Lost Angel (4 page)

‘Dad, stop it!’ Ruth yelped, pushing herself away from the ledge and rushing over to drag him off. ‘Let go!’ She tugged on his arm. ‘
Please
, Dad . . . you promised.’

‘Stay out of this.’ Frankie shrugged her off. ‘This is between me and him.’

‘But it’s my baby,’ she protested.

‘
And
his,’ said Frankie, as if he needed to remind her. ‘And he ain’t worming his way out of it.’

‘I’m not trying to,’ Johnny spluttered, blood trickling from his nose. ‘And I swear to God I’ll do my bit. But you can’t seriously expect us to get
married
?’

‘That’s
exactly
what I expect,’ Frankie told him, his face so close that Johnny could almost taste the onions the man’d had on his lunchtime burger.

Ruth’s mouth flapped open in shock. She’d known when she started this that her dad would force Johnny to come round, and she’d hoped that he would make him promise to stand by her. But she hadn’t expected
this
. It was beyond her wildest dreams.

‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ Frankie glanced back at her. ‘’Cos if I’ve got it wrong, just say the word and I’ll sort it.’

All too aware that he meant he would sort
Johnny
out – once and for all – Ruth said, ‘Yes! Our baby needs him, and so do I.’

Frankie’s chest rose and fell as he battled to bring his temper under control. The boy didn’t deserve his daughter, but Ruth would never forgive him if he didn’t give her the chance to find that out for herself. Anyway, as he’d already said, she would be left holding the baby if he allowed the cunt to walk away – or, rather,
he and Rita
would, and there was no way he was having that.

‘All right, you win,’ he conceded, releasing Johnny and holding up his hands. ‘I won’t say I’m happy about it, ’cos I’m not. But if this is what you want, you’ve got my blessing.’

‘
Really
?’ Ruth’s eyes flooded with tears again, but of joy this time, not pain. ‘Oh, thank you, Daddy, thank you!’

‘What’s all the noise?’ Rita demanded, lumbering through the door, glass in hand.

‘I’m getting married!’ Ruth announced, her face glowing with happiness.

‘Well, halle-flamin’-lujah for that!’ Rita muttered. ‘And there was me thinking we were going to have to hide the little bastard under the stairs when it pops out.’

Frankie could smell the alcohol on his wife’s breath from all the way across the room. Pushing his daughter aside, he said, ‘How much have you had?’

‘Not nearly enough if I can still hear
you
,’ Rita drawled, giving him a dirty look as she lurched over to the table and flopped into a chair. ‘See how he talks to me?’ She swivelled her glassy gaze onto Johnny. ‘Always trying to tell me what to do and when to do it, like I haven’t got a mind of my own. You know what he is, Jimmy? He’s a . . . a . . .’ She trailed off and pushed out her lips in search of a cutting enough word to describe her husband.

Frankie had heard enough. He clicked his fingers at Ruth. ‘Get her upstairs and sort her out.’

Rita snapped her head around and fixed her daughter with a fierce glare. ‘Touch me and I’ll claw your bleedin’ eyes out,’ she warned, her posh accent slipping momentarily into the gutter.

Ruth knew better than to mess with her mum when she was in this kind of mood, so she held up her hands and backed off.

Rita turned back to her husband. ‘And you ever dare talk to me like that in front of company again, Frankie Hynes, and so help me I’ll . . .’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air as she and Frankie locked stares across the table, and Johnny held his breath, waiting for all hell to break loose. To his relief, the phone started ringing out in the hall, and Frankie broke the stare to go and answer it.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said when he came back a couple of minutes later.

‘Where to now?’ Rita demanded.

‘Never you mind,’ he muttered, snatching his keys off the table.

‘That’s right, you run out and leave us to do all the work, as usual,’ Rita snarled, her eyes flashing with fury. ‘In out, in out – that’s you all over, that. And never mind that we’ve got a flaming wedding to arrange.’

‘That’s your department, not mine,’ Frankie retorted smoothly. ‘Just send me the bill when you’ve finished. And don’t leave it too late, ’cos I’m not having her walk up the aisle in a fuckin’ tent and have people say that’s why she’s doing it. We’ll wait till a few weeks after the wedding, then tell ’em she got caught first time.’

‘Don’t you think they might get a bit suspicious when it arrives a few months early?’ Rita pointed out.

‘They can think what they like, so long as they keep their gobs shut around me,’ said Frankie. He turned to leave now, but hesitated when he saw Johnny’s miserable expression. ‘You’re not looking too happy there, son. Hope you haven’t forgotten what I said about the dogs?’

Johnny shook his head and gazed down at his sodden feet. He felt like he was about to pass out – wished that he could. But he wasn’t that lucky.

‘What are you talking about?’ Ruth asked, looking from Johnny to her dad.

‘Nothing that concerns you,’ Frankie said sharply. Then, ‘But that reminds me . . . now we know what you’ve been getting up to behind our backs, you don’t go near
him
again between now and the wedding unless me or your mam is with you. Got that?’

Ruth opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again. It would be awful not being able to see Johnny but she knew better than to disobey her dad. And, anyway, it wouldn’t be for long. When they were married, she’d be able to see him as often as she liked.

Frankie left at last. Waiting until she’d heard the front door close behind him, Ruth took a pack of tissues out of a drawer and carried them over to Johnny.

‘Sorry that got so heavy,’ she apologised, wiping the drying blood from his nose. ‘He said he wanted to talk, but I had no idea he was going to spring that on you.’

Her words brought Johnny’s head up with a snap. Of course! This wedding was Frankie’s idea, but he couldn’t make it happen if they
both
refused to go along with it.

‘Tell him you won’t do it,’ he blurted out.

‘I
can’t
!’ Ruth gasped, a look of horror leaping into her eyes.

‘Please,’ Johnny pleaded, clutching at her hand. ‘I’m begging you.’

‘No,’ Ruth said firmly. ‘You heard him. He doesn’t want the baby to be born a bastard. And neither do I.’

‘Over my dead body,’ Rita chipped in indignantly. ‘And have everyone looking down their noses at me? I don’t think so. This wedding is
on
, and that’s final!’ She slapped her hand down on the table to emphasise her words, completely forgetting about the glass she was holding.

‘Oh, Mum, look what you’ve done!’ Ruth cried when it shattered and blood spilled onto the lino at her feet.

Johnny jumped up and backed away from the table. ‘Should I call an ambulance?’

‘No!’ Ruth shook her head and grabbed a tea towel to try and stem the flow. ‘She’s had too much to drink; she’ll only fight with them. But you can drive us, if you want. Take those keys.’ She nodded at a set hanging on a hook behind the door. ‘There’s a Merc down the side of the house. Go and start it up.’

Too anaesthetised by the whisky she’d consumed to feel the pain, Rita slapped her daughter’s hands away.

‘Stop fussing, stupid. It’s only a scratch.’

‘It needs looking at,’ Ruth insisted.

‘Your
head
needs looking at,’ Rita retorted nastily. ‘Little Miss Perfect’s really gone and done it this time, hasn’t she? Daddy’s precious little girl ain’t so special now he knows she’s nothing but a common little slut.’

Ruth dipped her head and let her hair fall over her face to hide her blushes. She was used to her mum’s tongue, but it was humiliating to have Johnny witness it in action.

‘Let me see your hand,’ she ordered through gritted teeth.

Rita gave her a dirty look, but did as she’d been told and thrust out her hand. Ruth dabbed at it with the tea towel. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down, and she decided that maybe it wasn’t as bad as it had looked initially.

‘Okay, I’ll clean it up and put a bandage on it for now. But if it’s not healed by morning I’m calling the doctor.’

‘Yakity yak,’ mocked Rita, making a chatterbox gesture with her uninjured hand as Ruth walked out into the hall to get the things she needed from the first-aid box.

She got up when Ruth had gone and lumbered across to the cupboard. Taking out a glass and a fresh bottle of whisky, she eyed Johnny as she poured herself a shot.

‘Why are you still standing there like a spare part? We’ve got stuff to talk about, so you’d best just sit yourself back down.’

Johnny didn’t want to spend one more second with the obnoxious bitch. His head was already throbbing from the shrillness of her voice. And as pissed off as he was with Ruth for putting him in this position, now that he’d seen how badly she was treated he actually felt sorry for her.

‘I should get going,’ he muttered. ‘I said I’d give someone a hand with—’

‘Like dates,’ Rita spoke over him as she carried her drink back to the table. ‘The thirteenth of next month is good for me, because that’s when my dad passed away. But I might compromise if you’ve got a special date of your own in mind.’

Johnny’s head started to swim. She had to be fucking joking. That was less than three weeks away.

Rita looked up at him expectantly. When he didn’t answer and made no move to sit, she narrowed her eyes and made a barking sound to remind him of her husband’s warning. And when his face paled all over again, she let out a cackling laugh.

‘What’s the joke?’ Ruth asked, returning with a bandage, some plasters, and a pair of scissors and laying them all on the table.

‘
You
are,’ Rita sneered, swiping the items onto the floor with the back of her hand. Smirking when Ruth bent down to pick them up, she drained her glass and held it out to Johnny. ‘Here . . . make yourself useful and get me another one. Then piss off.’

‘Mum, don’t be so rude!’ Ruth protested. ‘And why are you sending him home when you’ve only just told him to stay?’

‘I’m sick of looking at him,’ spat Rita, giving Johnny a dirty look as he went to refill her glass. ‘Anyhow, men are fucking useless when it comes to weddings. You only have to look at your toerag of a father to know that.’

Ruth’s heart sank. Her mum only ever swore like this when she’d reached the point of no return alcohol-wise. And, much as Ruth didn’t want Johnny to leave – because she didn’t know when she’d get the chance to see him again before the wedding – she knew that it would probably be safer if he did.

Johnny was already on it. Handing Rita’s fresh drink to her, he said, ‘Right, I’ll get out of your way. Nice meeting you, Mrs Hynes. I’ll see myself out. Bye.’

‘Thanks,’ Ruth hissed, flashing her mum a sulky look before darting after him.

Johnny yanked the front door open and almost fell over the step in his haste to get out. Close on his heels, Ruth pulled the door to and gazed sadly up at him.

‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said, shivering as the cold night air bit into her. ‘Are you going to miss me?’

‘Mmm,’ Johnny murmured, taking a couple of backward steps onto the path.

‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you before the wedding,’ Ruth went on regretfully. ‘But it won’t be for long. And I suppose we’ll have plenty to keep us occupied till we’re together again.’ Smiling now, she added, ‘I can’t wait to tell Lisa. She’s going to be
so
jealous. What do you think Dave will say?’

That I’m the biggest idiot walking
, thought Johnny.

‘I, er, don’t know,’ he said, stumbling back towards the gate. ‘See you later.’

Sighing wistfully when he turned and walked away, Ruth wrapped her arms around herself and watched until he’d faded into the darkness at the end of the avenue. When she could no longer see him, she went back into the house, picked up the phone and dialled a number.

‘Hello, Lisa? You’re not going to believe what’s just happened . . .’

Dave was lying on the couch watching a video when Johnny walked in. He jumped up, switched the TV off and gave his flatmate a quizzical look.

‘Well?’

‘Not now.’ Johnny shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. ‘My head’s mashed. I just need a spliff, then I’m hitting the sack.’

Dave reached for his stash tin and started rolling, looking at Johnny out of the corner of his eye as he did it.

‘Well, you haven’t got any new bruises, so I’m guessing it didn’t kick off. And you’re back, so Frankie didn’t lock you up and throw away the key. All pretty positive so far.’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong if you tried,’ muttered Johnny, flopping into his chair.

‘Why, what happened?’ Dave pounced. ‘Come on, you might as well tell me now you’ve started. You know you want to.’

Johnny groaned and ran a hand over his eyes. He really didn’t want to discuss this until he’d got his own head around it, but he knew that Dave wouldn’t let up until he’d heard every little detail. So, sighing, he said, ‘He wants us to get married.’

Dave had finished rolling by now and was leaning forward to get his lighter off the coffee table. Pausing mid-stretch, he gaped at his friend.

‘You’re shitting me?’

‘Wish I was.’ Johnny rested his head on the back of the chair and stared miserably up at the ceiling.

Dave lit the spliff and took a couple of quick tokes before handing it to his friend.

‘You didn’t agree to do it, did you?’

Johnny gave him a
what do you think?
look.

‘Did he actually say the M word?’ Dave persisted. ‘Or are you just assuming that’s what he meant? No offence, mate, but I know what you’re like for twisting thing around and hearing what you want to hear – or should I say
don’t
want to, in this case.’

‘Oh, he said it, all right,’ Johnny replied miserably. ‘And then he fucked off out and left me with Ruth and her alkie mother. Hope you’re free on the thirteenth of next month, by the way, ’cos that’s when Ruth’s grandad died, and her mum seems to think that’d be a good . . .’