Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  He swallows, his chest suddenly deflating for some reason, his shoulders sagging. “I just don’t understand why you would do this?”

  “I just told you my childhood was ruined by drugs, didn’t I?”

  He shakes his head side to side, as if his mind cannot compute me coming into this world.

  “You are so much better than this, clearly.”

  “It’s why I’m going to crack this as quickly as I can.”

  He jots down some notes and pulls out some forms for me to sign, handing them over. “Take these, read them at home. Have you had a recent CRB?”

  I nod. “Yep. I have them for supply teaching.”

  “We do our own. It’s the way we work. However, if you’ve recently had one, should be okay, unless you’ve recently got into a scrape?”

  I take the papers he has for me and give him the Death Stare.

  He takes a deep breath and tells me, “You’ll be partnered with a buddy for your training period. The people I employ are all excellent.” He stares at me, again, wondering if I might give up any information that will explain why I’m working for him. I don’t think Ronnie has told him about Janice – or given him the full picture. I’ve been told by Ronnie to mention as little as possible about what I’m doing here. I don’t know what Ronnie has told William but I bet it was only a partial truth.

  “After your training period, you’ll work mostly alone unless you need to double-up. You’ll get fuel rebates within your pay. You’ll need to see to it you change your vehicle insurance so they know you’re using your vehicle for work purposes. I would ask Ronald about reimbursing you for that.”

  “Seems like it’ll be a waste of time, if I’m only doing this for–”

  He stares me down and I realise I’m not dealing with a compromise here. “You’ll have a vehicle badge so you can park in most places without being fined. You work quickly and get from one stop to another in good time.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll be provided with a uniform, which is basically a tunic but you can wear your own trousers or skirt, t-shirt underneath in winter if you like. Sensible shoes are recommended and, it’s better if you keep hygiene products in your vehicle such as plastic gloves, anti-bac gel, a spare uniform. Like I said, you’ll be on the move quickly, you won’t have time to go home and change between visits. This job does have its moments.”

  My stomach churns at the reality. How can I do this, really? I’ll throw in the towel on my first day, I know it. I try to tell myself I’m strong enough but William Barker knows and he’s staring at me like he expects me to fail. That expectation makes me want to prove him wrong.

  “I’ll do my best,” I assure him, “and at least you won’t have to worry about me finding my way around. I know these streets.”

  He blinks once, probably the first time he has blinked since I walked in.

  “I was sorry to hear about Miranda. She was a great support to your father, but to others too.”

  Her death was reported on the news. Ronnie made it look like she wound up dead on a corner somewhere, when really she is abroad laying low until this all blows over.

  “I know. I think she was in love with my father.”

  “Well, if you can help find who killed her, I’m willing to give you a shot.”

  Oh, so that’s the ploy Ronnie’s given this fellow. I’m apparently here to seek out Miranda’s ‘killer’?

  “I’m going to keep my ears peeled.”

  As he stands and gestures I do too, I follow him out of the door. As we walk, he asks I return the forms in person as soon as possible so they can organise my uniform and carry out their own CRB check.

  Outside in the fresh air, he walks me to my car and says, “Jules, just a word of warning…”

  He looks at me seriously, and admits, “I don’t know if we’re bugged in there so I tell you now, whatever your dad was involved in, which by the way I want no part of, he was up to his neck. If you can get yourself some protection, I would. They know who you are, everybody does. You’re his daughter. That either makes you a liability or an asset. Ronnie will take you out of the equation as swift as the drug lords would. We both know what really happened to Miranda.”

  I hold out my hand, eager not to get caught up in his enquiry or give my game away. We shake on it and I try to keep my grip as firm and as forthright as possible. “Thank you. You don’t need to worry. I did self-defence classes when I was considering a job in Bransholme.”

  He snickers and I get into my car, drive away and try to remember I’m not doing this for money or glory or to prove a point – I’m doing this for Mum and because it’s the right thing to do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Warrick

  She’s been like a cat on hot bricks all day. I have never seen her this nervous. Never. We’re climbing into bed. It’s Sunday evening and there’s a drama on telly she wants to watch. The time’s come – she’s starting her ‘new job’ tomorrow morning.

  I have seven weeks left at work and I don’t know what I’m going to do after that. It’s sort of exhilarating not knowing what the future holds and I owe my impulsive decision to Jules and her new, reckless ways. She’s rubbed off on me.

  She grabs the ice cream tub from the bedside table and snaps the lid off, offering me some even though she knows I will decline. “Ooh, it’s just melted nicely,” she says, spooning out some of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food as the Sunday night drama gets underway. I pull my book off the bedside and start to read. My library mostly consists of crime fiction (surprise, surprise) but I’ve been reading a book about positive thinking and I think it’s really been helping to deal with all this stuff with Anna. I mean, she doesn’t know where we live anymore but every time Joe comes back here after having been to see her, I can tell stuff has been said and things have taken place he doesn’t want to tell me about. I have to believe he’s coping, I just have to.

  She’s wearing a lovely maroon nightshirt made of silk and after she’s had her ice-cream, I have designs on taking it off.

  “You bastard,” she says at the telly, “you little bastard. You killed her… look, why don’t they see… he did it, why can’t they see?”

  I love the way she gets into her dramas, especially murder-mysteries, and I snicker quietly as I read and enjoy being sat beside my beautiful, darling wife. She’s a saint for putting herself forward for this job.

  “Oh shit,” she complains, having spilt ice cream down her top. “Look!”

  I laugh at her and stretch over, taking the brown splash on the tip of my finger and lifting the little blob into her mouth. She licks the ice cream off and beneath the covers, my cock springs up a little inside my boxers.

  She laughs a dirty laugh and goes back to eating ice cream and scorning the bad guy on the TV. I look over at her and see the ice cream has left a little mark – all the more reason to have the shirt off her back after she’s finished watching.

  “Rick, do you think it’s going to be alright?”

  Her hand’s holding a spoonful of ice cream and it’s going to spill again if she’s not careful. She must feel a bit sick if she can’t even bring the spoon to her mouth. Usually ice cream helps her forget everything bad but tonight, it’s clearly not working.

  I gently put the spoon in the pot and stretch across her to put it on the nightstand, my book falling to the floor as we move about.

  “Come here,” I motion, and she pulls herself towards my side to rest in my arms, the TV on the opposite wall still flickering. “Talking might help.”

  I hear her swallow, even over the TV. She’s shaking a little, too. “I don’t think I’m going to be cut out for it. I really don’t.”

  I stroke her hair and reassure her, “We agreed, didn’t we? One day at a time.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Nobody has a gun at your head. You’ll be fine. Remember all you’re doing is caring, that’s all you’re doing. If you happen to hear or see something interesting while y
ou’re doing it, great, if not you did your best.”

  “Am I a caring person though?”

  “Shut up, Jules,” I berate her, but I’m secretly worried she’s not going to hack this. I’m worried she’s not got the patience for the people she’s going to come across.

  “I can’t even stomach my favourite ice cream! I don’t want to do this!”

  “It’s just nerves,” I console her, stroking her shoulders, “you’re just over-thinking it all. I know you. Tomorrow, you just have to turn up and switch off. That’s all you have to do. You said it yourself, you’re training and just watching how they do it, for the first week or so at least. Just talk to people, be nice, that’s all you have to do!”

  She sits up slightly and gives me her grump face. “I’m not nice.”

  “I beg to bloody differ. I’d rip this top off you right now if I didn’t know you’re really not in the right mood!”

  She grunts and tosses her head back down onto my chest, growling as she burrows into me for comfort, her nails clawing through my chest hair.

  My god, but I’m hard as lead beneath here. I’ll have to hang on to it until she jumps me again – hopefully soon!

  I stroke her cheek and assure her, “Don’t think about it, you’ll be fine. If it gets bad, you can always text me.”

  She murmurs into my chest, “I guess, darling.”

  “Remember, Jules. Just remember who you are doing this for.”

  “I know.”

  I stroke her cheek gently, my fingertips crossing to her forehead, then into her hair to massage her scalp. She’s like a lapdog when I have her like this, so easily pleased with a little head rub and a bit of affection.

  “My sweet baby, you’ll be fine,” I reassure her, and before the clock strikes ten and her programme’s finished, she’s asleep in my arms.

  I wait until she shudders into deep sleep and then gently roll her back onto her side.

  “Love you, Warrick,” she mumbles in sleep and I stroke her hair out of her eyes, kissing her cheek.

  I was hoping we’d make love tonight. We haven’t done it in a couple of weeks and I don’t like wanking into a tissue, it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong without her. Sometimes I sit at my desk at work and think about my life and wonder how I’m still alive. I’ve crossed a fair few people, some of them the worst types of people you could imagine, and have so far encountered no repercussions. Maybe I was so good undercover, nobody knew it was really me. As I watch Jules sleep, I know she’ll find it difficult being somebody she’s not, whereas I’ve always found it easier getting out of my own head.

  I know how she feels, though. She’s a fish out of water, trying to belly flip on land. I might feel like that when I leave social work and make a decision about what I’m going to do next. All I know is that it isn’t making me happy anymore and I need to do something else, something with more variety. I’m sick and tired of looking into the frightened eyes of children abused by alcoholic parents, wives and husbands wondering when their partners are going to come home from their latest benders; and liaising with all the world-weary psychologists we work with leaves me cold sometimes. I miss working with kids, I really miss it, and maybe helping kids is where it really all begins? Childhood is the critical developmental stage, so maybe that’s where I can be of most use. Anyway…

  I leave the bed and head downstairs in my robe to the kitchen. I’m surprised to bump into Joe who’s normally in bed by now, his physical training making him sleep like a log every night.

  “What’s up, son?” I ask, pouring myself a glass of water.

  “Can’t sleep.”

  I examine him and wonder, but then I could spend my whole life wondering, so I ask, “Out with it.”

  “Why’s Jules been in a right piggin’ mood all day?”

  I laugh slightly, halting myself. My full laugh might wake Jules, or the twins, and none of them would wake in a good mood. “She’s just nervous about doing something new.”

  “None of it makes sense, Dad.” He glares, like he knows, and he’s worried about Jules.

  “She’s the toughest person we know, right?”

  He agrees, nodding.

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “I know something is going on.”

  “Yeah, well, life only gets more complicated, the older you get. Take my advice and enjoy your school years. They’re the best of your life. One day, you’ll wake up with a shit-ton of responsibilities and wonder how you became an adult. It’s not easy, but we all support each other, right?”

  Joe toes the floor, his head bent.

  “I guess. I just wish I knew how to support, Mum, you know?”

  I eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s not getting any better. In fact, she was screaming drunk the other day and told me she’s had to have a couple of terminations in the past couple of years. She’s not looking after herself.”

  “Whaaat?” I’m shocked, not only by the news, but by the fact she’s laying this all out on our son. “Joe, this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be offloading on you.”

  “She puts me off ever getting involved with a girl, you know? Seriously.”

  I stand staring at my boy. “I’m sorry, but not all women are like that.”

  “It still puts me off. You must think yourself lucky to have gotten Jules, yeah? I can see why she’s the only one you want. She’s cool.”

  I smile to myself. “She has her moments, too.”

  “I just… I don’t know how to say this, but…” His voice catches in his throat, and he almost breaks out crying.

  I rush over and grab the back of his neck, bringing his face into my shoulder. “Come on, I’m here. You can tell me anything.”

  He pulls back, taking my shoulders in his hands. “How do I know that? It’s only since she’s been back that you’ve been happy.”

  I swallow, but it’s hard to. “I’ve not always been the best father, I know that. I’m sorry. I just always thought out of the two of us, your mum was the best person to care for you.”

  “Yeah, ’cos it’s been great watching her divorce Jake and then shag all and sundry!”

  He’s hurting and it’s partially my fault. “What’s brought all this on?”

  “Jules,” he says, “she’s doing something for that Ronnie.”

  “What are you–”

  He puts his hand up. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I heard him here the other week. I know, okay? I know he’s been here.”

  “Oh.”

  “If she’s in danger, if something happens to her, then I need to know you’ll still be here at the end of it. You’ll still be here for me.”

  I shudder and turn away, shame filling my eyes with tears, heat in my skin making me dizzy. “What do you mean?”

  “You only function when you have her.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” Joe asks, “why aren’t I enough for either of you!”

  I turn around quickly and capture his head in my hands, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re better than all of us put together. If we neglect you, it’s just because we know you can take it.”

  A tear falls from his eye and he says, “Dad, what did she do to you? Mum? What did she do?”

  I swallow, again, but this bile doesn’t seem to want to cease. Barbwire is trying to strangle me.

  “She was a good wife, she tried hard. I wasn’t good enough, it was me. I got caught up in work, I didn’t do my duty, I neglected her. She tried, I didn’t. It was all me. Your mum… it’s not her fault.”

  “No,” he says in a sharp, but low voice, anxious not to wake his brothers up. “Don’t make excuses for her.”

  “What has she done? Why are you talking like this all of a sudden? What’s happened?”

  Joe wipes his fingers under his nose and tells me, “At the table. I’ll tell you at the table.”

  We sit at the kitchen table and he says, “Recently, she turned up here. I though
t I’d been careful, I thought she didn’t know.” I nod, prompting him to go on. “It was a Saturday night. You were out, with Jules, at that new restaurant you found in North Newbald… it was just me and the twins, and she walked right in, with this man… he wasn’t a very nice looking sort, rough and smelt foul. The front door wasn’t locked. I don’t know why, maybe I’d put the rubbish out and forgot. She acted like this was her house and the man just bought it… just accepted it. I froze, I was in shock. I asked her what was she doing and she said, just going to sort out her fella and then she’d be back. She took the guy into your bedroom and before I could do anything, she’d locked the door and they were… on your bed.”

  “Fucking–”

  “She came down,” he takes a deep breath, “with him. She sent him on his way. Not before he paid her.”

  “No!”

  “He gave her a couple of hundred. I saw it. I asked her how she knew where we lived and she said she hacked some database to find this address. I was livid. She told me she’d lost her job because of everything that was going on. She told me this is what she is now, a hooker.”

  “Joe–”

  “Let me get it out,” he pleads, wiping tears away, “I changed your sheets for you. I don’t think you noticed. I used the set that looks almost the same. I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry.” I try to reach out and touch him, but he holds his hands up, not wanting my pity. “She watched me as I changed your sheets and she was full of venom, full of hate, pouring from her. I couldn’t understand her.” He bursts into tears. “I was just watching my kid brothers and she did… that! I didn’t know what came over me but I hit her and I’m so ashamed of myself! So ashamed.”

  I take a deep breath, wanting the facts. “What happened next?”

  “Her nose was bleeding and she smiled, then left. It was like I hadn’t touched her at all, like I hadn’t made an impression. Like she’s dead inside.”

  “She’s got depression,” I say loudly, “I’m telling you how it is now because you need to know. She’s got depression and she’s not herself. She won’t ask for help, she won’t accept it. She’s drowning in alcohol and sex.”