‘You spooked me. I didn't expect to see you there,’ yet even in her sweetness, there was that devious look in her eyes.
‘Sorry, I did not mean to surprise you,’ I found a smile which for me covers many an emergency. ‘I thought I heard the baby crying.’ Now I tried a vague look, a flutter of surprise annuls any hints of knowledge. The same ones my sister adopted when she didn't wish to hear or know anything unpleasant to color her world.
‘You must have very good ears to be able to hear him from the dining room. I never heard him at all when I passed by his room.’
‘I thought I heard him, but I suppose I must have imagined it,’ I said as lightly as I could. Had it been a good idea to follow her upstairs? I hadn't learned anything of any real merit except what I knew before that Angel had become afraid since Jacob Barba's escape. But I now knew the judge, who sentenced Jacob was also worried because he had an affair with Jacob's girlfriend or whatever she was. Apart from not doing his career any good, I couldn't think it would make any difference except to his own marriage. Why do people make their lives so complicated?
As we went downstairs, going first I felt the strangest sensation of evil lasering through the back of my head. So strong was the feeling that I was compelled to take hold of the stair railing. The instinctive primeval response at self-preservation came as the result that if she wanted to, she could stretch out her hand and with a slight push send me tumbling down the stairs. It would be enough to injure me cruelly but not likely kill me. I supposed as I went along with this hypothetical scenario. It would not kill me, repeated the sentence in my mind but I would be harmed, and there was little use in me being disabled.
And then I heard a laugh coming from behind me as if, she too had the same thought. What was happening to my imagination? Was this the result of sensing fear?
17
I now realized how inconsistent Angel can be. Though she would not allow Mary to go to the funeral, Angel suddenly changed her mind about me attending. I didn't know whether to be grateful or not, even though I felt in the spirit of that moment how sad it was for Hattie to die without anyone to mourn him. But after that spirit of sadness had gone, I sort of changed my mind. Because what did it matter to him if I went to his funeral or not? I hardly knew him. After all, he wouldn't know if I was there or not standing in the cold to watch him being put into the earth.
‘But if you need me here,’ I introduced the idea. ‘I can stay.’
‘No, Mary can look after the baby, and you and I can go to the funeral in the car.’ Angel had a blank look on her face, she was waiting for my answer.
Thoughtful that Angel had decided to attend herself, it seemed to be of little purpose for me to go. How very quickly the circumstances of one's mind can change, while also finding out that I was not as reliable as I thought. But there was another deeper show to my aversion because I was feeling fear. Sometimes, there is something unpleasantly safe about Angel. And yet, this was an opportunity to leave the house.
‘The reason I am proving awkward,’ I told Angel, now working up a different approach.
She waited for my answer; her head slightly tilted to one side
‘Is because I don't have anything to wear for a funeral.’ I watched to see how she was taking this before moving on to the next piece of my strategy. ‘You see, if I could get out and go to town, I could get myself something decent to wear.’ But my real mission was to look up John's will, which should be in this district's head office by now.
Did I fascinate her, I wondered? She was looking at me with great interest and I was beginning to suspect that she was waiting for me to say more.
‘The problem is I don't have any money.’ And neither had I received any wages for some time. She may consider she was housing me as a guest, who just happened to like her baby. Part of the bargain was that she would feed me while I played with her child.
‘As a matter of fact, I don't have anything to wear for the funeral myself. So, we both can go out together and pick our wardrobe for the sad day.’ She smiled at me as if she had won this battle.
‘Well, I was thinking,’ I tried earnestly for a reason not to go shopping with her. ‘Of…’
‘You don't mind, do you?’ she interrupted in the sweetest of voices.
‘Of course, I don't mind but there are discrepancies between us. I would never be able to afford, not on my wages, what you can afford to buy for yourself, or even to go into the same shops as you.’
‘No, don't worry about that. It will be my pleasure to buy you an outfit, after all, you are doing this unselfishly and going to someone's funeral who you hardly know. Besides, I want to know what you are going to choose so we can dress alike.’
‘What - you want to wear exactly what I'm wearing?’ the idea horrified me.
‘Not exactly, but what would be the harm anyhow? It is a funeral after all, and everyone will be wearing black.’
What could I say? I was trapped. Whenever I told myself to pack up and leave this house, the rejoinder came; what and lose out on everything? She's got all of John's money and you are entitled to at least a third of it. It’s only fair.
Never before had I been in this position, not even when I was a child. While my sister was the sweetest person on earth, I was the rebel which was how people distinguished us two. I would stamp my feet and invariably get my own way. I didn’t care if I wasn't popular or well-liked, being liked had never been on my agenda. I wanted to have everything my way. But now, those days have gone. Angel is more selfish and powerful than me. I had to use more subtle devices than losing my temper to gain my own way, like persuasion.
So, we were to go together in the car to town the following morning.
I hate the feeling that she can call the shots. I hate having to agree to every one of her suggestions. While she was reinventing her new identity, I was rapidly claiming my old one back. I had always been proud of it because it usually got me what I wanted. But it also brought problems which temper pulls out. The main one was, that if I had not lost my temper with John and instead sat down and talked out our feelings then I would not be where I am today. It’s hard to change oneself especially when one feels so much resentment. Surely, I don't have to own up to every sin as being mine. And to a degree, this was as much John's fault as it was mine.
It was with surprise to hear voices coming from the lounge. Entering I found Angel sitting in front of the television and proving herself to be very interested in the news.
She didn't seem to notice when I came in. So intensely involve listening and watching the news that I thought I would take a seat and listen to what had taken Angel’s interest.
The name Jacob Barba spoken was said warning people that if anyone was to see him, not to approach him but to get in touch with the nearest police station. There was also a free number in which calls could be taken confidentially.
Not even a week ago, I was sitting in front of this murderous man, Jacob. They were giving information and the means of how he had made his escape. The name, Horace Temple was said in conjunction with Jacob Barba. He was purported to be the person who had masterminded the escape. Somehow, the name Horace Temple sounded familiar to me. I kept on thinking about Horace; why was this name so relevant to me? And then it hit me, the person the announcer was talking about was in fact, Hattie. Hattie had been caught trying to prevent Jacob Barba from being caught. He had physically barred the police officer from the exit where Jacob Barba fled to make his escape. And Hattie had done this for Jacob. How sad and tragic some people's lives are, and sometimes, pointless.
It also came as a surprise to hear the news commentator giving a brief history of Hattie's criminal record. I had assumed that Hattie would be far too nervous to be a criminal. But there was a substantial list of petty crimes Hattie had committed, and which he served a few months in several prisons. But stealing cars was about the main crime of all; he was more of an opportunist criminal. He died in the hospital from a heart attack.
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sp; The main story was that Jacob Barba was on the run and believed to be armed. A picture of him was on the screen while the announcer talked. Next, a cut to the prison before another picture of the hospital from where he escaped. Looking across to Angel, I could see she was hypnotized by the news. When the news went on to something else, Angel switched the television off.
Believing Angel had seen me because she had looked across in my direction, I assumed she knew I was there. She nearly jumped out of her skin when I said, surely, they weren't talking about Hattie it must be some sort of coincidence. Such was her shock of hearing my voice when she thought she was alone; she came across to me with every intention I thought of hitting me. Her eyes were like sharp stalks of light, she had her hand outstretched ready. But I believe the reason she stopped herself was that I held up my hands to defend my face. She halted two feet in front of me like a mechanical doll that had run out of power. Through my guarded hands, I could see her looking at me. Was she in a drug-induced trance? She stared at me for a few seconds before leaving the room.
Too late came the thoughts of how dare she think she had the right to attack me. I was thrown into an assortment of feelings, anger, fear, and shock. Who was this person I had come to meet and know as Angel think she was?
Fear, I did know whether I should face Angel at the dinner table anymore. I knew this would be construed as cowardly; her madness was liberating but not on me. She was certainly inconsistent, and without a doubt, threatening.
And yet, when I went down to the dining room, she was pleased and happy to see me as if nothing had happened. At one point, I felt like asking, what was going on with her and did she know that she was about to hit me? But then I let it go and chatted with her as if I thought this normal.
Any appetite I had for dinner had vanished. Normally, nothing prevents me from eating salmon with asparagus, but after what happened, I felt I couldn’t eat or drink, although a brandy would have gone down nicely.
Yet, it was as if she knew I could do with a drink because she brought back the brandy from the drinks table. In front of me, she poured out two glasses and passed one across to me.
‘I think it might be appropriate if we toast our dear friend, Hattie.’ She held up her glass to me. ‘He shall be badly missed but he had a good life and has done everything he wanted. Cheers, here's to Hattie.’
Holding up my glass, I silently echoed her words with my eyes still on hers, I sipped the brandy first and then drowned my mouth with the rest. A quick inebriation was acceptable for now. But over the glass and a quick glance at Angel, I stole a hateful look. Did I see something like a devious smile, as her cautionary veil drew back from her face steeped in deceit? I could not say for sure what her expression was because the room was only gently lit.
In nearly two weeks, Angel had transformed herself considerably. The face I often looked at was now reflected opposite me. Yet, it was not a complete reflection of me as she did not wear the trophies of my near-fatal rendezvous with death, in that, we will always be different. At first glance, we could be taken for twins, even identical. But I am marked with raised ridges, scars to be earnt. She would have had to live and experience my life, and no one can walk in another person's shoes.
How is it, I wondered, why does she want to share my face, but there again, anything could be done with makeup.
As I went up to bed, I wondered, should I have mentioned about Hattie because she knew I knew about Hattie's involvement with crime? Was she expecting me to say something about it? But why would she? She had no idea that I knew about Jacob Barba. I don't know any more about anything; Angel was proving herself to be impossible to fathom.
Sleep, I thought would be unattainable for me because so much was on my mind. And then, when I least expected it, I must have dropped off.
In the last three, four months, I had to accept that John had a son which wasn't his. He had made a fortune which he had given, happily to another woman. While he built his fortune, he was married to me, but I never knew anything about his double life.
Over twenty years of married life stood for nothing. I had financially and morally kept him going, okay, so perhaps I had attitude and could be a bit of a bitch. And yet, we were partners of a sort. It still seems incredible that John had done this to me; it’s so un-John-like. And yet, he did. Wherever I looked, I could see the evidence of his love for someone else. I just refused to believe it. Just as John would have found it difficult to believe that I had planned and helped a murderer to escape. If only he were alive now and we could talk about it. He might even laugh along with me about what we had been up to since we had parted.
But J.J was now on my mind. I was concerned that his temperature was up when I looked in on him before going to my bed. The results of teething. I spoke to Mary about it, she gave me a book, which she bought on how to raise a young child. So, You Have Given birth, was the title, the subheading read, To a Monster.
I could not go back to sleep; I was worried about J.J. This was going to be a very long night. It was no good I was going to check on J.J, he at least, I knew would be pleased to have my company.
Glad that the house was warm, I slipped on my dressing gown and slippers and ran a quick hand through my lengthening hair. My hair had never been any longer than shoulder length. Now it was covering my ears without any noteworthy style. My last stylist had been the hospital technician prepping me for my operation.
As I suppose, J.J was still awake, looking down at him I was shocked to find there were tear stains around his eyes. He had been crying, poor little mite. Putting my hands under his rotund young body, I marveled at the energy beating throughout, gently I pulled him up to me.
‘Poor little man,’ I looked him in the eye, ‘Have you been in pain?’ holding his youthful form against mine, I believed I could feel his heartbeat throbbing through my chest and into my heart. At that moment, he felt to be as much my child as he was Angel's, if she ever had an ounce of maternal blood beating through hers. As usual, he held his head touching my neck beneath my chin and tucked up under for comfort and protection. I looked at the softness of his hair and felt that my heart could have broken with love, it hurt me to see this little chap suffering. Never had I been needed as much as this.
How wonderful this child was. He wanted so much to be loved and yet, like everyone else I too was going to forsake him. Would I be able to do this when the time came? Not a question I could allow myself to indulge in, for however bad his mother was, she was still his mother.
Was that a car? The gravel crunched as the wheels turned over it. Still holding J.J, I went across to the window and slipped my finger between the curtains to see what was happening. In turn, I had begun to doubt all my senses.
A black Mercedes Benz drew to a halt just beneath the window. Someone climbed out followed by a door slamming with a pretty temper. Standing back from the window, my heart beat just as if I was a racehorse that had been spooked. The child also had been alerted perhaps by my trepidation. We seemed to instinctively cling to each other tighter.
And then it came, the hammering on the door, and the doorbell sounding; banging continued as if all hell had been let loose. Shouting and banging and then it stopped. I stepped back into the shadows when I heard someone running fast past the door of J.J’s bedroom.
Then, someone had been let in, someone who had been scared was now taking its temper out on those they believe caused it.
With the door ajar, I could hear Pesker's voice. I've never noticed the timbre of Pesker's voice before but perhaps now because I was anxious, I observed he had a low voice. On this occasion, he was using it to calm down the late-night caller. But the man refused to listen. He was shouting out and calling for Angel and then, she must have appeared. For a few seconds, he became quiet but not for long. I could not understand what they were saying, or rather, what it was he was shouting about, but she was saying that, no, this was not true and yes, he was and that neither of them should panic.
With al
l this excitement my heart was racing, I was beginning to wonder what I should do. There was danger everywhere, I was convinced of it. I was afraid for myself and for this baby. Where was it safe for us both to be? Like madness had arrived and in the impassioned moments, the raging horse of heightened insanity reared up onto its hind legs and was now about to come crashing down.
And then the passion slipped into a temper, he would have what he had come here for.
‘If he is my child then I have every right to take him,’ a man's voice cried.
Hammering on the stairs as feet fell heavily on each step; a percussion of drums strikes with every tread and coming closer and closer to the bedroom door. For his own safety, and for mine, I returned J.J to his cot and fell away into the shadows of the room despising my fear.
The door was opened, and lights lit from behind staked out three figures. I recognized the shape of Angel and then, behind the assailant, Pesker, who also was wearing his dressing gown. But as to the man, who had come in from the night, a slight man, bald and dressed in a smart suit, I had no idea who he was.
‘Where is he?’ this man demanded, now having worked himself up into an irritated temper. Within his lineage, I could see this man was of a gentle nature which had been raised to sidetrack unpleasantness, his weapon of control and power was not in his fist or build but in his words. Wealth and education had set him apart from most for he could negotiate with the world by the command of his language. It must have taken him a great deal to raise this monster within him. Release without any constraints, his rage came as no different from anyone else.
‘He's in his bed, Angus, and now he's probably awake after you've shouted the house down. It's very inconsiderate of you,’ Angel's voice sounded vexed and hurt, she used her ability to calm him by reminding him of his irrational behavior.
‘I want to see him,’ this Angus was now coming into J. J’s bedroom and looking about, interesting himself with the room's contents.
Angel Page 19