Hetty: An Angel Avenue Spin-Off

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  He looks me dead in the eye and gives me a tiny wink, which the cameras don’t see.

  “Thanks for speaking to us today, Hetty.”

  With that, he links to another report and I’m helped from my stool as Peter prepares for another segment.

  I’d told by the producer, “You did amazingly.”

  I feel numb and weird, did I really just do that? Joe’s waiting for me across the other side of the studio, stood back behind some barriers. He folds me into his arms and reassures me, “You were brilliant.”

  “You should get up there yourself, hotshot!”

  “I’m under contract now babe, no talking, remember?”

  I laugh. “Bloody contracts.”

  One of the assistant producers tells me I can hang around and catch a word with Peter at the end if I want, but I decide not to. I’ve done my bit for the day.

  As soon as we’re released into Queen’s Gardens, I switch my phone back on and Joe and I take a bench. There are loads and loads of texts from people generally saying they saw me on TV. I ignore them all and let Joe put his arm around me. I need to let what I just did sink in for a minute. I think we both do.

  But my phone rings, with an unrecognised number.

  “Hello?” I answer, unsure.

  “Miss Bernard, it’s Barnes.”

  “Hello. This is a surprise.”

  “Very good show on telly today, I almost believed you!”

  “Pardon me, sir?” Who does this jerk think he is?

  “The homeless guy. I dealt with him a number of times. He took money in exchange for sex. Nobody knew his name, just like you said. I had to move him on a lot. No name except Mars.”

  I look at Joe who’s on the edge of his seat. I cover the receiver and mouth, Barnes. Joe looks a little bit more than surprised.

  “I suspected… but I didn’t know for sure.”

  “He did that picture of you for money, no question.”

  “What would he have spent it on?”

  “His dog,” he says, “it was one vet’s bill after another. He knew if he went to a pet charity, they’d take it off him.”

  “Oh, I see. How sad, eh?”

  “Yes, indeed. Anyway, I just wanted to say, I’m proud of you for getting out there today.”

  “Thank you, sir. I guess. I mean, I didn’t do anything really.”

  “Would you take some advice?” he asks, sounding sincere.

  “I’ll try…”

  “Make them see what someone like you can achieve when they put their mind to it, make them see. My job’s a load of bureaucracy and paperwork. Preventing instead of intervening. Besides being a copper, there are other ways to help people. We both know that.”

  His words instantly force a feeling inside of me, an emotion I suppressed for so long.

  Desire.

  A desire for life, for exploration, for a journey… for an adventure.

  “You’re right, boss. All right if I just ask you something?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Warrick… how good was he?”

  “His worth cannot be measured in any unit we possess here on earth.”

  “I agree with you one hundred percent. I’m glad I’m not alone in my thinking.”

  “Good luck, Hetty. I’m very glad I was right about you.” He sends a big barrelling laugh down the line.

  “Bye, sir.” I want to call him a certain something for being so right, but I’ll let him off – this once.

  I hang up and Joe’s grinning when I look at him.

  “Was that about what I think it was about?”

  “Well…” I cock my head as I study his gorgeous, young, dark, handsome face. “Depends what you think it was about?”

  “Reapplying?”

  “Nah, Joseph. Wasn’t about that at all.”

  “Then, what?”

  I shake my head. “Guess. While you guess, I’ll be in the fountain…”

  Impulsively I throw off my jacket and shoes, leaving a trail behind me as I run and jump into the fountain nearby, dressed only in my jeans and t-shirt.

  “Ahhhhh, it’s me! The Blue Girl! IT’S ME!” I get drenched by the water pelting down over me from the jets at the centre of the fountain.

  Fuck, it’s cold! However, I’ve soon got a crowd.

  I go with my feeling of the moment and scream at the top of my voice, bowing to all that’s above and below.

  “THIS LIFE! It’s for the living! It’s for the living, Joe!” I shout, screeching.

  Thrashing through the stagnant and freezing cold water, I splash about like I couldn’t give a shit.

  “Come on, Joe! We’re alive! Let’s live a little.”

  He gives me a side-smile and shrugs, watching me from the dry pavement, unable to stop himself laughing behind his hand.

  Eventually I’m helped from the fountain by some passing policemen, one of whom carries with him a foil towel for people in shock. I can’t stop myself laughing as Joe drives me home, damp and all.

  “You fucking nutter,” he raves.

  AS soon as we got home earlier I had to shower all the shit off me before I could get in the bath. Now I’m in said bath, which is hotter than the sun, and much needed to warm my cold bones.

  “Let’s go get a big dinner somewhere,” he says, sitting by my side, his fingers running up and down my leg.

  “Okay… sounds good. I’m up for it, anytime.”

  “How about Beverley? Nice drive up. I could book?”

  “I could dress up? How about it? I’ve never dressed up for you.”

  “You’ve never had to, just those ripped jeans of yours have me sweating.”

  I lick my lips and throw my head back laughing.

  While I’m laughing I don’t realise I’m being joined in the bath by a fully clothed and fully sexy boyfriend.

  Water overflows and goes everywhere.

  “What?” He gives me a straight face. “You can live, but I can’t? I wanna be all pretty as well tonight.”

  I stick my foot in his face and laugh. A moment later we’re looking at one another seriously again.

  It really does look as though he’s going to sit there fully clothed in the bath.

  “Joe?”

  “Yes, my blue-haired mermaid?”

  “I’m not going in the police.”

  “Nah?”

  “Nah.”

  “What ya gonna do then, girl?”

  “Haven’t quite decided yet. You’ll be the first to know.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  I cock an eyebrow and examine his eyes. “One thing, Joe.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, washing his hair with his serious face on still, all the suds starting to get on his t-shirt.

  “Barnes said someone probably put Mars up to doing the artwork but I still do not get it. None of it makes sense.”

  “Have you not considered that maybe Dad put him up to it?”

  “I have but Mars gave me a description that doesn’t match your dad. But then your dad does have a theatrical edge to him…”

  “It’s true.”

  Joe’s absently washing his hair still as I’m stewing on this mystery.

  I have to narrow this down…

  Staring upwards, I go into my mind palace like Sherlock Holmes does, except mine’s more like a mental spider diagram I’m drawing on the ceiling above. I decide Mars wasn’t of the disposition to plan or orchestrate something like this. Clearly, he created the work, but how he came to the decision to do it remains a mystery. He’d have needed supplies of paint, and for his dog to not wander off while he spent hours creating his piece. He’d have also needed a big ladder and no fear of heights. But he’d survived on the streets for a while, clearly. So he definitely had some degree of wherewithal. If he was commissioned, it would have had to have been by someone he knew, moreover someone who knew Mars could paint.

  So he was probably commissioned – and by someone he knew. Maybe it was Warrick… or Barnes… someone who had
a point to prove about me.

  Bloody Barnes.

  Nope, this still doesn’t make sense!!

  I am barking up the wrong tree here, for sure.

  The question is, who would want my picture up there for everyone to see? Who would want to show me off to the world? Who would want to test whether I was ready to be famous, the girlfriend of a footballer…?

  “Joseph…” My voice sounds colder than normal.

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “Do you have something to confess?”

  He shines bright-red instantly, even above the unusually hot water.

  “Cough up, Jones.”

  He looks terrified, then shakes his head, then looks terrified again. He folds his arms and his jaw moves side to side.

  When he fails to confess, I answer some of it for him, “He would’ve needed a strong back and someone to get him the stuff.”

  Joe purses his lips. “I’m not sorry.”

  “Why, Joe? Why?”

  He chucks his head back, his jaw clenching. Then he looks at me, prepared to argue his case.

  “A few weeks ago, I caught him late at night as I was coming back from Wayne’s on Beverley Road. Remember? We’d had that gaming session. Anyway, Mars was drawing graffiti on the side of some disused house near the Adelphi. I’ve learnt from my dad not to ignore people.”

  “Tell me the truth, Joe,” I demand.

  “I got his story out of him, the same one he told you. I tried to give him some money, he wouldn’t take it. I said what about a deal. If he produced a beautiful piece of art for a change instead of the hate stuff he was spraying on walls, he could have some money then as payment, like for like. He told me he didn’t feel inspired anymore so I showed him your picture on my phone and asked if he could maybe just draw you. He nodded, liked the look of you. Think he was a bit soft on me too. But I didn’t tell him I was your boyfriend, just that you were a girl I was sweet on.”

  “I see.”

  “I made him promise never to tell you it was me.”

  “Why?”

  “Just wanted it to be something I did in secret for you. I thought it would show you how beautiful you are… instead you went off on one. Backfired completely, didn’t it?”

  I nibble my lip. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

  “I realise that, and I realise I was wrong, but all I wanted was for the world to see how utterly beautiful you are, how much I love you, how you make me feel.”

  I push my fist against my mouth and try to stop my chin wobbling.

  “How much did you give him?”

  “I gave him thirty quid and a bit of spare change, oh and I provided the paint. He chose the spot, he told me where to meet him. I think he thought he was helping me get the girl.”

  “Wasn’t he? Of a manner.”

  Joe chuckles nervously and reaches for my hand, which I give him.

  “I wonder what he spent it on,” I muse.

  “I went with him,” Joe admits, apprehensively, “just in case he got thrown out.”

  “Yeah? Where to…?”

  “The supermarket. We bought two cooked chickens and he ate one, the dog ate the other. Then we went back in and he bought another two cooked chickens to take to the others back at the place he was staying. I didn’t know at that time it was my dad’s community centre he was staying in.”

  “And the loose change?” I can’t help smiling now, thinking of Mars and Kyla devouring their chickens courtesy of my boyfriend’s generosity.

  “He gave it to someone else, someone begging on the streets. He gave away his last pennies,” Joe murmurs, covering his eyes with a hand.

  I shorten the divide between us and lay in his arms. Clutching his wet sleeve, I whisper in his ear, “You bloody softie, you. A fool, but a softie.”

  He gives me a kiss and a cuddle, whispering, “I love you so much. It seemed like paying an artist to draw you was a simple thing, a right thing, a thing a man in love does. A thing one does to convince someone else that there are better ways.”

  “I love you so much, Joe.”

  We forget the posh restaurant and order in, eating in our robes and slippers.

  I’M PINNING A piece of muslin that I’m going to play around with as a dummy for an intricate skirt I want to make, when another alert from my computer captures my attention. I twist from where I’m sitting at my sewing desk to slide along the wood floor on my desk chair towards my Mac to read the screen. I’ve made another sale! I thought that while I try to decide what I’m going to do with my life now, I may as well make a bit of money this way.

  I had a rail full of things to sell the other day. Now I have to replace that rail – and quickly!

  I’m shaking my head, wondering how I’m going to keep up with orders, as I begin adding this latest order to the pile of things I have to take to the post office later on.

  I mean, though, if this continues I might have to employ someone to cut and sew while I deal with all these orders and try to design some new stuff.

  After setting up my Etsy store, I started off just sort of selling the idea of sleeves off unwanted garments sewed onto tops that were boring otherwise. But once all those had sold, I thought I might add some of my other, bigger designs, things I made from scratch – and they’re selling faster than the blouses with sleeves. I even had one order from France! I’m bloody shitting myself right now. I’ve always done this to please myself.

  Joe’s out training right now. Saturday was such a great day. He had ten minutes on the pitch and he made love to me like a stallion that night. Seriously, he’s so happy right now.

  After I bag up one of my cotton tea dresses with a pleated, full skirt and a button-up top, the screen pings again. I will seriously have to allot time to sewing and then preparing orders because I am getting nothing done here. I can’t concentrate because it’s too exciting watching orders come in.

  My phone rings and it’s Kerry.

  “Hey you,” I answer, grateful of this distraction.

  “Just wanted to know if you wanna go out tonight?”

  It’s a Monday night. Maybe in the past… but not now. I want to spend all my spare time with Joe. I love him.

  “Sorry, I’ve got loads of these orders coming in,” I excuse myself, sort of telling the truth, “isn’t Babs about?”

  “She’s loved up with that barman.”

  “Oh, it’s still going well?”

  “Seems like it. I don’t have any friends left now. I’ll probably have to go out alone.”

  “That’s not a good idea…”

  “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll ask Susie from work, she always seems up for it.”

  “Kez, listen. Maybe you shouldn’t… I don’t know… I mean, them days are over for me. I’d much rather be home–”

  “Oh, I see…”

  I don’t think she does see. If she invited me to go shopping or to go for lunch or go for a day trip somewhere, or anything that doesn’t just involve getting wasted, maybe I’d join. Right now it feels like she’s asking me to go back in time.

  “We could do lunch, any day. Just let me know. I’ll come into town, even… if you want.”

  “No, I’m good,” she says, hanging up on me.

  I guess you find out who your real friends are sometimes.

  I fire off a quick text to Babs: She’s been begging me to go out…

  Ten minutes pass during which I’ve managed to pin this entire skirt, ready for the sewing machine. Then I get a reply:

  I’m like, done. You know, Het?

  I’m glad if things are going well with, what was his name?

  Trey… he’s American, remember?

  I remember now.

  How’s Joe?

  Horny and fit as fuck.

  Snap.

  LOL.

  There are some friends who lead you astray and some who understand and don’t begrudge the happiness you’ve found.

  I ring Liza and she answers but there’s a lot of cry
ing going on in the background.

  “I need to get out of the house, like right now. I’m seeing stitches in my sleep. Zigzag predominantly, with the amount of hems I’ve done. I’ve lost track of how many ornamental patterns I’ve sewn onto linen tops.”

  “I can’t get away. Gage is training. The kids are both sick with chicken pox. Why don’t you call Jules? I’m sure she’s off this afternoon.”

  “She’ll be marking…”

  “You can but try. I’ll catch you later.”

  I sit and contemplate whether to start up the sewing machine or call Jules. I really don’t want to sew anymore today! I want to get my current packages out and be done for an hour or two.

  So I call her.

  “Hello, Hetty. And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Just wondering what you’re doing?”

  “Well I’m about to take the boys to The Deep. Our annual ticket is about to run out so I thought…”

  “I need to get away from my sewing. I keep looking at the orders and trying to figure out how I’m gonna keep stitching at this rate.”

  “We’ll meet you there in half an hour. I am literally getting them in the car now.”

  “Great, and we can get lunch.”

  “Yes, even better! Mummy doesn’t have to cook.”

  “See you.”

  I grab my packages, throw them in the back of the car and head off. I can post those later on.

  THE boys are fascinated by the penguins and demand to be lifted up to see them. The little darlings weigh a tonne each. I think Jules is glad I’m here.

  “How’s Warrick been since I left?” I ask her. “And don’t fluff it up. Just tell me.”

  “Actually, he’s home more. Did I tell you he’s finally given in and hired more people? He has this idea to rent out the hall for parties and things. I wonder why he never thought of it ages ago.”

  “Beats me.” I keep my eyes focused on the penguins as they’re fed by a man in a rubber suit inside their frozen den. “But I’m glad to hear it. I thought that he might regress once I’d left. I’m glad it’s forced him to make changes.”

  “I’m glad too. Once or twice, you know, I did think about kicking him out and making him live with Terry.” She grimaces, ruining her pretty face. “It was getting so bad, you know?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I mean, he’s here for me in so many ways, but he will not let me look after him. It drives me insane.”