Angel

by Kate Mitchell

  It was on the way home when I thought about this strange person, Hattie. There was no love lost from me to him, which made it feel even sadder. But at least he was leaving the way he wanted, drugged out of his head and drunk. I said cheerio knowing I would never see him again. Some liberal people would unkindly say that what I had given him would kill him, taking away his rights to live longer. We live in a democracy and so people are allowed to have their own thoughts.

  One of the first questions Pesker asked was, how was Hattie? I told him he wasn't going to make it. When I arrived back, Mary also wanted to know how Hattie was. Of course, it was very sad, but it also seemed now to be very right.

  Sometimes, when I lie in bed, I think about my brief dance with death. It had not claimed me but had left the reminders of the frailties of life, my life. Nowhere else had I sustained the markings of pride and vanity except on my face? These thoughts then pass on to John and why this had happened to him as well, to die with a heart attack so suddenly. I had never noticed there was anything wrong with him except he had put on a little weight. Mainly his stomach, though it wasn’t that excessive. He ate well and he didn't eat rubbish. The nearest to fast food he ate was bread and cheese and like Jacob Barba, John also had a weakness for chocolate. Poor John, at last I could feel some compassion for the man I had spent over twenty years with.

  The following morning when I had bathed and dressed J.J ready to take him down for his breakfast, I discovered the many changes which had taken place since I had visited Hattie. As I entered the dining room, I thought Angel had a new guest sitting at the table but there to my amazement, I saw it was Angel; she had made changes to herself. Gone were her long blonde ringlets, she had cut her hair as short as mine and now instead of that golden blonde, she had dyed her hair chestnut the same as mine.

  ‘I wanted a change,’ she said when she noticed my bewilderment. ‘I've always liked your color, and so I thought I would try it.’

  ‘But you've cut your hair?’

  ‘Yes, do you like it?’

  ‘I don't know, I've got used to seeing how as you were before.’ Staring at her hair I became aware that I was still holding the baby.

  ‘He's getting quite a big boy,’ She said, now watching me. I felt she was waiting for me to do something wrong.

  ‘Yes, he's growing fast, he will need some new outfits soon,’ I tried to smile, but nothing was registering on my mouth.

  ‘He will need some more new outfits soon,’ she carefully repeated what I said.

  What was she doing, I frowned trying not to look at her, was she mimicking me? Of course, in the fashion world being copied was a compliment. But why was she doing this? Was she trying to be me?

  ‘Last night,’ she began, watching my hands. ‘I was very rude. I never said thank you for your gift. It must have cost you a fortune, you shouldn't have. And the words you wrote in my card made me feel quite emotional, especially since this morning when the hospital told me Hattie was dead.’

  ‘So, he died?’ and I managed to look shocked even though it was imminent.

  ‘Yes, unfortunately, I was planning on seeing him today.’ She stopped to stare at me. ‘And to think I prevented you from seeing him, I cannot forgive myself for that.’

  ‘It doesn't matter,’ for now I felt awkward. ‘I'm sure he wouldn't have recognized me if I had gone.’

  ‘Yes, I think he had gone too far to have known who I was. Anyhow, it doesn't matter,’ and then she frowned. ‘What puzzles me is what he was doing in the hospital. He’s like me. He hates those sorts of places. John, my husband did also. You never met my husband John, did you?’

  Meddlesome. She was trying to trap me and so I smiled. ‘No, I didn't meet your husband.’

  Quickly, like lightning, she left her chair for the dresser where a book had been placed.

  ‘You believe in God?’ she asked placing a Bible firmly in my hand.

  ‘Sometimes, it depends on what is happening.’

  ‘Swear on this Bible then that you have never met my husband John?’ she was watching me intensely, I’m sure she was waiting for me to change my mind.

  And so, I swore an oath on the Bible that I had never met her husband John, because as far as I could see, John had never been her husband. So, I was safe. God wouldn't look down from heaven and throw a thunderbolt at me. Yet, I was scared, afraid of the oath and worried about why she was asking me to make such an odd claim. But if I was to judge, the expression on her face told me she still wasn’t satisfied.

  I was beginning to wonder if she might have lost her senses.

  Because of her violent reactions to what I did and didn't know, I thought it might be prudent if I became more cautious in my movements.

  It was from Pesker I heard what had happened when I had taken J.J out for his morning walk. I was beginning to spend more time with the child, finding in him the solace I needed knowing that he always appreciated my company.

  Apparently, the judge, Angus Stove Madwort, who hardly ever came to call on Angel arrived while I was walking the grounds. When he left, he left Angel frantic. She told Mary to make certain that all the windows were shut and if there were any telephone calls, she was to say she was not home unless they gave their name first.

  After I had put J.J down for his afternoon sleep, I went downstairs and into the lounge. On the Japanese black lacquered coffee table was a newspaper. Slowly as if in a dream, I picked up the paper to read the headlines, Jacob Barba had escaped. It was a shock to see it in print but what else did I expect, the man I had helped escape was a dangerous criminal.

  It was natural for Angel to be anxious about the escape, she hadn't been faithful to Jacob while he carried on being loyal to her. But what did he expect? If you commit a crime, the chances are you will be caught and then you will receive the punishment which means imprisonment. But it will be your punishment, you shouldn't expect anyone else to serve time with you. In one way, I couldn't blame Angel, but the least she could have done was to visit him and tell him it was over.

  For me, the knowledge that Jacob Barba was out gave me a thrill for two reasons. The first was that Angel was now in a panic, he would track her down, and I was pretty sure he would find her. And secondly, he would find out the truth about her which was that she had moved on. For one thing, she'd had a baby, which at not one year old yet could not possibly be his no matter how much the imagination is stretched. I tried to tell him in my own subtle way to help him adjust to reality, but it didn’t work. So, the best person to hear this bad news from is but the person concerned. He was never going to believe anyone else. Then, when he realized she didn't love him anymore, well, then he was free. But what am I thinking of? He is a murderer. There wouldn't be any future with him and somehow unhappily, I don't believe he is attracted to me.

  It seemed the one who had fallen foul of love was Hattie, despised by Jacob and Angel’s indifference. Now he was dead, I wondered what was going to happen about his funeral. By the way he depended on Angel, I doubted if he had any money to take care of his remains. And I shouldn't think Angel would be willing to pay for it.

  Going into the kitchen a couple of days later, I was proved wrong, Hattie had thought about this rainy day and had paid into an insurance plan which would cover everything. There was enough to cover a hearse, a plot of land, a limousine, the church, and flowers. Mary and Pesker were talking about it when I entered to collect a snack for J. J’s midday meal. They both wanted to attend which I thought strange, one goes to a funeral because you liked that person and cared about them. But maybe there were other reasons for being seen to care or for just that one day. Now their concern was, would Angel allow them both to take the same day off together.

  Probably not. No one was able to see her as she was keeping to her room, only appearing for her meals with me.

  I'm a great fan of fish and chicken, which I usually have with some salad, although never potatoes. I would eat sweet potatoes, broccoli and springs greens and when I could g
et it, avocadoes if not, I would have a selection of mix nuts and seeds. But even I would break out of this regime and eat everything which came to hand, a binge. It’s not always easy to remain slim and in my case, the fashionable ultra-thin. How Angel was managing this diet, I have no idea. She was determined to lose her weight and quickly. Starving was not a sensible way to go about it.

  This was the first evening I dined alone without J.J. Angel asked that he be fed earlier so we could eat like two adults and be civilized instead of us troubling ourselves over a child. Again, my opinion is reinforced that Angel is not your typical mother. And sometimes, I even doubted that J.J was hers if it weren't for the fact that I couldn't think why she would be housing someone else's baby.

  When I entered the dining room, thoughts of Hattie and the funeral were on my mind. How many people would go to his funeral? I was also wondering if it were wise for me to go. I have never been to a funeral before avoiding these uncommon events like the plague but for the first time in my life, I felt I would like to attend. As for Angel, I was working out what I was going to say in preparation for her attack. I had thought about saying that she should look after her own baby for once, but I wasn't sure if this approach was a good idea. Yet, if I chose to go, it should be one of my rights to attend Hattie’s funeral if only to pay my respects.

  Strange to enter a room and see a person, who day by day was beginning to resemble me. I tried to smile, but the first thing which came to my mind was she was creepy. Until now, I had seen Angel only in dresses, and they were usually cocktail dresses. She was the little girl who never grew up. But today as I entered the dining room, I saw she had a pair of trousers on in the style and color I wear. And when I walked across the room to take my seat, I knew she had her eyes on me, hawking every movement I made. If I weren't in her employment, I would have asked, hey what's going on.

  Taking the napkin from my place setting, I shook it out and laid it on my lap. A second later, Angel did the same thing; it was as if film and sound were slightly out of sync. I tried not to mind, but it was irking me considerably. What was she doing? Was it really a compliment or perhaps this mimicry meant she had nothing else better to do than to insult and humiliate me as one of her employees? Who knows what goes on in the mind of others?

  ‘I could do with a drink?’ I said putting my fork down. The feel of her eyes on me caused great tension in my back, I was also exasperated.

  ‘I could do with a drink too,’ she repeated every word and even the way she said it sounded eerily like me. ‘I will go and get us both one.’

  I felt like a good stiff drink, but it felt so strange, because, well, because of the fact that she was my employer and I was her employee. I knew beyond a doubt she did not like me. Yet, if she did not like me, why didn't she just get rid of me? Fire me or something? Perhaps I should tell her I am completely baffled by her behavior.

  Getting up, I watched as Angel made her way to the drinks table, I noted the new way she was walking. Her ample hips, which were not so ample anymore had stopped their little wiggle, she was fashioning herself as a model, and then I realized again that she was aping me. My lips parted in incredulity. When she wasn't looking at me, I found myself looking at her with disbelief.

  Bringing the brandies back to the table, she gave one to me before returning back to her seat. Sitting down, she looked well pleased with herself.

  I had to say something; there was no way I was going to keep quiet about this.

  ‘I can't help notice the difference in you since I first come here,’ I said with an insincere smile.

  ‘Yes, do you like it?’

  The brandy glass was in my hand and I noticed that Angel had also taken up her glass as if like me to consider the next move she made. She obviously knew what I was talking about.

  ‘It's reminiscent of me,’ I smiled again.

  ‘Do you think so?’ she was equally polite as I was to her. It was as if I had spoken aloud and the echo had rebounded agreeably. It's the sort of thing everyone dreams about that the world is graced with people of a certain temperament and complexion just like themselves.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I still continued the smile in answer to her question.

  ‘Did you ever have elocution lessons?’ she asked, sipping her brandy as I did. All the while she kept a steady vigilance on my hands.

  ‘No not really. I went to a good school where everyone spoke the same, my sister and I both had to fit in.’

  ‘You have a sister?’ she was surprised and a little shocked.

  I never meant to disclose so much to her, my sister was another lifetime away one which I prefer to keep a distance from. As I explained before, I did not wish any harm to my sister, although I wouldn't care if I never saw her again. That's what happens in families.

  ‘Don't you?’

  ‘No. I have brothers instead. Do you really enjoy brandy?’ she was squeezing her nose in distaste.

  ‘It's a drink,’ I shrugged.

  ‘What drink do you prefer? Because I know you drink. Do you remember? I caught you out that time with Hattie.’

  ‘Yes, about Hattie, I would really like to go to his funeral. Would you mind if I went?’ I pounced on her mentioning Hattie.

  ‘Quite honestly, yes I would, and I wish you wouldn't talk about him anymore.’

  ‘But I thought he was your friend. In fact, Angel, I thought you would be one of the first people to go to his funeral,’ I was angry. Angry now that I had not been invited to go to John's funeral and angry that she had managed to steal everything from me. Angry that John had concealed so much from me - and hurt and confused with that perpetual question running through my head, why? What had I done to him to make him treat me so badly?

  And yet, as I was thinking this, I was watching her carefully mouthing what I had just said.

  ‘Angel, what are you doing? Why are you copying me? Do you want to be me?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But you're not angry at me, are you?’ something of the other Angel came back. ‘I thought you were classy, and I was thinking of changing my image. I saw myself in the mirror a couple of weeks ago, and I was shocked. I thought I looked ridiculous. I thought I looked like an overdressed clown. How you must have laughed at me. But I didn't do this for me, I did it for my husband John because he wanted me to look and behave this way.’ She looked at her plate before turning back to me. ‘You must forgive me but while I was with John, I seemed to have lost the person I was. Do you understand?’

  Somehow, what she had said although confused and alarmed me made sense. She had been John’s doll; she didn’t want to be that anymore. I didn't like what she was doing, but now I could understand it, and yet her reason did not completely swing true.

  ‘I lost myself because I loved my husband John and gave into everything he wanted. It didn't seem much in order to please him. But then, I forgot who I really was.

  ‘And who are you?’ I was staring at her, now completely lost as to what was happening. Also, I felt I was being manipulated.

  ‘Someone who is not so dissimilar to you. Haven't you noticed the similarity between us?’ she asked with a sweetness which did not suit her because it was false.

  And I was just thinking this about her when the door opened and in came Mary with a worried expression.

  ‘You have an urgent telephone call,’ began Mary.

  Angel had just begun shaking her head and about to tell Mary that she was out when her eyes opened wide with alarm.

  ‘It's from one of your gentlemen friends,’ Mary still carried on.

  ‘Who?’ Angel looked terrified verging on the hysterical as if she was about ready to leap out of the room and run away.

  ‘He told me to tell you it's Angus.’

  ‘Angus,’ Angel repeated and then looking thoughtful, and then she stood. ‘Tell him I'm coming.’

  I waited until Angel left the room. For a change, I was hungry. Instead of waiting for her to return, I would feed my appetite. Chicken was on the menu, I neede
d some protein, but then I put down my fork. Why had Angus, the judge rung? Something was not right; it hadn’t been right for a while. Perhaps I would find out by listening in on her conversation.

  In the hallway was a telephone, but Angel was not there. She had probably dashed to her bedroom. I found her door closed and though I have excellent hearing, listening through wood even for me was impossible.

  The closed-door was a nuisance it meant forbidden. But have I ever banned myself from anything? If I didn’t take chances in life, nothing would be gained except a quiet life. But I was not into quiet lives, I still had so much living to do. I tried the door handle.

  ‘Where are you now Angus,’ asked Angel.

  She became quiet as she listened. ‘But you can't say that for sure. Oh yes, I know how dangerous everything is becoming and I do understand what you have done for me, for us. But the main thing is – and that's what you are always telling me to do is to remain calm. Stick to your story and I will to mine. You know you can always rely on me as I know I can on you.’

  Again, Angel became quiet. ‘No Angus, we both have so much to lose, it's not just you, it's also me. Look, I'm working on something which should if I'm careful get us both out of this dilemma. Trust me, Angus. Have I ever let you down? I've got to go, perhaps I'll speak to you later.’

  No time to close the door, no time to run downstairs because she would catch me, but I did run along the hallway and into J. J’s room, the only place where I thought I was safe. When I thought Angel had passed, I came out of J. J’s room. The surprise and look on Angel's face took me aback. There were strength and conviction in her expression which she hid from me and the others. Had Hattie seen this side of her I wondered, for it certainly gave me a healthy respect, she was not sweet at all? I better be very careful in my dealings with her from now on. Did John also ever see this side of her?

  Quickly, she calmed her expression and for a second, she dropped into the baby doll Angel the malleable child-adult who I assumed I could handle. What a fool I was by believing she was stupid. It was like tearing away the layers of a hundred-year-old mask and finding when I thought I had come to an end, another mask waiting.