She is the kind of person you remember, the kind whose face becomes etched into your memory. But now, as she walks out on the stage wearing a yellow tunic over her jeans, her charisma seems to have been turned up several notches. It is somehow impossible not to look at her. The yellow shirts start to applaud and shout happily. Helena stops at the centre of the stage. Smiles. Her acolytes fall silent, as if on an agreed signal. A giggly exchange of whispers can be heard from one of the back rows. Rickard stands and looks in that direction. The chatter ends abruptly and Rickard sits down again. ‘Hi,’ Helena says and looks out over the crowd, now dead silent. Her smile broadens. ‘Listen, everyone! I said “hi”!’ A fragmented ‘hi’ from here and there. ‘And again! You can do better than that,’ Helena says. ‘Hi!’ She spreads her arms towards the crowd and it responds strongly, in unison. ‘HI!’ Vanessa discovers that she has joined the shouting. ‘That’s the sound!’ Helena says.
