Who Was Angela Zendalic (32 page)

‘That's so kind of you. I hope it works. It's the last chance, isn't it.'

‘Is all well with you, darling?'

‘Fit as a fiddle. Lots of kicks and wobbles. The midwife said it's quite a big baby, so we think it's a boy.'

‘How's the house coming on?'

‘At the rate of knots. Definitely be finished before the baby comes.'

‘Well, take care, darling, and I'll let you know what news there is from Bournemouth.'

‘Ok then. You will say I send my love, won't you.'

‘Of course I will.'

‘Bye bye, Auntie.'

‘Bye bye sweetheart.'

‘Hello Uncle Ted. How did it go?'

‘Tell you the truth, love, it didn't go at all. They knew we were coming. Like I told you, I rang Norman at work to arrange it properly, but when we arrived there was no-one in. Obviously, they'd all gone out deliberately, and that was very mean, if you don't mind me saying. All that way for nothing.'

‘Oh, that's unforgiveable. So that's it, then. There's nothing more we can do, is there.'

‘No, my love. Nothing.'

November 1972

‘
H
ello,
darling.'
     ‘Hi Uncle Ted.'

‘I've just rung to ask you what you and Piers are doing for Christmas.'

‘Piers wants to go down to Wales to spend it with the children, and I'm quite happy about it. I was going to ask Auntie Peg if I could come to her.'

‘You don't need to ask, do you? Loadsa nosh, and Morecombe and Wise on the telly. It'll be good fun. Like in the old days.'

‘It'll be odd without mum and dad, won't it?'

‘You never know. There might be a climb down. Things always feel different at Christmas.'

But by Christmas there'd been no repair to the fracture between parents, child, and fond old friends. Only great sadness and shoulder shrugging, with the absence of Stan and Edie an enduring elephant in the room. But for Peggy it was a time of utter delight. To act out the role of a fussy, solicitous mother, without the interference and organising of Edie. Free to talk to her daughter, and sit with her arm around her, and make sure she put her feet up. Being allowed to feel the sweet pushes and squirms of the baby. Discussing the luxury of the new John Radcliffe Maternity Hospital, and the plans for her discharge. Talking to Piers on the phone, like a real mother-hen mother-in-law, assuring him that Angela was ‘in good hands', and that both she and Ted would take time off work, when the baby was born, to help out as head cooks and bottle washers.

Over the five days of Angela's stay Peggy had got into the habit of ‘tucking her in' at bedtime, and staying for a short gossip with her beautiful daughter, sitting up in bed with her simian hair loose around her shoulders, and clasping her huge mound with pride. That night she smoothed her hands over the baby, with a wistful smile. ‘We've chosen names by the way. My choice is Sarah for a girl, and Piers' wants Gabriel for a boy. After Fauré.'

‘Lovely names, darling.'

‘Auntie Peggy, did you ever want children? You'd have made a lovely mum.'

A slight jolt, a little rush of colour, and she thought quickly. ‘It would have been nice, but after I lost my husband I never met anyone else I wanted to marry, so I had to accept it.' She brightened. ‘But I've had you, haven't I, and you were never second best.'

‘Auntie, Uncle Ted actually told me a while back about how he fell in love with you, years ago. It was a pity you didn't feel the same. You'd have been good together.'

‘Love's a funny thing, Angela. It either gets you or it doesn't.'

‘But you loved your husband, didn't you.'

Thinking of Joseph as her only true husband, Peggy answered truthfully. ‘Oh, I did. I'd have followed him to the ends of the earth. He was wonderful. So handsome and charming, and courteous. We had lots of plans for a future life and then ...' She raised her hands. ‘Fate got in the way. Life isn't fair, is it.' She looked at the floor, not quite knowing what to say next.

‘Life wasn't fair for my real mother, was it,' Angela continued. ‘Sometimes I feel furious with her for letting me go, but she was probably forced into it.'

‘She must have been,' said Peggy. ‘Forced to let you go, that is. But wherever she is, she must think a thought every day about the sweet little baby girl who was wrenched out of her life.'

‘Piers said there's talk of a new law coming in. That adopted children will be able to see their adoption file, and at least have a starting point if they want to find their real parents.'

Peggy's stomach plummeted with horror, the whole of her lower body contracted and she was overcome with a sudden feeling of nausea. What! She'd heard nothing about that. Please, please God, it was just a rumour. ‘And will you look, dear?' she forced herself to say.

‘I might. Mum and dad are finished with me, so why shouldn't I?'

Peggy clenched her hands into to fists. ‘You might be disappointed, you know.'

Angela nodded. ‘I know. It's an awful gamble, but it would mean closure, wouldn't it.'

Peggy leaned over to kiss her goodnight on the forehead. ‘Whatever happens, you've always got me and Uncle Ted. You're our Princess and you always will be.'

Angela smiled as she snuggled down, heaving herself to lie in comfort. ‘Oh, I must sleep. I'm exhausted. Night, night Auntie.'

‘Night, night, Princess. Sweet dreams.'

‘And sweet dreams to you, Auntie,' but sweet dreams would be the last thing that Peggy would have that night.

January 1973
Jericho

P
eggy
hardly recognised the lined, dowdy woman who stood on the doorstep. Brenda! Her best friend from childhood, inseparable as little girls, who insisted they wore the same clothes, and wanted to be sisters, torn apart by going down their separate paths of life. But despite the passage of time there'd always been lasting affection, bound together by the glue of familiarity, and shared experiences.

‘Hello, Peg. Can I come in? It's like an igloo next door.'

‘'Course you can. Come and sit by the fire. I'll make you a cuppa.'

‘So you're still speaking to me then?'

‘'Course I am, silly. All this nonsense is hardly your fault, is it.'

‘I'm up here to cancel the tenancy,' she said gruffly. ‘They've decided they can't ever face coming back home.'

‘But this is madness, Bren. All they've got to do is contact Angie, and things'll be back to normal in a shake of a dog's tail. She really
does
want everything to get back on track. The baby's due in five weeks.'

‘I know, but ...'

‘But what?'

‘Look, Peg. Mum and dad spoiled her to death and they're disgusted with her. The Piers thing was revolting enough but getting herself pregnant was the last straw. In mum's day being up the duff without a ring on your finger was the biggest sin on the planet, and don't I know it. I got earache every day about behaving myself and she's gone off on a right royal rant over it all. She said everything's turned out just as she'd predicted. Angie was bad blood, and must take after her real mother.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know. A whore who does it with black men. A flooozie with ever-open legs.'

Peggy froze. So. For all Edie's billing and cooing about poor little Angie, and nothing being wrong with her brown skin, and protecting her like a tigress against any sort of slur or innuendo, she was as hypocritical and prejudiced as those who referred to wogs and nig-nogs. Seeming not to notice Peggy's stone face, Brenda continued. ‘Let's face, it, Peg. Angie was mum's hobby. I was traipsing round the world in army quarters, I couldn't provide her with any grandkids, and she needed something to do. I was ever so happy for her to do it, but now it's all gone to the bad I'm the one who's got to pick up the pieces.'

Peggy kept her eyes firmly on the table. Raising her voice was as rare as a swallow in winter, but she shouted out with all her strength. ‘Get out, Brenda! Get out, and don't ever come back.'

February 1973

P
eggy
had just arrived home from work, when Ted appeared at her front door with a face of thunder. He sank down in a chair, and wiped some beads of sweat from his forehead with a white cotton handkerchief. ‘Dreadful news, Peg. Dreadful news. Get me a drink, duck.'

She poured him a neat whisky. ‘Are you ill, Ted?'

‘Ill? I'm more than ill. I'm, I'm ...' He didn't seem able to think of any words to explain, and took a large slurp of his drink to compose himself. ‘Something happened this morning.' He drew in a shuddering lungful of air, and exhaled slowly. ‘I don't know how I'm going to tell you this.'

‘Tell me what!'

After another couple of false starts, he began the revelation. ‘I've been working for months on a case of forged banknotes, and we set up a coordinated operation involving a chain of bookmakers.' He sipped and swallowed again. ‘Our pitch was the one by the Morris Motors works in Cowley. Well, it went off a dream, with the manager and two of the staff caught red-handed. So they were charged, taken off to the nick, and the evidence was tagged and bagged. Then uniform took over so I suggested our team could sneak off for a celebration drink before we went back to the station. So we shot up to The Bat and Ball at Cuddesdon. Anyway, everyone trolled in, and being the last in the queue I had to wait to get through the door. Well ...you'll never guess who I saw through the window.' He paused and shuddered in his breath again. ‘It was Piers, and he was with a woman. Young, and really pretty. Very stylish, she was. Done up like a French vamp, in a trench coat and a beret. They were sitting up close, smiling into each other's eyes, and holding hands, and quite honestly they looked as if they were dying to get at it with each other.'

Peggy gasped, and gaped. ‘Oh, no! No!'

‘I just froze with shock. I suppose I should have gone in and made a scene, but I couldn't ...I just couldn't move, so I said to the bloke in front of me I'd just remembered I'd got something important to do and left.'

‘Are you sure quite it was him.'

‘Positive. His old Bristol was in the car park.'

Peggy sank into silence. As much as she wanted to make light of it, and to deny the miserable fact that Piers was cheating on Angela, she could think of nothing. ‘There must be a simple explanation', she said weakly. ‘He'd never treat her so shabbily.'

‘Well, I'm afraid he has!' Ted shouted. ‘Good God, Peg. We don't want to wreck her life, but she's got to know, and we've got to tell her.'

‘Oh, this is awful. Poor little thing. Booted in the face by Stan and Edie, and now this. She'll be hysterical. She's only got three weeks to go, and it could be quite dangerous for her.'

‘Well, we can't just stand back and ignore it. What's the alternative? Say nothing, and watch her being made a fool of, or come out with it when she's got a brand new baby to look after. Alot of women go loopy after they've had a baby, so it might be even worse.'

‘Oh, Ted? Is it really up to us to interfere?'

Ted thumped his fist down on the chair arm. ‘Interfere! I'd like to interfere with his anatomy. Edie was right about him all along and the bugger doesn't deserve protection. No. We're her only family now, and we can't let him get away with it. I want her out of it, and to bring her home.'

‘Do you mean home with me?'

‘'Course I do.'

‘Oh, I'd love her to be here. These last few months have been wonderful having her all to myself.'

‘Then I vote I give her a ring. Find out what that lying sod's doing tomorrow morning, and if he's in college we'll ask if we can pop over with some things for the baby. I'm due for some time off for all the hours I put into the banknotes case. What about you?'

‘I suppose I can ring in sick.' She then screwed her face up, trying to stop the tears that suddenly welled up. ‘Oh, Ted. I'm sorry, but I really don't think I could go through with it.'

He laid his arm gently on her shoulder and spoke with his firm Inspector Rawlings voice. ‘Look, love, I can assure you that what I saw was a real case of betrayal, and she's got to be told.'

Ted left the room and picked up the phone in the hall, while Peggy sat with her hands clenched, listening to him play-acting a normal happy chat. He returned nodding. ‘She'll expect us round eleven. She said Piers is staying in college for a couple of days, doing some research at The Bodleian, and won't be back home until tomorrow evening. Well, it all fits, doesn't it? A touchy-feely lunch with his tart, sneaking her back to his rooms for some afternoon rumpy pumpy, and a repeat performance all night. Do you know Peg, if that bastard was standing here in front of me I'd throttle him.'