I was unconvinced of my ability to portray the person I said I was, or rather who Hattie thought I was. And I was beginning to realize that pretending to be someone else was far different and more difficult to carry out than to imagine in the pleasant and safe confines of one's mind. So far, I had this hazy view of myself as being an actor in some weird reality play. But in this play, I had no script except the one I was making up minute by minute. I looked at the porridge and then at Hattie, who was now busily eating, confident I would sort out his problem.
The two big crimes in life are, the love of money and the love of someone else’s, especially when it is out of one's own orbit. I expect there are other criminal desires in life, but for now, my life seemed to be focused on these two.
Excusing myself from the table, I left the orange juice and the porridge and picked up my coffee to return back to my room. It occurred to me as I climbed the stairs that I had not been very clever with my life. I had gone through it, driven by my wants. The best policy is to be cautious and wait until the other person moves, but I am not a chess player.
In front of me was my first hurdle. Everything up until now had been motivated by want, revenge, and anger, and in this too, I had been reckless. Before the awful accident happened, unlike John I was never superstitious, worry was a vanity. When life is going along well, there is no need to be nervous. But I now realized I had run out of my good luck and straight into bad karma, and it was all of my own creation.
My biggest problem had been inactivity. Hating it in myself but especially in others. What was the point of being lazy? What was the point in doing nothing? But now, I can see what the point was for John had used this against me. He had been working quietly and cleverly behind the lines and waiting patiently for me to crack.
And so now I have nothing to do, I realize now the reason for my activity because there is a side to me that is meddlesome. Molly, I believe had been given all the sweetness in life while I had been given the devil's tail and horns. I was beginning to hate with a vengeance how I could have been so stupid to throw everything away? What a trophy I was for John's lawyer, and how sneaky and mean and underhanded John had been to abandon me with nothing.
What had been my fault was my desire to get on in life, for us both to have a good life together, surely isn't that what everyone wants when one marries? An easy life, a life measured in happiness through our successes; it’s the only true guarantee of contentment.
I would take the baby and ask for a car and go to the town library, it's about time J.J is introduced into the real world of literature.
In my reverie with thoughts about the past and how bitterly I had been treated, I had forgotten where I was. I walked past my room, and J'J's to the other side of the house, to the center part of the house where Angel's rooms were. Her door was not quite pulled too. I had always had excellent hearing. It's odd, John had said to me once that I had selective hearing, in that I only heard what I wanted to here. At the time, it made me laugh because this criticism had come straight after when John had asked me whether I had seen some book on poetry, the one he had since his school days because he could not find it. School, was the word prominent to my hearing, and I had interpreted it accordingly, by telling him that the schools were closed for the Christmas holidays. It was the first time in our marriage that he was upset with me.
It's just a book, I said laughing for it just seemed pretty ludicrous to me that someone could have affection and a relationship concerning a book.
‘I need to know Angus darling, how much you feel about me,’ Angel was speaking on the telephone. ‘I’m having problems and I need your help. Remember, we are special to each other.’ And then she stood to walk taking the telephone with her.
Even with my excellent hearing, there was only so much range to my reach. Dare I push her bedroom door open, just a fraction to gain the rest of her conversation. Knowing what she was saying could be construed as important to my investigations so I could pin her down to a bargain. But this wasn’t the only reason why I wanted to have my ear in this conversation. I was also eaten up by curiosity and the vileness of her character to know more in order to magnify my hatred.
Nosiness can be an asset in certain circumstances.
‘I came to see you the day before yesterday,’ carried on Angel. ‘And yes, you do remember because you told that man to tell me to go away. It’s me Angus, me. I don’t want to hear any of your excuses.’
I had pushed too hard, and the door clicked. Instantly, Angel’s eyes flashed to the door. My reflexes have always been good, but they didn’t match my quick evacuation. I was gone in a split second. It could be something to do with me being slim now that I had regained my wraithlike shape. There are a great many advantages to being slight. In comparison, I have noticed when Angel walks, her boobs, no matter how well strapped they are, bounce. Three bounces to each second with every step she takes. Before she got to the door, I had slipped light-footed back to J. J’s room. If she followed me here, she’d hear a show of baby noises coming from me.
‘I'm taking you out young man,’ I said putting my hands into his crib to take the child who had been watching me with a deal of reserved inquisitiveness. ‘We are going to get ourselves some culture.’
I was waiting for Angel to come in with her questions. Her heavy perfume, which she applied too liberally could be smelled a distance away. In my estimation, I judged her to be roughly in her early thirties, somewhere around thirty-one or even thirty-two. Give her another fifteen years or even less, and the pretty pink blancmange would have melted. I hoped she had thought about her future and put enough by to keep her afloat. But of course, she had; it was me who had been negligent in this department.
Carrying J.J into the library, I realized he too was becoming heavy although, perhaps he always was a weight, since he seemed to relish his food at any given opportunity. This had to be watched, and I blamed Mary and the abundance of food for this. Her reasoning could have been that eating makes a person tired, it was a good way to shut him up. But eating too much leads to obesity, diabetes and heart problems and I was thinking of Angel when I thought this. Very well, she may have big tits and a soft round bum, and her cheeks might be full and pink for the moment, but age gives over to gravity. She won't be able to sustain her looks forever.
Little J.J joined the library, although there was some surprise when I told the reception that he wanted to join. We had this conversation about, did I mean myself? No, I did not mean myself, I was very emphatic by whom I meant.
At his age, he was restricted to two books a month. After acknowledging this piece of information, I then asked where the legal section was. J.J sat on my knees as I read out the conditions made for a person to visit a prison. I asked for a piece of paper and a pen and began writing the requisites for making a prison visit.
‘Okay,’ I said to Hattie when I arrived home. ‘I will need his full name and prison number.’
‘You'll go?’ he was astonished and alerted by excitement as if I had given him the much-needed opportunity.
‘I didn't say I wouldn't go. But first, I had to find out where I stood, I couldn't let the police know what I was up to, there would be questions asked, so I'm going to do this under another name.’
When Hattie came back with the details I asked for, I thought it was my turn to return the favor with some questions surfacing in my mind. But on retrospection, I thought I would leave that until I had something worthwhile, I could give him for the information I needed.
11
It was the following week before I could make the prison visit, my name had to be forwarded but before that, Hattie had to warn Jacob Barba about my visit. From what I gathered Hattie told Jacob Barba that I was someone who wanted to talk to him. The reason for my interest and chat was left in mystery, this was the bait so he would accept me as a visitor. As for Angel, this was another excuse and something else Hattie had come up with. It is amazing how creative the mind is when something is
desperately wanted. I don't think I have used half of my mind until just lately - inventing and creating to get that step forward to what I want. I suppose until now, you could say I had been very lucky. Talking myself into a good job in a magazine agency. I worked hard and got promoted quickly and accordingly to how much work and my life went into it. And as for John, well, it wasn't difficult to get John, I had everything going for me. I was young and attractively vivacious, and I was fascinating and interesting.
Perhaps, this was my downfall, I had been unfortunate by being very attractive and lucky. People who don't have these advantages do not know how lucky they are. They learn from an early age what it is to struggle to get what they want.
In our discussion about employment, there had been no mention of holidays and so, I suppose, Angel came to assume that I would be there looking after her son just as if I was her personal slave. But there had been other things which had changed concerning Angel, she was not so sure about herself as she once was. I detected a lack of confidence, or could it be fear? Whatever it was, I felt I was under suspicion.
Another visit out, so quickly after the first was viewed with a great deal of mistrust, I left Hattie to give a reason for my outing. Apparently, it was Angel's birthday in a couple of weeks. Hattie told Angel that he had inadvertently mentioned this to me, and I in my enthusiasm and desire to make Angel happy wanted to go and buy her a present.
It was a chilly day when Pesker dropped me off at the train station, I bought my ticket and went and waited on the platform. I had six minutes to wait, and I was nervous. My memory of October was that it was usually friendly, the wealth of autumn still being visible in the gold of the trees. But wearing a brown penciled lined skirt with matching blouse and tights was something I was beginning to regret. I hankered for my jeans and an affectionate big woolly jumper.
It was just last year I had found out that the winter months could be so cold. Central heating and warm cars were a fact of life until my income and its resources abandoned me. My shapely slim legs were becoming colder by the minute and my knickers, which were the latest of a collection that I had been able to afford in my heydey was not doing its supposed job of protection. Perhaps it was the cold that froze the image of John in my mind, smiling at me while he wore his tatty old brown dressing gown. I could almost see his finger wagging at me, telling me this is what happens when one doesn't dress up for the cold. In my high heels, another remnant from the past and somehow not as comfortable as I once remembered them, I began pacing the platform to regain the warm energy which was rapidly discharging.
The train came in on time, and I took my seat. Gone were the days when I traveled first-class. But it would be only temporary I told myself rubbing my ankles. Feeling the warm heat from the fans beneath the seats creeping around every aspect of my legs. Surprising what one will do to make the most of the warmth. I opened my legs a little feeling it rising to my panties, it was a moment for smiles.
For old time sake, before going on to the platform, the busy train stationers had an interesting supply of newspapers and magazines. I saw my old magazine and with a mixed sense of hurt and loyalty, I bought one. Now sitting back and crossing my leg over the other, I began flicking through the glossy magazine. There is nothing like a bit of constructive or sometimes destructive criticism to raise the spirits.
Well, they had certainly lowered their standards in the short time I had left their columns. A quick perusal came to a halt for closer examination. Who picked these models, their pose said nothing except that they were simply coat hangers? You need girls and boys with life with energy in their eyes to say isn't this wonderful, do you like what I'm wearing, and you too could look the way I do.
These girls were far too skinny and wearing dark grey suggested they were going to a funeral. They were certainly not giving me ideas for a winter wedding. And when should fostering ever be a good idea for our readers to consider? What market were they aiming for? If they carry on like this, they would be another Happy Housewife. Our women readers were obviously housewives, but they needn’t be reminded of this. They needed to dream, they needed glamour. Oh no, people don't have to grow old or resign from life, not if they did not want to. Reading this was giving me ideas for the magazine or consultancy agency when I get the money. Perhaps it was just as well I left when I did.
In the taxi paid by Hattie, I went through his questions and thoughts on what he wanted me to say. Somehow, I did not think this interview was going to be simple. If Jacob Barba hadn’t wanted to see Hattie, then there was little chance he wanted to see me.
Outside the big wooden doors, I stood in a queue of people waiting to go in. The big doors remained shut, while a little door to the side with a man in a dark uniform bid us enter. I followed the others to another queue, where a man was sitting at a table taking our names and ticking them off. Two other officers were standing and waiting and while I was in the queue and waiting to give my name, I saw visitors were being searched. Never in my life had I been frisked. It was an interesting experience.
This was a side of life that I felt ill at ease with. To me, these types of people were definitely on another orbit. I an alien in their midst while they were obviously in their own environment, calling to each other and saying hello to the prison guards.
‘I'm looking for Jacob Barba,’ my heart was beating as I asked the guard.
He looked me in the face as if he also thought that I should not be here either. I wondered what Molly would think if she knew I was here?
Pointing to a cheap, cafe-like table, he told me to go and wait there. Touching my hair as I crossed, I wondered how many criminals had sat here before. Pulling out a chair, I sat down on the hard wooden seat. Was I a criminal by coming to visit him? This was not my thing.
Sitting self-consciously, I was aware I stood out amongst the others. These people were eager to see their criminal husbands, boyfriends, fathers or brothers. It was part of the embroidery of their lives to have their males locked up. Crossing my legs and folding my arms, I waited; what would happen next? From now on I would keep my eyes to myself, I did not want to be associated with these people. They were the losers in life, but I had this sneaky feeling that I already was. There were too many similarities with these people and me.
And then on the horizon of my vision, an officer with someone was coming toward me. The guard looked directly at me and pointed. From the guard, this man's eyes looked in my direction. This must be Jacob Barba. A hit and miss with my heart, I looked quickly down to see fear asking me why I was here. Money. You are doing it for money, and now you’ve got to earn it.
How many seconds does it take for a man to walk across a crowded room? I felt like the convict. With my head down I saw a shadow hanging over me, and then I felt a face coming closer wanting to know who I was.
I looked up.
‘You're not Janice,’ he said in a rough voice. He had just the sort of voice one imagines a criminal having.
‘You’re right, I'm not.’
‘Where's Janice? And who are you? I was told Janice would be here,’ he was angry. Pulling his chair away from the table, he sat down.
‘Well, I'm sorry it's not Janice. I came here because…’ and then I looked into the face of who I was talking to. Dashing a hand to my mouth for in the energy of that first moment, I could have been talking to John. This man looked so like John that if one had met John even the once you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. On closer observation though, his eyes were slightly smaller and more set apart. But he had the same brown eyes and same dark brown hair. He could have been a stand-in for John, just like someone else for Elvis.
‘What's the matter with you?’ he growled the lines on his face coming angrily together; he had that prison fever of caution, there was distrust in every line on his face.
‘It's nothing, you just reminded me of someone,’ I tried to smile, but nothing came. And then because I had a feeling that if I didn't say something, he would call the guard
and ask to go back to his cell. ‘Hattie wanted me to come and see you, he's concerned about you.’
His eyes went across my face quickly as if he were taking a swift mental scan of my features for further reference.
‘Well, if he is that concerned about me, he knows what he should do.’
He had John's eyes, but those eyes were not kind. The dark beads were staring at me as if I was a piece of meat, and like a laser beam, he was drilling deep into my brain. He could have been John for that moment but thank God he was not, for John had a soul. This man lived a life so very different from that of John.
‘Yes, Hattie is working on it,’ I had no idea what I was saying except, perhaps the things he wanted to hear.
‘I want out of here.’ He said coming closer to me, his eyes still burrowing into mine, I could feel his breath on my face. Mesmerized, I could not move. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed it tight.
‘Yes, Hattie is working on it,’ I could hardly get my words out, I was terrified.
‘Hey, you, Barba, take your hand off your visitor.’
There was no need for me to look up, I knew which guard it was and instantly, John - no, I mean Jacob Barba released my wrist and leaned back in his chair. An unpleasant smile on his face, he had done what he had intended to do, terrified me. And in that few seconds, the person who arrived as a visitor; that glib, smart-talking, know it all female, the one who knew she was better than everyone else had gone. This was a hard world, and if I wanted the life I desired I knew I would have to play this game by a different set of rules.
‘So, Hattie is working on it?’ he asked still with that same obnoxious grin, the one which made me feel as if I was sitting completely naked in front of him.
Crossing my arms across my breasts, I said, yes.
‘And Hattie sent you here to tell me this?’
‘Yes,’ I dropped my eyes down from his scrutiny. I was looking at John but talking to someone else.
Angel Page 12
