Hetty: An Angel Avenue Spin-Off

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  As I’m still pretending to check the timetable, two young girls of about twelve step up to the homeless girl, who can’t be older than seventeen herself.

  “We got some money, hun. Do ya need some?”

  “Thanks, if it’s no trouble…”

  The two younger girls look at one another.

  “Hang on,” one of them says, “we’ll be right back.”

  I make out I’m browsing a nearby shop window as I’m waiting for the bus.

  Ten minutes pass during which I fail to board at least half a dozen buses passing by. Maybe she’s decided I’m waiting for a special bus.

  I see the young girls walking back this way, so I hide behind the closed side of the bus shelter so that the homeless girl and the others won’t know I’m still here – and will think me gone.

  However, I can still hear everything.

  “We went to the shop,” one of the teenagers says, “thought that’d make it easier for ya.”

  “Ya didn’t have to,” she replies, her voice so low, lacking verve or energy or life.

  “Nah, we can’t walk by and let ya starve. Mum says we can’t let people starve in this day and age. Forget about all the African babies, she says, there’s still people on our own step what’s got problems and no help at all. And don’t get her started on first-world obesity…”

  “Thanks. Thanks. Thanks. Gotta be going now…” The homeless girl shuffles off.

  I can tell the naïve young girls were only trying to help, but I can also hear the indignity of it all in the homeless girl’s voice. I watch as the girls speed off on their wheeled trainers, as if what they just did was nothing but a common occurrence. Just an act they’d perform anytime. But for the homeless girl, I watch as she reaches a darkened doorway eventually and sits down on the ground, hugging the bag of stuff she was just given to her stomach.

  Then she puts her head in her hands.

  “Fucking hell, Warrick,” I curse. “Fucking hell.”

  IT’S THE NEXT day. I’m staring out of the window of my office with my boots resting up on the sill when my mobile starts ringing. Spinning back towards my desk, I reach for my phone and see it’s Jules.

  “Hello?” I sound unsure.

  “It’s Jules… I went to see Liza, spur of the moment, but she wasn’t there. She’s left him apparently. He didn’t look like he’s taking it well.”

  “You’re joking?” I knew things were hard, but I didn’t realise they were that bad.

  “I wish I were joking. They have two little babies.”

  “I’ll try and get hold of her, she’ll have gone to her parents. I might pop there after work.”

  “I felt awful for him, a stranger turning up, inviting herself into their business! If only I’d known.”

  “Well she hasn’t even said anything to me so what does that tell you?”

  “I’ll leave it with you, Hetty.”

  “No worries.”

  We hang up and I don’t know what to think. Liza’s not got a rebellious bone in her entire body. For her to have upped and left him, it must be bad. She loves that man to bits.

  I fire off a quick text to her: I’m coming round after work.

  She replies: I’m at Mum and Dad’s.

  I know.

  Oh.

  Yeah. See you then.

  I shouldn’t have told her to seek other friends like herself, i.e. married and with kids. If I’d just been around for her a bit more lately, perhaps it wouldn’t have got to this stage, perhaps I’d have been able to convince her to work things out with him.

  Thinking quickly, I send a text to Joe: Liza’s left her hubby so I’m gonna go round the ’rents tonight and talk to her. Not sure how long I’ll be. Might be best you stay home.xxx

  Oh, sorry to hear that, he replies, I’ll keep my phone next to me in case you need me.xx

  Love you so much xx

  Love you too xxx

  I enjoy the drive up to their house in Dunswell just outside Beverley. It’s a tiny but beautiful little village with a great furniture warehouse and a huge garden centre on the doorstep. With only three bedrooms to their house, though, I imagine it’s a squeeze at the moment as I pull up to my foster parents’ semi-detached property. John opens the door to me with a sad look in his eyes. I sense an atmosphere and I haven’t even stepped across the threshold yet.

  “How is she?” I mutter.

  He gives me one of those slight shakes of the head, that fatherly, ‘I don’t want to say’ look.

  Carol chases out of the living room towards me, throwing her arms around me. Her boundless affection took a lot of getting used to when I first moved in with them when I was fifteen. Carol was a hugger. Hugs before leaving for school, hugs when we arrived home from school, hugs when we got our period and it hurt. Hugs at the doctor’s or the dentist. She hugged me despite the fact I was clearly uncomfortable being hugged. Nowadays I am a lot more used to all the hugging.

  “She’s pretty delicate,” Carol warns.

  “Is she okay? I mean…” I can’t deal with real strife. I just can’t. If she’s ready to file for divorce, I’ll say something stupid which will only make things worse. Good at the counselling stuff, crap at watching from the sidelines as someone makes a decision so weighty.

  “Hey you,” I say, when she appears in the hallway.

  She’s in tears before she reaches me, pressing her tiny little body into the towering stature that is me. It was never hard for people to guess that I was either a friend of the family or indeed, a kid on loan.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I say, because I can’t do this with their eyes watching me. Eyes that are pleading with me to save my friend from this agony, wave a magic wand and make it all better.

  In her old room, Rupert’s asleep in a crib while their elder child, Emily must be downstairs with her grandparents.

  “Why didn’t you ring me before you did this?”

  “Oh,” she sighs, “you’re so happy with Joe, I didn’t want to spoil things… I didn’t want to intrude. You’ve had enough sadness in your life, you should be happy for a change.”

  “That’s bollocks and you know it! You just didn’t want me telling you that you were making a mistake.”

  She gawps, as if I’ve crossed a line. But in her eyes, I see that she knows I’m right.

  “Maybe…”

  “Why did you leave him? When did you leave him?”

  “I tried talking to him. I said he needs to change a nappy now and again, he needs to do the shopping or take one of the kids for a walk or to the park. It’s fallen on deaf ears! He reckoned I wouldn’t leave him, he said I was too in love with him to leave him… well, I’ve left him.”

  “What? He’s never done the shopping for you, or taken Emily or Rupert to the park? Ever?”

  For some reason I always thought Liza was having a bit of a whine when she complained about him… but this. I mean, since having Joe in my life, I’ve learnt what love is.

  She shakes her head. “Always says he’s gotta go training, or has someone to meet, or somewhere to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone else, you know.”

  “This is so crap that he’s made you feel like this, he doesn’t deserve you Liza. He really doesn’t.”

  She lifts her tiny chin towards me, takes a deep breath and announces, “I’m going to ask for a divorce.”

  There’s a vein in her forehead that twitches. Then her chin starts wobbling. I pull her in close and try to think of words that won’t sound patronising or ignorant. Might be best to say nothing, but when she starts full-on crying, I realise I have to think of something to say to this lovely person who’s only twenty-three and will soon be divorced and left with two kids to feed on her lonesome.

  “Hey, if you think you’d be happier without him, then you’re making the best decision for you all. Your children do not want to see their mummy unhappy, they don’t deserve to grow up with that, do they?”

  She nods her head against me.
“I would be happier, you’re right.”

  Downstairs there’s a commotion as someone pounds on the door outside. Carol and John are heard conferring and Emily starts shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Liza looks at me with such surprise, as if she never believed he would ever come chasing after her. Her gleeful expression is quickly replaced by staunch resolve as we overhear her parents letting Gage onto the property.

  There’s a tap on the bedroom door and I whisper to Liza, “Let me make him squirm, first.”

  I throw open the door and fill the frame. Gage is only 5’5” so he’s a lot shorter than me even though he’s much wider of course.

  “What are you doing here, loser?”

  He tries to look past me to Liza but I pull the door against me, so he has to deal with me first. He has to look up to see into my eyes from his position beneath me.

  “I’m here to put things right, I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

  “You have, have you?” I laugh inside but don’t show it, this guy’s a bloody joke.

  He stands his ground, but all fifteen stone of him can’t compete with a best friend with her nails out for the girl he’s hurt.

  “I’ve been selfish, I know that. But it’s hard when all your mates still have their freedom and you start to wonder if you’re missing out on things.”

  “What about Liza, hmm? Don’t you think she’s missed out on things, eh? Or have you forgotten that she’s ten times cleverer than you and would be a doctor of English already if you’d put on a fucking prophylactic.”

  Liza can’t help but snicker behind me. Her laughter seems to give him hope but I rise to the challenge of being warden of this girl’s heart, standing firmly in his way, no expression in my eyes.

  “Yeah, she’s too good for me, always has been,” he says, bowing his head.

  I look back at her and she seems so happy to hear just these few words from him. She gives a slight nod and I make a decision.

  “You’re gonna take the kids home tonight and me and Liz are gonna go out and have a drink, then you can see it from her perspective, all right? Then she’ll decide whether you’re a fucking deadbeat worth not a crumb or a man she could maybe forgive in time… if you sort out your sorry arse.”

  He nods slowly, defeated.

  “Good. Now, shoo. Carol will bring Rupert down in a minute and you can march yourself back home to merry hell.”

  He turns, his footsteps heavy on the stairs as he goes back down. I return to the bedroom, shutting us inside.

  “Wonder what made him so… servile?” Liza looks shocked.

  “Who cares? Let’s go to mine and get dolled up. The sucker looked sorry enough. Pity he’ll be sorrier before the night is out, the pig.”

  We both laugh loudly.

  She high-fives me and soon we’re helping Carol get Rupert in his baby carrier for Daddy to take him home for some fun and games. The sod.

  “Knew everything would be all right,” Carol says, winking at me.

  “Yeah… yeah…”

  After we see Gage leave the property in his Audi, two kids in tow, Liza and me leave the property in my Citroen.

  “Are we really doing this?” she asks. “I haven’t had a night out in donkey’s.”

  “We really are. Welcome back to the world and occasional relief from mummy duties.”

  As we get on the road, she remarks, “I reckon that’s what it is. Just a couple of days at Mum’s, you know? And I’m feeling better already. I’ve just not had anyone looking after me.”

  “That’s the problem, Liz.”

  “What?”

  “Nobody thinks you need looking after, you’re so bloody strong-willed.”

  “I take that as a compliment.”

  “Do. I wish I had half your guts.”

  “Thanks, Het. That means a lot you know.”

  “Soak it up, babe.”

  We laugh before I crank up the radio when Birdy’s ‘Keeping Your Head Up’ comes on. God, I wish I had a fag right now.

  WE’RE awaiting some partners in crime in my living room. I roped Babs and Kerry into joining us. We’re also waiting on the old diva herself, Jules Jones. I said I needed her for moral support when I rang her earlier. I overheard Warrick in the background telling her to go out and enjoy herself but not to drink too much on a school night.

  The doorbell goes and I open it to find all three have arrived at once.

  “Oh babe,” Babs says to Liza.

  “Hun,” Kerry adds.

  Liza’s eyes burn fiercely and she bursts into tears. “I can’t believe you’re all here for me! It doesn’t make sense.”

  “We always will be, Liza,” Jules says softly.

  “Crank it down woman, there’s beer and bad dance moves to be had outside them doors. Grab your purse and a tissue. We’ll be crying laughing soon enough.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and the others follow me outside.

  I’m locking up as I ask, “Kez, where’s good to start do you reckon?”

  She looks at me. “There’s this super hot guy who works behind the bar in Larkin’s. Babs is well shy of asking him out, though.”

  I chuckle. “We’re off there, then. Any gripes? Shove ’em back down the pie holes.”

  I link my arms through Jules to the left, Liza to the right. Babs and Kerry talk amongst themselves behind us as we get underway. It’s only five minutes’ walk but in the shoes Liza’s wearing, it probably feels like a marathon. Me and Jules are both sensibly wearing flats, me in my patent-leather Doc Martens and Jules in some cute pointy-toed shoes with the tiniest of kitten heels.

  “Come on girls, that beer isn’t going to drink itself,” I shout to Babs and Kerry who are lagging behind. I can tell Babs is trying to talk Kerry out of going. She looks frightened.

  “Am I to be baptised by fire on this night out?” Jules looks past me at Liza. “I’ve never been drinking with Hetty before. Not sure I’ll survive.”

  “You’ll not survive, she has those legs to store all the alcohol in. She’s never met anyone who can out-drink her.”

  “Too right,” I agree.

  We arrive outside the doors. It’s a quiet night, being that all the kids are down at the student union nightclub. Which is good. Means this night is ours for the taking. When Kerry and Babs catch up, I put my arm through Babs’ and shove her inside the doors. There behind the bar is a buff Asian guy who immediately clocks us.

  “That him?” I whisper to Babs.

  “See any other hotties in here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right.”

  We rock up to the bar and I order, “A jug, vat, bucket, whatever is your biggest vessel for alcohol in the place, hopefully containing some sort of mojito-style drink of some kind, please barman. And five glasses.”

  “Coming right up,” he answers, in an American accent.

  I watch her heart start to pound and she fans herself.

  “She’s such a gobby cow, this one,” Kerry remarks, looking at me.

  I ignore this.

  When he brings over our massive jug of alcohol, complete with five glasses, he takes my money in his fingers but I keep hold of the note, surprising him. Leaning over the bar, I ask, “Does a phone number for blonde bombshell here come with the drink?”

  He chuckles, his cheeks flaring. “I don’t see why not.”

  I can tell from the way he can hardly look at her without blushing that he likes her too.

  He’s handing me the scrap of paper, so I shake my head at him. “Naw, not for me pal. Hand it to the blonde.”

  I turn my back and grab a straw, beginning to sip from the jug. Everyone watches on with mortification as the barman makes an advance around the bar to greet Babs.

  “Hey sweetheart, I’m Trey.”

  I hear a kiss on each cheek, but I keep my back turned, trying to stay out of it – muffling my large personality which often gets in the way.

  “Here’s my number, let me have yours and we’ll do something.”<
br />
  “Great… oh…. great.”

  “Tell him your fucking name,” I mutter under my breath in her ear.

  “I’m Babs, well… it’s a nickname, love.”

  “Babs?”

  “I don’t know… just got called it once, sort of stuck. You can call me that or Naomi, either works for me.”

  “Naomi, beautiful name.” I turn and see him dazzling her with that smile of his. “Have a good night, girls.”

  We slide over to a booth and I pour our drinks into glasses while Liza tries to take account of how much I’ve already drunk through the straw. Probably not much, but she can’t help herself being Mum.

  “You’re insane,” Babs accuses me, “but I love you.”

  “Text the stupid twat, he’s got a nice butt. Tell him he’s got a nice butt.”

  “I’m not that kind of girl,” she rebukes, “and besides, I’ll text him tomorrow after he’s had time to let the Babsminator sink into his heart.”

  Jules laughs loudly. “You kids these days. We were so clueless in my generation, and every generation before that in fact.”

  “Right?” I exclaim. “And you still managed to get a decent fella. Must have been fate.”

  “I like to think so,” Jules replies, guzzling her drink.

  “Uh-oh,” Liza remarks, noting how quickly Jules is also drinking.

  “She’s no competition,” I decide.

  “Can drink Warrick under the table any day of the week,” Jules says, a wrinkle in her nose, sitting back in her seat like a guy.

  I snicker. “A mouse… no… in fact, a tiny fly could drink him under the table.”

  Jules laughs. “True.”

  “Okay.” Liza starts, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m just gonna get this out there. Right?” She’s looking at me, so I nod. “You and Joe, is it weird? You’re basically shagging a younger version of his dad.”

  It’s so good to see Liza like this so I don’t bray her for saying something I would normally bray her for, plus everyone’s laughing and this will boost her confidence again, for sure.

  “Pipe down,” I warn them all, “pipe fucking down. I will have order.” They all quieten down and I tell them, “It’s not weird at all because Joe’s like his dad, but not. He’s got these little ways that make him quite distinct and separate. I’ve known Warrick a lot of years but Joe’s a lot different.”