Lost Angel

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘We could, could we?’

  ‘Look, I know I don’t really know anything about it, so you probably think I’m talking through my arse,’ Johnny went on. ‘But if I was looking to buy a motor, I’d take one look at your yard and go to the one down the road instead.’ He caught himself, and cast a nervous glance at his father-in-law. ‘Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that last bit.’

  ‘No harm in voicing your opinion, so long as you’ve actually got something to say.’ Frankie shrugged. ‘And I suppose you’ve got a point. It is a bit of a tip. But that’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?’

  Johnny nodded, but he still had loads of questions. As far as he could tell, nobody seemed to be in charge of the sales side of things. Big Pat stayed in the garage all day, only venturing out to let people in and out. Del and Robbie usually only worked at night – although doing what, Johnny still had no clue. And Frankie stayed in his office.

  ‘What’s going to happen after I’ve finished cleaning them?’ he asked. ‘Only, I was thinking that I wouldn’t mind having a go at selling them. But only if you think I could do it,’ he added quickly, not wanting to appear too pushy.

  Frankie sighed, and said, ‘I’ll think about it. But belt up now, eh? You’re giving me a fuckin’ headache.’

  Johnny went into his storeroom when they reached the yard, and switched on the light. Compared to the mess that had greeted him yesterday, everything was clean and orderly, and it gave him a real sense of achievement to know that he’d done it all by himself. It was a weird feeling, because he’d never really cared about anything before. But then, he’d never had anything to prove before and now he did. Frankie tolerated him because he was married to Ruth, but he wanted the man to like him for himself. More than that, he wanted Frankie to respect him. And the only way that was going to happen was if he proved that he was willing to do whatever was asked of him in order to provide for his new family – the way that Frankie worked to provide for his. So he pulled on his overalls, filled his bucket, and got to work.

  Several men called in to see Frankie throughout the day but, just like yesterday, none of them so much as looked at the cars on their way in or out, leaving Johnny to wonder – again – what kind of business Frankie was running here.

  The rest of the day passed quickly and before Johnny knew it, it was four o’clock. But this time, when Frankie drove around and gave him a tenner to make his own way home, Johnny wasted no time. He threw the bucket and sponge into the storeroom, shrugged out of his overalls, snatched his jacket off the hook, and made it to the gates before Big Pat had a chance to relock them behind Frankie.

  Dave was sitting cross-legged on the couch, sucking on a bong. Eyes narrowing when he heard a scraping sound coming from the front door, he slid his baseball bat out from under the cushion and rushed out into the hall with it raised above his head – at the exact moment Johnny walked in.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell, man, it’s me!’ Johnny squawked, stumbling back when Dave took a wild swing and the bat whizzed past his face.

  ‘Jeezus!’ Dave croaked, realising how close he’d come to caving his friend’s head in. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Nice to see you, too.’ Johnny laughed, then tipped his head back and inhaled deeply. ‘God, it’s good to be home,’ he murmured, savouring all the old familiar smells.

  ‘Home?’ Dave gave him a quizzical look. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone and left her already?’

  ‘Like I’d dare,’ Johnny snorted.

  ‘So, what’s up?’ Dave put the bat down and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

  ‘Nothing.’ Johnny shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d show my face before you forget about me.’

  ‘You’ve only been gone two weeks,’ Dave reminded him amusedly.

  ‘Feels more like two years,’ Johnny moaned. Then, grinning, he pounced on his friend and gave him a big bear hug. ‘Have you missed me?’

  ‘Not that much, you big poof.’ Dave pulled a face and shoved him off.

  ‘Yeah, you have,’ Johnny teased, throwing a mock punch at his arm.

  ‘Pack it in,’ Dave complained, rubbing at the spot where it had landed. ‘I need that arm for bong-lifting.’

  ‘Oh, yes, count me in for some of that,’ Johnny said longingly. ‘Go and get it loaded up, I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘Yo, don’t go in there,’ Dave warned when he headed for his old bedroom. ‘Wazza’s got a bird in.’

  ‘Wazza?’ Johnny stopped with his hand on the door handle. ‘What’s he doing here? And why’d you let him use my bed? He’ll have my quilt stinking of cheesy feet and BO.’

  Dave gave him a sheepish look. ‘He ain’t actually using your quilt, mate. He brought his own when he moved in. Yours is on top of my wardrobe.’

  ‘Moved in?’ A wounded look leapt into Johnny’s eyes. ‘Christ, you didn’t let the grass grow, did you? Would you have rented my grave out as fast?’

  ‘Mate, you don’t live here no more,’ Dave reminded him. ‘What was I supposed to do, keep it like a shrine to you?’

  Johnny couldn’t speak. He knew he had no right to complain, but he still didn’t like it. It was horrible living at Ruth’s, but at least he’d had this place to escape to when he closed his eyes. Now he had nothing. His room was gone, and his best mate had replaced him with a lad who’d never met a can of deodorant in his life.

  ‘You can still come round whenever you want,’ Dave told him guiltily. ‘And the couch is yours any time you need it.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Johnny sighed and turned away from the door. ‘Come on, man, get me stoned.’

  Dave headed back into the living room and loaded up the bong. Handing it to Johnny, he said, ‘So how’s it feel being a respectable married man, an’ all that?’

  ‘Aw, don’t go and spoil it,’ Johnny groaned, reaching for the lighter. ‘This is all I’ve been thinking about for weeks. Soon as I finished work, I—’

  ‘Er, stop right there.’ Dave held up his hand. ‘Run that by me again, ’cos I’m sure I heard you say the dirty W word.’

  Johnny grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m working for Frankie.’

  ‘Since when, and doing what?’ Dave demanded.

  ‘Since yesterday, and washing cars,’ Johnny told him. ‘But I’ll be moving on to sales before too long,’ he added proudly, even though Frankie hadn’t said anything of the sort.

  Dave’s brow was creasing more by the second. ‘And you look happy about this because . . . ?’

  ‘I like it,’ Johnny admitted. ‘It totally wipes you out, but you feel dead good after you’ve finished. You should try it. You might surprise yourself.’

  ‘Er, nah, I don’t think so,’ Dave muttered, looking at him as if he’d gone completely doolally. Then, nodding at the bong, he said, ‘Are you smoking that, or what?’

  Johnny lit up and took a deep suck on it before handing it back to Dave and flopping back in his seat. Exhaling a thick plume of smoke a few seconds later, he said, ‘Man, I needed that. It’s the first hit I’ve had since the wedding, and I was getting serious withdrawals.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Dave gave him a disbelieving look as he put a fresh bud of weed into the bowl and tamped it down with his thumb. ‘You couldn’t go two days without, never mind two weeks.’

  ‘Honest, I haven’t,’ Johnny insisted. ‘Ruth hasn’t let me out of her sight since I moved to hers. I’ve been going totally stir-crazy.’

  ‘You make it sound like a prison.’ Dave chuckled. ‘You’re only a mile away – you should have just come round if you wanted a smoke.’

  ‘Don’t think I haven’t wanted to,’ Johnny told him. ‘But every time I mention it, she’s like, “Oh, we can’t go out, my aunt so-and-so’s coming round.” Or, “No, Johnny, we can’t go out, I’ve got to keep an eye on the pisshead I call a mother.”’

  His tone was scathing as he mimicked Ruth, and Dave’s eyebrows bunched together over his nose.

  ‘Is it that bad?’

&nb
sp; ‘Worse,’ said Johnny. Then, grinning slyly as the stone started to creep up on him, he said, ‘But let’s not talk about it now. I just want to enjoy my freedom while I can.’

  A couple more bongs later, when they were both slumped back in their seats with their half-closed eyes a matching shade of scarlet, Dave said, ‘Does shagging feel different now you’ve got a ring on your finger? My brother reckoned it turned to total shit after him and his missus tied the knot.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Johnny admitted.

  ‘You what?’ Dave flopped his head to one side and peered at him.

  ‘We haven’t done it yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Haven’t felt like it.’

  ‘Nah, man . . .’ Dave shook his head and sat up straighter. ‘Let me get this right . . . you’re telling me you can have it any time you want, but you’re turning your nose up?’

  Johnny shrugged.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ Dave demanded. ‘Do you know what I’d give to be in your shoes? I spend half my life trawling round the clubs looking for birds who are pissed enough to say yes, and there’s you, got it on tap.’

  ‘You’ve got Lisa,’ Johnny reminded him.

  ‘Nah, I fucked her off,’ Dave told him. ‘We shagged each other stupid after your reception, and I thought we might be able to make a go of it. But all she ever wanted to do was talk about you and Ruth, and I couldn’t be arsed. Anyhow, never mind me, I wanna know what’s up with you. You’re not impotent, are you?’ He pulled a horrified face.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Johnny scoffed. ‘I get about fifty hard-ons a day. Just not over her.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’ Dave shook his head confusedly. ‘I know you weren’t crazy about her, but she ain’t that bad-looking. And pussy’s pussy, at the end of the day – so what’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Johnny ran his hands through his hair. ‘I’ve tried, but the more desperate she gets, the more it turns me off. It doesn’t help having her mam and dad in the next room. And then there’s the baby.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Don’t laugh, but I keep thinking I’m going to hit it with my dick and give it brain damage, or something.’

  ‘Brain damage?’ Dave spluttered. ‘You don’t think you’re that big, do you? Jeezus, I knew you were vain, but that takes the whole packet of biscuits and half a cake, that.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, do I?’ Johnny muttered, wishing he hadn’t told him.

  ‘Mate, if that’s your problem, forget it,’ Dave said with certainty. ‘Believe me, your little dick ain’t gonna get anywhere near it. Women’s bodies are designed to protect it, aren’t they?’

  ‘Suppose so.’ Johnny sighed. ‘I’ve told her I’ll try again if she gets the okay from the doctor, so I’ll wait to see what he’s saying.’

  ‘And what you going to do till then?’ Dave asked. ‘Wanking’s all right as a stopgap, but it ain’t as good as the real thing.’

  ‘I haven’t been wanking,’ Johnny admitted. ‘The lock’s fucked on the bathroom door, and I’d be scared one of them was going to burst in on me.’

  Dave sucked in an ominous breath through his teeth.

  ‘Man, that’s not good. You can’t keep it in for that long. It’ll fester in your bollocks and give you knob-rot.’

  ‘Do you have to?’ Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘It’s a medical fact,’ Dave intoned. ‘It’ll start dripping pus if you leave it much longer, and your balls will explode.’

  ‘All right, that’s enough,’ Johnny muttered, grimacing at the thought.

  ‘Well, that’s sobered me up,’ Dave said, sitting up and reaching for the bong. ‘Let’s get re-wrecked and pretend that last conversation never happened.’

  Johnny glanced at his watch and shook his head.

  ‘Best not. Ruth’ll be wondering where I am.’

  ‘Have you heard yourself?’ Dave teased. ‘Has she got you on an invisible lead, or what? Hey . . . are you sure that’s not the real reason you can’t get it up?’ he mused. ‘’Cos she’s yanking your chain too tight?’

  Dave was joking, but his words struck an uncomfortable chord with Johnny. He’d been concealing it, but the resentment had been simmering like a pool of lava beneath the surface. He was still pissed off about the way Frankie had collared him at the reception and announced that he’d organised for Dave to pack up his stuff. And he really hated how much control Ruth’d had over him since he’d moved in with her and her folks: always finding excuses to keep him at her heel, knowing that he had to be on his best behaviour around her dad and her bitch of a mother. They might have taken control of his life but they couldn’t control his body, so was it possible that he was subconsciously using that as a means to punish her – withholding the one thing that she desperately wanted: sex?

  The problem was definitely mental, not physical. But Dave was right – he couldn’t let it go on for too much longer. Whatever was holding him back, he had to get over it and do the deed before it affected his health – and his sanity.

  Ruth was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea when Johnny got home, and one glimpse of her miserable expression was enough to make him want to turn and walk straight back out. But he reminded himself that he’d vowed to make an effort and forced out a smile.

  ‘All right, love?’ He slipped his jacket off and looped it over the back of the chair.

  ‘You’re late,’ she replied tersely. ‘I was getting worried.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologised, sitting down and trying not to look her in the eye in case she saw how red his own were. ‘It’s been mad busy down at the yard today, so I got a bit held up.’

  ‘Oh, well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped,’ Ruth conceded. ‘Your dinner’s in the oven, but it’s probably dried out by now.’

  Johnny’s stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of food. That was the problem with weed: it always gave him the raving munchies. And he hadn’t been stoned for so long that it was worse than usual today. He was so ravenous right now he reckoned he could happily eat a scabby horse.

  ‘It’s shepherd’s pie,’ she told him, using oven gloves to carry the hot plate over. ‘I hope you like it. It’s another new recipe.’

  ‘It smells ace,’ he said, reaching for his fork. ‘Pass us the ketchup.’

  Ruth took the bottle out of the cupboard and handed it to him. She wanted to maintain the martyred act, to let him know how unfair it was to come home so late without letting her know what was happening. But she couldn’t help smiling as she watched him squeeze a huge dollop of sauce onto his mash before tucking in like a starving man.

  ‘All that hard work has certainly given you an appetite. It must suit you.’

  ‘It does,’ Johnny agreed, his words muffled by the huge mouthful of mince, mash and carrots he’d just shovelled in. ‘I like it.’

  ‘I’m surprised,’ Ruth admitted. ‘I thought you’d really hate it.’

  But you still made me go ahead and do it, though, didn’t you? thought Johnny, a twinge of resentment momentarily resurfacing.

  ‘Is my dad treating you all right?’ she went on, reaching for her tea. It was cold now, but she took a sip anyway.

  ‘Don’t really see that much of him, to be honest,’ Johnny told her, swallowing the negative thoughts along with the food in his mouth. ‘He pretty much stays in the office all day, and Big Pat’s always in the garage, so it’s just me and the cars for the most part. Which is cool, ’cos I can just get on with it at my own pace.’

  Ruth smiled again, delighted that he’d come home not only with an appetite for food but also for conversation. That was an unexpected and very welcome surprise, because he’d barely spoken two words to her since the wedding. She’d known it would take time for him to adjust to the idea of being a husband and father, but lately she’d started to think he was never going to settle. Now, finally, she could see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel – and she couldn’t h
ave been happier.

  ‘That was great,’ Johnny said when he’d finished his shepherd’s pie. ‘But you’d best ease off on the portions, ’cos I’m going to be a right fat bastard if you carry on piling my plate up like that.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Ruth scoffed, whisking his plate away and replacing it with a bowl of sponge pudding and custard.

  Rita wandered in just as he was finishing the last spoonful, and a nasty glint sparked in her eye as she watched Ruth take his empty bowl over to the sink.

  ‘Got her running round after you like a proper little slave, haven’t you, Jimmy?’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Ruth banged the bowl down hard on the ledge. ‘His name is Johnny. How many times do I have to tell you?’

  ‘I prefer Jimmy,’ Rita replied dismissively, pulling out a chair. ‘So where’s Frankie disappeared to this time?’ she asked, peering at Johnny.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He gazed coolly back at her. ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Rita narrowed her eyes slyly. ‘Well, that didn’t take long, did it? This time last month he was all set to slit your throat, but now look at you. Frankie’s little puppet. Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir.’

  ‘Mum, stop it,’ Ruth scolded as she wiped her hands on the tea towel. ‘It’s not Johnny’s fault Dad doesn’t tell you where he’s going.’

  ‘He’s no better,’ Rita sneered, jerking her thumb at Johnny. ‘He might come home when he’s supposed to, but I guarantee he doesn’t do it for your sake. It’s because he knows what your dad’d do to him if he upset you. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?’

  Johnny didn’t bother answering. She’d more or less hit the nail on the head, but there was nothing to gain by admitting it, so he stood up and smiled at Ruth.

  ‘Thanks for dinner. I’m going for a bath.’

  ‘Don’t use all the hot water,’ Rita called after him. ‘This is my house, not yours, and I might want a bath myself.’

  ‘You don’t even like baths,’ Ruth reminded her when Johnny had gone. ‘You’re just being funny. And I don’t see why, ’cos he’s been really respectful to you.’