Read Despite the Angels Online

Authors: Madeline A Stringer

Despite the Angels (24 page)

“Well, you just saw someone being given a very strong lesson. I hope she is able to do it.”

“Will her guide not erase the records for her?”asked Daniel.

“No,” Trynor sounded shocked, “It must always be voluntary. Everything is your choice.”

“Even being my parents again,” smiled Marie-Claire, “Though why not find a simpler situation?”

“Maybe we should be poorer next time,” suggested Daniel, “so that we concentrate on the important things. I am so ashamed of myself, dying for a silly painting.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jotin was by his side. “You really were thinking of bringing something for Eloise. It wasn’t the monetary value. The other looters were just thinking of money. Didn’t do many of them much good, they couldn’t find buyers for a lot of the things. It’s their descendants who will benefit. We’ll look round for a life for you that isn’t too poor, you don’t want to be distracted by poverty either.”

“It was lovely, having that good food,” Eloise was reminiscing, her eyes closed. “I enjoyed that, after being poor as a child, though it was still hard, knowing others had so little. And I learnt to cook some of the things. The cook was kind, she let me and some of the village women help her and showed us what to do. I would not enjoy being hungry again, but I’ll do it, if it helps.”

“I would like to do something creative. I watched that jeweller with a great sense of frustration. I must have known I could do it myself! Was it easier for you, Eloise? You could do embroidery.”

The discussion of what they would like and what they would need, carried on a long time. It was companionable, sitting there on the grass with old friends, chatting, joking, and later, playing music together as they allowed the sky to dim and points of light to shine out. Eloise put her head back and looked up at their night sky. She focussed her attention, gathered three small clouds together into a circle and shone a gentle light on it.

“Look, Marie-Claire,” she breathed, “The moon!”

 

 

Chapter 27                
Dublin, autumn
1979

 

“What’s wrong with Kathleen now? Oh dear, I’ll run so,” Jotin reassured Haliken, then blinked into David’s office and set about making a nuisance of himself, trying to attract David’s attention.

David was sipping coffee out of a paper cup while running his finger down a list of specifications, trying to guess if his firm could easily meet them and if it was worth tendering.

“Come on, Davey, ring home,” Jotin concentrated hard
and the phone on David’s desk rang once and stopped. David reached out and picked up the receiver. The dialling tone puzzled him, but he listened for a moment then put it down, trying to look at his watch at the same time. His sleeve caught the paper cup and tipped it over.

“Yes!” shouted Jotin, “and I didn’t even have to help.”

“Fuck,” said David, snatching the paperwork out of the way, not noticing the splash of coffee on his trousers.

“Go on home David. It’s a lovely stain, couldn’t have done better if I’d planned it. But you need those trousers for tomorrow’s meeting, so go home and change. NOW!”

David sat down, wiped his desk with a tissue and threw it and the cup into the bin.

“You wretched human,” Jotin cried, “How am I ever going to get through to you? The girls need you, now!”

David looked up at the photo of his twins and smiled. Just as well the coffee hadn’t splashed that way, he thought.

Now there’s an idea, thought Jotin. I certainly need one. Quickly.

 

Kathleen sighed and put her feet up on the coffee table. Just enough time to read another chapter before the walk up to the school, she thought. Maybe it would cheer her up. Those tablets are awfully slow to work. They never seem to do more than take the edges off the dull ache. “Why do I always feel like this?” she said to the walls. “What did I do to deserve feeling this bad all the time?”

“Nothing more than I did for letting you get yourself in this mess,” said Haliken. “I didn’t notice they had invented a cure for that infection. You were meant to be out of there pretty quickly, remember?  You might have even been in a new life by now, learning something else. We’ll just have to make the best of it, Kathleen, my own. We’re here for the duration. No short cuts. Now, go on up to the school. Being normal and looking out for the girls should dull the pain.”

“I need to dull the pain. It is pain. If you felt this bad in your body, they’d give you morphine.”  Kathleen pulled herself to her feet and shuffled over to the sideboard. The first mouthful of whiskey shocked her, the effect rushing up her nose and hot-wiring her brain. But then she sat down and picked up her book, in a big effort to be calm and not go along with the rather giddy feeling that was overcoming her. She sighed, put her head back and gradually the alcohol pulled the book from her hand and dropped it on the floor.

The telephone shrilled, jolting Kathleen awake. She stared at it, wondering where she was. It rang again, insistent. Kathleen at last reached over and took the receiver off the cradle and laid it down on the table. She could just hear a tinny voice rattling in its depths. Her glass was still on the table, with a tiny brown stain at the bottom. She picked up the glass and held it upside down, watching intently as the drop rolled towards the rim, then put out her tongue and caught it. The voice in the phone stopped and was replaced by a buzzing. She put the receiver back on the cradle for a moment and then laid it down on the table. A different buzz continued.

“There. Now you have to leave me alone. I know you weren’t Sandra, she’ll be at work now. Only ever rings in the evening. When I’m busy. Never when I need her.” She got up and went back to the bottle on the sideboard. Half a glass, she thought, that will get me back to sleep and out of here. She lay back on the sofa glass in hand, and watched the rain pour down the window. Ghastly climate. Indoors, only place to be in this weather. She sipped, and once more sleep took over.

 

David let himself into the house and ushered the two children in ahead of him.

“Go upstairs quickly, take off all your clothes and put on your pyjamas and dressing gowns.” he said.

“Why?” the girls looked up at him. “It’s not bedtime yet?”

“No, it’s not bedtime, but your clothes are sodden and I don’t want you catching cold. Now on you go. I’m going to put on the kettle for hot drinks.” He hung up his coat and watched the girls as they chased each other up the stairs. They recover so quickly. They’ll be loud and exhausting again in no time. Wish I could be the same. He went into the kitchen and shivered as he put on the light and threw the switch for the heating. So dark already and only just after Halloween. He put on the kettle and started getting out mugs and drinking chocolate.

“Who’s that?” Kathleen’s voice from the front room startled him and he dropped the sugar bowl, watching helplessly as sugar spiralled onto the floor as the bowl revolved.

“Why are you here?” David went into the room where Kathleen was lying on the sofa in the dark.

“I live here,” Kathleen said. “Why shouldn’t I be here?”

“Why didn’t you fetch the girls from school? They were standing out in the rain by the railings for ages. The caretaker saw them as he left and phoned me at the office. He said there was no reply at home. I thought you were stuck in town.”

“I took the phone off. Every time I try to relax the bloody thing shrieks at me.” Kathleen shut her eyes. “Switch off the light.”

“Did you hear what I said about the girls? Why didn’t you go for them? They were on their own in the rain. Anything could have happened to them.”

“Oh, fuss fuss fuss. Nothing happened. They’re here now aren’t they?” Kathleen pushed herself up on one elbow and pulled a glossy brochure towards her. “Look at this one, this looks really special. Three Greek islands in one fortnight. Transfers included, one child free if you take half-board.” She lay back again and started to hum ‘Never on Sunday’.

“Kathleen, we can’t go on another holiday, you just have to stop daydreaming like this. Please. We haven’t paid off the last one yet.” The kettle began to sing in the kitchen. “Do you want a hot drink? The girls are soaked, I’m making them one.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are the girls soaked?”

David stared at Kathleen, and past her at the rain streaming down the window. It was dripping heavily onto the windowsill. Must get a ladder and get up there and look, he thought. Maybe there are leaves in the gutter.

“Go on then, ignore me,” said Kathleen, “alone all day in the house and now no-one is paying me attention even when they are here. Is it any wonder I have to keep myself going with plans to get out of this dump?” She sighed loudly and threw an arm across her eyes.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just amazed that you need to ask why the girls are soaked. It’s lashing, didn’t you notice? And two six year olds were abandoned at the school gate because their mother couldn’t bother to remember to go and fetch them.”

Pounding could be heard on the stairs as the girls fought to be the first down. Clare got to the living room door first and rushed in. She ran up to Kathleen and jumped up on her.

“Why did you forget us? Why? We were in the rain, all alone!” A thought struck her and her eyes shone with the drama of it, “we were like Babes in the Wood! The birds would have to put leaves on us!”

“Wouldn’t need to,” said Caroline, who was sitting by her mother’s feet. “We could just have scrunched down. There were loads of leaves off the trees. Too soggy though, not a nice blanket. I’m glad Daddy came.”

“There, you see, it was all fine. Daddy came for you and you got to practise being babes in the wood. What fun!” Kathleen hugged Clare, who broke away and threw herself in under the hearthrug, shouting “I’m dead in the wood, look!”

“I hope it’s not really a practice, Mummy,” said Caroline, “I don’t want to do it again. Daddy mightn’t remember either next time.”

“One of us will remember, love,” said David. “We just have to arrange better whose turn it is to remember.” He glared at Kathleen and went into the kitchen.

 

The next evening when David got home from work the house was quiet. He sat at the kitchen table wondering where everyone was, anxious in case his daughters were on their own again. There was a Greek phrase book on the table. He looked at it dully, realising what this meant. The campaign was on for a holiday in Greece. She has such restless feet, he thought, only really happy when we’re planning to go somewhere, or going somewhere. Even when we’re there she’s not that content, as though it wasn’t quite right. Maybe I should be firmer, because we really can’t afford it, and I don’t enjoy it that much when I’m thinking all the time about the bills when we get home. If it worked and made her happy, it might be a good idea. Maybe if she could remember the holidays for longer, look back on them more. I wonder would a better camera help? If she had a really nice album?

“No point. She’s searching for somewhere forgotten. We’d bring her back Home to us if we could. If she killed herself no-one here would be cross with her, she wouldn’t be cutting her life short. She’s had six more years than planned already. But I hope she doesn’t, for the girls’ sakes. Too messy, too unfinished. We don’t want them to lose a mother who they remember, even by accident. You need to be firm. Just say ‘no’. I’ll hang round and remind you, again. But you have to listen.”

The front door opened and the twins, coming in in front of their mother, saw the light and came into the kitchen.

“Mummy came today,” Clare was bouncy, “and then we went to the shops and got ice-creams. Mine was a Brunch, I like the pink bits. But Mummy says it’s not as nice as Greek ice-cream. Greek ice-cream is like Italian. Yummy. When are we going?”

“We aren’t going to Greece, Clare,” David sat down and leant his arms on the table, “We’ll all just have to prefer Brunches.”

“I like choc-ices better,” said Caroline, as she climbed up onto David’s lap, “I like it when they go all slidy.”

“They have no flavour. Nothing here has any flavour.” Kathleen was leaning in the doorway.


Well, come on, Kathleen, let’s find something better for you. A life with flavour. Will excitement do? You could do something really different, train in mountain rescue maybe,” Haliken ran out of ideas.

“Someone has to rescue me from this. I have to get out. I’ve said.”

“So go. Come on.”

“So I’m going into the travel agent in the morning. It’s the only thing that makes it bearable. Often I think I’ll leave it and be strong and stay here. But I can’t. I can’t.”

Haliken sagged
. Kathleen slumped onto a chair. Then slowly she reached for the brochure. “Put the kettle on and I’ll show you which holiday I have in mind,” she said, her eyes beginning to shine.

 

 

Chapter 28
            
Spring 1983, Dublin

 

Lucy stuck her head round the door of Alison’s room. Alison was on top of the chest of drawers, holding a poster of David Bowie against the wall and trying to push a drawing pin into one corner of it. She had another pin between her lips.

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