Lost Angel

by Mandasue Heller

  And that was all she wanted: to see him, and ask if he still felt the same about her as she did about him. He’d said he loved her, but he’d made no effort to contact her since her dad had caught them and she was beginning to think that he’d changed his mind.

  Back in the kitchen after Angel came out of the bathroom, Ruth drummed her fingers on the table and stared at the little stick. A couple of minutes that felt more like hours later, the display popped up in the little window: Pregnant . . . 4–5 weeks.

  ‘You stupid idiot!’ she yelled, jumping up and smacking Angel hard across the face. ‘Why couldn’t you just keep your knickers on? You’re not even sixteen – what the hell were you playing at?’

  ‘She’s a liar, an’ all,’ Rita chipped in. ‘She sat there and barefaced lied to my face that all they’d done was have a kiss that night.’

  ‘Well, you’re not keeping it,’ Ruth went on, marching out into the hall and bringing back the phone book.

  ‘Too flaming right she’s not,’ Rita agreed, huffing. ‘I’m not having no black baby in my house.’

  ‘Shut up, Mother,’ Ruth snapped. ‘I don’t care what colour it is – she’s not old enough to have a baby, full stop.’ She turned to Angel now and gave her an ominous look as she flipped through the phone book. ‘You wait till your dad hears about this.’

  Tears were already rolling down Angel’s cheeks, and her whole body was shaking.

  ‘Cry as much as you like,’ Ruth went on unsympathetically, ‘but it won’t work this time. Your dad’s going to see you for what you really are.’ She clicked her fingers at Rita. ‘Pass me the phone.’

  Angel cradled her stomach with her hands as she listened to her mum make an appointment at the family planning clinic for the following week.

  When that was done, Ruth rang Johnny and told him to come home – and why. Then she and Rita sat and waited, their stares fixed firmly on Angel in case she got any ideas about trying to do a runner.

  Johnny strode in half an hour later and slammed his keys down on the ledge. Angel was huddled in her chair with her arms wrapped around herself, her face streaked and blotchy. She looked so young and scared that he would normally have pulled her into his arms and told her that everything was going to be all right – that he would make it all right. But this was too serious, and he was too mad.

  ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Angel croaked, unable to look at him. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  ‘Famous last words,’ snorted Rita.

  ‘I’ve made an appointment at the clinic next week,’ Ruth told him. ‘They’ll examine her and talk to her, then book her in for an abortion.’

  ‘Sooner the better,’ Rita chipped in again.

  ‘No,’ Angel sobbed, shaking her head. ‘I don’t want an abortion. Please, Daddy . . .’

  Ruth slammed her hands down on the table. ‘You’ll do as you’re told – and keep your mouth shut while you’re at it! You haven’t got a clue what you’ve done, have you?’

  ‘This isn’t about you any more,’ Rita joined in. ‘We’re the ones who’d have to bring the little bastard up; feed it, and clothe it.’

  ‘I can do it myself,’ Angel argued tearfully. ‘I’ll do everything.’

  ‘You haven’t even left school yet,’ Ruth reminded her angrily. ‘How are you going to support it when you can’t even support yourself? And how do you think it’d look, you waddling into your exams with a fat belly on you? You want everyone to know what a whore you’ve been?’

  ‘And with a black lad, an’ all,’ Rita reminded them, sneering. ‘I’ll never be able to set foot out of the door for the shame of it.’

  ‘Will you just stop going on about that?’ Ruth hissed through gritted teeth.

  ‘Both of you shut up,’ Johnny ordered, already sick of hearing their voices. ‘And you get to your room.’ He jerked his thumb at Angel. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

  ‘Daddy, please . . .’ she implored, giving him a heart-wreching look as she stood up. ‘Don’t make me get rid of it. I can look after it. I’ll be a really good mum.’

  ‘You’ve lost the right to say what you do and don’t want,’ Ruth barked, clenching her fists on the tabletop. ‘It’s going, and that’s final.’

  ‘No!’ Angel cried, desperation loosening her tongue. ‘I love Ryan, and he loves me – and we haven’t done anything that you and my dad didn’t do first.’

  Ruth leapt to her feet. ‘How dare you try and make out that this is anything like me and your dad! I was nearly twenty when I had you, and we’d been married for three years. We were respectable!’

  ‘Only ’cos you lost the first one,’ Angel countered defiantly. ‘That’s why you got married – ’cos my grandad made you. My dad never loved you like Ryan loves me.’

  Ruth’s face had gone as white as a sheet, and foam had gathered at the corners of her tightly drawn lips.

  ‘You little bitch,’ she snarled, flying at Angel and laying into her. ‘How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you!’

  ‘Pack it in,’ Johnny bellowed, dragging her off.

  Chest heaving, her hands coated in the hair that she’d just pulled from Angel’s scalp, Ruth glared at him. ‘Don’t tell me you’re defending her after what she’s done! You heard what she said; are you just going to let her get away with it?’

  ‘Go!’ Johnny barked at Angel.

  Still sobbing, she fled from the kitchen and ran up the stairs to lock herself in her room.

  Johnny turned on Ruth when she’d gone, and warned, ‘Don’t you ever put your hands on her like that again.’

  ‘She asked for it,’ Ruth hissed, her nostrils flaring.

  ‘Why? For telling the truth?’ Johnny challenged her. He shook his head in disgust when she pursed her lips. ‘Don’t make out like she’s a whore when you did the exact same thing.’

  ‘I wasn’t as young as her,’ Ruth shot back defensively.

  ‘You were only a year older,’ Johnny reminded her.

  ‘Well, she didn’t know that, so she had no right to say it,’ Ruth argued. ‘But I can guess who told her,’ she added, with a knowing sneer. ‘And that was exactly why I didn’t want her getting too close to my cousin, ’cos she’s a poisonous big-mouthed bitch. But you had to go and let your precious daughter stay with her as soon as my back was turned. So this is your fault, not mine.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,’ Johnny replied coldly. ‘It’s going to get sorted, that’s all that matters. But if you lay one finger on her in the meantime, you’re gonna know about it. And the same goes for you, old woman.’ He turned on Rita. ‘The pair of you just leave her alone until her appointment comes up, or you’ll have me to answer to. You both got that?’

  Ruth and Rita simultaneously screwed their lips into tight knots and folded their arms. Satisfied that they wouldn’t dare to go against him, Johnny snatched up his keys and walked out.

  Everything that could be done right now had been done, and he had better things to do than listen to those witches go on about who was to blame. They all were, in his opinion. Angel had been brought up to be a decent, truthful young lady, so she should have known better. But if Ruth had been more open and honest from the start, her own experience would have served as a valuable warning to their daughter about the consequences of letting boys sweet-talk you out of your knickers. And Johnny wasn’t entirely blameless, either. If he’d paid more attention to Angel instead of leaving it all to her mother and nan, he might have noticed that she was starting to take an interest in boys and could have nipped it in the bud before it got to this.

  But hindsight was a wonderful thing, and it had happened, so there was no point raking over the shoulds and shouldn’ts of it. They just had to wait for the clinic appointment, and hope that nothing happened to delay or prevent the abortion.

  All cried out, Angel began to formulate a plan as she sat in her room for the rest of the afternoon. But
to have any chance of making it work she realised that she would have to act repentant, make them believe that she had seen the error of her ways. So at teatime she went downstairs and ate her meal in chastened silence. Then, after dutifully cleaning up when they had finished, she went back to her room and waited and listened.

  It was gone ten before she heard her mum and nan start one of their drink-fuelled arguments. She knew that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything outside the parlour as their dispute grew progressively more heated inside, so she pulled out from under the bed the little rucksack that she’d packed and crept down the stairs. She held her breath when she reached the hall and eased the front door open before sliding out into the darkness.

  It was cold outside, and Angel shivered when the wind slapped her face. But she didn’t stop; she just pulled her collar up around her ears and ran head-down to the end of the avenue. She’d taken forty pounds out of the tin her mum kept in the bedside cabinet. She used some of that now to take a bus into Hulme.

  Zeta Johnson’s eyes narrowed when she opened the door and saw who was standing on the step.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ Angel said nervously, ‘but I was wondering if Ryan was in?’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ Zeta snapped. ‘And don’t ever call round here at this time of night again. I’m trying to get the baby to sleep, and you’ve disturbed him.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Angel murmured, touching her stomach reflexively at the mention of babies. Then, licking her lips, she said, ‘I, er, don’t suppose you know where he’s gone, or when he’ll be back?’

  Zeta didn’t even bother answering; she just slammed the door in Angel’s face. Ryan had enough problems without some stuck-up girl complicating his life.

  Angel blinked back her tears and walked back down the path. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t just hang around on the off chance that Ryan might come back soon, because he might stay out all night and she would freeze to death. Anyway, she couldn’t be seen out on the street. Once her mum realised that she’d gone, she’d tell her dad and this would be the first place he’d come looking for her.

  Wishing that she’d thought to bring a hat, or at least a hooded jacket, Angel put her head down and walked around to Lisa’s. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay there for long because her dad would check there, too. She just needed to get Ryan’s number so she could at least call him and tell him what was going on.

  She stopped in her tracks when she turned the corner and saw her dad’s car parked outside Lisa’s place. Terrified that he was already on the hunt for her, she turned and fled back through the maze of streets until she found an alley to hide in. She squatted down between two stinking wheelie bins, hugged her knees to her chest and swiped at her tears. She couldn’t stay out all night in the cold but she couldn’t go home, either. Her baby’s life was hanging in the balance, and she was the only one who could protect it.

  As Angel sat there trying to gather her thoughts, a memory sparked in her mind and she pushed herself back up to her feet. There was somewhere she could go – somewhere her mum and dad would never dream of looking for her. She just hoped she could remember the way.

  29

  Cathy frowned and glanced at the clock when she heard the doorbell. It was almost midnight. Who the hell would come calling on her in the middle of the night?

  The police.

  Worried as it occurred to her that if it was the police it could only be bad news, she took a last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray. She glanced around the living room, dismayed by the heaps of newspapers that were strewn around Les’s chair, the thick coating of dust on the glass TV table, the dead plants adorning the windowsill, the cups and ashtrays littered all over the floor and coffee table. The coppers would think she was a right tramp if she had to bring them in, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

  The bell rang again.

  Cathy pulled her jumper down and patted her hair into place as she made her way to the door. But it wasn’t a uniform that greeted her when she opened it; it was a young girl with a rucksack.

  ‘Are you Cathy?’ the girl asked quietly.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ Cathy pushed the door to until it was open just an inch and peered out warily through the crack. A few months back there had been a spate of break-ins on the estate, where a woman had knocked on the door and gained the householders’ trust by pretending to be in labour and asking if she could use the phone, only for two men to rush in as soon as the door was open and ransack the place.

  But the girl had no bump, and she had called her by name, which made Cathy curious enough not to slam the door in her face.

  ‘I’m Angel,’ the girl told her.

  ‘Am I supposed to know you?’ Cathy asked, still eyeing her with suspicion.

  ‘I’m Johnny’s daughter,’ Angel elaborated. Then, frowning, she said, ‘Sorry, I thought this was Cathy Conroy’s house. I must have got the wrong number.’

  Cathy felt a jolt, as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘Wait!’ She pulled the door open and peered at the girl. ‘Why are you here? Has something happened to Johnny? Has he been hurt?’

  ‘No, he’s fine,’ Angel assured her.

  ‘Has he sent you?’

  ‘No. He doesn’t know I’m here.’

  ‘How old are you?’ Cathy asked. It was dangerous for a full-grown man to be out alone around these parts at night, never mind a slip of a girl.

  ‘Fifteen,’ Angel told her. She felt suddenly tearful again, and bit down hard on her lip. But it didn’t work.

  ‘Hey . . .’ Cathy reached out and patted Angel on the arm when she burst into tears. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Can I come in?’ Angel sobbed. ‘I just – just need to s-sit down.’

  Cathy cast a nervous glance out over the girl’s shoulder. Les had been out drinking all day and he could come back at any time. He didn’t like people coming round but he especially wouldn’t like it if he knew that the girl was connected with Johnny. He’d been furious when Cathy had questioned him about the alleged beatings after Johnny’s last visit and had banned her from ever mentioning his name again.

  But, if this really was her grandchild, she couldn’t just leave her on the step in this state. So, against her better judgement, she said, ‘Come on in and have a cup of tea, love. But it’ll have to be quick, and then you’ll have to go. Okay?’

  Angel nodded, and sniffed back her tears as she followed her grandmother inside. She didn’t know why she’d come, or what she’d expected this woman who had never laid eyes on her in her life before to say; but it had been the only place she could think of. And it had taken her ages to find it, because she’d only ever been to this area once before, when she’d been ten and her dad had driven her through the estate. He’d told her that this was where he had grown up, and had pointed out his old school and the houses of his old mates – and the block of flats where he and his mum had lived.

  ‘Can we go and see her?’ Angel had asked, curious to know about his side of the family because he never, ever talked about them. But he’d just said, ‘Maybe one day,’ and carried on driving.

  She’d asked a few times after that, but he’d always said he was too busy, or too tired. Until, finally, he’d snapped, and said, ‘Look, we’re not going – not now, not ever. She didn’t give a toss about me when I needed her, and that’s all you need to know, so drop it.’

  He’d never mentioned his mother since, and Angel hadn’t either. But she hadn’t forgotten and had sometimes toyed with the idea of coming to see this other grandmother. Now that she was actually here, it was nothing like she’d imagined. In her childish fantasies, her dad’s mum was a chubby, kind nan, with white hair, twinkly eyes and a loving smile, who welcomed Angel with open arms. But the reality couldn’t have been more different. This nan looked younger than the other one, but she was just as scrawny. Her jeans looked baggy on her s
tick-like legs, and the vertebrae of her spine stood out through the back of her jumper like a string of beads.

  ‘Sorry about the mess,’ Cathy apologised as she led Angel into the kitchen. ‘I’ve not been too well lately, so things have got a bit on top of me.

  A bit?

  Angel’s gaze flitted from the dirty plates heaped in the sink, to the foul-smelling bin, to the ledges covered in discarded microwave-meal boxes.

  ‘Sit down,’ Cathy said when she’d finished making the tea a couple of minutes later and turned back to find the girl still standing in the doorway.

  ‘Thanks,’ Angel murmured. She perched on the edge of one of the chairs.

  Cathy put the cups down and went to the living room to get her cigarettes. ‘Smoke?’ she asked, offering one to Angel when she came back. She lit one for herself when the girl shook her head and said, ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘My dad drove me round here once,’ Angel told her. She rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. ‘When I was little.’

  ‘What, he brought you round to visit me?’ Cathy was shocked. It had been some twenty-odd years since she’d last seen him, and she still thought about him. But after their last argument she hadn’t heard from him – or of him – so it was sickening to think that he might have tried to build bridges and she had missed him.

  ‘No, he was just driving past and he pointed the block out to me,’ Angel told her.

  ‘Oh.’ Deflated, Cathy took another drag on her cigarette. ‘Is he all right, though?’

  ‘Yeah, fine.’

  ‘Still married?’

  Angel nodded.

  ‘Working?’

  Another nod. ‘He owns a car lot. It’s really nice.’

  Cathy raised an eyebrow. So her son had done well for himself – that was good to hear. She’d always thought he had it in him, but there had been times when she’d despaired of him ever putting his talents to good use. Especially when he’d gone off the rails as a teenager. He could be so extreme: she’d thought that he would either end up running a bank or doing life for robbing one.