Angel

by Kate Mitchell

  ‘Why don’t you have a lie-down?’ I suggested while my head was whizzing round as I tried to comprehend her and what she had done.

  The first sensation was one of relief that the baby had not actually been John’s. Double-dealing John had now been cheated. Although as he had outwitted me, she had outwitted him. And yet she was going to pass him off to John as his… Oh, if only John had hung on that bit longer then he would have realized about her? And then he would have remembered about me. Surely, I had been more loyal, more honest than she had been and could ever be.

  ‘No!’ she said abruptly as if she had only just grasped what I had previously suggested to her. She snarled like an animal. ‘You lie down. It’s time for lunch. And I’m going to have something to eat.’ She stood and tottered with a strong resolve towards the door motivated now by the thought of food.

  I followed her not right away but several minutes later. Since I had found out what happened and how John had duped me, I had felt the fool. My looks had gone, although only until I had money. My status had diminished, I was now unemployable. In the last six months, I had lost a great deal of pride. Although I told myself that nothing would get me down and that I would not be defeated, I acknowledged I had suffered a collapse of self-respect and confidence. But finding this had happened to John seemed to be something exquisite in the ivory fingers of karma.

  I found her eating at the dining table with a monstrous plate of food before her. I sat down and looked at my empty plate and then surveyed the dishes of food along the table. So, she had known about me, when John and I were married. Of course, she had, for he needed to explain his absences away from her.

  And yet, she knew of my existence and suffered no guilt about taking my husband away from me. I don’t know why I should have been surprised about her knowledge of my existence. Of course, John would have told her, as I'm sure that he would also have told her a great deal of things about me. But would he have told her the truth about me? Would he have told her that once we had been in love and that if I was not exactly beautiful, I was known as being vivacious and attractive? Would he have told her that I was also bright and smart? Somehow, I did not think so. Somehow, I think he would have told her the things that she wanted to hear. That I had betrayed him for another, that I preferred my friends to spending time with him and that we did not make love anymore. But he would not have told her why I preferred my friends because John was quite happy reading a book or playing his stupid detective board games, in which he could commit the perfect crime. He would rather do anything other than talk with me.

  But it was to Angel that John had turned to and while I had formed this opinion of her simply because she was spoilt, naïve and very silly. She had built her image as a child which people would choose to protect and not expose to life’s ugly truths. The truth was that John had also seen in her what he had failed to find in me. He had seen her as being vulnerable and helpless and in return, he had given her plenty of money to make up for him being married. He had protected her well, but he failed to protect himself from her.

  During those five minutes, while I sat at the table comparing my past with this present, it became apparent what she had consumed of my life with John. She had eaten her fill of him and spat out the part that was not palatable, which was me. And now she was left with a clear table of results, which meant her having it all. As surely as she was eating now, she had symbolically eaten her way through our married lives.

  ‘I’m always happy when I’m eating,’ she said, now dabbing the corners of her lips, a smile was now brushed on by her napkin. ‘Johnnikins always told me that he liked to see a pretty woman with a good appetite. But you’ve not eaten anything!’ she looked aghast; she had noticed my clean, empty plate. ‘Johnnikins would have never liked you. Don’t you ever get hungry?’

  ‘Seldom, but don’t let me stop you eating.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t. Nothing ever stops me from eating. If you don’t eat, you die. And I really believe it,’ her big blue eyes became visionary as though she were looking somewhere into the future. ‘The more I eat, the more life I will have,’ she nodded as if in agreement with herself, and then she bobbed her head to one side. ‘Johnnikins said a funny thing to me once, he said that I was eating my way to heaven… me being called Angel, wasn’t that clever of him?’ a giggle forked its happiness in the shape of another potato to make its way into the ever-opening and closing mouth of Angel.

  Dear deceitful John had hated me smoking. His disapproval came in the manner of a sideway look from his doleful eyes. But then he came to disapprove of virtually everything I did towards the end of our married life. Not that it stopped me from doing what I wanted, not that I sought his approval.

  But not having a cigarette to settle my nerves, I had this strong inclination to scream at her, a scream which would have revealed everything. I wanted to tell her that I had been that ‘horrid, spiteful wife,’ and that never in her wildest dreams would she be able to pass off that ugly pink thing upstairs as John’s baby because John was sterile.

  But as I visualized the unraveling of this rapturous daydream ever occurring, the fancy melted into sober reality. And then, what would happen next? Would the pink blancmange scream? Would she take one of those neglected roast potatoes and hurl it at me? In a way, it would have been interesting to see how she might have reacted. Obviously, whatever would happen in that pink brain of hers, the next thing she would do would be to ring for her staff? And I know what would happen next. The first to appear would be that big oafish man whom I had seen in the hallway; he would acquaint himself to the scruff of my neck and release me through the front door, if I was lucky, or if not, the back exit.

  For once my unmasking had been accomplished and after I had divested myself with the satisfaction of my unveiling. I would be promptly dispatched to return home in the same manner in which I came, broke. No, this would not do. She had been lucky so far, but I was clever. By staying mute about my identity and by using my wits, I would in time, be able to get myself a sizeable share of that inheritance, which John had left her and in truth, was half mine.

  ‘That watch,’ I began in a meddling sounding voice, ‘the one I said I had to give you.’ She looked up at me, renewed interest in her eyes. ‘Well, I took it to the jewelers for an examination. Unfortunately, it’s a fake. It’s not worth anything.’

  ‘I wasn’t really bothered about that silly watch. It doesn’t surprise me that it’s fake. John used to tell me that she had no taste, especially where clothes were concerned. I would only have dumped the watch. You can keep it.’

  I did not believe her, despite what John had done to me he would never tell another woman that I had no taste knowing that I worked in the fashion and beauty industry. One thing I did know about John and that was he knew how passionate I was about my work.

  She was lying, making things up to make herself look good in her eyes and evidently, in mine too. If she knew who she was really talking to, if she did know, I suspect she would still lie. It was her nature. She lived in an ideal world of her own making, and I had to be the monster that John had run away from to find this beauty.

  My concealed identity extolled hard on my knowledge, persuading me that I could see her for what she was. It did not matter that she believed that the entire world was put there for her benefit, that people’s lives revolved around her and her wants and wishes. It did not matter, and I must forget about it for I would win. It was this thought which kept me calm, which held my tongue from doing self-harm. It was obvious that I would win in the end. The bigger the ego, the bigger the crash, and she had one hell of a big ego that needed to be punctured.

  ‘If knowing about the watch, why did you ask me to come then?’ I asked cautiously.

  ‘Well,’ she began, in a dulcet voice trying her best to look as cute as possible. ‘You sounded so nice and friendly, and you seemed to understand my problems so well without blaming me, or trying to make me feel awful that I felt as if I knew you in
some way. I thought you could stay and keep me company because sometimes I get really fed-up with life being so hard on me. It was a relief when I saw you especially seeing that you weren’t pretty. Although you are nice looking in a funny sort of way. But not in the way men like. You are not as pretty as me, which would be bad as quite pretty people never like me, I don’t know why.’

  ‘You’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking.’

  ‘Oh yes I had too, you see, I’m all alone.’

  ‘You’re not totally alone. You have your baby upstairs, your toy-soldier. By the way, what is his name?’ it was unbearable for me to call him by that ridiculous name.

  ‘That is his name. Toy-soldier, Toy for short. I named him myself.’

  ‘Really?’ without my permission, my eyebrow raised themselves, ‘How peculiar, I mean, how clever.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I thought. Johnikins would have approved. I am clever, but I try not to show it too often because men don’t like women to be too clever. Johnikins told me that his horrid wife became a real bitch when she thought she was being clever. Well, she wasn’t so clever in the end was she? Because she lost her husband to me.’ She looked so pleased and smug that I could have slapped her conceited, arrogant face there and then.

  Again, came this compulsion to shout aloud and educate her to the fact that it was I who divorced him and not the other way around. He had not walked out on me; I had walked out on him. But what did it signify except to let her know that I was John’s ex-wife?

  It is amazing to think back and remember how I used to be, anything would make this temper of mine, gush and flare into a sudden bonfire. But now, I had found self-control. I found I could damp down the flames of my ardor, at least on the surface with a grace that I had not supposed existed within me. I reasoned that it was not because I had suddenly changed my personality, but being financially depleted was a sure way of curbing my temper regardless of my indignation. The voice of money chats in many languages and this way would be more profitable.

  ‘You are staying, aren’t you?’ she asked breaking into my revelries. ‘Only Pesker, when he bought you, told me you didn’t bring any luggage with you.’

  ‘What, staying now? Do you mean sleeping here, overnight?’ I was flustered.

  ‘Yes. You don’t want to go back to that horrid little flat, do you? It’s much nicer here, more room. I expect you have to cook all your own food in that nasty little flat of yours. I shouldn’t think you have the space to keep even one servant.’

  ‘Or the money,’ volunteered my mouth.

  ‘Exactly! Then you’ll stay? Good.’

  I had not said one way or another, but she took it that I would, I suppose she was not used to having anyone refusing her wishes. ‘I have plenty of nightdresses that I haven’t worn, so you can keep some if you want unless,’ she hesitated and frowned, ‘unless you wear those men’s things, pajamas I mean.’ Her voice stunk of disgust.

  ‘In actual fact, I don’t wear anything. Never have, never will. I sleep completely in the…’

  ‘Oh don’t, that’s rude.’ She said throwing her hands to cover up her ears.

  ‘You should try it,’ I answered back. It was the nearest thing to a laugh since I had met her, in truth, I had not laughed at all since the accident. ‘It’s really quite liberating.’ I was enjoying myself.

  ‘Liberated! That’s why you haven’t got a man. You’re a liberated woman and men don’t like that. You’ve got to be clever like me and keep yourself pretty and covered up.’

  Again, and again came the idea that she was not real. No one ever behaved as she did, she was an enigma. Yet, I had the feeling that this was a pretense. She was not as silly and stupid as she made herself to be, which meant that I should be more cautious in my dealings with her.

  The perfect crime John had said once to me, looking up from the table where he had set out his newest board game, is about portrayal and illusion. Tell people one thing but do something else. In his hand he was holding one of those cutout caricature cardboard figures, dressed as an archetypal villain. This little figure was holding a gun and showing that he was ready and prepared to shoot his victim. And there was the prison, a printed image on the board, on which John placed this cardboard figure. But, continued John after he laid the figure in the prison image, the best defense is not to get caught. He then, uncharacteristically, winked at me and smiled. Was he trying to tell me something?

  But I never understood what John meant. He was always buying these expensive games to solve a mystery. Infuriating because he worked for a games company and brought his work home with him. Games on lots of subjects and his favorite for at least two years had been the wars and massacres of great leaders and kings. Had John, in his own way, been trying to educate me about something? Or was I now, playing with my own jigsaw puzzle and trying to fit my shapes together. Perhaps I was pressing shapes together where they should not have gone.

  Looking at Angel, I was beginning to wonder.

  7

  When had the affair begun between my husband and this Angel? I thought back to the heydey of our marriage when neither of us could bear to be away from each other. When my eyes bounced with magic upon seeing him. When I held on to everything he said as if it was the philosophy of my life. I believe that it lasted two years and bang, it was gone, the honeymoon was over. I don't remember the actual moment when it happened, except that I awoke one day to see that my prince was just a man. Had I ceased to become that princess to him? It was possible, yet sad. I suppose it was then that our routine held the marriage together.

  Was it then he noticed that I was looking at him with a critical eye? That when I mentioned to him about the photoshoot and that the four young male models had definitely been exercising as they looked super fit. Did he notice that I was not exactly judging him, but just drawing an innocent comparison to the way they looked and the healthiness of youth? And what was wrong with that? But it didn't mean that I was leaving him or betraying him, I was still married to him. Perhaps I should have got out of our marriage then. Perhaps there were a lot of things I should have done and now looking back, I can see the tell-tale signs where I might have gone wrong.

  But the problem was, I never noticed, when John took the side fork off our branch line of married life to go his own way.

  I suppose, in retrospect, he must have minded when I telephoned to say that the magazine was running late and I was needed, so he should have his dinner on his own.

  But what does that matter? It's all in the past now. And John had picked someone he believed could be the person, who I could not. He fell in love with a doll. But what a doll. There nothing in her empty head except herself.

  Had John really come to know her? I wondered if he had looked further than the surface area of her face and body? It appeared very likely that John had not spent as much time in her company as she tried to make me believe.

  But now I was here, and I knew beyond doubt that Miss Sugar was not as sweet as she made herself appear. Already deceit had shown in her baby upstairs, he was not John's. Marriage, what was it really all about? I was married to my job, while John was married to a fantasy that one day he knew would happen. So, while I was out socializing with my friends, he was holding her in his arms, putting his party-kisses on to her plump pink lips and waiting for me to cave into the intentional boredom.

  There was a time when I wanted him, I mean, really wanted him because I lied to him, but that was when I was nineteen and surely forgivable. I only did it because he was leaving university, going to work for a large business firm, and I thought I was going to lose him as he was so terribly handsome in those days, so I told him I was pregnant.

  ‘Pregnant!’ he said looking shocked. But he married me anyway. It was several years later before he told me that he was sterile. The only reason he did, was because I was on the pill and had forgotten to take it and was in a state of panic about the possibility of having an unwanted child. He said, ‘There’s no need to take
any more of those pills darling, I am infertile.’ That was that; nothing more was ever said about it again. I stopped taking the pill, and he stopped feeling guilty. But perhaps, secretly all along, he hankered for a child, she could give it to him although he would not be the child’s biological father.

  There she sat with a cigarette holder in her mouth. Where was the truth anymore in anything?

  A little pucker risked itself across her brow. ‘I hope you’re not going to be one of those who object to natural acts of love?’ a show of petulance because I had wandered off for a while in my thoughts.

  ‘Oh no, I was just thinking how beautiful you looked and what a pity it was that you were stuck out here away from everybody. What made you say that?’ I was trying to smile and be very relaxed.

  ‘The way that you look at me sometimes.’

  I was still smiling, but I realized quickly that I had to be careful.

  ‘You look at me as if you distrust me.’

  ‘Me, distrust you, never.’ Suffering shock greatly, I realized that as much as I was watching and analyzing her, so she was also examining me. ‘I just wonder about you sometimes, as you must do about me.’

  ‘Yes, I wondered about the gold watch,’ her big blue eyes were staring at me, blinking and staring. ‘Did you really find a gold watch?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she had caught me out, ‘I didn't know what to do with it. The estate agents told me to leave it with them, and that they would forward it on to you and I suppose, I was bored and perhaps a little nosy. And yes, if you want to know the truth, if there had been a reward, it would have helped me out. You see, the truth is, I'm very broke at the moment.’

  Listening very attentively to everything I said with her head to one side, she was digesting my interesting story, because it was not all a lie.