Despite the Angels (15 page)

“Can
we go somewhere, to celebrate?” He had thought she meant out to dinner, but when he had said of course, let’s arrange a babysitter, she had snorted and pointed out she meant away, for another week off. He had sighed. If only, even just once, she would want something else, something solid, that would last. A piano. A good sofa. Or even new clothes.

“Must we? I am tired, with all these trips.”

“I hope it’s not the seven year itch.”

David wondered. Can you have a seven year itch for seven years? Just as well we had the girls, he thought, smiling. He had left them to school this morning and loved seeing them run in with their friends, so carefree, so cute in their little uniforms. I love them so much, he thought, so much. Caro, singing all the time, copying any new tune she hears and dancing as though there are springs in her shoes. And Clare, so different. So serious and wise. She’s said funny things more than once, that seemed to make sense. Odd coincidences.

“Coincidences, huh! Will they ever cop on?” Trynor was in the waiting room, his energies sparkling. “Get him to open his eyes, she’s coming!”

“Lucy? You have her coming here, now?” Jotin was puzzled.

“Yes. She’s seventeen, I reckon that’s old enough to be interesting? Her little sister is certainly interested in boys and she’s only fourteen.”

“Isn’t Lucy busy with exams?”

“Oh yes, that’s how I got her here. She’s not very sick, but her nose is running, so she wants it fixed before the Leaving starts. I hope it isn’t too red to be attractive.”

“I don’t think David will notice anyway, but we can try. His wife is being a bit less ghastly at the moment.”

“Jotin – you mean he’s still entangled with her? You haven’t found a way out yet? If I wasn’t mad at you I’d be sort of pleased. Proves it’s not only me that gets things wrong.” Trynor shimmered with amusement.

“I haven’t exactly got anything wrong. I just haven’t done anything. After all, none of us were meant to be in this predicament, it was Haliken who made the big error. Those girls were expecting to be left motherless at three days old.”

“Tragic.”

“Yes, so the humans would have said,” Jotin and Trynor nodded wryly.

“Actually,” said Jotin, “it’s more tragic this way. She isn’t meant to be their mother at all. And it shows. She’s miserable about it, but of course she doesn’t know why. David has to stand up for them all the time.”

“Can you not get Haliken to arrange another infection for her? One that works?”

“Difficult. They’re so good at curing them now. Killing off a healthy young woman isn’t as easy as it used to be. Time was, we could arrange nice short sharp lives for people, one lesson per life. They’ve messed it up. Pity, they’re all so determined to stay alive forever. They’re not at all convinced there is anything after. We’d have to arrange a much more complicated disease now. I died three times of things that are really easy to fix now. And anyway, the girls’ guides won’t let us kill her, we did discuss it. We thought of a car crash, nice and quick. But the girls aren’t meant to have a grief like that in their lives. It would have been all right at three days, or even three months. But they’re too old now, six is much too vulnerable.” Jotin looked over at David. “Looks peaceful and happy, doesn’t he? We’ll change all that if this works.” He went over and pinched David on the cheek.

David opened his eyes and looked around, rubbing his cheek. He couldn’t see any insects, but something had bitten him. At that moment, the receptionist put her head round the door and said, “Lucy? The doctor will see you now.” David looked across and saw the back of a girl in a school uniform follow the receptionist out. He closed his eyes again.

“Drat! Why didn’t we rope in that woman’s guide? She came in at just the wrong moment.” Trynor was agitated.

“Does Lucy have any flowers? I didn’t see them.” Jotin was sitting beside David, wondering whether to pinch him again, or to wait until Lucy came out of the surgery.

“No,” said Trynor, “how could she? She has to wear that uniform.”

“Well, let’s try to get them together in the hall when she comes out. But without flowers will it work?”

Lucy was talking on the phone to her friend. She had a plate of crackers, cheese and paté beside her on the floor and was showering crumbs around as she chewed slowly, her eyes closed, the better to enjoy the flavours, as she nodded and exclaimed at Sally’s news.

“Did he? Wow! And what did you say? Yea, yea,.. really?” This went on for some time. She licked her fingers carefully. “No, nothing much. Well I went to the doctor today. No, not too bad. Just my nose, runs like a tap. Distracting. So who could I meet at the doctor’s, he’s about a hundred. Well, there was quite a dishy guy waiting to see him, but he was ancient too. And sick, probably.”

“Not ancient, not sick.” Trynor was sitting on the floor, playing cat’s cradle with a thin
looped strand of his own energies, twisting the coloured thread over and under itself in intricate patterns in the way he had watched Lucy play with wool in many lives.

“Well, let me see. Quite tall, I passed him in t
he hall on the way out. No, he didn’t see me. What guy would ever notice us in this lousy uniform? Totally de-sexing. He had nice hair, really thick. Hm?. Oh, brown. And a nice nose and his mouth was nice too. What else can I say except nice? He was just sitting there with his eyes closed. …Yes, that’s how I got to look at him. Otherwise I’m too embarrassed… No, the hall was too dark, I couldn’t see what colour they were. He didn’t look at me.  ...  So what?  Like I said, he was antique. … Oh, twenty seven at least… “

“Just twenty-nine. Not antique. About the same as you, if you count the centuries.”

“.. no, nothing serious. Bit of hayfever, he said. Gave me an antihistamine, but I’ve to try it out, it might send me to sleep. Listen, have you tried that Question three on the biology sample paper? Yes.. No, that’s what I thought…”
Trynor wandered away. He didn’t have to mind Lucy too much when she started talking schoolwork. It was stuff from other lives she needed help with. She used to be terrified of beaches, but that had almost worn off. It was more recent things that were problematic now. Fear of loneliness. Walking in the dark. Knives. Railway stations, she got very wobbly in those. But talking to friends on the phone, not too much problem there.

Alison ran down the stairs, stopped and pouted at Lucy.

“I need the phone. Hurry up.”

“Go away. I’m discussing important study with Sal.”

“Well, I have to find out what the homework is. From Deirdre. So hurry up, or I’ll tell Mum you’re eating all that expensive Magill’s paté.”

“It’s me that asked her to buy it. So I don’t think she’ll mind if I eat it.”

“Doesn’t seem to matter how often they’ve worked together, sisters still fight. They were the same as Eloise and Pascale. Until Eloise married, then she had the power.”

“Yes” agreed Alison’s guide. “And I think Alison remembers being Pascale and feeling grateful and is trying to get over it by being pushy. Maybe she should be the older one next time.”

“Probably. Make a note. Not that any of this is important really.” The two guides stood together and watched with amusement as
the two girls began to shout at each other, and as Alison cut her off with a quick finger on the button and then pulled the phone out of Lucy’s hands, Lucy picked up her plate and stomped off into the kitchen in search of more paté.

“She really learnt to love food in France, didn’t she?” mused Trynor, “nothing like being hungry first to give you an appreciation.”

“Sainte Vierge, aidez-moi!”  The scream echoed through the room and the midwife gripped the struggling woman’s hand.

“Calm, now, calm, all is going well.” The nurse reached for the sponge, dipped it in warm water and gently wiped the sweating face that was tossing to and fro on the pillow.

“How can it be all right, when it hurts so much?” Eloise cried, fastening anxious eyes on the older woman. “How can you just sit there, saying all is well?”

“Because I know it is. Nothing is out of the ordinary. You are just like your mother, she bore you with no trouble at all.”

“Where is Mother? She said she would be here! Oh, no, it’s coming again! Help! Help!” Eloise tossed and writhed and repeated her prayers to the Blessed Virgin, who knew what this felt like.

“We’re all here for you, little Eloise,” said Trynor, “and Mohmi is here with the baby’s spirit, waiting to see her come back into the world. So all will be well. Calm, now. Calm.” He passed his hands over Eloise, stroking just above her body and
she relaxed a little, just before the contraction faded.

“That’s better, you’re doing well. Our Lady heard your prayer.”

“I do not want to do this,” Eloise whined and she began to raise herself up. “I’m going to go downstairs and talk to Daniel and tell him that he can do it, if he wants a son so much.”

The midwife gently pushed her back and began to adjust the covers. She had seen this before and knew that the baby was nearly on its way.

“You tell him that later, dear. I’m sure he’ll be interested in your suggestions.”

On the dark landing, Jotin stood with
Daniel who was trembling with fear. He was not downstairs relaxing as his wife imagined. He was more afraid than he could ever remember being. Why, oh why did I do it, he thought, forgetting in his panic that Eloise had loved him as much as he loved and wanted her. Wanted her, he thought, yes, I wanted her, ever since I saw her breasts heaving with the exertion of dancing at the village festival last year. Couldn’t take your eyes off her, could you. Behaved shamefully, too, plucking a flower from one of the stalls and placing it between her breasts. His face coloured again at the memory of his rashness. Imagine what could have happened. She should have slapped my face, even though she was only a peasant. But I thank God she did not, he thought, as he began to smile at the memory of how she had looked up at him and laughed, their eyes connecting in a wave of amusement, that brought their hands together and swept them off into the next dance, while he watched her hair swirl around her as they turned to the music. She was made for me, he thought and now I’m going to lose her. Oh, God, protect her.

“But of course. And us. It’s all right, tout va bien. Your Eloise will live to be a good mother to your child, you know that, inside. Stop trembling now. Go in to her, go on,” Jotin spoke soothingly and moved the air currents on the landing, so that
the light from the guttering flame of Daniel’s candle flared for a moment and lit up the handle of the door.

Daniel put out his hand and turned the handle; quietly the door opened a little. He could see Eloise, lying on the rumpled bed, which had seemed so full of magic when he brought her there as his new wife. So full of magic until yesterday, when they could lie, their limbs entwined, talking about their baby and the wonderful future he would have. It seemed so special, this baby, so important. And now Eloise was struggling alone. He watched, standing in the open door, holding his light out of sight of the midwife, hoping to escape discovery, to be able to pray with Eloise, to help in some way, to promise God money for the church if Eloise was spared. To watch. To be where he should be, with Eloise.

“In the name of the saints and all that is holy, oh, forgive me, Mon Seigneur, but what do you think you are doing?” The voice cut harshly across his thoughts, as his mother-in-law bustled up the stairs. “Please come out of there and shut the door. That is no place for a man.” She reached past Daniel, pulled the door shut and turned towards him, shooing him towards the top of the stairs, her lowly position forgotten in her anxiety for her child. “Go down and get them to boil some water. We will tell you when you are needed. Go on, down you go.” She curtseyed perfunctorily and opened the door again, only to shut it in his face as she went into the bedroom. Daniel could hear Eloise, with a different tone in her voice, as she wailed - “Maman, oh, Maman, where were you? I’ve been so frightened.”

“Come on, Daniel, even I have no power against the taboos of women. On we go downstairs and do what you are told. All will be well. Viens, ne t’inquiete pas.”
Daniel stood, unmoving, straining to hear through the door, to guess what was happening inside
. Jotin blew and
suddenly Daniel’s candle went out, leaving him in the dark. He sighed and began to go down the stairs, to wake the servants. The house was quiet, creaking ominously as it settled into the night and a chill crept in from the darkness outside. Daniel decided he would boil the water himself, to show his mother-in-law that he was not entirely useless. She certainly thought so and his own mother’s behaviour tonight would not have impressed the busy peasant women now upstairs delivering the new landowner. I wonder why the peasants help us, he mused, as he started to rake up the ashes of the fire and set about boiling some water. It is nothing to most of them what happens in the château. My own mother and sisters just went off to bed and left Eloise alone. Didn’t even tell me, or send one of the servants to the village for Eloise’s mother. Why didn’t Maman tell me, when it is her grandson who is coming? He shook his head and began to search for the kettle.