Chasing Angels

by Meg Henderson

  ‘Bugger ma voice! Ye’ve been sleepin’ wi’ this lassie as well as me?’

  He nodded miserably again.

  ‘Then why the hell are ye askin’ me tae marry ye?’ she demanded. ‘Ye’ve got this lassie pregnant already an’ ye’re sayin’ ye want tae marry somebody else?’

  ‘Ah’m no’ prouda it!’ he said defensively.

  ‘Oh, well then!’ Kathy said sarcastically. ‘You’re no’ prouda it, so that makes it OK, then!’

  ‘It wouldnae have happened if you hadnae kept puttin’ it aff!’ Jamie replied accusingly.

  ‘So it’s ma fault, is it? You’ve got this poor lassie pregnant while ye’re engaged tae somebody else, an’ it’s ma fault?’

  ‘In a way,’ he said unconvincingly.

  ‘Don’t talk such shite, Jamie! A’ these years Ah’ve known ye, an’ Ah didnae believe ye were that kinda man, tae treat any wumman like that!’

  ‘Ah’ve been tryin’ tae get ye tae marry me for years noo—’

  ‘No’ me, ya numpty! The other lassie! Whit’s her name?’

  ‘Angela.’

  ‘Angela. An’ this Angela, does she know ye’re engaged tae me?’

  Jamie shook his head, looking away.

  ‘Ah canny hear ye, big man,’ she said harshly. ‘Speak up!’

  ‘Naw, she doesnae know aboot me an’ you.’

  Kathy stared blankly at the uneaten meals on the table in front of her. ‘Ah canny believe it, Jamie, Ah really canny! Ye never told me aboot her or her aboot me, so she doesnae know ye’re here, askin’ me tae name the day either. An’ there she is, expectin’ your wean, an’ somehow it’s a’ ma fault! Whit kinda man are ye?’ She took the solitaire ring off her finger and handed it to him without looking at him, taking care as she did so that her fingers didn’t touch his. ‘Away an’ marry the lassie,’ she said. ‘She’s probably too good for ye, but she’s carryin’ yer wean, so she’s stuck wi’ ye!’

  Jamie put the ring in his jacket pocket and stood uneasily by the table.

  ‘Whit ye waitin’ for?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah thought we’d go hame thegither,’ he said innocently.

  ‘Away tae buggery, Jamie,’ Kathy said sourly. ‘Even the sight o’ ye would make me sick!’

  She remembered a whole flood of feelings from that night. Relief at getting rid of the burden of the H. Samuel’s ring and all it threatened, there was that, of course, but there was also anger, and she never did work out all the levels of her anger. There was her injured pride, she couldn’t deny that. All that time when she had been agonising over how to let him down as gently as possible, and Jamie already had his escape route not only planned, but well broken in! And the indignity of it, sleeping with both of them at the same time and neither knowing of the other, when she had expected him to observe a decent period of purdah after she had dumped him. Well, it was only right, after all. He would have been dumped by the love of his life, and though she didn’t want it to blight his life for ever, she did expect it to blight it just a little. Surely some temporary heartache was in order, for God’s sake! Christ, but it was just like a man when you thought about it, absolutely par for the course, but this was Jamie. Jamie! Jamie who was solid, dependable and, by the say-so of everyone who had known the two of them all their lives, he was a good, non-smoking, non-drinking man who wouldn’t give her ‘ony trouble’. When he had said that he wouldn’t wait for ever she had thought it a sad bluff, an attempt to make her come to heel. Presumably, then, this Angela was already on the scene as he delivered his ultimatum, so why didn’t he tell her outright instead of hinting discreetly, the creep? Now there was a new concept, Jamie Crawford as a creep. She would’ve staked her life on her reading of Jamie’s character, she would’ve trusted him with her life, come to that. As well as solid and dependable he had always been open and honest, there wasn’t one thing he had ever said or done, no matter how boring, that she had cause to doubt. He was Jamie; what more was there to say? Or at least he had been.

  And now she would have to brave the gossip and the stares. She had always known that day would come, but she had planned it to be on her terms, so that they would stare and talk about how Kathy Kelly had dumped poor Jamie Crawford, hard, callous bitch that she was, after all the years they’d been together. Jamie’s worth and suitability as a husband and father would’ve been gone over till they achieved heroic proportions, and as the injured party all available sympathy and support would’ve gone to him. She had long been prepared for that, but now the dynamics had changed irrevocably. Everyone knew what a saint Jamie was and how quick Kathy Kelly was with that tongue of hers, so it would be accepted that she had in some way let him down, that if he had found someone else then it must be her fault, because Jamie was flawless, always had been. They’d laugh at her. She didn’t mind them condemning her for dumping him, but she hated the idea of being laughed at because Jamie had someone else and she didn’t. And she didn’t have long to wait. In the spirit of family solidarity, Old Aggie was first up.

  ‘Ah tellt ye that Crawford laddie wouldnae wait for ever!’ she announced gleefully. She was sitting in her usual armchair by the fire, looking like a malignant troll and wallowing in her joyous task of taunting her granddaughter. ‘Miss High and Mighty! Ah aye said ye thought ye were somethin’ an’ a’ the time ye were nothin’,’ she said happily, ‘Ah never did know whit that laddie saw in ye, when it was quite clear ye didnae gie him the time o’ day, or anythin’ else for that matter!’ she cackled heartily.

  ‘Noo Aggie, he couldnae have been that perfect, he got another lassie pregnant after all,’ Kathy replied pleasantly.

  ‘Well mibbe if you’d been a bit merr understandin’ o’ his needs he wouldnae have hadtae go lookin’ elsewhere!’

  ‘Christ, Aggie, ye’re that pleased wi’ yersel’ ye could die happy right this minute, couldn’t ye? It’s the only reason Ah come tae see ye, ye know. Wanna these days ye’ll be so drooned in yer ain malice an’ spite that ye’ll drap deid right here at ma feet. If it wasnae for that thought Ah’d have abandoned ye years ago, miserable auld sod that ye are!’

  ‘Ah wouldnae gie ye the pleasure!’ Aggie spat at her. ‘Ah’d haud ma dyin’ breath tae Ah heard the door slammin’ behind ye!’

  Kathy smiled. ‘Oh, ye’ve got class, Ah’ll say that for ye, Aggie! But ye see, an’ Ah know this isnae somethin’ the females in this family are known for, so it might be askin’ a bit mucha ye tae understand, but there’s really nothin’ wrang wi’ keepin’ yer legs thegither when a man passes within a hundred yards. Some o’ us like tae keep a bit in reserve, no gie it away or sell it.’ She paused for the slightest moment. ‘An’ by the way, how’s your Jessie daein’ these days?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘Don’t you think Ah don’t know whit ye mean by that, lady!’ Aggie screeched, rising from her chair, her hands preparing for the obligatory sign of the cross.

  ‘Oh, Ah’m sure ye dae,’ Kathy continued. ‘Ah’m bloody sure ye dae, that’s ma point!’

  ‘Wait you a minute—’

  ‘Y’see, it seems tae me that the men aboot here get married tae the first wumman they get pregnant, nae doubt that brings back a few memories tae yersel’, Aggie, though Ah havtae confess that it’s hard to understand you ever bein’ anybody’s object o’ desire, an’ Ah decided it might be interestin’ tae find oot if there was another way. No’ Jessie’s way, of course, but Ah just wondered if there was somethin’ different frae giein’ it away or sellin’ it, and if mibbe Ah should be the first wanna this family tae find oot.’

  ‘Ya evil-minded bitch!’ Aggie yelled, as Kathy slowly walked towards the door. ‘That somebody should say such things aboot their ain family, showin’ nae respect wi’ their filthy tongue—’

  ‘Aw for God’s sake cross yersel’ an’ have done wi’ it, Aggie!’ Kathy cut in. ‘The only reason ye’re rantin’ an’ spittin’ a’ ower the place is because ye know it’s true. There’s no’ wanna ye that isnae a slag, an’ Ah’d lay
odds it a’ started wi’ you. Sit doon and shut up, ya stupid auld bugger, Ah’m off.’

  It was a fine display of bravado, of course, but that’s all it was, because Kathy already knew that she had a lot in common with those other women in her family, the slags. That nice Crawford laddie was about to become a father not once, but twice over. She was sure that if she told him the glad tidings he would in turn dump Angela, which was another reason why he would never know. This problem was hers alone, caused by using sex to appease Jamie rather than tell him the truth, so this one of his bastard weans he would never know about. And neither would Aggie, Con, or anyone else in the East End, Kathy would see to that.

  Sitting on the floor of Con’s house all these years later, looking at the snaps of herself with Jamie all through their childhoods, she was aware of her mind playing a kind of conjuring trick. Somehow he looked dead in the photos; it was like looking at someone who was no longer in existence, when she knew he was very much alive. She couldn’t quite figure out how long he had seemed like that to her, though she suspected his demise dated from that night in Dino’s, when the Jamie she knew had indeed died before her very eyes.

  5

  The plan formed so slowly in her mind that it couldn’t really be called a plan. She knew her current predicament dictated that she couldn’t stay in Moncur Street, which in turn meant that she would have to go elsewhere, but beyond that was a blur. Then circumstances took a hand. She had turned up for her shift in Wilson’s to find both Mr Liddell and Mr Dewar in the pharmacy. For a brief, happy moment she hoped this meant that Mr Dewar, with whom she was due to share the shift, had been called away and Mr Liddell was taking over. Nigel Dewar broke off from whatever he was saying to Mr Liddell as soon as she appeared and quickly busied himself about the pharmacy. Mr Liddell asked her to step into his tiny cupboard of an office off the pharmacy. There was, he said, something he had to discuss with her. It soon became clear that, in her absence, a casual conversation between the women had escalated into a major conflict, and poor Mr Liddell had been charged with facing her about it. She could hardly remember what it had all been about. Down in the basement there was a room the women used at lunchtime, and a week or so before there had been the usual conversation about what had been on TV the previous night. It had been a documentary about religion, made and intended for the south of England, as everything seemed to be, with no inkling whatever of how it might be viewed in other areas. The role of the churches in modern-day life had been questioned, and the women, all of them at least middle-aged and of different religious persuasions, were united in condemning it. Kathy had been asked for her opinion and had replied, ‘Didnae see it, Ah was oan the back shift an’ it was eleven when Ah got hame. No that it matters,’ she had added, ‘as far as Ah’m concerned Ah wouldnae shed a tear if every church in the world was boarded up.’ There had been a hush, then someone had asked, ‘Dae you no’ believe in God, well?’ Kathy hadn’t looked up from the magazine she was reading. ‘Naw,’ she had said; that was all. Not that the conversation had stuck in her mind, in fact she’d had to fight hard to dredge it up from her memory when Mr Liddèll broached the subject.

  ‘The thing about working with people,’ he said gently, coughing a little with obvious embarrassment before going on, ‘is that you have to be careful of their feelings.’

  Kathy looked at him blankly.

  ‘Religion is a sensitive issue,’ he continued, looking deeply pained, ‘and you have to be careful what you say, especially in Glasgow, as I’m sure you know, Kathleen.’

  ‘Mr Liddell,’ she said in calm, perfect English, ‘I have no idea what this is about. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to spell it out.’

  Mr Liddell looked even more pained. He took a deep breath. ‘It seems there was an occasion recently when you strongly volunteered the view that there is no God.’

  It took Kathy several minutes of silence to locate anything approximating what he had described. ‘Oh, wait a minute now!’ she said, suddenly remembering the discussion in the basement lunch room. It couldn’t possibly be that – could it? ‘I was asked a question and I replied, that was what happened, I did not volunteer a strong opinion. As I remember it I was actually reading a magazine at the time and had taken no part in the discussion.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Kathleen, but I was asked to have a few words with you, to remind you that other people’s feelings can be offended.’

  ‘And mine can’t? And just out of interest, Mr Liddell, who asked you “to have a few words”?’

  Mr Liddell looked flustered. ‘It was only because I am the senior man,’ he said, trying to make light of it. ‘I think it’s one of the penalties of age, Kathleen, but ticking off employees is not something I enjoy, especially when I have no means of judging what actually took place.’

  ‘So it was that wee skunk Dewar then.’

  Mr Liddell looked away, trying, Kathy sensed, not to laugh. ‘I don’t think he’d welcome that description, you know,’ he said.

  ‘And if it was that wee skunk Dewar,’ Kathy continued, ‘Ida Stewart must’ve clyped to him.’ She went into the pharmacy, where Nigel Dewar was dancing about in his desperately bright and efficient manner, and briefly sensed in passing that he was more than usually pleased with himself. She looked through the tiny hatchway into the shop, but Ida was nowhere to be seen, so turning on her heel she made her way downstairs and found her in the lunch room. ‘Just the auld bitch Ah was lookin’ for!’ she said, standing against the door to block any escape Ida might try to make. ‘Listen, you,’ she said menacingly, ‘Ah hear you’ve been whisperin’ in Lover Boy’s lugs aboot me.’

  Ida looked up and then away again. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she replied, in the kind of false modulated tone that set Kathy’s teeth on edge.

  ‘An’ ye can drap the Kelvinside accent,’ Kathy told her. ‘Everybody here knows ye’re a common auld cow frae Govan.’

  The other women in the room smiled, trying to pretend they were doing other things and taking no interest while every ear was cocked, and Kathy knew this scene would be repeated to those who hadn’t witnessed it. She could almost hear them saying to each other, ‘Oh, aye, Kathy gave her her character!’

  ‘Ye told yer wee pal that Ah’d been moothing aff about religion when, as Ah recall, you were the wan askin’ the questions.’

  Ida shuffled in her seat and tried to look unconcerned. ‘As you ask,’ she said, smiling primly and trying to include the others with a glance around the room, ‘I did mention to Mr Dewar that you had offended some people here by questioning the existence of God, and he thought that it might be in your own interests to learn not to upset folk.’

  ‘Anybody here offended because Ah’m a pagan?’ Kathy asked. There was silence. ‘Anybody here remember me askin’ them tae join me in Devil worship?’

  The other women laughed quietly. ‘We’d be hard pushed in here tae find a virgin tae sacrifice, Kathy!’ one remarked. ‘Don’t take it so seriously, hen.’

  ‘But Ah dae!’ Kathy replied, ‘because thanks tae Ida pal here, Ah’ve just been reprimanded upstairs by Mr Liddell.’

  ‘Ach, Ida!’ another woman said. ‘There was nae cause for that!’

  Ida, suddenly beleaguered, rose to her feet, and as she did so she appeared to lose her Kelvinside accent. ‘Listen you tae me, Kathy Kelly,’ she spat furiously. ‘You’re the kinda Fenian shite that thinks ye’re better than anybody else! Ye just walk in here an’ next thing we know ye’re made trainee dispenser, while the resta us are still stuck behind the counter sellin’ shampoo! Ye’re fulla yersel’, ye act as though ye’re due it, an’ ye say things because ye like tae cause a fuss. A’ Ah did was shut ye up an’ get ye reminded o’ yer place.’

  ‘Well, no’ that Ah know much aboot the theology, Ida, no’ bein’ a Fenian masel’ despite the name, but Ah don’t think ye’ll find many o’ them that don’t believe in God, Ah think it’s kinda mandatory. An’ it seems tae me that you’re the
wan that caused the fuss, a’ Ah did was tae answer a question. But it’s no’ aboot that, is it?’ Kathy laughed. ‘It’s because you’re tossin’ an’ turnin’ in yer bed a’ night, thinkin’ me an’ Lover Boy are at it like rabbits in the pharmacy when ye’re no’ there tae stoap us, isn’t it?’

  A chuckle ran round the room.

  ‘Christ, Ida, ye must see that he’s a wee nyaff! You’re the only wan would gie him the time o’ day, the resta us wouldnae spit oan him if he was oan fire!’

  ‘An’ Ah’ll be reportin’ that tae!’ Ida shouted furiously.

  ‘Away tae hell, Ida,’ Kathy laughed. ‘Ah’ll tell him masel’.’

  With that she raced back upstairs, Ida puffing hard behind her, her stilettoes clicking furiously on the steps as she tried to get in front to present a united front, her and Lover Boy against Kathy Kelly, and all the ‘Fenian shite’ in the universe, or in Govan at least.

  ‘I’d like a word with you, Mr Dewar,’ Kathy said, and looking round at Ida behind her, her face flushed and the pile of hair on her head falling over to one side with exertion, she said, ‘In private, please, not in front of the floor staff.’ Then she waved a hand in Ida’s direction. ‘Ida,’ she said kindly, ‘you’d better away and do something about your hair. When it collapses like that your roots show something awful.’ Then she led the way into Mr Liddell’s office, with Nigel Dewar so taken unawares that he followed behind.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, looking round the tiny space, ‘that this wee kingdom will be yours when Mr Liddell finally goes?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it will,’ he replied.

  ‘Not much of an achievement, is it?’ she asked. ‘A cupboard pretending it’s an office. No wonder you’re a bitter, twisted wee get!’ He opened his mouth to speak but she silenced him with a raised hand. ‘Shut it!’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve never liked me, I know that, and I’ve never liked you. The difference is that I’ve done my job here, never once tried to undermine your position, such as it is, while you’ve done everything you could to make me uncomfortable, haven’t you?’