by Baker, John
He strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She let him put his arm around her and listened to the soothing tones of his voice as he stroked her back. The hollow thumping in her chest racked her body and her breathing was similar to an asthmatic attack for several minutes.
He’d been out to check the windows and doors. Everything was all right. There was nobody else in the house. She was safe. Perfectly safe.
He stayed for half an hour, until she was almost asleep. She felt him release his hand and move away from the bed, and she let him go, feigning sleep. She listened to him close her door and heard his soft footsteps make their way to his own room.
Angeles determined to control herself. An active imagination was not always a blessing. Tomorrow she would be more careful. Make sure that she knew what was happening.
Someone walked past the house. Angeles tensed as the footsteps became louder, and she took a long breath as they paused for a moment below her window. After a couple of beats they continued along the road, eventually disappearing altogether.
But what was the pause about, she wondered, as a throbbing sensation filled the spaces behind her eyes.
28
Janet baked two apple cakes that morning: a large one which she and Geordie and Ralph would demolish after dinner and a small one to take to Angeles. She hid the large one in the cupboard so the cats wouldn’t get to it and the smaller one she put in a round biscuit tin together with a vial of arnica tablets.
She dressed Echo in a red and white babygro and fed her while sitting in the nursing chair next to her bed. She started with her left breast this time, making sure she didn’t push Echo into a left or right bias because of her feeding routine.
The child gurgled softly on the bed while Janet dressed herself in a pair of cotton trousers and a halter-necked top in a lighter shade of blue. It was interesting and gratifying to have developed breasts at last, something worthy of the name. Adolescence had been a nightmare, watching all the other girls shopping for brassieres and bursting out of their school uniforms. And then, later, taking the jibes of her mother and the boys who roamed the neighbourhood in search of a handful.
It had been like a miracle towards the end of her pregnancy when those two large nipples had developed a bed of plump flesh for themselves. And an even greater miracle when Janet discovered that they actually worked, that Echo lusted after them with every fibre of her being and was never less than stunningly satisfied with what they provided.
And, of course, Geordie, who had always protested that he loved her exactly as she was before the miracle - hey, flat chests are sexy these days, it’s fashionable - was now delirious.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, still the same round face. Some things change, but others remain the same.
She carried Echo downstairs and showed her the kittens while Venus looked on suspiciously. She put her in the pram, packed the biscuit tin in the carrier and, after propping a note for Geordie on the kitchen table, set off for Sam Turner’s house.
Angeles opened the door almost as soon as Janet rang the bell. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to answer the door until you knew who was calling?’ Janet said.
Angeles waved her stick impatiently; so long it almost touched her chin. It had a silver handle, small and rounded, abstract but maybe representing an animal’s head. ‘Rules,’ she said, giving an amused snort. ‘I knew it would be you. Have you brought the baby?’
‘Yeah, she’s asleep in her pram. I’m gonna wheel her into the hall.’
Angeles stepped back and waited until Janet had manoeuvred the pram over the threshold. ‘I can smell baby,’ she said, ‘everything sweet and quiet.’
‘Not all the time, believe me,’ Janet told her. ‘Echo can smell fairly rank sometimes, and she’s got a voice to beat the band.’ She took the biscuit tin out of the carrier and offered it to Angeles. ‘I baked an apple cake. We could have some with our tea. Is that a black eye?’
‘Yes, I walked into a door. But I know where it is now.’
Angeles seemed to have mastered the layout of Sam’s house in the few days since she’d been installed. Janet watched her cross the kitchen, tapping knowingly as she went. She filled the kettle and set the water to boil. But she looked drawn and tired, as if she hadn’t slept well.
‘You saved my life,’ she said.
Janet flushed. ‘I don’t know about that. I was there at the right time.’
‘Sam said you saved my life. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, the man would have strangled me.’
Janet shrugged. ‘I’m glad I was there.’
‘I’d like to give you a hug,’ Angeles said, opening her arms.
Janet walked towards her and let herself be embraced. She put her own arms around Angeles’ waist and held on tightly for a minute. Angeles was a full head taller and had real female curves. She was slim, though, unlike Marie, who was the only other woman that Janet had regular physical contact with. The head of the cane wasn’t in the shape of an animal’s head; it was a small sphere. Angeles’ breath smelled strongly of spirit.
‘Thank you,’ Angeles said. ‘I’ve been wanting to meet you since I was in the hospital. Talking on the phone is OK, but it’s not a substitute for the real thing.’
They moved apart and Angeles retrieved the biscuit tin from where she’d placed it on the table. ‘Oh, it smells gorgeous,’ she said. ‘But there’s something else in here.’ She rattled the bottle. ‘Sounds like tablets.’
‘It’s arnica,’ said Janet. ‘For shock.’
‘Homoeopathic?’
‘Yes. Do you know about it?’
‘Not much. My sister swore by homoeopathic medicine. I’m sure she mentioned arnica to me. I’m over my shock by now.’
‘Just take one,’ Janet said. ‘The body heals slowly, and it needs all the help it can get.’
Angeles unscrewed the cap and put one of the tablets on her tongue. ‘There,’ she said, ‘it’s done.’ She proceeded to make the tea while Janet cut two generous portions of apple cake. When everything was ready Janet followed Angeles into Sam’s sitting room, where they sat on either side of a low mahogany table. There was a moment after they entered the room when Angeles scooped up a tumbler and tried to hide it behind a stereo speaker.
‘It feels different in here,’ Janet said.
Angeles laughed. ‘I’ve had to get rid of a few things. I was black and blue after the first day, falling over chairs, piles of newspapers, CDs. When you can’t see it’s important to have clear pathways. Sam has put some furniture in the garage, and he’s learning not to leave shoes around the place or throw his jacket on the floor.’
‘But you like him,’ Janet said. It wasn’t a question. ‘Yes. I miss my own house, but it’s OK living with Sam.’
‘Just OK?’
Angeles smiled. ‘It’s nice living with Sam. Is he dishy?’ Janet laughed. ‘I’d never describe him as dishy.’
‘I only know his voice,’ Angeles said. ‘His hands sometimes, when he’s helping me get my bearings. I love his voice, but it’s frustrating not knowing what he looks like.’
‘He’s definitely not dishy,’ Janet said. ‘Sam’s face, well, maybe he was good looking when he was young. I didn’t know him then. But now his face is kind of broken. He looks interesting, though.’
‘Not much like Gene Hackman.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘Mmm. Yes.’
‘Let me put it this way,’ Janet said. ‘I don’t think Gene Hackman would like the comparison.’
‘So, I’m living in the house of a man who looks interesting? Not dishy or attractive. Just interesting.’
‘I didn’t say he wasn’t attractive,’ Janet said. ‘He doesn’t spend a lot of time by himself.’
‘Thanks. I’ve got an idea of him. I’m trying to build a picture in my head. It’s not easy to do when you’re blind. I’d like to be able to picture us walking along the street, see what other people see.’
‘Oh, you look great,’ Janet said. ‘The two of you together, that’s something else.’
‘Me with a black eye and him with a broken face?’
‘A broken face on a man; what’s wrong with that? And your black eye isn’t gonna last for ever. You seem to know your way around the house OK.’
‘It’s still something of an obstacle course for me.’
‘Living with men,’ Janet said. ‘Never easy. I’ve got two of them in the house at the moment.’
‘Geordie I’ve met,’ said Angeles. ‘He was at the hospital. He seemed nice. I liked him.’
‘Oh, Geordie’s great on his own,’ Janet said. ‘The real problem is Ralph, his brother.’
‘The one who turned up out of the blue? I thought Geordie was over the moon about that.’
‘They were separated when they were children,’ Janet said. ‘I don’t know, maybe they were similar then, but life has taken them in different directions. Geordie’s a bit of a softy; his whole life revolves around me and Echo. But Ralph’s the opposite; he’s on the look-out for the main chance. I just know Geordie’s gonna end up being disillusioned with him.’
‘Has he tried anything with you?’
Janet sighed. ‘The guy’s got more hands than a watch factory.’
‘And you can’t tell Geordie because...’
‘... He’s finally found the brother who he thought was lost for ever.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Angeles inadequately. ‘It’s all going to blow up, isn’t it?’
‘Sooner or later, yes.’ Janet pushed a small piece of apple cake around her plate. ‘I keep hoping that Ralph will disappear, go back to wherever it was he came from. But everything’s really cushy here for him. Geordie would do anything, and he’s living free.’
‘Can’t Sam do anything?’
‘I haven’t talked to anyone else about this. I didn’t intend to talk to you about it. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself for now.’
‘Of course, I won’t say anything. But if you think I could help, I’d be glad to do whatever you think. What if we offered him a couple of hundred pounds to disappear?’
‘He’d take the cash and come back for more. Besides, there’s no need for you to get involved. You’ve got enough on your plate for now, you don’t need another dirty piece of work messing up your life.’
‘So do you have a plan?’ Angeles asked.
Janet shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m just gonna see what happens,’ she said. ‘Play it from day to day. But let’s talk about something else. What about you? Geordie said your father was from Argentina? It sounds so romantic.’ Angeles smiled wistfully. ‘I never thought of him as Argentinian,’ she said. ‘Still now, when I think back, there is no nationality attached to him. He hated nationalism. He was my father. He was always around when we wanted him, he’d turn himself inside out for his children. He’d compromise all of his principles to make sure we were happy- Mummy said he spoiled us, and that he didn’t have much choice about it. He saw himself as a provider and if it was in his power to provide, then he wouldn’t see us go without. That was his nature. And he was exactly the same with Mother.’
‘Material things?’ Janet asked. ‘Clothes? Holidays? Did you go to Argentina?’
‘I wasn’t thinking about material things,’ Angeles said. ‘He was always there for us. He was a physical person; he’d sit Isabel and me on his knee together. When we were very young he always seemed to be sprawled on the carpet, and we’d crawl all over him. When I think about him I have a picture of both of us girls hanging off him; Isabel on his back and me with my arms and legs wrapped around his waist.
‘Yes, he bought us clothes and we went away to Spain and France, all over Europe. But not to South America. He wasn’t allowed to go to Argentina and said he couldn’t bear to be on the same continent and not visit his relatives.’
‘So, do you have relatives in Argentina? People you’ve never met?’
‘I suppose so, yes. Daddy had a brother, and when he married there were children. I have cousins, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever meet. We wouldn’t know each other.’
‘I couldn’t bear that,’ said Janet. ‘It sounds so sad.’
Angeles smiled warmly. ‘It doesn’t feel sad to me. My father wasn’t close to his family. His brother was in the army and happy with the political situation, but Daddy was a rebel when he was young, caused a lot of trouble for the generals. If he hadn’t got out when he did, he’d have rotted in one of their prisons. If he hadn’t been proscribed, he’d never have come to England, never have met my mother, and Isabel and I wouldn’t have been born.’
Echo turned in her pram and called out in her sleep. Both women tensed, expecting her to wake, but she slumbered on.
‘False alarm?’ said Angeles.
‘Mnm,’ Janet replied. ‘She’ll wake soon. When she does that Geordie says she knows it’s time to get up but the world’s too big and unpredictable, so she takes a big breath and dives down into sleep for another half an hour.’
‘He was in an orphanage, wasn’t he?’ asked Angeles. ‘And living on the street? Geordie has seen a lot of things in his life.’
‘Yeah,’ Janet agreed. ‘But everyone connected with Sam has seen more life than they bargained for. It’s one of the qualifications for the job.’
‘Living on the edge?’
‘Going right over the edge to the other side, clinging on with your fingertips, then, somehow, coming back.’
‘I can’t imagine that,’ said Angeles.
Janet came with a tiny laugh. ‘Living with the damage, you mean? You’re going through it now. Your sister has been killed, and someone is out there looking to destroy you. You don’t have to imagine it, Angeles, you’re never going to be the same again.’
‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘I feel as though I’m under observation all the time. But I don’t want this maniac to dumb me down. It’s important for me to carry on living my life like everyone else. I agreed to come here for a few days, until I feel stronger. But I want to go back to my own house, live my own life.’ For a few moments Angeles gazed into the future with her blind eyes. ‘I get flashbacks of my parents’ deaths.’
‘A road accident?’
‘Yes. The M6.’
‘Could that have been connected with your father’s politics?’
‘No, there were too many people involved. They were in a pile-up with ninety other vehicles.’
‘D’you know what happened?’
‘A lorry travelling in the opposite direction jack-knifed and crossed the central reservation. They said my parents wouldn’t have known what happened. They hit the car in front and then they were hit by a baker’s delivery van. They sat tight and were overcome by smoke fumes.’
‘Couldn’t they get out?’
‘They were probably stunned by the impact. Their doors were jammed, but the passenger door - that was my mother’s side - could have been opened with a little force.’ She shook her head from side to side. It looked to Janet as though she was in the car with them, that she was reliving a constant nightmare. ‘The petrol tank exploded,’ Angeles continued. ‘They were burned to death.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Janet. ‘I shouldn’t have revived the memory for you. I only thought there might be a connection with your father’s exile.’
‘They were travelling back from Bristol. They’d been away for a break. Four days together.’ Angeles held out her hands, palm upwards. Janet moved around the table and sat next to her on the couch. She put her arms around Angeles and felt the other woman’s response. They held each other in a silent hug for the best part of a minute.
Finally Janet drew away, and Angeles sighed and said, ‘Thanks, I needed that. People tend not to touch blind people very often, we don’t get as many hugs as sighted folk.’
‘We think we’ll frighten you,’ Janet said. ‘If we suddenly touch you. Make you jump.’
Angeles smiled. ‘I think there’s somet
hing deeper at work,’ she said.
Echo yelled from her pram and Janet walked quickly through the house to collect her. Echo’s face opened like a flower when her mother appeared.
‘I need to change her,’ she said to Angeles in the kitchen. ‘Then we should be getting back.’
‘I’m glad you came,’ Angeles said. ‘I feel we’ve got to know each other a little. I think we have more to talk about.’
Janet rolled up the used paper nappy and tucked it inside her bag. She cleaned Echo’s bottom quickly and easily, as if she’d been doing it all her life. ‘I’m fairly busy at the moment,’ she said. ‘Two men in the house as well as Echo doesn’t leave me a lot of time. But I’ll come when I can. It’s been a real treat.’
‘Maybe I could get to know Echo as well?’
‘Sure,’ said Janet, finishing the change of nappy. ‘D’you want to hold her?’
Angeles held out her arms to receive the child. She sat on a high-backed kitchen chair at the table, and Echo gazed silently into her face.
Angeles explored the child with her fingers. There was nothing obvious or intrusive about the act. It was almost surreptitious. Supporting Echo’s back with her left hand, she gave her a finger to clasp, at the same time stroking the chubby fist of the child with her thumb. When Echo released her finger she ran her hand the length of the tiny legs, unable to stop herself smiling at the wonder of them.
She didn’t touch Echo’s face with her hands; she ran the palm of one hand over the top of Echo’s head, taking in the growth of soft downy hair and the still open fontanelle; then she brought the child up close to her face so that their cheeks touched. Echo’s nose and mouth briefly came into contact with Angeles’ cheek, and then she brought her back to her lap and gazed down at her as if she could see each tiny feature.
Echo blew a note through her lips, something that might have come from a tuba, and Angeles picked it up and blew one back.
‘She likes you well enough,’ Janet said.
Angeles laughed. ‘We play in the same band.’
Janet returned Echo to her pram and Angeles held the door for them. ‘There’s mail on the floor,’ Janet said. ‘It’ll be for Sam. Put it on the side.’