396. Beautiful People Part Two

The lady comes down, I hand over another big bag, a duvet set, she looks agitated, upset, and she’s soon telling me her situation, one of domestic violence, her partner is in the flat now, and there’s a back story of prison, her partner and herself, she tells me she did 14 years for stabbing someone, a previous partner, who had raped her and beaten her. Her son, in his late twenties, is now in prison, he just got diagnosed with covid, and another relative died a few days ago. ‘I’m not well’, she tells me, ‘I know I’m not well’. She’s on the edge of a mental breakdown, she tells me no need to come back with the shopping, she’s going to kill herself, she can’t go on. Her life is suffering, debts everywhere, violence, abuse, death. I listen, and wonder what to do. Mostly I just listen. I reassure her she is loved by God, it’s easy to say ‘Jesus loves you’ and it be empty words, factual but not heartfelt, but in this instance, I could feel that same love, the compassion for a soul who has come to the end of the World and wants only to leave. I say a prayer with her. She’s so upset, a neighbour walks past, ‘Alrights’ are swopped, then when the man has passed she turns to me and says ‘I’m not alright’, and she’s not, the veneer of survival, of continuing this relentless crawl through existence is exhausting her. Has exhausted her. I tell her I’ll make a few phone calls, see what I can do, right away. She waits, I phone a friend, he works for the council as part of a care service, I go to voicemail. I pray, and feel to look up the Samaritans phone number, which I do, and write it on a scrap of paper and give it to her. But I also know that I am being that Samaritan, and whilst I may be untrained, I am not inexperienced. I want to know what else to do, but know that perhaps I’ve also done all I can for now, I tell her I’ll be back in an hour with the shopping…

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