Angels

by Marian Keyes

  ‘Oh, hi.’ He sounded surprised. ‘I thought I’d get the machine.’

  ‘Well, you got me instead.’

  ‘I’m real sorry about tonight.’ He sounded so contrite that my bitterness began to melt. ‘It was a work thing, it came up suddenly.’

  ‘You could have rung me.’

  ‘Too late,’ he said easily. ‘You would have already left.’

  ‘You’re going back on Tuesday?’

  ‘Yeah, so we’re out of time.’

  ‘But there’s tomorrow. Or tomorrow night?’

  ‘Bu–’

  ‘Just for an hour or so.’

  He was silent and I was holding my breath. ‘OK,’ he finally said. ‘Tomorrow night, then. Same arrangement.’

  I put down the phone feeling marginally better and decided to pop next door and see how the barbecue was going. To my great pleasure, I was given a hero’s welcome, as though it was years since they’d seen me, instead of a few short hours. Then it dawned on me that they were all scuttered; red-faced and rowdy, exhibiting the kind of aggressive drunkenness engendered by drinking tequila on an empty stomach. The smouldering grill was abandoned and a dozen shrunken, blackened things that might once have been burgers lay upon it. When Dad sidled up and asked if I’d any chocolate in my handbag, it transpired that no one had been fed.

  Troy and Helen were curled up on the flowery couch, looking very cosy; there was no sign of Kirsty. Either Troy hadn’t brought her, or she’d refused to enter the house on the grounds that it was a health hazard. Anna, Lara, Luis, Curtis and Emily were ensnared in a hard-to-follow discussion on the merits of brunch over TV. I would have liked to join in but I was so patently on a different wavelength to everyone else, i.e. not psychotic drunk, that it was pointless.

  ‘You get freshly squeezed orange juice with brunch,’ Lara said hotly. ‘When has your TV ever done that for you?’

  ‘But you can watch The Simpsons on TV. Gimme that over French toast any day,’ Curtis retorted.

  I wandered away, over to Mum and Ethan, but they were toe-to-toe in a barney.

  ‘Who died for our sins?’ Mum asked shrilly.

  ‘But–’

  ‘Who died for our sins?’

  ‘Hey–’

  ‘Tell me, come on, tell me. Who died for our sins? Just give me the name.’ It was like being in an interrogation cell. ‘His name, please!’

  Ethan hung his head and mumbled, ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Who? Louder, I can’t hear you.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Ethan said angrily.

  ‘That’s right, Jesus.’ Mum almost smacked her lips with satisfaction. ‘Did you die for anyone’s sins? Well, did you?’

  ‘No, but–’

  ‘So you can hardly go around being the new Messiah, can you?’

  After a pause, Ethan admitted, ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘You suppose right. Carry on with your computer studies, like a good lad, and less of the blasphemy, if you don’t mind.’ Then she turned the force of her personality on to me and slurred, ‘Where’s Shay?’

  ‘Working.’

  ‘Ah, feck,’ she said moodily, lurching away.

  I went and sat with the others, and then we noticed that Troy and Helen had disappeared.

  ‘Where are they?’ Emily clutched me.

  ‘I don’t know. Gone, it looks like.’

  ‘Gone,’ she wailed, clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Gone! He’s going to fall in love with her.’ Her face crumpled with sudden, drunken tears and she was snorting and coughing from crying. When she hadn’t stopped a full five minutes later I said, ‘C’mon, I’ll take you home,’ and led her, bent almost double from hopeless sobbing, back to her own house.

  ‘I’m just very tired,’ she kept saying. ‘I’ve been working very hard and I’m very tired.’

  I put her to bed, but before I put her light out she said, ‘Wait Maggie, I want to talk to you.’

  ‘What?’ I asked defensively. She was going to tell me off again about Shay Delaney and I so wasn’t in the mood.

  ‘I’m going to ask Lou to marry me and have my babies.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to see him ever again.’

  45

  Conchita was due to come on Monday morning, so as soon as I awoke, I began a hurried clean-up. But then she rang to say she was sick and not coming and instantly I abandoned the housework. Only to recommence it about an hour later out of boredom – Emily was still sounders and there had been no visits or calls from any of my family. So when someone knocked on the door at ten past twelve, I nearly wrenched it off its hinges, so delighted was I to have company. It was Anna.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ I said. ‘Tell us, did Helen come home?’

  ‘Yeah, about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh my God, she must have slept with Troy.’

  ‘She did. Do you mind?’

  ‘No, not a bit.’ Although Emily clearly did; what was going on there? ‘Sit down,’ I urged Anna. ‘What did she say about it?’

  ‘He tied her up, it was great. Um, listen, I’ve got to talk to you about something.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’d got a bad feeling.

  ‘You’ve to promise not to kill me.’

  ‘I promise.’ I didn’t mean it, I only said it, so she’d tell me whatever she had to tell me.

  ‘I’ve got a job.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘In Dublin.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘In Garv’s firm.’

  Ah.

  ‘Well, Dublin’s a small town, coincidences happen.’

  ‘It wasn’t a coincidence,’ she said in a little voice. ‘He got me the job.’

  ‘What? When?’

  ‘After I crashed your car – sorry, sorry, sorry! – I couldn’t find anything about insurance in your room, so I rang Garv and he told me to come over to get the stuff from him.’ She looked at me almost questioningly. ‘He was asking me how I was getting on without Shane and I told him how poxy it was and how I felt left behind by everyone and he was really, really kind.’

  ‘Was he?’ I was tight-lipped. So Garv managed to stop riding Truffle Woman for long enough to be nice to Anna?

  ‘Really kind. He said that if I’d like to get a proper job he’d try and help me – he wasn’t being, like, manipulative or anything, I promise. You know him, he’s not like that. He was just being decent. So I got my hair cut and he set up an interview.’

  ‘Big of him,’ I muttered. I was suddenly very bitter.

  ‘Yes, it was,’ she said gently. ‘That’s exactly what it was. So they’ve offered me a job in their post room.’

  That Garv was being so nice to one of my family while at the same time doing the dirty on me filled me with hot fury. I had to wait for the bad feelings to pass before I could speak.

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said with dignity. ‘And I’m sorry.’

  ‘Ah, it’s OK,’ I said, as the poisonous rage began to drain from me. ‘And if you’re really that sorry, you can do something for me.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Tell me if you fancy Ethan.’

  She thought about it. ‘Kind of. But I’m not going after it. He’s too young and flaky. There’d be no future in it.’

  ‘It never stopped you before.’

  ‘I know. Well… I’m different now.’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘People can change,’ she said, with most un-Anna-like defiance.

  ‘Did I hear right?’ Emily emerged from her bedroom, mascara crumbling from her lashes and her hair like a fur ball. ‘She fancies Ethan? Oh God, it’s all too much.’ Banging around the room, making coffee, she muttered something that sounded like, ‘They come over HERE.’ Bang! ‘They take our JOBS.’ Bang! ‘They steal our MEN.’ Bang! Then a violent coughing fit overtook her and she inhaled deeply on her cigarette. ‘I’m not long for this world. Thank God.’

  Before I could exp
lore her bad humour – which I was pretty sure had something to do with Troy – Mum and Helen arrived. I was dying to ask Helen all about Troy, but couldn’t with Mum there. Instead I had to make sympathetic noises as everyone compared hangover symptoms.

  The atmosphere was tense. Emily was smoking heavily and saying very little, just flicking Helen narrow-eyed looks from time to time. ‘OK,’ she uncurled herself with a sigh from the sofa, ‘I’m going to call Lou.’

  ‘Are you really going to tell him you want to marry him and have his children?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘If that doesn’t scare him away, I don’t know what will.’

  She went into her bedroom and closed the door a little too loudly for comfort.

  ‘What’s up with her?’ Helen snapped. ‘Narky bitch.

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ She suddenly remembered something. ‘You’ll never fecking guess who rang last night for you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Slimebucket. Creephead. Gobshite of the year.’ At my puzzled face she shrieked, ‘Garv! Do I have to spell it out for you?’

  ‘Garv rang? Here?’ I knew I sounded stupid, but I couldn’t help it.

  ‘Yeah. I told him you were out with ridey Shay Delaney. Even though I don’t think he’s ridey, of course, but there’s no need for Garv to know that. He sounded good and pissed off,’ she said with relish. ‘It was three o’clock in the morning in Ireland when he rang. He’s obviously having trouble sleeping. Good enough for him!’

  ‘What were you doing answering the phone? Didn’t Emily say we weren’t to?’

  ‘Red rag to a bull, I’m afraid,’ she said regretfully.

  Emily came back out of her bedroom.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He said yes,’ she said faintly. ‘Oh my God, now what am I going to do?’

  ‘In my day,’ Mum said, ‘if you broke off an engagement you were sued for breach of promise.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch.’

  Various unspoken hostilities filled up the room and when Mum decided to go to the bathroom, they spilled over into an actual row. All of a sudden, Helen and Emily were leaning into each other, trading clipped barbs – concerning Troy.

  ‘If you like him that much, why don’t you do something about it?’ Helen scorned. ‘Like, if you don’t stake your claim on him, you can’t blame anyone else if they do.’

  ‘It’s too late,’ Emily muttered. ‘Now that he’s met you.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, I’m leaving in a week.’

  ‘I bet you’ll decide to stay for him.’

  Helen barked with laughter. ‘Are you joking me? I’m going back to Ireland to set up my detective agency. Why would I bother staying here?’

  ‘Because of Troy.’

  ‘He’s not that special.’

  ‘Emily,’ I had to cut in, ‘what do you care about Troy? You’re just friends with him. Aren’t you?’

  She shrugged sullenly and I had my answer: she was in love with him. I’d suspected the previous night and now I knew for sure.

  I withered with shame; I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems I hadn’t seen what was under my nose. I’d been so dense. Worse, I’d been so selfish.

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say before now?’ I pleaded. ‘Then we mightn’t all have slept with him.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ Anna said.

  ‘I’d get in there fast,’ Helen said.

  Mum had come back from the bathroom but the argument was too advanced to knock it on the head. She picked up on it immediately. ‘What did I miss?’

  We all lapsed into tight-lipped silence.

  ‘Margaret?’ she demanded. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Ah, um…’

  ‘It’s about Troy,’ Helen supplied. ‘Emily’s mad about him.’

  ‘And he’s mad about her,’ Mum said. ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘No, you stupid old woman,’ Helen said. ‘He’s mad about me,’

  ‘Troy?’ Mum confirmed. ‘The one with the nose? That one? Yes, he’s mad about Emily.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ Helen repeated. ‘Just because the crowd of nutters next door think you’re some sort of wise-woman-guru type doesn’t mean you actually are.’

  ‘Helen, you were just a diversion to the chap. And I suppose he thought it was no harm to make Emily jealous.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘Am I right, Emily?’ Mum asked. ‘He’s got his eye on you?’

  ‘Well, once he had,’ she conceded, then coyly went further. ‘He said he was in love with me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘About a year ago.’

  ‘And were you mad about him then?’

  ‘Yes, probably.’

  ‘So what,’ Mum demanded in exasperation, ‘in the name of GOD was stopping you?’

  ‘He was too into his work,’ Emily mumbled. ‘I’d always be second. I thought it wouldn’t work, then we wouldn’t even be friends.’

  ‘And now?’

  A head-bowed reluctant mumble. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘But in the meanwhile he started “getting off” – is that the phrase? – with all of your friends?’

  ‘Yeah, except Lara.’

  ‘Why not Lara?’

  ‘I’ll tell you some other time.’

  ‘And you were jealous of these other girls?’

  ‘’Course.’

  I closed my eyes at the memory of Emily realizing I’d slept with Troy, of her in convulsions when I asked if anything had ever happened between them. God, it must have been horrible for her.

  ‘But I didn’t totally mind, because I knew he liked me more than any of them and that his work was still his main love. But… but… I was worried about Helen.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Helen said. Not exactly pleasantly. ‘You can have him.’

  ‘He mightn’t want me any more.’

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ Mum said.

  ‘You mean ring him and ask him?’

  ‘I do not!’ Mum was appalled. ‘I never rang anyone and told them I fancied them and I had my pick of the men. No, flirt with him, wear perfume, maybe cook him his favourite meal.

  ‘Ring him and ask him,’ Helen, Anna and I chorused.

  ‘OK,’ Emily said thoughtfully, lighting another cigarette. ‘I will.’ She took the phone and the ashtray into her bedroom and closed the door, and ten minutes later she came out again. She was dressed, made-up and happier looking. ‘I’m going out to meet him,’ she said.

  ‘Act coy,’ Mum advised.

  ‘Be straight,’ I urged.

  ‘Be straight yourself, Maggie,’ Helen said slyly. Mum darted me a suspicious look.

  ‘Now what’ll we do?’ Mum asked, when Emily’s block of flats had screeched away. ‘Tell a joke, someone.’

  We were all a little too fragile to want to do much else. Helen told a joke, Anna told one too but got the ending wrong, and I was garnering laughs by making my fringe stand out at right angles from my head when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘The Goatee Boys, I suppose,’ I said. ‘Coming to apologize for not feeding you all last night.’

  I opened the door, and there, standing outside, was someone I recognized but who didn’t belong here. Garv.

  Words deserted me.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘You said if you weren’t home in a month to come and get you. It’s a month.’

  It was actually only four weeks, not a full calendar month, and I knew that the real reason he was here was because he’d heard I’d been out with Shay Delaney. The bloody cheek of him, after his carry-on with Truffle Woman.

  He looked the way people do when they’ve been trapped on a desert island for a while. His hair was longer than I’d ever seen it and was sticking up in tufts, three-day beard growth shaded his chin and jaw and, in the harsh glare of the sun, his eyes were lit blue – at least the bits that weren’t bloodshot were. Even his jeans and T-shirt looked lik
e he’d slept in them, and if he’d just got in on a flight from Ireland, I suppose he probably had.

  ‘Who is it?’ Helen asked.

  ‘It’s the adulterer,’ I heard Mum say.

  ‘Before they stone me,’ Garv said, ‘could we talk?’

  ‘Come on,’ I said wearily. ‘We’ll go for a walk on the beach,’

  46

  I was looking forward to this encounter with Garv about as much as a repeat of the time when I was sixteen and having hundreds of glass slivers removed from the tattered flesh of my knee. Nevertheless, we managed to maintain cordial chat while walking the six blocks to the beach.

  ‘You cut your hair,’ he said. ‘It’s nice.’

  ‘Ah, you hate it really, admit it.’

  ‘No, I like it. It’s very… groovy. Especially the fringe.’

  ‘Oh, please, don’t mention the fringe. Have you somewhere to stay?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s near here. I rang Mrs Emily and she recommended the place she’d stayed in –’

  I stopped him. ‘The Ocean View. My family are staying there too.’

  ‘Ohh-kaay. So I’d better have my breakfast in my room if I don’t want to be pelted with rotten eggs in the dining room.’

  ‘It might be for the best. So tell me, why didn’t you just ring instead of coming all this way?’

  ‘I did ring, loads of times, but the machine was always on and I felt weird about leaving a message…’

  ‘Oh, so you’re Emily’s stalker.’

  ‘Am I? God, my secret double life, I never knew. Anyway, I thought that some stuff is better said face-to-face.’

  Up till then I’d assumed that Garv’s appearance was in response to Helen telling him I was out with Shay Delaney. But all of a sudden I was wondering what Garv had to say that merited a face-to-face visit? Could there be any further bad stuff to discover? Yes, actually, there could be: his new girl could be pregnant. The thought was such a shock that, as I stepped on to the beach, I stumbled.

  ‘Are you still going out with that girl?’ I asked.

  To his credit, he didn’t give me any wide-eyed ‘What girl?’ crap. He just waited a while, obviously weighing up what to say, then exhaled.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  Relief was the first thing to hit, but immediately after, a wave of jealousy slapped me. So it was real. Really real. I forgot all about the two flings I’d had in the past month and I felt hollow and betrayed. A gathering sense of unreality surrounded me.