Angel

by Kate Mitchell

  ‘Oh,’ she said, looking down at her empty plate. ‘I thought I was going out tonight but this morning, I was told it had been canceled.’

  ‘That's a shame for you.’ I was going to say, never mind there's always another day but I gathered this is not what Angel would want to hear.

  ‘Yes, and Hattie's not even bothered to ring me up and wish me a happy birthday,’ she sulked.

  ‘Why, where is he?’

  ‘In the hospital, they rang late last night to tell his next of kin that he was in the hospital. But I'm not his next of kin, and I think it's a cheek to say I am.’

  My heart quickened. ‘Why is he in the hospital?’ I was seeing blue flashing lights surrounding me. Was Jacob Barba dead and had Hattie been caught aiding and abetting him?

  ‘He had a heart attack.’

  ‘A heart attack,’ I echoed.

  ‘Yes, but he'll be all right. He's as hard as they come, and I expect he'll be back here tomorrow with his tail between his legs. It's just one way of avoiding celebrating my birthday.’

  ‘Are you going to visit him?’

  ‘No, not at all. If he thinks I'm running after him, he can think again,’ she picked up her water and began sipping it.

  ‘Do you mind if I go and visit him?’ I was mentally getting ready and seeing myself walking along vast corridors which every hospital seems to have.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she was frowning.

  Never had I anticipated this of her. My confusion sat statuesquely on my face. ‘Surely someone should go and see him.’

  ‘This is not a good day,’ she said now standing to leave the table. ‘I don't want to talk about it. And I don't want you leaving the house.’

  Shocked, and for a moment, the spirit of my old self-raised itself, I was just about to tell her what I thought about her and what I intended doing when I held myself in check. There was something very different about her, not only in the way she was beginning to look, but I could sense a very strange change of attitude.

  Two years ago, you would have found a different me. I did not care what others thought or felt. I was completely insensitive which made me happy and smug and everything was right with my world. And I suppose you could say that I was not a million miles away from Angel. But now life had thrown an arsenal of weapons at me, handicapping me with penalties. My meaner position made me gain a listening ear, an observant eye and I had learned to develop it. The horse of my fury was now safely downed for the time in his stable. Ascertaining the shape of her eyes to the pose of her lips, I sensed was fear.

  Looking at the present and the card which had been left by the side of her plate, I was beginning to feel that something was very wrong. Angel had ignored me for weeks, until now. I would catch her stealing looks at me of a peculiar kind which she said she neither disliked nor resented me. I could be wrong. I could be imagining all of this because of what I had done to Jacob Barba.

  Later on, as I was bringing little J.J back in from his walk and for his afternoon's rest, I was told by Mary that Mrs. Boreman had gone out and that she was in a pretty temper.

  ‘Did Pesker take her out?’

  ‘No, she was collected by her lawyer. It’s actually Mr. Boreman's lawyer, he's helping her to put everything into her name.

  ‘But I thought everything of that nature would have been done by now.’ Not realizing how much interest I was showing in my employer's affair.

  ‘We are not supposed to know about it,’ began Mary. ‘But when you work for someone, you get to know a great deal about their business. There are problems in her life, although I cannot say for sure what, but what we do know is that her boyfriend a judge has not been so attentive to her.’

  It seemed what I had in front of me was a great deal of secrets, but I did not have the key to open the box of answers. If one card could be turned to reveal its face, I was sure that everyone else would show their value.

  For an entire afternoon which felt like it went on forever, I mused over the possible scenarios of what had happened to Jacob Barba and if he indeed went into the hospital and if he did, had he now been returned back to prison? Was he out, was he dead or, perhaps it didn't work? And now, I was concerned about Hattie, what had really happened to him? Yet, Angel was completely disinterested in her friend, someone whom I gathered she had known for many years. And just as I thought how could she be like that, I was hit on the head by a reminder that I had done the same. Walking out on John believing he was going to find it difficult without my financial input, she and I were alike.

  But I had to forgive myself for the past and put credence back into my future.

  ‘I've decided,’ I told Mary when she came in with J. J’s six o'clock meal, ‘That, I'm going to go and see Hattie. I'll need to call a taxi.’ Although after I had said this, I wondered where I would get the money for the cab fare.

  ‘I'm glad you're going.’ Mary never smiles. ‘Hattie was never well-liked by Pesker and me but he's still a human being. Don't worry about getting a taxi, Pesker is free, he will take you and bring you back home.’

  It was in the car that I decided I was fed up with being invisible. From my short, chic chestnut bob, my expensive brown suit, elegant heels, I had gone from someone who had made an impact in other people's lives on the magazine into hiding. I had written columns that changed people's lives. Showing them how to be different, how to be noticed. And how to be proud and respect themselves.

  What had happened to me was a part of life. I’d fallen off the pedestal, but it didn't mean I couldn’t get back on it. It’s what happens to people, it's called a setback, but I'm beginning to understand that having a hindrance should not be made into a career.

  So, okay, I am a survivor, I’ve had the wind sucked right out of my sails. Gone were the days when I could take my looks for granted of the vivacious type. I thought my name, Vivian suited me well. But the scarring on my face, and no matter how good I am at putting on makeup, the raised images of a broken face can still be seen through it.

  What I think I'm trying to say is, with the sudden advent of anger from this morning and the power that Angel thought she had over me because I had given it to her. I had allowed her to think she could walk all over me because she had got what I wanted, money.

  But not any more

  When are surnames important? You get to know people through their first names or, the names or nicknames they invite you to use so that you can carry on a conversation with them, or request an audience. It was only when I was walking into the hospital and crossing over to the reception, pulling into my mind the inquiry of an interview with Hattie. It was then I acknowledged that Hattie could not be his real name, and I was already at the desk with the receptionist looking up at me with expectation.

  ‘I have a friend, who was rushed in last night with a suspected heart attack, could you tell me which ward he is in?’

  ‘What's your friend's name?’

  I smiled and then held back my head in a laugh for, wasn't it incredibly funny because I've only known him by the name Hattie.

  Though, the receptionist did not appear to find this funny. ‘I cannot help you to locate her if you don't give her full name.’

  ‘Oh - it's not a she, it's a he.’

  ‘As I said before, you will have to give his full name. Thank you. Next person please.’

  The person behind me came to the front, as far as the receptionist was concerned, I had been politely dealt with.

  I hate this world. I hate how my needs make me dependent on others and how they believe they are entitled to treat me. But I mustn't make a scene. Tying down my seething anger I tried option two. Hence I wandered off pretending to go out of the exit but instead, I doubled back and began reading the signs headlining the wards and others like hematology. But there weren’t any ones which read Emergency Room, but there was a map of the hospital.

  Taking notes of the direction, I started to walk towards ER area conscious of the silence and the sound of my own breath, I won
dered who I could ask, who would come thudding through one of the rubber doors, gowned and masked on a mission to save another life. It was then that I saw a real figure now sitting outside a side room. A policeman in a hospital was sitting and waiting. This must be it; I had found Jacob.

  How was I to gain entrance with him sitting outside? By becoming one of the staff, yes, that would do the trick. The outfit I was looking for was in one of the baskets just around the corner.

  A few faces looked up where they were sitting and waiting as I pushed the laundry basket passed them. Hospitals house some strange individuals, and people who are hanging on the other side of the entrance to insanity, but still have some kind of immunity. I drove the rumbling wheeled vehicle around the corner to the public convenience area and then seeing there was no one looking, I plunged into the basket and took out an assortment of clothes. The green uniforms were unisex. Pulling up a pair of trousers tied with strings, I then slipped on a top and piled my hair under a mop hat. I left my coat on one of the two chairs by the restroom.

  Who was the person in the guarded side room? This was what I thought as I walked back towards the policeman. And with my hand just about to push open the door, I was spoken to.

  ‘How's he doing?’ the policeman asked.

  ‘That's what I am about to find out,’ I answered in the terse, short voice, which are issued out when one becomes a civil servant, and I walked through into the room.

  Poor Hattie. Lying in a hospital bed seems to have stolen his dignity, it made him look tiny in a bed that could cover every shape of person. Face whiter than it should be like the impeccably laundered sheets.

  Uncertain as to whether to go closer to him or to leave the room, I hovered nervously as one does in the presence of illness. With one eye open, yet still, I was not sure if he could see me.

  ‘Am I going to die?’ asked a sad weak voice. His voice which often had annoyed me always too high, too strident that it got on my nerves, especially when he spoke to Angel was weak. Though when he spoke to me, it was slightly more mellow. But now his voice was featuring the shadows of a losing spirit under the labor of holding on to his life.

  ‘No, you're not going to die.’ But as I said that I knew I was lying.

  ‘I know that voice,’ his eyes were looking about for the person who was talking.

  Compassion made me come nearer to him, I was scared he was withering into the clutches of the hospital bedding, which also seemed to be draining his resources. ‘Hello Hattie, it's me, Vivian.’ I had given him the wrong name but what did it matter?

  ‘The one who looks after Angel's baby?’

  ‘Yes,’ I smiled. This was the first time I had been so close to another's death. It was like I was coming closer to my own.

  ‘And did Angel come with you?’

  ‘No, not this time,’ I was still smiling, ‘She's very busy, she had to go out, but she will be coming to see you later.’

  ‘No, she won't,’ his voice was dull. ‘I know she's been discontented with me for a long time. I used to make her laugh; once we were good friends but not anymore. She's moved on with her life, but she keeps me with her because I know too much about her. She keeps me with her because she can keep an eye on me.’

  I didn't know what to say. He looked so lonely and now about to face death on his own, it occurred to me that he would never be coming out of hospital again. Although I felt sad for him, I still needed to know what had happened to Jacob Barba.’

  ‘Did it all go to plan yesterday?’ I asked hopefully.

  For a few seconds, Hattie looked confused and then he slowly blinked.

  ‘Yes, that was a success though when I saw him being rushed past on a stretcher, I thought I had killed him. But it wasn't him who was meant to die, it was me.’

  ‘But you're not going to die,’ I hurried in, embarrassed, trying to conceal the fact that life finishes just when you least expect it to. It made me feel very uncomfortable knowing he was on the troop train heading towards that grand door. I did not want him to think about dying, it’s almost like telling someone to give up. Death has a very negative press and is often considered to be the end of the world, I suppose it is for some, I suppose it was for John.

  ‘I never realized he hated me that much.’ Began Hattie now looking across his bed and over the pile that had once held up his stomach, ‘I thought, hoped that if anything we could be friends until I went in to see him, to tell him where I had put the clothes. At first, I thought he liked me, but he was just coming around; he had been sick and vomited out most of the drug.’ And then Hattie became quiet for a while.

  I waited, desperate to know what had happened. In my mind, for a moment it seemed like Jacob Barba's life was hovering somewhere between life and death.

  ‘It was awful.’ Hattie groaned. ‘I thought he didn't recognize me because of what I was wearing. I was just coming to help him sit up, I wanted to care for him. I wanted to love him. It was then when he looked me in the eyes and discovered who I was. You know, he was the only person I really loved, that I felt I could give my heart to. Oh, I knew there was no hope for me, not with a man like him; I knew he would always be in love with Janice. But the irony is…’ and then Hattie made this whimsical noise, which sounded like half-choked laughter which had forgotten to be wound up. ‘Janice doesn't love him. Janice doesn't love anyone except herself.’

  ‘You don't need to talk anymore. I just wanted to know if it was successful and also to come and see if you were all right.’

  ‘You're very kind.’

  Looking at him, I thought I should leave him out of consideration, and then Hattie looked up catching my eye again.

  ‘When he recognized that it was me, he spat at me and pushed me away with such strength that I fell to the floor. He despises me. He says I make him sick.’

  ‘Try not to think about it. Try and put it out of your mind.’

  ‘He's broken my heart,’ and then Hattie fell back into reflective reverie. ‘She doesn't like you; you know?’

  ‘I sort of worked that one out,’ I smiled, anticipating he meant Angel. ‘She's been keeping her eye on me just lately, goodness knows what she's thinking about...though I daresay I shall soon find out.’

  ‘There is something really bothering her. John Boreman left a will and she’s concerned that it’s not in her favor.’

  ‘Well, who else could it be for?’ this piece of information suddenly interested me for once again, John proved himself to be unpredictable, ‘His son?’

  ‘You've been living in the house for two months.’

  ‘Almost,’ I like to be accurate about details like that.’

  ‘And you haven't worked it out that this child is not John Boreman's son?’

  For some reason, I felt upset. I had no loyalty to anyone, least of all to John, but for something or other it sort of pleased me. It made everything right that John had a child, the one who he had married for, hoping against all hope that he was able to become a father. ‘Are you so certain of that?’

  ‘Let me tell you a secret,’ he began as if he had looked death in the eye and had seen him off.

  I realized he was expecting me to come closer and so, I obliged.

  ‘I'm not sure if you are an idiot, an innocent or someone who is very clever, and I'm of the impression that it is the latter. You must have heard the rumors or worked out that Janice has lovers?’

  ‘Yes, she inadvertently told me that it was Jeffrey who was the father of her child.’

  ‘It could be Jeffrey’s; it depends on how she's feeling. Up until now, the baby's been the judge's son. She likes to keep her options open.’

  ‘Does she know herself who the real father is?’

  ‘Who knows anything anymore but you're not what you make yourself out to be,’ he was staring at me with that alarming eye of sagacity.

  What did it matter what I told him now about the real reasons why I was working for Angel? The chances he was going to live for much longer were slipp
ing by the minute, and yet people had rallied back from the perimeters of death.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Someone who's like you, and who’s down on their luck and hoping to make a little bit of money so I can get on with my life.’ I looked at him while he regarded me seriously. ‘Why, who do you think I am?’

  His eyes suddenly regained some of their merriment as he considered me with interest. Is that all it takes to fetch life back, interest and concern?

  ‘I don't know but I do know she's asked Jeffrey to have you investigated.’

  I shuddered for there had been times when I felt another pair of eyes watching me. ‘Why would she want me investigated? She only has to ask for what she wants to know. She is wasting her money. I'm just a nanny, who has spent most of her life looking after other people's children.’ I looked away for Hattie's scrutiny was invasive.

  ‘Keep it to yourself then,’ he smiled, again he was slipping back into sadness.

  ‘Oh, while I think about it, I brought you a couple of things, which you're probably not allowed to have. A small bottle of brandy, it’s come out of Angel's store cupboard.’ Underneath my clothing, I took out the bottle; it was warm from my body.’

  How his eyes brightened? Quickly his hand still attached to a drip stretched out for it.

  ‘I've undone the bottle,’ I came across to him. ‘And I'll wedge it between your pillows under the covers.’ I tucked the bottle under the covers, not too far away so that he could get it. ‘Oh, and I hope you don't mind but I went into your room and found a stash of your weed.’

  ‘Oh, you darling, did you manage to bring the matches?’

  Pulling up my top again, I produced the box of matches.

  ‘You know this will probably kill me?’ he said taking hold of the packet of reefer papers from my hand.

  ‘You're not going to die.’

  ‘Do you know what? I don't care anymore.’

  16