The rain started as the train arrived at Killara. Commuters fled the platform.
The ticket office had closed at six-thirty.
Under the streetlight, she phoned the hospital, needing direction.
The number rang out.
She imagined crossing herself.
‘You’re lost?’ His teeth flickered beneath the umbrella’s caul.
Water trickled down her neck. She shivered.
‘I’m looking for Calvary.’
He jangled his keys.
‘I’ll give you a lift.’
Helena looked down, saw the shining Mercedes tag.
She felt so cold.
‘It’s not too far away,’ he said.