When the old lady collapses in the middle of the shop, no one steps in to help but what happens as she tries to crawl away leaves everyone stunned.
Ethel, ninety, shuffles into a small supermarket in York, leaning on her battered wooden walking stick. Each step feels like a battle; her legs tremble and her back aches as if it might give out at any moment, yet she must buy food. She is used to doing everything herself, despite her age and the quiet of her oneroom flat.
She weaves between the aisles, eyeing the shelves. Grey strands peek out from beneath her checked shawl. She grabs a loaf of brown bread, but the price tag makes her pause and put it back. Then she reaches for a pack of butter, squints at the label, turns it over and sighs deeply.
The prices look absurdly high, almost a joke. She keeps putting items back, realizing she may not have enough pounds to cover even the basics.
The store is bustling shoppers darting about, oblivious to the frail woman stumbling forward. She nears the end of the aisle when her foot catches on a stray trolley wheel. A sharp, stabbing pain shoots up her leg.
Ow it hurts, she cries, and falls hard onto the cold linoleum, her stick clattering away.
A few heads turn. Some freeze for a heartbeat, then look away. A man at the yoghurt rack keeps selecting tubs, and a cashier pretends not to notice. Ethel tries to rise, but her legs refuse. She clutches the stick, pulls herself up, then collapses again.
She scans the shop, hoping someone will lend a hand, but the crowd stays indifferent. Her lips quiver, tears well up, and she reaches out as if pleading, yet nobody approaches. A teenage lad even pulls out his phone and starts recording, thinking its a bit of amusement.
Breathless, Ethel crawls toward the exit, one hand gripping the stick, the other dragging along the chilly tiles. The noise in the store seems to dim only her ragged breathing and soft whimpers break the silence. Each movement is agony, but she presses on, determined to get out and somehow make it home.
People part around her, their eyes a mix of pity and indifference, as if theyve decided it isnt their problem.
At that moment a little girl, no older than five, appears. She clutches a plush teddy bear, leans down, looks at Ethel and whispers, Nana, does it hurt? Where are your children?
Ethel lifts her gaze, a faint, kind smile touching her face. The child extends her tiny hand, trying to help the old woman stand.
The girls mother spots the scene and rushes over. She lifts Ethel onto a nearby bench and immediately calls an ambulance. While they wait for the paramedics, the little girl holds Ethels hand and murmurs, Dont worry, everything will be all right.
When the ambulance arrives and wheels Ethel away, a hush falls over the supermarket. Those who had watched her suffering with a detached stare now avoid each others eyes.
Only the small child showed true humanity she didnt walk past, didnt turn away, and wasnt scared. In that instant, the fiveyearold was the sole person in the room with a genuine soul.
