Angela's Dead

by Lou Peters

  Jackie Riley and Rachel had met a few years previously when they’d both worked in the call centre of a large finance house. Hilary Jarvis had been and still was, the overall manager of the department. She’d been a Tartar then, but had apparently become a lot worse after the company had gained bank status with the merger to one of the main four high street banks. Jarvis had missed out on a promised promotion. Sidelined, it had been given to one of the takeover bank’s own. Rachel didn’t envy Jackie that morning. She wasn’t sure if her friend would be able to pull it off.

  ‘Don’t worry kid, by the time I’m finished they’ll be handing out the Oscars.’

  ‘I wish I’d your confidence. But you don’t have to come down you know. I’ll be fine on my own.’

  ‘Who are you trying to fool, not me, perhaps yourself? Anyway, I’m dying to see your new place. Be good to have a long week-end in the country, as long as I won’t be in your way.’

  ‘Of course you won’t. It’ll be great to see you,’ Rachel lied. She wished she could put more exuberance behind the words and actually mean them. However, the sense of impending disaster wouldn’t leave her alone, clung to her like her own shadow. ‘The place is a dump so be prepared and bring plenty of woollies with you.’

  ‘Do you want to phone your mum? I can pick her up on the way, if you’d like.’

  ‘No, no…’ Rachel almost leapt down the phone. ‘My God, don’t do that...’ She hesitated for a few seconds, until the feeling of panic had passed and she felt calm enough to respond to Jackie’s suggestion. ‘She’ll only worry too much. You know what she’s like,’ she said her voice now modified to a more reasonable tone.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  Rachel hoped by her friend’s thoughtful tone that she hadn’t read too much into her outburst. She loved her mum, but at that moment couldn’t cope with her fussing over her. It was bad enough Richard was missing without the added stress seeming to exude from her mother, like an invisible aura. Rachel let out a sigh. The tension that had held her fast in its grasp at the thought of her unwanted parent’s arrival, released.

  ‘Okay, I’m going. I should be with you about one thirtyish, if I put my foot down. Or maybe that’s being a bit too optimistic, better make it later. I’ll have to stop off home first to throw some things into a bag, and of course, before that I’ve got to give the performance of my life. Wish me luck.’

  ‘Good luck, Jack. Just drive carefully, okay. And listen, don’t worry if you can’t get away from work, I’ll understand.’

  ‘It’ll be fine kid, a piece of cake.’

  Rachel didn’t know why Jackie insisted on calling her kid; there was only three years between them. ‘Oh and Jack,’ she added, before replacing the receiver.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just hope for your sake, this phone call wasn’t recorded.’

  ‘Oops.’ Jackie said

  A small laugh reached her down the line before the call was cut leaving the dial tone to drone in Rachel’s ears. Her link with civilisation severed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thursday Morning 10 December 2009

  After replacing the receiver at the end of Jackie’s call the room resumed its infinite silence, accentuating the monotonous ticking of the wall clock along with the monstrous noise inside of her head. Rachel sat staring out of the window at nothing in particular. Her stillness belied the turmoil she was feeling inside. Unsettled barely covered it. She wished she had a crystal ball to see what had happened to Richard and where he’d gone. Perhaps she should phone the nearest police station. She wasn’t even sure where it was located, or if it was manned on a daily basis. ‘Damn countryside,’ she cursed aloud.

  Getting up from the chair she looked under the sink for the pair of old gloves that were stashed there. Her intention was to clean out the ash can in the wood burner. The fire had long since given up the struggle to stay alive after she’d fallen asleep in front of it. The gloves were Richard’s and far too large for her hands, but they were heat retardant and perfect for the job. It felt good to slip her hands inside the sturdy coarse leather gauntlets. Knowing his hands had once been inside, seemed to bring her a little closer to her absent partner. She tipped the still warm ash amidst the tangle of out of control weeds, which one day Richard hoped to transform into a rose bed. Stepping outside of the dark interior of the cottage Rachel realised what a beautiful day it was, cold but sunny. The air clean and refreshing, perfect conditions for a walk to blow away the cobwebs – with Richard. She scurried back inside, leaving a trail of footprints on the frost covered grass, her slippers damp, her bare toes red and tingling.

  In the absence of a shower at River Cottage, a fact Rachel cursed on a daily basis, that morning she couldn’t be bothered with the palaver of running a bath. In her present befuddled state, it was way too much effort. She’d have to be content with a strip down wash and change of clothing. Putting on a spurt in the unheated bathroom, she quickly slipped the nightdress over her head. Her breath condensed like patches of mist in front of her. Rachel’s reflection appeared as nothing more than a blurred, moving shape in the steam shrouded mirror. The splash of warm water hitting her face made Rachel feel a little more human, even if she was sure she wouldn’t look much better. Hurriedly concluding her ablutions, Rachel’s skin was still damp as she squirmed with difficulty into her tight jeans and one of Richard’s old sweaters. A scalding cup of coffee and a couple of strong headache tablets were next on the agenda.

  To compensate for the lack of a television in the cottage Rachel switched on the radio. Richard had it tuned to the oldies station. No Lady Gaga at River Cottage. Finally the DJ quit his interminable rambling and The Stones Angie filled the kitchen with memories so tangible, Rachel felt she could almost reach out and touch them. The song had been one of her dad’s favourites. Jagger sang, tearing at her heart. She’d been eleven when her dad had walked out of the front door for the last time. Recently, Rachel wondered if he knew he wasn’t going to come back. If her father had had some sort of flash of second sight. Mr. Smith had given his daughter an unexpected kiss on the top of her head on his way out to collect the early evening edition of the local paper. She’d been sitting reading quietly on the sofa. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes, love.’ He’d said.

  Eleven years later, the following sequence of events remained tattooed in Rachel’s mind as clear as if it’d occurred the day before. Although subsequent events surrounding that episode had become blurred. The screech of braking tyres, the horrendous thud, the scream of a passer-by – her mother holding Rachel back as she’d twisted and squirmed in her arms. The radio was silenced with an abrupt turn of the knob, Jagger still in mid flow. Today of all days she didn’t want to dwell on that dreadful afternoon. Instead, she busied herself in an attempt to tidy the kitchen in preparation of Jackie’s arrival. Rachel wasn’t in the mood for housework, but anything was better than sitting staring at the clock. If she moved about the kitchen slowly, then she should be alright. Deciding already to ignore the mass of cobwebs strung about the beams above her head, she hoped Jackie wouldn’t look up and notice.

  A real daddy’s girl, her father’s sudden death had hit her hard. Memories of that period in her life were rather sketchy, remaining vague. As if she’d wanted to block them out, which of course she had. Earlier childhood years predating the fatal accident, if Rachel had any recollections at all, were viewed as if she was looking at a stranger. She thought perhaps she’d had a type of breakdown, young as she was, and had retreated into herself. This was Rachel’s own recent diagnosis. Medical advice had never been sort at the time. Her mother had never discussed her father’s death with Rachel, and she in turn, had never wanted her to. Since the accident her mum had started to fuss and worry over her, not liking to let her out of her sight for too long. Rachel supposed it was to be expected. She was her mum’s only child and all she had left. The summer following her dad’s death, Rachel and her mother had relocated to a different part of the country. A
new start, a brave face, but in the quiet hours when she’d been alone in her bedroom, she’d pined for her father. Rachel didn’t know how she was going to bear it, if she lost Richard in a similar way.

  She was standing watching out of the sitting room window facing out onto the empty lane, wondering what time Jackie would arrive. Rachel had had no further contact from her friend, so presumed she was on her way. She knew if Jack couldn’t make it she would’ve phoned, unless of course she’d sent her a text. It’d completely slipped Rachel’s mind to tell Jackie the cottage had poor reception, making mobiles more or less useless. Her head felt woozy, but that was probably due to a combination of lack of sleep and because she hadn’t been able to eat a thing. She’d tried a piece of toast earlier that morning. The first bite had caught at the back of her throat, as if she was chewing on a piece of cardboard and she’d thrown it in the bin. After her initial reservations about Jackie coming, Rachel would now be bitterly disappointed if her friend didn’t show. Having had her to focus her thoughts on had helped her get through the day so far. Glancing at her mobile, as expected there was no network connection. The small illuminated screen advised it was fourteen twenty. It would be going dark in less than a couple of hours. Rachel’s nerves started to get the better of her and she found herself anxiously wringing her hands. Untangling the appendages, she slapped them hard against her thighs. ‘Come on Rachel, snap out of it.’

  There was a sudden beep of a horn. Looking out of the window she was overjoyed to see the grey, metallic roof of Jackie’s Corsa visible through the partial gaps in the leafless hedge, as the car pulled up in front of the cottage’s dry stone wall. Tears threatened, but she tossed them away with a shake of her head. Before she knew it Rachel was on the path outside of the front door being frantically hugged.

  ‘Thank God for Sat Navs, that’s all I can say. I would never have found you without it.’

  Finally released from the fierce embrace Rachel could breathe easily once more. However, Jackie hadn’t finished with her. Holding her at arm’s length, a hand resting on each of her shoulders, she scrutinised Rachel’s face.

  ‘What on earth have you been doing to yourself, kid? You look dreadful. I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute.’

  ‘Thanks Jack, kick a girl while she’s down, why don’t you.’

  ‘Sorry Rache, but you do look a bit of a state. Come on, let’s go in and you can tell Auntie Jackie all about it.’

  Rachel led the way through the opened front door into the cottage. Jackie dumped her bulging overnight bag onto the bare hall floor with a thud. ‘See what you mean about the green gloss, you weren’t exaggerating were you?’

  ‘Come in here, it’s a bit better... The only room we’ve been able to do anything with, given the time we’ve been here.’ Rachel showed Jackie into the sitting room.

  ‘Ah this is better. It’s quite a charming room actually.’ She looked around the space, pleasure written on her face. ‘Wow I just love the fireplace. You’ve been holding out on me kid. You told me the cottage was a dump.’ Jackie flopped down onto one of the twin armchairs, glad to have the drive behind her.

  ‘Move the cushions, if they’re in your way.’

  Jackie reached behind her and tossed a couple of the stuffed coloured squares onto the settee.

  ‘I’ll go and make us a coffee.’

  ‘That’ll be great, I’m absolutely gasping. Oh, I nearly forgot,’ she added. Rachel was part way out of the door. ‘I’ll just nip back to the car, won’t be a tick.’

  In the kitchen Rachel filled the kettle with the usual rigmarole and lit the gas ring beneath it. She’d already placed two mugs on the wooden worktop surface in preparation and reached up to the wonky cupboard to get the jar of instant coffee, the one with the gold bean label on the front. Everything needs replacing, she thought with a sigh, considering the battered units. She placed a heaped teaspoon of the dark granules into each mug before adding the boiling water. Jackie took her coffee the same as she did, strong, black and sugarless. Rachel was stirring the hot liquid when she heard the chink of glass bottles behind her and turned to find Jackie poking her head around the door.

  ‘I thought I’d get a few supplies in. Hope you don’t mind. It’s just a couple of bottles of red and couple of white.’

  Jackie stepped fully into the kitchen. In the hand minus the carrier bag, she carried a large bouquet of mixed flowers.

  ‘These are for you,’ she said, handing over the multi coloured blooms, ‘thought they might help cheer you up.’

  ‘Oh Jack, you shouldn’t have done.’ The tears were back in Rachel’s eyes.

  ‘Only from the petrol station I’m afraid.’

  ‘They’re beautiful, thank you so much.’ Rachel leaned across and kissed her friend on the cheek. Their eyes met and Jack smiled at her.

  ‘No problem kid.’ There were traces of tears in Jackie’s own eyes and she rapidly blinked them away. ‘How’s the coffee coming along?’

  Rachel handed her a steaming mug. ‘I’ll just put these in water and then we should be right...’

  A few minutes later, Rachel asked, ‘how did you get on with old Jarvis? Obviously, she swallowed whatever line it was you fed her.’

  ‘Jesus, but it wasn’t easy, I can tell you,’ Jackie stated animatedly. ‘Had to go to the bog first and take some of my slap off. She still wasn’t having it. In the end, I had to resort to the fingers down the throat job when no-one was looking and puke my cornflakes up all over my work station.’

  ‘Ooh, lovely.’

  ‘Well it was worth it. I’m here with you now, aren’t I?’

  The two were seated in the sitting room. The cups of coffee rested on the narrow, low table between them, together with a plate of triangular tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches. The sandwiches made for Jackie’s benefit having missed out on her lunch and apparently from her recent comments, had lost most of her breakfast. She’d insisted Rachel should eat something as well. Rachel nibbled ineffectually at a corner of the wholemeal bread, before returning the now misshapen sandwich to her plate virtually intact.

  ‘So, Rache, I think I’ve waited long enough. What’s been going on between you and Richard?’ Jackie had moved to the edge of her seat. Her slender hands scarlet tipped, neatly folded one over the other, rested on her similarly crossed designer jean clad legs waiting in anticipation for Rachel to spill the beans.

  Rachel let out a deep sigh, before commencing. ‘That’s just it Jackie, I’ve no idea. Not a clue. Yesterday is a complete mystery to me.’

  ‘I know. That’s what you told me over the phone, but... I’m sorry, I don’t get it Rache.’ She gazed at Rachel incomprehension reflected in her brown eyes. ‘I’m not trying to be controversial, or anything, but you must be able to remember something, surely?’

  ‘Zilch.’

  ‘And you’d not been drinking?’ She said the words as though she didn’t really believe her.

  Rachel shrugged her shoulders, ‘I don’t think so. There’s almost half a bottle of red in the kitchen and I know we didn’t have much booze in the house. Richard and I’d planned to do a supermarket shop shortly. ‘Then how about drugs.’ Jackie asked bluntly

  ‘Richard wouldn’t give any kind of illegal substance house room.

  ‘I’m not talking about smack, just a couple of joints. Even then, I’m not sure that would give anyone total amnesia,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘The only time I’ve tried that stuff was on that one occasion with you and Helen. I didn’t like it, if you recall. Damn thing set me off having a coughing fit after two puffs and I didn’t feel any difference afterwards. Not like you two, giggling over anything and everything. It was so embarrassing, especially when we got on the bus. I thought you were going to get us thrown off at one point, after you’d dropped your bag and had to go rummaging under the seats for your lipstick, grabbing at that guy’s leg. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Of course I do, but not the way you tell it. And anyway wh
at did you expect? You hardly inhaled anything, with that prissy look on your face. No wonder I never offered you anymore. I think you’re over exaggerating about the bus thing as well, although, that bloke was kinda cute… Anyway this isn’t helping us solve the mystery of the missing hours.’

  It occurred to Rachel, the mystery of the missing hours sounded like a book title and she said as much. ‘Richard’s against drugs of any kind. You know – after what happened to his younger brother, Dan.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. But it was a long time ago. Years before you two had met, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter how many years were in-between, the result’s still the same. Richard lost his brother through the misuse of drugs.’

  ‘So we can rule out a bad batch of weed then?’ Jack sighed. ‘We don’t seem to be making much progress.’

  ‘I know.’

  Reaching forwards Jackie took the last sandwich, finishing it in two bites. She daintily picked up a stray chunk of tuna off the plate and popped it into her mouth. ‘Thanks, I needed that.’ She patted her nonexistent tummy under her figure hugging red sweater. Rachel guessed it was probably Angora. Jackie, as always, looked fantastic. The women were of a similar build, but Jackie was taller than Rachel. She exuded an air of self confidence Rachel knew she’d never possess. She realised how she must look in comparison. Her shoulder length hair hung lank, unwashed against her pale, makeup less face. The oversized sweater she wore was one of Richard’s and draped loosely over her curves adding imaginary pounds, giving her the appearance of the Michelin Man. Jackie’s feet were shod in stylish black, Italian leather ankle boots that softly moulded to her feet, while Rachel wore a pair of tatty, open toed pink slippers.

  ‘Didn’t you have a problem sleeping not so long ago?’ Jackie asked, as if a light had gone on inside of her head, her face brightening at the sudden thought. ‘I remember you telling me it’d become so bad you’d had to go to the doc’s.’