CHAPTER THIRTEEN
December 1965
"What the hell, Jean? Has that damn girl been using all the hot water again?"
Pulling my cardigan closer around me, I shrug at Harry as he strides in through the kitchen doorway. Don't seem likely to me, Angela hasn't ever been one for getting up early, although I suppose for once she must have been; must have left for school already 'cause it don't sound like she's still in the house now. "Maybe it's playing up again. The water heater, I mean." Wouldn't be the first time, the damn thing's always been temperamental, has been all the years I lived here, so it ain't likely to have changed now.
"Damn it, I don't need all this shit today. I'm gonna be late as it is." He grabs his shirt from the back of the chair, pulls it on and hastily starts buttoning it. "Haven't you even made coffee this morning?" he demands, filling the coffee pot with water, glaring at it as it don't start before he hits it, sends it sliding across the counter so it knocks the cups to the floor, shattering as they bounce on the tiles below. Grabbing the pile of unopened post off of the table, he flicks through the envelopes until he finds the one he wants and rips it open. "Glory, Jean. You didn't pay the bills again, did you? I ask you to do one simple job—"
I don't hear the end of his sentence as he grabs a hold of my shoulder and shakes me roughly. Still can't drag my eyes away from the mess and back to him though.
"You even damn well listening to me, Jean? How about you get off of your ass and get down there today, sort this damn mess out."
"But I can't—"
"Why not? You managed it last quarter didn't you?" And then he starts laughing. "Except you didn't, did you? Suppose you relied on the boy to do it all for you? Well in case you ain't noticed Jean he's gone. Ain't coming back anytime soon either—if they even let him out at all. Probably getting himself in even more trouble while he's there, knowing him. do everyone a favour if they keep him locked up, I reckon."
"No—" I start to protest. It's bad enough knowing Tim's in that terrible place, that Curly's stuck for a while longer in the reformatory, without him bad mouthing either of them. Only once again he don't let me finish.
Instead he throws the letter down in front of me and pulls his wallet from his back pocket, studies the contents then chucks a few bills down as well.
"There's enough there that they'll reconnect us. Don't care how you damn well do it, just make sure you have this sorted by the time I get home, understand?"
For a moment I think Harry is going to carry on with his screaming and shouting, but he don't, he just turns on his heel and heads out the house, the whole building shaking as the door bangs shut behind him.
xxxxxx
It's close to midday already so I guess I can't put this off any longer. If I don't go now I won't have time, ain't sure when the place shuts and I don't know that I can bear another night of him yelling and bitching at me. Tell myself it isn't far, a few stops on the bus, I've done it before; used to always be backwards and forwards doing errands for Ted so I should be able to do this one little thing today. Looking around I grab my purse up from the floor, shove everything inside and head into the hall before I can change my mind, my heart pounding so loud and fast that I can hear it, feel it.
My coat is on the hook, but it feels so far away as I reach out for it, slide my arms into the worn sleeves and fasten the buttons. But I haven't got them straight, so the coat won't sit right and I have to undo them and start over again. And again until finally I get it right.
I'm almost at the front door when I find I can't go no further, find myself retreating back towards the kitchen as the panic washes over me. I try to remember the last time I did this—did anything, went anywhere—alone. Must be years now, what with Tim sliding in and taking control, keeping on top of stuff when I didn't, always making sure one of them was around when I needed them.
Maybe Harry is right and I am useless, pathetic. Try to take a few deep breaths and force myself to move, to take another step back down the hall when the front door swings open and I'm face to face with Angela.
"What are you doing out here, Ma?" she asks, frowning at me as she glances back out the half open door to the street, to the waiting car. "Why don't you go and sit down, you don't look so good?"
"No. I need to, I have to…" Shake myself, because it should be me asking the questions, not her. "What are you doing here? You should be in school right now."
Angela doesn't bother to answer, just rolls her eyes at me as I take a proper look at her. Too much make up, skirt too short for school, as I realise it's the same clothes she went out in last night.
"Are you only getting home now? Where have you been all this time? Who are you with? Just as well Harry didn't catch you staying out all night."
"What do you care? And he ain't my dad, he can't tell me what to do," she sneers, hands on her hips as she stands in front of me.
"Don't you speak about him like that, you know Harry looks after us all, keeps a roof over our heads."
"Yeah, right. Harry don't care about anyone but himself and you know it. Besides, I only stopped by to get something. It's lunchtime anyway," she offers as justification, even though we're both well aware she hasn't been anywhere near the school today. Instead she turns the conversation back to me and what I'm doing as she steps inside her bedroom, starts pulling clothes out of her dresser and changes her blouse before spraying some overpowering cheap perfume on her wrists. "So what are you doing anyway, Ma? You going somewhere?"
I sigh, struggle over the words as I shake my head, pull the bill from my bag and hold it out to her. "Power's cut off, need to go down there and pay this, before Harry gets home."
She sighs, grabs hold of the page as I struggle to keep it steady in my trembling hand. "You want me to go instead, Ma?"
"What about school?"
"Hell, I reckon getting this sorted is more important than that don't you? Especially if it shuts him up from complaining for a while. Besides it ain't like I'm gonna learn anything useful there is it?" she asks, tossing her hair back over her shoulders.
Find myself nodding at her as the impatient sound of the car horn makes her eyes dart towards the front of the house. "Look, Ma, I gotta go, that's my ride. Give it all to me and I'll sort it for you, I promise, save you worrying about it."
And I know I should be asking her quite where it is she's hurrying off to, if she has no intention of going to school; or who exactly she's spending her time with. But I don't. I just nod, take the easy way out and hand it all over, watch her as she rushes past me out of the door and down the path then climbs into the car next to some smiling boy I've never seen before, leans in and kisses him before the pair of them speed away.
xxxxxx
November 1967.
Tim stalks into the room, Angela close on his heels. She looks tired, deflated, while his expression is serious, his brow creased and mouth tight shut in a thin line as he silently leans against the counter and folds his arms. He never once takes his eyes off of his sister as she fidgets awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot like a naughty child, before standing alongside her brother, positioning herself between him the door like she might bolt back out the room again at any second.
"What's going on?" I ask, unable to take the silence any more. I can't decide which one of them I should focus my attention on so I settle instead for staring at the back of my own hands as they rest on the table top.
Angela, for once in her life, don't seem to have nothing to say—and that only makes me more anxious, 'cause there isn't usually ever a time when my headstrong outspoken daughter is lost for words over anything. Don't think there's been a time since she learnt to talk that she hasn't been willing to share what's on her mind with anyone who'll listen. Tim though, he's not his normal calm self; he looks like he's got a whole lot on his mind that he's struggling to keep to himself right now. But he still don't out and say it yet, just shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.
"Ange has something she needs to tell you, Ma."
"Well? What is it? What's wrong?"
She sniffs, scowls as me then at her brother, before she finally replies. "Why d'you always think it has to be something bad?"
Only before I can say anything to appease her, Tim laughs. Not a laugh of amusement though, no way. "Christ, Ange. Reckon that's a pretty safe assumption don't you? Ain't like we ever get much good news round here, is it? Now are you gonna tell her or do I have to do this as well as sorting everything else, like fucking always?"
Angela turns to him, her eyes pleading with him as she stutters and stumbles over her words. "Ma, I got something I need to tell you. I ... I ..." Tears start to trickle down her cheeks as she finally looks him in the eye. "Tim, please, can't you just ..."
"Yeah, okay." He sighs, lets her rest her head against his chest and even though they haven't out and said it yet, I'm pretty sure I know what they've come here to tell me, the one thing I wish it wasn't. "Ma, it's just Angela's in a bit of a fix."
My stomach hits the floor, twisting and turning as his vague words confirm my suspicions and I find myself remembering that other day, all them years ago, that painful humiliating conversation with my own mother whirling through my mind, the way she spoke to me, looked at me, how we've barely spoken more than five times in all the years since that day more than twenty years ago.
"You're a disappointment to this family, Jean…"
" ... Ma, are you listening? The guy says he'll stand by her, do the right thing. I'll handle it, arrangements and all, make sure he does—but you'll need to come sign some forms, give your permission being as she's still a kid. You reckon you can do that?"
"What? Yes, I'll sign it."
Tim glances at his watch then gives his sister one last quick hug. "Well, guess I better get going then. But I'll come pick you up first thing in the morning, both of you, get this sorted out soon as possible."
As he walks away down the hall, lets the door bang shut behind him, Angela turns and almost runs into her room, the bed springs creaking as she throws herself onto it as the house falls back into uneasy silence as the memories crowd in again.
"Shameful, disgusting, disgraceful…"
My face burning with humiliation as my own mother stands in front of me and calls me all the bad names under the sun.
All the worse for her not shouting at me, just saying it like it's fact, ignoring my protests that Ted loves me, that he's promised to stand by me, that we'll be happy….
Need to shut it out, stop it going round and around in my head and I'm reaching for the nearest pill bottle, trying to pry off the lid when I realise it's not so quiet anymore, that the air is filled with the sound of Angela's stifled sobbing.
With a deep breath I set them back down, head into her room and perch awkwardly beside her on the bed; I'm about to reach out, smooth her hair like I used to when she was little, until she lifts her head from the pillow and glares up at me.
"Suppose you've come to tell me what a fool I am too? Well don't waste your breath Ma. I already had Tim yell at me the whole damn afternoon, so it's not like you're gonna say nothing I ain't heard already, is it?"
"What? No. I ain't gonna yell at you. I just ..." My voice fades away, all the things I want to say—all my questions and all I need to tell her—sticking in my throat. I'm not sure it's the right choice for her, really. Not looking back on my own life. But then I'm not my mother, either, I won't make this any harder than necessary if her mind's already made up. Have to try to make the best of this mess for Angela's sake if nothing else, no point telling her any of that, any of the bad stuff. Too late now anyway, situation's already here, so there's no point making things any worse. "So what's this boys' name?"
"Ryan."
"And how long you been seeing him?"
"Couple months now." She smiles a little as she shifts to sit a little closer to me. "He's real nice, Ma, honest, he ... " and she carries on talking, telling me all about this boy and what he's promised her, her face lighting up as she does so, despite the circumstances she's in. Reckon it's the most conversation the pair of us have had this month, hell it's probably the most we've actually talked in years.
"And you're sure it's what you want, Angela? You really want to marry the boy, keep this baby? You ain't agreeing to this just because you think you don't have no other choices? Or to keep me—or your brother—happy?"
She sits up straighter and stares at me, snorts a little as she stifles a laugh. "No way; me getting married ain't keeping Tim happy, you should have seen him earlier talking to Ryan, he was so mad. Doubt Tim could find one good word to say about him, or me, right now. Reckon he thinks I'm nothing more than an idiot, a stupid little kid who can't be trusted to do one thing right."
"No, that ain't true, your brother would do anything to look after you. He's a good boy, Angela, loves you a lot."
"Yeah, I guess." She sniffs, wipes at her eyes a little as she settles back down on the pillows and I get to my feet.
"Well, it's getting late so why don't you try to get some sleep? You've an early start tomorrow and you need to take care of yourself now."
I'm almost out the room when her whispered words stop me in my tracks, leave me clutching at the doorframe to support myself as it feels like the ground is dropping out from beneath me. "Do you still miss him, Ma?"
"Who, Angel?" I ask, even though I know who she means, despite this being the first time in years and years she's ever mentioned him to me.
"Dad of course. I mean Tim's great and all, looks after us, but it ain't the same, is it? I miss him so much."
A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Sorry it's been a while but I hope you like the update, it felt about the right time to have a little more of a look at Angela, so I'd love to know what you think.