A is for Angelica (16 page)

‘What else did he say?’

‘He just said she’d had a stroke last year. And that she’d just about recovered. I was only asking. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘She’s at my mum and dad’s.’

‘Okay.’

‘That’s why you’ve not seen her.’

‘Okay, that makes sense. People have been worried.’

‘She’s fine.’

‘Of course. Where do your mum and dad live?’

‘Halfton Bridge.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘About ten miles from here. It’s on the other side of the motorway.’

‘Is that where you grew up?’

‘No, they moved when Georgina’s mother died.’

‘That must’ve been quite recently.’

‘It was twenty years ago.’

‘Really? How old was she?’

‘Fifty-six.’

‘Shit. That’s young. What happened?’

‘She had a stroke.’

‘Oh,’ she says, and looks away again, ‘I see.’

We sit in silence for a few seconds. It feels like forever. Then Angelica puts her hand on the manual, arches her neck and breathes smoke into the air, up and behind her, away from me on
purpose. She turns the manual ninety degrees. I can see the red cross on the spine. I coloured it in with a felt tip pen. A blue ‘G’ in the centre. G is for Georgina. My sweet
Georgie.

‘This is amazing,’ she says. ‘It’s so detailed. It must’ve been incredibly difficult for you. There’s so much to remember.’

‘That’s why I wrote it down.’

‘I guess so. I’m glad she’s feeling better.’

I don’t reply. My eyes are watering. It’s the smoke. Angelica is staring at me. She looks concerned. She thinks that I’m upset. I shouldn’t have bought the cigarettes. I
rub my face with the towel and take a sip from my tea. Let’s talk about something else. What can we talk about? I could tell her the truth. Ask her to help me. But I’m not ready. Not
yet. The argument. Angelica’s argument with Benny. That’s what we should talk about. I’d completely forgotten.

‘I heard about the fight,’ I say.

‘What fight?’

‘You and Benny Martin. In the street.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don said he saw you. Before he died.’

‘Well he was wrong. There was no fight.’

‘Are you sure? He seemed pretty certain.’ Angelica put her palms on the table, leaned towards me and looked me straight in the eye. I wanted to look away. But I couldn’t. She
wouldn’t let me.

‘Gordon. Listen to me. There was no fight. Don was wrong. Now let’s just leave it. Okay? Let’s move on.’ She paused a moment, held her glare. I didn’t respond to
her question. She didn’t want a response. We were moving on.

Note: No information provided. Engineer conversation with Benny. Before school. Approach with caution. Risk factor = 8. Note end.

Angelica has gone. She left an hour ago with a slice of buttery cinnamon cake. But she’ll be back. She needs to give me a newspaper I don’t really want, and coupons
I don’t really collect. She needs to return the plate she took the cake on. I’ve spoken to Georgina. She doesn’t suspect a thing. She’s taken her tablets and eaten her
dinner. I’ve done her exercises. We’ve played noughts and crosses. She squeezed my hand to ask me why my hair was wet. I told her it was raining outside. I said, ‘Can’t you
hear it?’ and she just lay there. I sat with her until her eyes closed. Then I stood by the curtain, waited for her breathing to deepen, kept an eye out for Angelica. She’d said she
wouldn’t be back for a while. ‘I could do with a bath first,’ she said. ‘Do you mind waiting for an hour or two?’ And I’d said, ‘Perfect, there’s no
rush,’ and watched her walk across the road in the rain, her jacket round the cake like a cape.

I left Georgina, pulling her door tightly shut. I walked to the spare room, took my files from the bookshelf and put them into piles on the bed. I used the handle on her old umbrella to pull the
ladder down from the loft. I climbed up and into darkness, ran my hand along the wall and found the light switch, made my fingers black with dust. I stepped carefully to the back of the room,
ducked under beams, moved Georgina’s mother’s Christmas decorations, found some empty boxes. They were flat, single pieces of cardboard. I had to fold them into shape and tape them up
at the bottom. I lined them up on the landing, filled them with files and wrote on the sides with marker pen. I labelled them from A to Z. Then I picked them up again, one by one, and put them back
in the loft. It took me another hour.

On my way back down I found a box of jewellery and a file I didn’t recognise. They were under the tent with the hole in the roof. The box contained necklaces, my mother’s old watch
and Georgina’s wedding ring, which she had to stop wearing when her fingers swelled up. The file had ‘Homework’ written on the spine. It was in Georgina’s handwriting. The
sheets inside weren’t attached to the folder. They were held together with an elastic band and had dates in the margins. They were written three years ago. I licked my thumb and flicked
through the pages. She’d been learning another language. English in blue pen. Russian in red. Numbers, colours and greetings. And she’d never thought to tell me. It must have been a
surprise.

Pretending

It’s now fifteen minutes past eleven. Angelica is yet to arrive. I’m standing by the window looking out at the street and into her living room. She hasn’t
closed her curtains properly. I can see the back of an armchair and a section of fireplace. There are pictures in frames on the mantelshelf, but I can’t tell who or what they are. The light
in the room keeps changing. It flickers, makes shapes on the wall. She must be watching television. I stand up, put my hands on my hips and stretch my back. It hurts from all the lifting and the
walking in the rain. It’s over six hours since Angelica left. It’s getting late. I’m beginning to think she’s not coming. I should feel relieved, but I don’t. I want
her to come back. I want us to play Travel Scrabble. I want to get to know her better. Just in case I need her.

It’s five past midnight. The rain has stopped. Cressington Vale is covered in puddles and John Bonsall’s lawn has flooded. Petals float across the surface of the
water and out into the street. Angelica is sitting on her doorstep. She has a glass of milk in her hand. She’s still wearing her funeral clothes, which means she lied when she said she wanted
a bath. I can see her fingernails when she puts the glass to her mouth. Black ovals on pale white skin. She said she’d come back. How could she forget? I think about knocking on the window
and waving. Then she’ll have to come over. It would be rude not to. I make a fist with my hand, step slowly from behind the curtain, stop and go back to where I was. I can’t let her see
me. No-one can see me. I look at the sky. Dark and starless. Hidden by layers of cloud. Then at Angelica once more. She stands up and runs her palms down the sides of her suit trousers. She turns
around and goes into the house, leaves the door wide open. I watch her walk away down the hall. She disappears for more than a minute and returns wearing her long, black, fluffy-cuffed coat and her
hair tied back. She has a newspaper under her arm. I knew she wouldn’t forget.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I ask. Angelica’s in my kitchen again. She’s leaning against the wall and warming her hands on the radiator. ‘Yes
please,’ she says. I fill the kettle with water.

‘I thought you weren’t going to bother.’

‘Yes, sorry it’s late. I could see your light on, so I guessed you were still up.’

‘Which light?’

‘I don’t know. Probably the landing. My toilet won’t flush.’

‘What have you done to it?’

‘Nothing. I’ve been at it all night. It worked fine this morning.’

‘It’s the rain.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The rain’s messed with your plumbing.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve no idea, but whenever it rains like it did today, something usually happens to someone.’

‘Really?’

‘Ina Macaukey’s drains burst last year. It stank to high heaven.’

‘I think I’ll ring someone in the morning.’

‘And the water’s always brown.’

‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’

We’re standing on opposite sides of the room. I don’t feel guilty anymore. Georgina’s upstairs and she’s fine. No better, no worse. Instead, I feel anxious. It’s
Angelica’s fault. She’s not like she was before. She seems anxious too. Her eyes are fixed on the table between us, the newspaper open at the page with the coupon. She scrapes one of
her high heels back and forth along the floor tiles, slowly and without a sound. The kettle spits and gurgles as the water starts to boil. I should never have mentioned Benny before. She’s
still annoyed at me.

‘Tea’s ready,’ Angelica puts her elbows to the wall and pushes herself upright. She pulls a chair out and sits down at the table. I take two mugs from the draining board. The
mugs we drank from this afternoon.

‘Gordon,’ she says. ‘Does Georgina know about Don?’

‘Know what?’

‘Have you told her he’s passed away?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘He spoke of her kindly, you know.’

‘She’s still upset about Kipling. It would be too much.’

‘Would she not have liked to have been at the funeral?’

‘She hates funerals.’

‘Okay, it’s just that Morris said... ’

‘Morris knows nothing. She wouldn’t have been well enough.’

‘I thought she was fighting fit again.’

‘She is. She’s fine. She’s been well looked after.’

This is not what I expected. I’m being rude. Why is she asking me questions about Georgina? She’s never met her. We should talk about something else. But now I’m thinking about
Don, dead in his shed. Kipling in the sink. Georgina in her bed clothes.

‘How long’s she staying with your mum and dad? I’d love to meet her. She sounds like an incredible woman.’

‘She is,’ I say, without thinking about my answer first. I don’t know where to look, so I try everywhere. At the walls, floor and ceiling. Through the kitchen window. At the
clock on the front of the cooker. It reads 12:38 in the morning. The numbers made from short luminous lines.

‘When’s she coming back?’

‘Soon,’ I say. ‘She’ll be back soon.’

‘Don said you sold your car.’

‘I did.’

‘I can drive you when you pick her up, if you like.’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Really, it’s quite all right.’

‘Well, I’m happy to help. Or I’m sure John would take you, if you’d prefer. I can ask him. It’s no problem.’

‘No, not John. I don’t want John to take me.’

‘I’ll take you then. You’ve seen the car.’

This is too much. I want to tell her the truth. I want to say, she’s not at my mum and dad’s because I haven’t spoken to them for more than a year. They don’t know the
half of it and that’s the way they like it. Georgina’s upstairs. She’s had another stroke and I’m looking after her. That’s right, another stroke. Do you want to help
me? Do you? Fine. Thought not. Let’s eat cake and do magic.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ I say. ‘I’ll let you know when she’s ready.’ Angelica smiles without opening her mouth, nods her head and folds her arms. She
leans back on her chair and balances it on two legs. The toes of her shoes on the floor. She looks like a child in a classroom. Causing trouble. Being naughty.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

I drink my tea in three long gulps. It burns my tongue and throat. I’ll probably get an ulcer.

‘Would you like another cup of tea?’

‘I’ve not started this one yet. You must be thirsty.’

‘How about some more magic?’

‘No, I need my beauty sleep. I just wanted to bring the paper over. I’ll be off once I’ve drunk my drink.’

‘But you’ve only just got here.’

‘It’s very late.’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

‘Remember to send your coupons off tomorrow. There’s a closing date.’ She reaches for her drink and loses her balance. She falls forward in her chair. Its front legs crash to
the floor. She waits a moment, checks she’s still in one piece. Then she laughs out loud. She has metal-coloured fillings in her back teeth. Each and every one of them, left side and right. I
can’t believe I’ve not noticed before.

Note: When brushing, always stand to the side or behind. Keep one hand free to support the jaw. Adopt a gentle, repetitive motion. Excess toothpaste can be spat without
rinsing. Bowl necessary. Note end.

Angelica finishes her tea. She stands up and shakes her ponytail. This hasn’t gone to plan. Too much sitting in silence. Too much talk of Georgina. The clock on the
cooker says 12:51. I don’t know why she’s stayed so long. I’m not sure why she came at all. I bet John Bonsall put her up to it. I bet they feel sorry for me, because I missed the
funeral. They think I’m upset. They want to fetch Georgina from my Mum and Dad’s. They want to make sure we’re all right. The both of us. Me and my wife. Always asking questions.
Always being helpful. I bet Judy’s in on it too. Being kind. Poking her nose in.

‘Would you like some more cake on a plate?’

‘No, thank you. I’ve not eaten the first piece yet. Plus I’ll get fat.’

‘You’re not fat.’

‘No, I said I’ll get fat.’

‘Not for your age.’ She stops and glares. I try to smile. ‘You know what I mean,’ I say. ‘Not like that.’ And her mouth softens. She wraps her coat tight
around her waist. She nods and smiles.

‘Can I use your toilet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, it’s fine. Honestly.’

‘I don’t want to risk mine.’

‘It’s no problem.’

Of course it’s a problem. Georgina’s door could have opened when the draught came in with Angelica. She could be awake and waiting for me to sit with her. For me to make sure
she’s taken her medication. For me to keep her alive. Angelica walks across the kitchen. I need to go with her. I need to check Georgina’s door.

‘Which one is it?’ she says. I follow her, put my arm across her chest and stop her from climbing the stairs.

‘Would you mind if I go first? I’m desperate.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. Shall I wait on the landing?’ I put my hand on the rail, climb halfway up the stairs and look through the gaps in the banister. Georgina’s door is closed. I feel my
heart rate slow a little.