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returned to the apartment, angry after an argument had
caused her to leave Helen at whatever place it was that she had dragged her to. 
She had taken her to get a manicure on one of the first outings.  Elizabeth had
not been slightly interested to go with her as she stood in the apartment
alongside Graham pressuring her to go.  She had relented, but Helen’s incessant
chatter had driven her crazy, and she had stormed out of the salon screaming at
her what a stupid idea it had been to take her there in the first place.  But
Helen hadn’t been the least bit fazed.  She just smiled at her as she left, and
had turned up the next day to take her out for coffee.  Elizabeth had asked
Graham that night if Helen was stupid. 
    “Why does she
keep turning up like this?” she had asked.  “I’m not interested in her stupid
trips out.”  Graham had sat next to her for a while, obviously contemplating
how to answer.
    “Because she
knows what you need, Elizabeth.”  He had gone on to tell Elizabeth that Helen’s
own mother had committed suicide only a few months before Elizabeth had met
them.  “She knows that you don’t want to go out.  She knows you think she’s
crazy, but .....” he paused, as he held her hands tightly in his, “she knows that
you need friends, because she needed them too.”  Elizabeth had looked at Helen
differently after this revelation.  Helen never mentioned it, and Elizabeth
never asked to talk about it with her.  It was just enough to know.   
    They sat around
the fire, their cheeks tinged pink from the heat as they talked about the
weekend.  It was David, of all people that raised the topic.
    “So, I have
just got to ask you Lizzy,” he began.  “Did you check the paper today for any
more letters?”  They were all surprised that he had raised it, and sat there
silently for a few moments.  Even the rain held back, waiting for an answer. 
He felt the silence, and wanted to clarify his question.  “Because if you did,
we could do something about it, if you wanted to.  Get an injunction for the
paper to stop printing them.  Maybe even find out who is posting them.” 
    Elizabeth
remained silent, but not from anger at the subject matter.  She realised that she
hadn’t actually given it any thought since her first defiant steps past the
front door that morning.  She hadn’t even collected the paper from outside. 
She hadn’t even noticed it as they huddled up underneath the porch roof waiting
for Graham to find the key and let them in out of the rain.
    “It’s outside,”
she said, slightly appalled that only now she had realised.  She looked to
Graham, who was already on his feet.  He disappeared into the dark hallway,
leaving the others behind him in silence.  They all heard the click of the
latch and after a few moments where the tormenting sound of the wind whistled
past the isolated cottage, the thud of the door closing.  Returning back with
the soaking paper, he held it out for them to see.
    “We’ll put it
by the fire to dry out a bit.  If you open it now it will be ruined,” he said
as he laid the paper out as flat as possible on the warm stone mantle. 
    “I didn’t even
think about it,” her words guilty as if asking for forgiveness, and Helen
placed her arm over her shoulder.  “I have to check if there is another
letter.  I didn’t want to,” she pleaded at them all, “but I should.  I have
to.”
    They sat there
waiting for the paper to dry, staring almost in silence at the flames dancing before
them.  The wood crackled and spat in the intensity of the heat as pockets of trapped
water sizzled out.  It seemed to take a lifetime, as they turned the newspaper
back and forth, gently peeling back the top pages to reveal the wettest towards
the centre and then returning it to the bricks.  It was a painfully slow
method, but it appeared to be working.
    “I’ll make us
some more tea whilst we wait.”  Helen went in to the kitchen.  She