I moved further back into the shadow, glad my dressing gown was a dark navy and therefore, less likely to attract.
‘If you make him cry, I shall be very angry with you,’ said Angel following behind him.
‘If the child is mine, as you say he is, then I have every right to take him.’ He must have seen the cot as he was now making his way towards it.
‘You can't take him,’ it was me speaking. I found the light switch and had flicked the world into view. I had not meant to step out, but this man, another one of J. J’s many fathers was prepared to take him away, this could not happen because I would not allow it.
Like frozen stone figures, the marble cracked and came back into life as hostile icy eyes turned themselves towards me. He viewed me as an enemy.
‘Who are you?’ Angus demanded.
‘The child's nanny and I cannot permit you, whoever you are to take him away.’
‘How dare you talk to me like that,’ he cried now moving towards me.
‘Angus don't,’ it was Angel. ‘We need her,’ she implored now looking quite frantically at her lover.
Now we were standing in the flood of the electric light, this man Angus looked to me then to Angel, acknowledging us both several times. And then he laughed as if he had lost hold of his sanity.
‘Well, if you can get away with it,’ his laughter was a jeer, ‘Then I applaud you.’ But now his attention was fully on her. ‘But I will not be fooled by you anymore.’
‘Please Angus, don't say that,’ Angel pleaded, her worried eyes were now giving him her full attention.
Bit by bit, Angus was calming. He shook his head in disbelief as though the course of irony had become entrapped in his life.
‘What have you done to me, Angel, to make me behave this way?’ again, he was shaking his head as if he had lost himself.
‘It will all work out, I promise you, Angus. Trust me, it will all work out.’ She was beckoning to him, holding her hand out trying to draw him away and out of the room.
I watched them both, her face was the icing sugar on angel cakes. Never would I trust someone who looked like that. It said deceitful, managed and manipulated but to him, though I could see by the expression on his face that he knew what was going on and what she was doing to him, yet he could not help himself. He was charmed, she had hooked him as surely as if she used magic and he was lost.
‘I want to see my son first,’ he asked with a plea in his voice.
‘Ginny,’ she looked in my direction.
Strange to my ears, never had she called me by the name I gave her before. I thought she had forgotten it, but there again, I had thought a great many things about her which often fell on stony ground. She was never who she said she was.
‘Let him look at the baby,’ it was a command and not a request.
Of course, I obeyed. I was as fascinated as he was with her intrigues. She was proving to be elusive as her demands were as corporeal. And yet, as my eyes touched into the cot and onto J.J, I felt the charge in my breast to say no that this child was mine, for I was the only one who loved him. And in that instant, I understood why Angel had named him Toy, her Toy Soldier because he came out of obedience to her wishes. He was her physical pawn on the chessboard of life, her little toy soldier who she could move around. He had made her the queen.
His young eyes on me, watching me, trusting me and waiting for me to pick him up and I felt like I had betrayed him, because in my arms I would pass him to another. From the warmth of my arms, I gave him to the man who had come out of the cold.
How sad, there was an expression in this man's eyes, a revelation of wonder and the rising of tenderness, but it was short-lived for J.J cried out, the buckled echoed cry of a young child that is scared and wants to go back home. From the baby to me, this Angus looked perplexed.
‘It's because he doesn't know you,’ I found myself saying. This man was not evil, but evil had led him, and his only fault was that he had loved her and believed her.
I took the baby back. He allowed me to take J.J. without any resistance and as soon as J.J was in my arms, he ceased crying. My heart sang with happiness for when I held him, it seemed that everything was right.
18
I do not know what she said or promised her tame judge, Angus, but on the following morning at breakfast with J.J close by my side, thank goodness, I entered the dining room. Angel completely ignoring her son, told me she had to go out and that I was to go and select myself something to wear, she was unable to come with me, but she gave me the name of the store in town she usually shopped in.
Glad I was free. Glad to know I could get out and find out who John had left his money to. In my mind I had no doubt that everything had been left to his son. I figured this was how John worked; he had not changed completely, there was still some predictability about him. But I would have to be quick, I knew I must not come back without a black outfit.
In the car on our way to town, I told Pesker that I wanted to stroll around before I went to the shop. I thought he would understand knowing how trapped I felt. He must have noticed, as did Mary that I was in many ways constrained to the house like a prisoner. I believed he understood because he told me to take as long as I liked.
This was not a town I was familiar with. As I never get the chance these days to idle myself in free time, to window-shop for nothing in particular but something just for fancy. This was not a complaint I was going to uphold; it was merely a truth. Going into a newsagent, I asked where the police station was. In the police station, I explained to the person at the desk that I was lost and was looking for the place where wills are registered. He looked it up on a computer and gave me the directions on how to get there.
Like all civic buildings, this one was also impressive. Climbing the steps, I was directed to the top floor. Walking on the soft, thick carpets, so designed it seemed to give the maximum effect of obscuring sound, I found myself in a large room, booked around with files containing albums of last desires. I made a request on paper and waited for the clerk to give me permission to look at John's last will and testament. But there was nothing. John's name was not recorded at the office to give the details of his last wishes. Looking at a blank face, I felt I should explain who I was, but this person was not interested. Did I have the correct name, date of birth, address, and date of this person's death?
Yes, yes; yes, to everything? I was confused. I thought about Hattie and his often-suggestive insinuations, but I told myself he did not know everything.
At the end of this quick visit, there was no record of John's will or probate. Was I certain this man had anything to leave? A legal document cannot record when nothing is left. No matter how ugly or how repelled John would have felt about making a will, he would have written one. With that substantial amount of money, he would have had little choice. And yet, in the twenty years or so we had been married it was something that I kept on meaning for us both to do, but life passes us by and I was always very busy.
But I knew there was a will; Hattie had said so and though I took everything Hattie said with a pinch of salt, I was now of the opinion a will had been made, but for some reason, the details of it had been held back. What could this reason be?
My mind's eye has now turned to an image of Angel when she was plump and rounded with confidence, with her hair blonde and wearing dresses made for princesses. Everything about her exuded that John's possession belonged to her, she was always so confident I accepted it. And then she changed her appearance. This was about the time when doubt stepped in. It had been as elusive as the appearance of bravado.
Angel had said that Jeffrey was J. J’s father, yet it also appears that J.J has three fathers and one of them is the judge, but Jeffrey is also according to Hattie, John's lawyer. And so, if there was a will and now I am convinced there really is one, then the lawyer would still have it. But why wasn't it made public?
My mind became more and more shrouded in thoughts or, could they be mysteries
. Nothing on the surface appeared to add up and yet, somewhere the key to it all was staring me in the face, but I was unable to see it or, understand. With my head in a fog of thoughts, I arrived at the dress shop.
I knew these fashionable shops very well. Every week we, the magazine, held intensive features about clothes and makeup, always the latest ideas, always new and forever into predicting the future. Yet, how shallow and meaningless this world of fashion now seemed to me. Now viewed from a distance, I could see this fast world was not a real one, no one was genuine including at the time, me. In retrospect, when I think about it now, it was a world all about making money. Being one up on everyone else. Looking the best and showing yourself to be confident and yet, it was a brittle world. Arrogance crushed and shattered by failing to keep up. This world for me was now a lifetime away. I could not return to it even if I was given the opportunity.
Funerals always mean black; I chose a smart black suit after trying a few other black costumes on. Satisfied with the purchase, I mentioned to the assistant that this was to be put on Mrs. Boreman's account. Oh, the embarrassment, they had never heard of Mrs. Boreman before. Of course, I had to leave the shop minus the suit in an acute state of embarrassment. Humiliation is part of power and somehow, I felt Angel had planned this.
When I arrived back and mentioned that I hadn't been able to buy the outfit, Angel became very vague, and yet, I could see she was not surprised, was there a look of satisfaction and pleasure filtering across her face. Perhaps I was being overly sensitive, but there is only one thing I cannot cope with and that is humiliation. I could have cried.
Everyone goes through hard times in life. I know this because we had several features on it, about, how to pick yourself up after you have been knocked down. The best treatment was always to go out and buy yourself either something nice to wear or have a weekend in a health club and spoil yourself as it does a heap of good for the moral. But I didn't have any money. I had nothing except my dependency on Angel and the hopes I would be able to bargain or blackmail her into giving me at least a share of John's estate. I know I go on a bit, but honestly, wouldn’t you?
Yet, the desire to cry out of self-pity remained, but I knew if I did, it would only make my scars redder. And once I started crying, I would find it difficult to stop.
Looking for solace, I peeped into J. J’s room and into his crib, for once, he was sound asleep. Poor little mite had been suffering from teething. His crying had been that of pain. A little cry almost a whimper and now, for this brief respite and probably from exhaustion, he had managed to fall asleep.
Back in my own bedroom, I looked out of my window and thought about last night. What was this power Angel had over men? I wish I knew because I wouldn't mind sharing it. Hurt, resentful, my world had been smashed to pieces. Everything had gone wrong which could go wrong. Yet, who can forecast the future? Certainly, I did not see this coming. But I could not stay here in my room alone. It would be warmer in the kitchen, and there would be Mary and perhaps even Pesker to talk to.
Making my way to the kitchen, I heard voices coming from the lounge. Even depressed I’m curious. After all, I am the Chinese sign of the monkey, for goodness sake. So, what, if I'm depressed and almost suicidal, a little distraction would not come amiss. Who was entertaining Angel this time? Looking and seeing the flashing lights, it was not another human telling Angel how wonderful she was, but the television had been put on.
Deep into listening to the news, she did not hear me enter again. I supposed this was my intention that she didn’t know I was there. Settling into one of the regency style armchairs at the back of the room I watched her regarding the news.
How I hated her. This should have been my house - my money, everything and if the situation had been reversed, I would not have treated her as she had treated me. Well, not quite. Let's say that I would not have been as manipulative as her.
Staring at her with satisfactory hatred, I listened to what interested her. A coroner had been found dead in his home; he had been shot in the head without any reason. The police were interviewing the deceased’s partner as a possible suspect, but nothing was definite because he had no motive.
He was thought to have been shot in the early hours of the morning after his partner had left for work. They did not know how the killer got in because there were no signs of a break-in, so it was thought the victim must have known his murderer. Forensic scientists were now searching the house looking for evidence which could identify the murderer. No one had been seen or heard anything, and there was no other description given. As the news of this murder was concluding, the telephone rang. As if expecting it, Angel put her hand across and grabbed the receiver.
‘Yes, Angus, I heard the news. I've just been watching it…don't shout at me Angus, I can hear perfectly well.’ Angel was holding the telephone from her ear. ‘It’s just a coincidence…yes, it is Angus…did you know he was gay…neither did I, but I should have suspected as much because he was one of Hattie's friends.’ Now she was shaking her head. ‘You can’t say for sure he will come after you… Can you hear yourself; you are panicking. I told you I will sort this problem out so why don't you believe me?’ she kept on repeating his name in order to calm him. ‘I don’t believe the coroner said anything about it… Why do I know? Because I told him that if he did he would lose his partner.’ And this time, she nodded. ‘It was just a bluff, you know I wouldn't do that…no, it’s not a good idea to go to the police. What are you, an idiot? If you go to the police, you will be locked away forever, you might as well be dead?’ she took the receiver away from her ears before returning it as if she was about to hang-up. ‘Listen, Angus, I will meet you tomorrow, and I will tell you what my plans are. I will get us both out of this mess, I promise you. I'm hanging up now Angus. I'll talk to you tomorrow.’ She listened with her temper rising. ‘Okay, fine after your afternoon session. No, I won't come to your chambers, that would really make things awkward for you. I'll meet you in the park, the place we used to meet. I'm hanging up now Angus.’ And then she replaced the receiver and sighed.
Standing to leave the room, Angel walked towards the door and towards me and then she visibly shook as she noticed me.
‘How long have you been sitting there?’ the expression of shock and astonishment lit up her face, her skin became virgin white as if she had been called as the next victim.
‘I've just walked in. I saw you were on the telephone and so I thought I would wait until you finished.’ I tried out a smiled as if I was relaxed but inside my heart was beating and ready to break out and escape. Like me, my heart had been a prisoner for too long.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ like a shark, snapping questions at me, she demanded I answer.
‘I heard you trying to calm down a friend but not everything.’ I figured saying I had heard something was better than pretending I heard nothing at all. Like a starving person, at first, you only give them so much to keep them from dying.
She was staring at me, trying to look for clues, the signs that gambler searches for.
I had been in the fashion business for a long time; I know how women can be to other women. Like crows picking out dead people's eyes because they are the best pieces to eat. Pretty eyes, that's what I first thought when I met Angel, large and innocent and though I acknowledge that she had been successful in her dealings with John compared to me, I also read in those eyes that she was stupid. But now, looking at her blue eyes, there was no stupidity looking at me except coldness.
‘I always find you in the places where I least expect you to be.’ She was staring hard at me. ‘Why is that?’
‘You are asking me questions I don't know the answers to,’ I look puzzled as if I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘One moment, I thought you liked me and when I come to see you and tell you how your son’s doing because of his teething. Well, I thought you would like to know he’s sleeping peacefully now. For the first time he looks as if he is getting over the worst of
it. I'm very sorry if I caught you on the telephone.’
Perhaps I am a good actress, and if I am a good actress, it's because I now have a healthy respect for her mood swings. She was proving to be dangerously unpredictable. But this time, I do believe I challenged her with a rational and reasoned explanation because she looked taken aback, uncertainty was now in her eyes. Wow, I thought to myself, I am now taking charge.
‘I know it's been a shock,’ I smiled, feeling that for the meantime I definitely had the advantage. ‘Losing Hattie, a very close friend so suddenly, I guess that's why you’re on edge.’ And then inspired by that ruthless side of me, and also because quite frankly, I get bored with being subservient. In my previous life at the magazine, I was known as a verbal spitfire. And so, I said exactly what I was thinking of for a change. With my battery now charged with acid by keeping my tongue safely inside of my mouth, I depleted the charge. ‘I know how it is Angel, because, just over eighteen months ago, I lost someone who was very dear to me, very dear. He was like a brother, a father, a lover and,’ then I paused, ‘a husband to me. So, you see we both have experienced loss,’ and then I smiled, stood and went out. I wondered if she knew who I was talking about.
19
When I went to collect J. J’s dinner, I was surprised to see there were a couple of uniformed men in the kitchen. They were eating as if they were performing this human function by rote. Obviously, Mary had prepared something for them. My intervention into the kitchen called them to observation. Nodding at me appeared to be enough, they carried on finishing their food. Consuming it as if it was simply energy to stoke their engines, and then straddling their chairs, just as if they were dismounting from horses they left the kitchen with a quick thank you to Mary.
Mary looked to Pesker before looking back at me, but it was Pesker who spoke.
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