younger sibling – sixteen to Louise's twenty-one – the sight of her jogging on ahead like that, with her own dainty pink-heels in her shadow, seemed too symbolic of the truth to resist going 'snap'.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, you and your photos. I thought we were going shopping.’

‘We are, we will be… Ooh…’ Louise leaned over the metal railing, her self-coiffured bob of platinum hair catching the overhanging foliage, but not enough to bother her yet… ‘Now there’s a good shot…’

‘You’re kidding me… What do you want a picture of all that crap for?

Louise positioned her phone, zoomed in on the littered banking… No that wasn’t quite right. She held it out before her, arms steadied on the top of the rail… and click.

‘See!’ She swung around grinning.

‘Yeah? And what is it I’m meant to be seeing exactly?’ Ria, with Debbie Harry in her hey-day showing the middle finger to the world from the open front of her dark-grey hoodie, a silver chain attached to the hip of her low-slung easy-wear black cottons, and a couple of rings through her nose, the most recent of which she’d painstakingly put there herself with the aid of candle-flame and needle, run a hand through her choppy black shoulder-length hair and took a platformed step back on her trouser-threads to focus on the image. Nope. None the wiser.

‘Look! Look at the carrier bag with all that stuff spilling out!’

‘Oh yeah… Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Save The Planet… Good that...’ She laughed. ‘But what’s not so good…’ She chuckled… ‘Is… well, just take a look at your jacket…’

Louise looked down, and with agitated fingers tugged at each pastel pink lapel in turn… ‘Nooooooo…!’ Such dirty rusty smudges - and on the sleeves as well. This was so not fair. It had taken her hours getting ready today, putting her outfit together, matching the pinks of jacket and top and skirt, making sure her make-up looked right. Couldn’t go out otherwise. And now? Now, she felt like crying. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t. She’d promised herself she’d be better – less self-conscious. Embrace her hyper-sensitive autistic self as she’d so often been advised. To not let the little things like snagged tights or imperfect eyebrows, or getting her hair caught in twigs worry her as much. And if people did happen to glance her way, to remember that no one, but no-one, would be judging her, thinking her some sort of freak, when, according to all the experts - those with letters after their name and those without - they’d almost certainly be thinking the opposite. Concentrate on your art, they said, on building up your online store, on selling more of your paintings - did she really not know how good she was, how talented - and try to get out more… And even though she still wasn’t anywhere near brave enough to venture outdoors by herself, she’d thought she’d been getting there. The photography certainly helped. Focus - that’s what they said, focus on what’s out there, so that’s what she did.

‘Here, take this…’ she thrust the phone at Ria, and pulled off her jacket. Was her white straw handbag large enough to contain it? She bundled it in. Except then she had an idea… ‘Wait, Ree, wait…’ She retrieved the offending garment and slipped her arms back into it, raising them up, elbows out, hands linked behind her head, and with a thrust of the hip, adopted a pout-lipped pose.

‘What the hell…?’ Ria fell about laughing.

‘Take a picture, Ree, take a picture, quick before somebody comes…’ The photo would look great alongside all the others she’d taken that day; maybe not the shadow one, but the one of the bin men loading the household waste into the back of their lorry, the hieroglyph sprayed onto the rubbish-bin, the one with the litter, and the one she’d been especially proud of – the anti-vandal paint sign with all the painted graffiti. Cropped and stylized, they’d make a for whole new page in her scrapbook, filth and rust and smudges emphasized, and she’d work on a painting from there.

Photos taken, jacket stuffed back into her bag, Ria returned her phone. ‘You do know your battery’s nearly dead?’

‘Oh, is it…?’ They continued down the steps. ‘That’s a bit…. Oh…!’ As she looked across the carpark past the delivery vans at Haid’s, Louise’s gaze was immediately drawn to the windows of one of the council flats out of which hung a large blue and white cross flag – a Saltire - and below it a skip piled high with refuse, much of which had tumbled out onto the street. She raised her phone, and whilst swiping left on the warning to connect her charger, zoomed in… The flag looked extremely grubby indeed, and slightly tattered, and there was something written on the skip. Just got to get a bit closer. ‘Come on, Ree, got to see this…’ She took to her heels.

‘Where you going, Lou? We’re not going down there. No way. You know what Dad said about that weirdo who lives in those flats, the one who watches all the women… And that’s where all the junkies hang out… and that Dean guy and all his mates, the ones that made my life hell in High School… Lou, what the fuck…?’

Ria was behind her now, but she was there, right? She wouldn’t leave her. It was fine. There were people milling around in the distance on the Job Centre side, and a couple at the pay-and-display at carpark’s far end, but no one close enough to care. And it wouldn’t take long to get the shot she was after. She could see what was written on the skip now, the name of the man who owned the hire firm – Scot Messi – Wow! This would be great if she managed to get it all in; the flag, the name, and all that rubbish spilling all over the ground, she might not just stop at painting the picture either, she might even try to sell the photo itself…

‘Lou, are you listening? You’re not the only one with anxieties, you know. Just because I’ve been better since school, managed to push through most of it, doesn’t mean I’m over it… Lou, I’m telling you, I’m not going down there… Lou… I’m going into Haid’s, get a drink, I’ll wait for you there… okay?’

Battery low, had to be quick, but yes! ‘Ria, see this… this is ace… this could go viral, this could be a meme…’

‘Oi…! Oi, you there…!

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… Louise stuffed the phone into her bag, spun round. Ria? Where was Ria…? She felt her heart quicken, and on seeing the shouting man who, along with a couple of others who looked as young and mean as he did, and appeared to be heading her way, she shrunk back into herself, chin to chest, eyes to the ground.

‘Aye – you – you there… What you taking photos of my skip for? Yeah, that’s my skip. See my name? Scot Messi, that’s me. Not joking either.’

She started to shake. What the hell had possessed her? And how idiotic she must have looked snapping away at a filthy skip. And what was this man going to do? Report her to the police, have her charged...? Or worse…? Ria…? What had happened to Ria…? Hands a-tremble, and scared to look up, she rummaged around in her bag, and in crouched position, and without removing the phone, pressed – or rather attempted to press - her finger to the screen… Hop, skip, jump… A misdial, then nothing… shutdown. She felt the sickness come over her, the heart-thumping, shallow-breathed waves, the hot tears running down, the cold sweat… Panic, panic, just like the last time when she couldn’t get on the train, when Ria, who had gone on before her, had to get off again, when they’d missed out on doing what they’d planned for weeks… s-s-s-seeing L-Louis… Tom-tom-Tomlison… g-g-g-getting their a-a-albums signed… and, and, and… R-Ria ha-ha-hadn’t for-forgiven her. Said she was over it, b-but wasn’t…

Spinning, everything was spinning… Get up, get up, get up…. Get up off the dirty ground… Don’t tear your tights, don’t mess up your skirt… Find Ria… Find Ria…

‘Hey! Are you alright?’

She didn’t know how she’d run into the man, how she’d got to the corner at all, but there he was, and his hands were on her arms… Get off, get off… ‘S-s-sorry, sorry…’ She felt herself recoiling, shrinking down again.

‘Woah, woah, woah… It’s okay, it’s okay…’ He raised his hands, backing off as Louise looked up. All tan and teeth, and glow-white dressed for tennis. Sports bag on his shoulder, racket in its case. Young, about her age. His floppy dark-blond hair was about the same colour as hers was naturally, and he looked like that guy on the ice-skating show that her mum always watched when it was on – this year’s celebrity winner. Maybe a bit like Louis as well, but she might have been imagining that… He smiled. He had a nice smile… She put her hand to her chest…

‘Got to find my sister… Got, got, got to find R-Ria…’

‘Ria? Ria Hepworth?’ He smiled again and gave her an inquiring look. ‘Oh, but I know Ria. She used to come to my house quite a bit before Covid, her and Megan… Oh… Oh no, nothing like that, they were only kids. I was friends with Rex, you see, Megan’s brother – well, he was my brother’s friend really, but we all hung out… So, you must be Louise…? Here, sit yourself down on the wall for a bit… Tell me what happened, were those guys bothering you? I heard one of them shouting.’

Louise did as she was bid; she needed to catch her breath, calm down. She wished, she wished, she could stop herself wringing her hands and sniffing. Wished she could get the words out… And oh, she must have looked such a fright… She quickly shook her head in response…

‘Here, have some water… It’s okay, the bottle’s still sealed.’

She took it, nearly dropped it. ‘Can’t can’t…’

‘It’s alright, I’ll open it for you… Slowly now, that’s right…’

‘Oh, I’m so stupid, so stupid…’ Tears again. Why couldn’t she make them stop? ‘That, that man… I was only taking photographs, I, I didn’t mean any harm. Didn’t know it was his skip…’

‘His skip…? I don’t understand…’

‘His name was on it, see… Messi, Scot Messi…’

‘Ah, right! I’ve got you…’ The young man laughed. ‘But whoever that moron was, it certainly wasn’t Scot Messi. Scot’s been in business for years, he’s ages with my dad.’

Another sniff… Oh my God, what must this guy think of her…? And he knew Ria and Megan and goodness knows who else…and they’d all be laughing when they heard, just like he was laughing now…

‘You know, I think it’s great, you taking photos like that, turning them into art. Ria showed me some of your stuff, and I’ve seen your work online. It’s fantastic. Wish I’d had half your talent… Oh, I still do a bit of photography now, just for my own amusement, but that’s about it…’

‘You take photos too?’ Louise’s eyes grew wide as she wiped away the tears. She’d brought her make-up with her, and some tissues – they were in her bag somewhere, there under her jacket, right at the bottom. She rifled them out…

‘Well, it’s no more than a hobby really, and no one ever wants to look at them unless they’re in them. I mean tennis balls and dust clouds and shadows aren’t very interesting to most folk, are they?

‘Oh, don’t say that… Sounds way better than me taking pictures of rubbish…’

Ah, but you see something in those photos, don’t you? Things that most people don’t till they’re pointed out… And I like that…’

‘Suppose…’ Compact in hand, she dabbed at her eyes… Not too bad considering… But, oh what a fool, over-reacting like that, and believing that man. And no wonder Ria had gone, abandoned her…

‘I’m Christian, by the way, if you’ve not already guessed… Pleased to meet you.’

Christian? She vaguely remembered Ria mentioning that name… Tennis, that was right, that made sense. Before the pandemic, her sister often went out at weekends playing tennis with her best friend, Megan. Away on the bus to Eddlesbridge by themselves – a whole ten miles just to go the courts there. She could never do that, and certainly not at the age they’d been then – thirteen, even twelve. She couldn’t even get on a bus or a train by herself now – an adult who couldn’t do anything… Pathetic… Why was this guy – this lovely, attractive guy - even bothering speaking to her, let alone so pleasantly? Must have felt sorry, that was all…

‘Oh, there you are!’ Caught up in her thoughts, Louise jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice. ‘I thought you were coming into Haid’s. I tried messaging, but your phone’s dead. I didn’t know where you’d gone. I was just about to call Mum… Oh, hi Christian… Didn’t know you two knew each other… Here, I got you a drink…’ She was carrying two slushies. She handed her one… So icy, she could barely hold it. She put it down on the wall… ‘What happened to you, anyway…?’

‘Nothing, just… just…’ She didn’t want to say, didn’t want Ria thinking this was the city trip all over again… She’d still go shopping, she would, she just needed a minute, she just had to sort her face…

‘Think she had a bit of a wobble, but she’s getting there now…’ Christian spoke for her. People often did.

‘Oh God, I said she shouldn’t go down by those flats. You okay, Lou? What was it? Another panic attack?’

‘Yeah, yeah… I think so…’

Ria and Christian exchanged a look, then he held up his hand like a shield to his mouth and whispered something in Ria’s ear which made her laugh… What had he said? Why was she laughing?

‘Anyway, got get off now, got to be at the High School for after lunch… Oh the joys… Who’d be a sports coach when you could be out here drinking Slushies and taking pictures, eh? You take of yourselves now, both of you…’ As he walked away, he looked back and smiled.

‘What did he say, Ree? What were you laughing about? It’s not funny, you know.’

‘Oh my God, Lou, for someone who sees all that stuff that no one else does, you really don’t see what’s staring you right in the face sometimes, do you?’

‘What… what… what do you mean?’

‘Christian. He likes you, wants to get to know you better. Says you’ve got a lot in common. He was telling me to make sure I get you to add him on Snapchat and Insta. He wants to take you out on a date, Lou, but was too nervous to ask you himself. He always was the shy type, always away on his own taking photos, only managed to cope with the arseholes at school who took the mick ‘cos he was good at sport… Still going shopping, are we…? Oh, don’t tell me, you need a new jacket. Those stains will wash out, you know. They always do.’

‘