Lost Angel

by Mandasue Heller

  Her nan wasn’t crying today, but everybody else was, and it confused Angel to see so many strangers wailing, and going on about how much they were going to miss her grandpa. She couldn’t help but wonder why they had never come to see him when he was alive if they loved him as much as they claimed to. But her mum really was upset, so she couldn’t ask her about it. And she couldn’t ask her dad, either, because he was too busy running around making sure that everybody’s glass stayed full – even though Angel thought that they’d all had more than enough already. She’d seen her mum and her nan drunk often enough to know what it looked like, and it was never good, because they always ended up arguing and crying.

  Angel was sitting quietly in a corner of the front room when Dave arrived later that afternoon. As a mark of respect, Johnny had closed the yard for the day. But only to the public, so Dave had still had to go in and do all his usual paperwork. He glanced around when he walked in now, and nodded hello to Ruth, Rita and Lisa who were across the room chatting to some female relatives while a clearly distraught Big Pat was being consoled by some elderly ladies in another corner. The men were standing around in groups, drinking and loudly reminiscing, while Johnny flitted between them topping up their glasses.

  When he spotted Angel sitting by herself, Dave went over and squatted down in front of her.

  ‘Hello, birthday girl. How you doing?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ she replied, pulling her skirt demurely down over her knees.

  Dave felt the same tug of sadness that he always felt when he looked into her huge, sombre eyes. His sister’s kid, Kayleigh, wasn’t half as pretty, but she was as vain as a little peacock as a result of all the compliments she received. And that was the way it should be if you were one of the lucky ones who’d been blessed with beauty. But Angel was the quietest, most unassuming kid he’d ever met, and that didn’t seem right somehow.

  Still, she was Johnny’s kid not his, and he had no right to judge his friend’s parenting skills – not when he knew that Angel would probably be as loud and as rude as his sister’s lot if she had been his.

  ‘Food looks good,’ Dave said, eyeing the loaded table. ‘Have you had anything to eat yet?’

  When Angel shook her head, he said, ‘Wait there,’ and pushed himself back up to his feet. He took a couple of paper plates off the pile and walked from one end of the table to the other, loading one with savouries, the other with stuff that he thought a six-year-old girl would like – mainly cakes and biscuits, with a couple of mini sausage rolls for good measure.

  ‘Thank you,’ Angel said when Dave came back and passed her plate to her.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, sitting beside her and tucking in. A couple of sandwiches later, when he glanced at her and noticed that she hadn’t even touched her food, he nudged her. ‘You are supposed to eat it, not just look at it, you know.’

  Angel smiled politely and nibbled on a fairy cake. She liked her Uncle Dave. He was funny, and he always made a point of talking to her when everybody else was too busy. But her mum and her nan didn’t really approve of him, so she hoped he would move away before they noticed them sitting together and got mad at her.

  Johnny only realised that Dave was here when he was on his way out to the kitchen to get some more alcohol.

  ‘All right, mate,’ he said. ‘Didn’t see you come in. How long have you been here?’

  ‘Not long,’ Dave told him, putting his plate down and wiping his palms on his trousers before shaking Johnny’s hand. ‘You were busy, so I thought I’d have a little chat with the birthday girl.’

  Johnny looked down at Angel and gave her a regretful smile. ‘Not been much of a birthday so far, has it, darlin’? But you know I’ll make it up to you, don’t you?’

  Angel nodded, her eyes lighting up for the first time all day.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping her company,’ Dave assured him. ‘We’ve been having a little picnic.’

  ‘Cheers, mate.’ Johnny clapped him gratefully on the back. ‘I should have checked on her but I’ve been run off my feet all day. Anyhow, come and give us a hand getting some more booze for these greedy dickheads,’ he went on quietly. ‘And I’ve got a bit of white, if you’re up for it?’

  ‘Cool.’ Forgetting all about Angel and their so-called picnic, Dave abandoned his plate and followed Johnny out.

  Angel felt sad as she watched them go. Her dad was her sun, her moon, and all the stars in between, and she wished that he wasn’t always so busy. But her mum was always reminding her that his work was more important than she was, so she had to stop being selfish and just be grateful that at least he’d been home today.

  Her Aunt Lisa came over.

  ‘Hey, babe, you okay?’ she asked as she sat down on Dave’s vacated chair.

  Angel smiled and nodded. Lisa wasn’t her real aunt – she was actually her second cousin. But it was respectful to call older people aunt or uncle, so that was what Angel had always known her as.

  ‘God, my feet are killing me after all that walking,’ Lisa complained, slipping off her shoes and rubbing at her soles. ‘But I suppose it’s my own fault for wearing heels. Should have been sensible like your mum and worn flats.’

  ‘They’re pretty,’ Angel murmured, glancing down at the strappy black sandals.

  ‘Yeah, but the better they look, the more they hurt you,’ said Lisa, gazing wistfully at the door through which Johnny had left and thinking that that went double for men.

  Johnny still hadn’t been to see her since her Uncle Frankie had died, even though he must have known how upset she’d be. And while she understood that it must have been difficult for him to get away, given that he’d had to arrange the funeral and everything, it had cut her up to think that he’d been here, giving comfort to that fat bitch cousin of hers instead.

  ‘Mine hurt as well,’ Angel said quietly.

  ‘Sorry?’ Lisa snapped her head around. ‘What hurts, babe?’

  ‘My shoes.’ Angel lifted her foot.

  Wincing when she saw the blister on the back of the child’s heel, Lisa said, ‘Ooh, that looks painful. You need a plaster on that. Does your mummy still keep them in the kitchen cupboard?’ When Angel nodded, Lisa said, ‘Stay there, I’ll go and get one.’

  Across the room, Ruth jumped to her feet when she noticed her cousin heading for the door. Johnny had just gone out there, and she didn’t want the sneaky tart cosying up to him. Not that it would get her anywhere, because Johnny had always said that he wouldn’t go near Lisa if she was the last woman on Earth. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying, and Ruth wasn’t having that.

  Lisa was already on her way back from the kitchen when Ruth marched out into the hall. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked when she saw the angry look on Ruth’s face.

  ‘I’m looking for Johnny,’ Ruth told her. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘He wasn’t in the kitchen.’ Lisa gave an innocent shrug. ‘Probably nipped out with Dave to have a fag. I just went to get this.’ She held up the Elastoplast. ‘Angel’s got a massive blister on the back of her foot.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ruth murmured, a little ashamed that she hadn’t noticed it herself. But it wasn’t easy to think about the small stuff when you’d just buried your father. Anyway, Angel had a mouth. If it was that bad, she should have said something.

  ‘How are you bearing up?’ Lisa asked now, giving her cousin a concerned look. ‘We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, what with the aunts rabbiting on, but I’m in bits, so it must be ten times worse for you.’

  Ruth gritted her teeth. She didn’t want Lisa’s fake sympathy. They might have been close once upon a time, but there was no way they were ever going to be that way again. And she didn’t want Lisa to think that there was a chance that they could be or she’d go back to popping round whenever she felt like it, which would be totally unbearable.

  ‘I won’t say it’s been the easiest day of my life,’ she replied coolly. Then, ‘Excuse me, I need to go and
find my husband.’

  Lisa watched as her cousin walked away. When the doorbell rang almost immediately she turned to answer it, but Rita came hurtling out of the front room and shoved her out of the way.

  It was Frankie’s solicitor, Trevor Dean.

  ‘Come in,’ Rita ordered, eyeing his briefcase. ‘Hope that’s the will?’

  Ruth heard her mother’s voice and came back into the kitchen doorway. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Solicitor,’ said Rita, slamming the door shut behind him. She glared at Lisa as she pushed the man up the hall. ‘What are you standing there catching flies for? This is none of your business, so pull your big nose in and bugger off.’

  Before they had reached the parlour, Frankie’s brother strode out of the front room. ‘What was that about a will? Is it here?’

  Irritated, Rita waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. ‘This is nothing to do with you, Mickey. Go back in there.’

  ‘Actually, Mr Hynes ought to be present at the reading,’ the solicitor informed her. ‘Along with his brother William, Ruth and her husband, Lisa, and Mr O’Callaghan.’

  ‘Mr O’Callaghan?’ Rita repeated blankly.

  ‘Big Pat,’ Trevor Dean explained.

  Rita drew her head back and pushed her lips out. ‘You must have brought the wrong will if them wasters are mentioned in it.’ She flashed Mickey a dirty look to let him know that she was including him in that. ‘I don’t know about Big Pat, but I know for a fact he wouldn’t have left his brothers anything, ’cos they haven’t bothered with him in years.’

  ‘Shows how much you know, you hoity-toity bitch,’ spat Mickey. ‘I might not have had a chance to come over to see him in a while, but me and him still talked on the phone.’

  ‘I don’t see how, considering he hasn’t been able to talk for years,’ Rita sneered.

  ‘Ask our Ruthie if you don’t believe me,’ Mickey said angrily.

  ‘I can assure you that this is the correct will,’ Trevor Dean piped up loudly. ‘And the faster we proceed, the sooner you’ll all know what’s what.’

  ‘If he’s left him and that brother of theirs anything that’s mine by right, you’d better believe I’ll be contesting it,’ Rita told him spikily.

  ‘Just let him read the damn thing,’ Ruth hissed at her mother impatiently. Then, smiling, she waved the solicitor into the parlour, calling back to Lisa, ‘Go and get Uncle Billy and Big Pat.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Johnny asked as he came in from the back garden while the group was making its way into the parlour.

  ‘Thought this was supposed to be a party?’ Dave added cheerily when he saw all the solemn faces. Self-consciously wiping his nose when Ruth glared at him, he muttered, ‘Sorry. I’ll go and get a drink.’ Then, lowering his head he walked quickly down the corridor and disappeared into the front room.

  Trevor Dean waited until everybody was settled before he took the paperwork out of his briefcase. After reading quickly through the preliminary testaments of Frankie’s name, and his assertion that he had been of sound mind when he had made the will, Dean at last got to the bit that they were all waiting for:

  ‘To my brother Mickey, I leave the sum of twenty thousand pounds,’ he read. ‘On the strict understanding that he looks after our Mam until her death – or his. If he goes first, the money passes to our brother Billy – on the understanding that he takes her on. And to Billy himself, I leave the sum of ten thousand pounds.’

  ‘That ain’t fair,’ Mickey objected. ‘Our Billy gets to take his money and run, but I’m lumbered with me ma.’

  ‘She’s already been living with you and Maria for years, so what’s the fecking difference?’ Billy argued.

  ‘That ain’t the point,’ Mickey grumbled.

  ‘Just shut up and think yourselves lucky you’re getting anything,’ snapped Rita, relieved that Frankie hadn’t left them anything substantial, like a share in the business or something similar.

  ‘To Lisa, who’s been more like a second daughter to me than a niece,’ Trevor Dean continued, ‘I leave the sum of five thousand pounds, and the house known as number 23 Foster Street.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Ruth blurted out, already upset that her dad had used his last words to place her cousin in the same category as her. ‘That’s mine and Johnny’s house. We’ve been paying that mortgage for years.’

  ‘That may be so, but your father never actually transferred the deeds into either of your names, so, therefore, it remained his property,’ the solicitor informed her. ‘And he has bequeathed it to Lisa.’

  ‘Wow,’ Lisa murmured, sitting back in her seat with a look of bewilderment on her face.

  ‘That’s getting contested, for starters,’ Rita asserted huffily.

  After assuring her that it was all quite legal and above board, the solicitor shifted in his seat and looked at Big Pat.

  ‘To Big Pat, I leave my Cadillac and fifty thousand pounds,’ he read. Then, blushing, he cleared his throat and said, ‘He, um, also asked me to pass on the following message: “We had a fuck of a good run, old man, but it’s time to retire, so go rent yourself a cottage in the country, or buy a caravan, or whatever the fuck you want to do, and let the young ’uns take over.”’

  Big Pat nodded slowly, but his eyes were as unreadable as ever, so Johnny didn’t know if he was relieved or devastated. But it was exactly the right decision, in his opinion. As Frankie had said, Big Pat was getting old, and that made him resistant to change. Johnny had spent the last couple of years banging his head against a brick wall, trying to make the man see the sense in getting rid of some of the more unprofitable arms of the business. The protection racket, for example, had turned out to be way more hassle than it was worth. Also, the stolen motors: Johnny had wanted to move into the luxury-car market for ages now, but Big Pat had insisted on sticking to the easy stuff. And he definitely hadn’t liked the idea of Johnny branching out into powders, even though it made total sense – because it was a hell of a lot more profit, was way easier to shift, and required much less storage space. So, yeah, Frankie had hit the nail on the head, as far as Johnny was concerned. It was time for Big Pat to bow out and leave Johnny to get on with it in his own way.

  ‘Fifty thousand?’ squawked Rita. ‘There’ll be nothing left at this rate. What’s he flaming well playing at?’

  ‘How come he gets so much more than us?’ Billy was furious. ‘We’re his feckin’ family.’

  ‘Yeah, and youse have had sod all to do with him in years,’ Rita reminded him angrily. ‘At least Big Pat’s been there for him. But that still don’t mean he deserves fifty grand.’

  ‘Ssshh,’ Ruth scolded, eager to hear what her dad had left for her. ‘Please go on, Mr Dean.’

  ‘To my wife Rita,’ the solicitor continued, ‘I leave the jewellery I’ve invested in over the years.’

  ‘It’s all bloody well mine anyway,’ Rita said indignantly.

  ‘Including the items that are stored in my safety deposit box,’ added the solicitor.

  ‘What safety deposit box?’ Rita’s brow furrowed deeply.

  ‘I’ll give you the details after we’ve finished,’ the solicitor told her. Then, turning to Ruth, he smiled and said, ‘To my daughter Ruth, who has been the light of my life and the apple of my eye since the day she was born, despite being as stubborn as a mule and as mean as a wasp, I leave my house and—’

  ‘You what?’ Rita cut in furiously. ‘He thinks he can leave me some poxy jewellery and give my house to her? No flaming chance! I’m his wife, and everything’s mine now he’s dead.’

  ‘Unfortunately, none of his properties, bank accounts or businesses were actually listed in joint names, so I’m afraid you have no legal claim to any of them,’ the solicitor informed her. ‘He did, however, state that Ruth is to allow you to continue to live here, and provide for you in a monetary sense.’

  ‘Get stuffed!’ Rita blurted out furiously. ‘He’s got no right. Twenty-odd years I supported that swine,
and he thinks he’s doing this to me from the grave? I’m getting my solicitor onto this.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Trevor Dean inclined his head. ‘Although I would advise you to employ extreme caution, as any action you take will result in the contested assets being frozen with immediate effect. And these cases tend to take a considerable length of time to come to court, by which time both parties will have accrued sizeable bills for legal services.’

  ‘So you’re telling me I’ll lose either way?’ Rita gasped.

  The solicitor gave the slightest of shrugs.

  ‘What about Johnny?’ Ruth asked. ‘You said he needed to be here, but you still haven’t mentioned him.’

  ‘I was getting to that,’ Trevor Dean told her. ‘Your father has left the house to you solely, but the business known as Hynes Autos – and several subsidiary concerns – will be co-owned by yourself and his son-in-law, at a rate of fifty-one per cent to yourself and forty-nine to Johnny.

  ‘Johnny is to be allowed, without interference, to continue running everything exactly as he has so far been doing. He will also retain control of all monies related to and arising from said businesses.

  ‘However,’ Dean continued, ‘if Johnny wishes to accept these shares he will be required to sign a contract to the effect that, should he and Ruth separate or divorce, he will relinquish all claim on the businesses, and will accept a lump-sum payment of fifty thousand pounds in final and absolute settlement.’

  Finished, he inhaled deeply and looked from one to the other of them.

  ‘Is that all clear?’

  ‘So we both own the businesses,’ Ruth murmured. ‘But Johnny stays in control. Unless we split up, then it’s all mine.’

  ‘Not quite.’ Trevor Dean smiled. ‘Should Johnny relinquish his shares, they will pass over to Frankie’s granddaughter, Angel, and be held in trust until she reaches the age of twenty-one.’

  ‘Hah!’ Rita scoffed, flashing Johnny a triumphant sneer. ‘Bet you thought he was just going to hand everything over to you, didn’t you, you little chancer? But he wasn’t quite as stupid as you thought, was he?’