‘Please don't.’ His face had gone a ghastly white. A hand still under his obedience darted out. Taking the brandy, he sipped it and then replaced the glass. The other hand lay fallow. While this faithful hand rummaged into his hippy top and fumbled with something silvery.
‘What are you doing?’ my voice was dull, I was unmoved.
‘I can't, I can't.’
Staring at me with eyes imploring like a fish stranded out of water.
‘Can't what? What is it you can't do?’ he was annoying me more by the minute.
‘I can't. My tablets. I can't.’
Leaning forward with curiosity, there were tablets in his hand. It is horrible to admit how a cankerous turn of mind can wonder; should I place the stranded fish back into the water again or leave him to suffer and die on the dry earth, breathing in the oxygen of dust?
Taking the foil-covered strip of tablets out of his hand I pushed one out and handed it to him. With eyes repellent to intelligence, goggle-eyed, he took the tablet and pushed it into his mouth. And sucking it and breathing heavily, he was staring into the deathly space, and those invisible hands which were taking him away were now giving him back.
‘What was the tablet for?’
‘I have a heart condition,’ he was starting to breathe easier, and his hand was now on the brandy once again.
‘Should you be drinking brandy if you've got a heart condition?’
‘Probably not, but the things which are usually not good for you are also the things which help you get through life.’
It was evident he was already feeling a great deal better because he was visibly relaxing and the pallid look on his face was gradually retreating. Almost like watching a corpse coming back to life.
‘Have you always had this heart condition?’
‘I had my first heart attack ten years ago, but I survived against the odds,’ he was now grinning at me. ‘And as you can see I'm still alive.’
‘And these tablets, what do they do?’
He looked bemused. ‘Apart from saving my life, they slow down my heart rate. When I get stressed, my heart beats faster.’
‘Yes, yes. I understand but if I was to take one of your tablets, what would it do to me?’
‘They would make you very ill, and you would probably be rushed to the hospital.’
Hattie looked at me, he now knew what I was thinking.
‘What an excellent idea,’ said Hattie. ‘But do you know how dangerous that could be if we don't get it right?’ he was leaning forward; he was excited with the correct amount of adrenalin.
‘If he is a healthy man, his body will take it.’
‘I don't know if I like that idea.’
‘Well, do you have any other suggestions?’
He shook his head.
‘Judging his desperation, he might do anything. And like you said, it's usually the things which get us through life are the ones that harm us most.’ I took my brandy and drank more than I would normally have done. Getting Jacob to take these tablets which were poisonous to him was repugnant to me, I would sooner there was another way, but for the present our choice was limited.
‘If he goes to the hospital, there’s a chance we can get him out from there.’ Hattie was now working out the scene through his hands and holding up the potentials of the idea.
‘I suppose it will be me who has to take the tablets to him?’ I said as if this idea was disagreeable but the thought of seeing Jacob Barba again triggered off a spasm in my heart. Oh, if only he were John and John had been him but as twins they had parted, each sharing a similar face but with opposing traits. ‘But first, I need to know if he wants to take this risk. And secondly, how would I give them to him? Everyone is searched before going in.’
The scene was playing out around me now. Walking into the prison and being taken to the reception area. Giving my name and some identification, my passport, which I had just been reissued with and in which I had reverted to my maiden name, enough identification for the moment until the next visit. And then before leaving the prison, the guard cornered me and told me he could not have me upsetting Barba. Next time I upset him, it would be my last. Barba was already unbalanced by living in prison.
‘If we are going to go ahead with this,’ I took up my thoughts. ‘Then we will have to do it on the next visit. But I'm not sure how.’ I fell into thoughtfulness; I was the only one with ideas.
‘Is he eating well? Has he lost any weight?’
‘No, judging by the looks of him. He's eating well and he looks like he works out, he looks fit. He asked for a cup of coffee and two candy bars which he gobbled down quickly,’ I stopped as an idea again leaped into my head.
‘Yes, he has a weakness for candy bars,’ agreed Hattie.
‘Candy.’
‘Yes, candy,’ Hattie repeated.
‘But that's what we can do. This is the way in which we can give it to him.’
‘In a candy bar?’
‘No, in a box of chocolates. If we crush-up four of your tablets and insert them into a box of liqueur chocolates.’
‘They aren't allowed liqueur chocolate,’ Hattie was easily defeated.
‘Okay, in a box of mixed chocolates with cream centers, we could do four of them.’
‘But wouldn't it be a problem if the cellophane wrapper is undone?’
‘Look, Hattie, you’re creating more problems than solutions. You do want to get Jacob out, don't you?’
‘With all my heart.’
‘Then we have to think of a way around this problem. Chocolates I believe are the only way we can deliver the drug.’
13
Every good habit begins the moment one thinks of it. After a quick shower, dressing and then applying the camouflage to my face, I went to wake up young J.J. He was never asleep; he lays there waiting. Such a strange little boy. After searching through the little man's wardrobe and chest of drawers, he has everything. One criticism which cannot be made against Angel, she does not neglect him on that score.
We were now the first at breakfast for Hattie like Angel, rarely surfaced before midday but this morning, Angel was sitting at the table waiting for me.
Since my trip to the prison, Angel regarded me silently, brooding on thoughts which she kept to herself. I became aware of her interest in me when turning my head I saw her quite often turn away. Though every now and again, she would catch my eyes and keep my gaze for a couple of seconds. There was something very definite going on in her mind, and it was to do with me. And here she was sitting and waiting at the breakfast table.
Seeing her had surprised me. I quickly checked my watch to make certain of the time and then I smiled at her.
‘I didn't expect to see you up this early, Angel.’ I placed J.J in his highchair.
‘No, I couldn't sleep,’ she was gently chewing her bottom lip while her voice sounded far away, vague, like in a daydream.
‘Is there anything bothering you?’ I asked as I adjusted J.J’s clean white bib about his neck.
‘No, not really,’ the tone of her voice was distant. ‘I was just thinking,’ she said as if she was talking to herself.
‘You know,’ I began thoughtfully taking up J. J’s dish of porridge. I had cut his ration down. ‘If you have a problem, you can always talk to me.’
‘Yes,’ her eyes went straight to mine, ‘I'm sure I can.’ The distant and vague, hundred miles away voice fell away as if the lazy trap had caught its mouse.
Perhaps, in the beginning, I had underestimated Angel, but now after spending several weeks in her house watching and listening to her, my ideas about her had changed. I was beginning to see her for what she was. She presented an image that at first, I poked at as being silly and not to be taken seriously. But her future had become uncertain, and from my own experience, I knew the disillusionment of confidence. In the beginning, I thought Angel had found that magic elixir of power. Her confidence had overwhelmed me and put me into the shadows. But it was an act, and I
had seen evidence of it cracking when she passed my bedroom in the early hours of the morning.
Awakening one morning at the dawn of the day, and with those idle thoughts one has at that time in the morning, I lay there listening and wondering yet again about my life and what I was doing here. I had never thought for one moment, I would be reduced to this, sleeping in the house of my husband's mistress, and hoping for some scraps of money from John's legacy to fall my way. I measured my lapse from grace to the rate of my now distant and fleeting past successes, when I heard a noise.
Of course, I'm curious. I've always been curious or nosy. Creeping to the door, I cautiously opened it, just a bit, just enough to see Angel coming along the hallway, her long blonde hair, still in place and her face as pretty as before. But that confidence, that spirit which determined that she always got what she wanted had suffered the test of defeat. For, she looked tired, very tired. She passed by my door, within two feet from my face because, she did not look only tired, she also looked old.
But her being here now at the breakfast table made me nervous. I was endeavoring to feed J.J who, very well behaved ate every mouthful I gave to him.
‘He never cries now,’ said Angel again in that faraway voice. ‘I never hear him cry.’
I looked up at this, and it was in my mind to say, why, do you miss him crying? But of course, I didn't for I am not as reckless as I once was. I don't know if I should be sad about this change or not.
‘He seems to like you,’ Angel mused.
Again, this caught my attention. Was this a good achievement with Angel? I did not feel pride about it, I felt nervous. ‘I guess you could say I’m doing my job, the one you pay me for,’ I went back to J.J, he was patiently waiting for his next mouthful.
‘Did you know that Hattie didn't like you when you first came to my house?’ Angel asked, looking at me and not her child.
‘I rather worked out that one.’ Again, I smiled, a nervous reaction.
‘But he likes you now.’ She said this as if this was a betrayal.
‘Well, perhaps he’s pretending to like me because he knows you want me to stay for J.J.’
She frowned. ‘Why do you call him that? It's not his name.’
‘I'm sorry,’ I was flustered, it was necessary to think quickly. ‘I used to care for a child about the same age. I called this little man, J.J. It's just an old habit, but I won't do it anymore.’ I continued to smile reassuring to Angel while moving the spoon in the dish. Well, I thought to myself, for I'm never completely defeated, I still toss the caber of anarchy, I will not call him J.J not in your presence.
‘Who were the last people you worked for?’
‘Why do you ask now?’
‘Because I don't know much about you.’ Was Angel placing her cards in front of me, her distrust?
‘Well Mrs. Boreman, if you have problems with me, you know I can quit my post. I thought you had confidence in the way I looked after your son.’ Putting down the spoon, I realized my foolhardy nature hadn’t escaped the flames of my spirit. I was waiting for her to give me my notice. Had I not learned anything? The stupidity of my pride, gall, temper, I was about to throw everything away, I relented. ‘I worked for a family that decided to emigrate to Australia. I was offered a position, but I chose not to go. Although they accepted my decision, they were very sad to see me go. But in a way, I wish I had gone with them because not long after they left, this happened to me.’ I pointed to my face.
Yet, she still held that look of cynicism slipped snug tight in her eyes. For the first time there flickered the light of uncertainty, she was uncertain of me, and like me, she too had seen the image I also portrayed.
‘Everyone in this house likes you.’
‘Thank you. I hope they do because I'm a pretty inoffensive person.’
‘Are you?’
Her voice, this question repeated in my head. Are you as innocent as you make yourself out to be? And yet, was this the answer, the root cause for her meddlesome nature? Was she jealous of my apparent success? Jealous that the people who worked for her had found me easy-going, prepared to do my job and not complain. My goodness, how I had changed.
‘Why are you laughing,’ Angel asked with a touch of annoyance.
‘Oh, I don't know. When I was younger, I wasn't always like this. I had a really bad temper if you can believe it. I always wanted things done my way. I was impatient, very impatient.’
She was interested and listening attentively, it would have been flattering if it had been anyone else.
‘And so, you've changed? Do you think for the better?’
‘I don't know.’
‘I've been watching you. You seem happier now than you were when you first came here.’
‘Then, perhaps I have changed for the better.’ I smiled back though not so full a smile this time. It bothered me that she had been thinking about me with greater interest. Her new focused attention was beginning to impose restraints on how I should behave. It was almost as if she was saying, I'm keeping my eye on you.
‘I used to think you were skinny, but now I think it suits you. Did you know I used to be very slim once? I began putting on weight about five years ago, but now I am beginning to think that it's not so good to be too big. It's not healthy is it?’
This was an awkward situation. One should never comment on another's weight. It is possible to advise and suggest but never expect to transform other people's lives. I had found this out working in the fashion world.
‘You're a very pretty lady, and it suits you.’
‘Yes, but that's not what I asked. I'm thinking about losing some weight, and I was just wondering if you had any suggestions.’
The coffee on the table in front of me had gone cold but to avoid her continuous scrutiny, I picked the cup up and sipped it. ‘Eat sensibly and eat smaller portions.’
‘Is that what you do?’
An innocent question yet one I felt to be deadly, I found it invasive. ‘No, I have one meal in the evening, and I avoid anything which puts on weight. I've only been overweight once, and that was when I was in the hospital after the accident, and I didn't like it. I couldn't move as quickly, and I felt constantly worn out. But that is me.’
‘I think I shall eat one meal a day from now on. I would like to be as slim as you.’
‘But why? This type of regime doesn’t suit everyone,’ I was confused. She said it herself, it was her weight which gave her the generous curves and made her seductive to those other types of men.
‘That's what I want to do, I want to look more like you.’
It was impossible for me to stop staring at her, it was such a drastic statement to make and even more radical action if she carried it out. Why would she want to look like me? Everyone is different in life; it is the outward evidence of our inner personality needing to voice itself.
‘Do you object?’ she asked frowning and now blinking. ‘I thought you would be flattered.’
‘Well, yes I am.’
‘Then, I shall expect you to help me.’
‘Help you in what way,’ I felt like my entire identity was under attack. Compared to me, she had everything in life. Why on earth would she want to be or look like me?
‘I want you to tell me what you eat, and I want you to tell me about yourself.’
‘But that's crazy. I've come here to look after your son.’
‘And for me. Remember, you said that a mother needed more caring for than a child.’
‘Did I really say that?’ the question was aimed more at me than at Angel. But surely she realized I did not mean everything I said.
Her eyes were still on me, waiting and watching. I felt like I was talking to an irrational child, whose petulance was enough to make me want to pull out my hair.
‘Okay, very well, so, you want to lose weight. You do understand it's not a passing fashion, it's a lifetime commitment.’
She understood, she would comply, she wanted to change herself. And befor
e she left the table she checked with me if I was going to have any breakfast. It was quicker to confirm that not one item of food would pass into my mouth until this evening. When she left, I sat there wondering what it was going on.
Though it was cold, I had begun taking J.J out in his pram and walking him around the grounds. If he had been any other baby, looking after him would have been impossible. I tried to work out why he was this way towards me. If he knew me, the person I was, he would not have felt so safe with me, don’t like children. And yet, when he knew what I was about, he was quiet, he didn't cry, he waited for me.
It was Mary, who had told me how J.J had been that day when I went to visit one of his supposed father's. He was back to yelling the house down again as if he was waiting for me to come home and until I did, everyone was to know his rage.
And now, here he was looking up and studying me. His young eyes hooked onto every expression I made as if I was the creator of his life. An extraordinary feeling. What is going to happen to him when I leave this place because there will be a time. He had to understand that, I thought gently nodding. And then his serious expression suddenly changed into the most delicate of smiles.
Oh, what a sweet child. I reached into his pram and put my hands on his warm body and picked him up. Such a sturdy body of life. I put his body to my chest, his face leaned automatically on to mine, and there we stood together for the passing of seconds. Is it in those few moments that bonds are made? That lines of affection are attracted to each other and promises are sworn and taken. I don't know. But it is inevitable that he and I will take our own course in life and go our separate way.
Yet, when I returned him back to his pram he did not cry or make a fuss, he accepted whatever I had to offer. No one has ever been like that to me before, well, to a degree John had I suppose accepted everything about me, especially my strange humor. In the beginning, I thought John and I had something special. It still didn't seem possible that John would have picked someone like Angel but the evidence of what he has done is all about me, and where I had featured is now a memory.
Angel Page 14