Despite the Angels (49 page)

Finally she finished the ironing and put the last folded little shirt on the heap in the armchair with a satisfied ‘there!’ and looked round. Robbie was looking very glum.

“Daddy isn’t coming, Mummy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute,” Lucy lifted the heap of clothes, “He’s often a bit late.”

“But Mum,” added Aisling, “it’s after half twelve.”

“Is it?” Lucy put the ironing down and looked at her watch. Aisling was right. Martin was always late and twice had been very late. He might yet appear, all bonhomie and cheer for the children and ‘this isn’t necessary, you know,’ for Lucy, as he again told her in an undertone that he was prepared to come back and forgive her for throwing him out. He didn’t understand that she was unlikely to forgive him.

“I’ll phone your Dad, something has kept him.” Lucy dialled Colm’s number and spoke with Colm’s wife. As she listened, she sat slowly down onto the couch and when she hung up, it was very gently. She looked at Aisling and Robbie.

“Your Dad is in London. She’s not sure for how long, but probably two weeks. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Robbie was standing up, his hands clenched at his sides. “I hate you, you made him leave, he would be here now if you hadn’t.” He ran from the room, slamming the door.

“I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, Ash. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault that he went to London, Mum. Robbie doesn’t understand as much as me. I’m older.” Aisling was looking at Lucy through tears. Lucy put her arms around her little daughter and hugged her hard.

“You don’t have to understand, Ash. No-one should have to understand this stuff, not even me and I’m ancient. It’s all right for you to be upset with me and your Dad. We’ll do something this afternoon to try to cheer ourselves up.” She kissed Aisling on the head and then went upstairs to comfort Robbie.

David went into the kitchen to see what there was for lunch and stood despondently in front of the open fridge, looking at a small piece of red cheddar and two eggs. He shut the fridge again and looked out the window at the summer garden, the overgrown grass that he should have mown, the straggly annuals that Clare had planted in the one clear bed. There was a slight haze of blue from a patch of cornflowers. The plastic table glared in the sun. Now, if I had some lettuce and several other things, and some enthusiasm, I could make an elegant salad and eat it al fresco, he thought as he wondered what to do with the meagre offerings in the fridge. I love good food, why do I forget to buy any? Maybe I’ll skip lunch and go to that tea-dance. They do good sandwiches there.

“Dad?” A voice called from the hall and Clare brought a scent of sunshine into the room. “Lunchtime? What is it?”

“I didn’t expect you back, you said you would be out all day.”

“Yea. Change of plan. Boring story.” She opened the fridge and looked in. “We’ve let this run down. Needs shopping. Let’s go after lunch.” She took out the cheese and the eggs and fished the sandwich toaster out of the cupboard. “Set the table, then I’ll sort you out.” David did what he was told, wondering not for the first time where Clare had got her facility with cooking. Not from him, or her mother. He watched as she worked, creating a tasty meal from odds and ends.

“If things had gone right, you’d have said Lucy taught her,” said Jotin, wishing he could join in and taste the egg cheese and onion toasted sandwiches that were now sizzling in the machine, “but really they both learned in France, in that kitchen in Merillac.”

Over lunch, David told Clare about Carmel and the tea dance, and tried to persuade Clare to go with him. But Clare refused, insisting they needed to go to the supermarket. She was not impressed by Carmel’s hunch that David should go to the dance, pointing out that Carmel was a ‘romantic old lady who’s having a heart attack’ and giving her opinion that as such, she was unlikely to be reliable.

“Oh, she was reliable, for the situation as it was a few hours ago. We were feeding her all the right cues,” Jotin laughed and Clare’s guide joined in.

“Yes,” she said, “and now we’re feeding you. You’re the easiest of the lot to guide, my pet. You actually hear me, even if you are a bit of a cynic. And you are right, the supermarket is a great idea, even though you did think of it yourself. I’ll go and talk to Trynor.” And she was gone.

“Come on, Dad. Let’s make a list.”

Lucy had asked the children what they would like to do for the afternoon and they had tried to guess what Martin had planned for them, ‘so we don’t miss it’ as Robbie explained solemnly. He had cheered up once an outing was promised. Good thing, thought Lucy, not to always be the boring ‘go to school, time for bed’ parent and get a chance to be the ‘where would you like to go’ one. They had a discussion of fun places and places they had never tried and old favourites. Lekna was busy, talking to Aisling. She had had an exciting visit from Clare’s guide..

“How about the Natural History Museum, Mum? I like that.”

“What’s that?” Robbie had forgotten their visit there last year.

“You know, Robbie,” said Aisling, “the Dead Zoo.”

“Oh, yes! Whale bones!”

So it was decided. They would go into town, but on the way back they would stop off at the Merrion shopping centre and get some groceries. Robbie and Aisling would be allowed to choose what tonight’s dinner would be. I hope I don’t have to bribe them into happiness every weekend, thought Lucy. I hope Martin comes back and sees them again. Better phone Jen and tell her I can’t go to the tea-dance.

“But they could come here, my Mum is coming to sit with our kids.” Jen was insistent. For a moment Lucy weakened, after all, she had bought an outfit specially to go out in. But when she thought about it she remembered Robbie’s face and she knew where she wanted to be.

“No, I’ve promised them a trip to the Natural History Museum. I can’t just dump them with no warning. Maybe next weekend?”

The children enjoyed the whale skeleton and the stuffed animals; they were lucky and were allowed to see the glass replicas of microscopic creatures, while the curator explained to them how tiny the actual creatures are. Robbie was more impressed by the size of the whale, but Aisling was enthralled by being able to ‘see’ such tiny creatures. They came out into the sunshine and with promises of ice-cream, made their way to where they had parked on Baggot Street, talking all the way about the animals they had seen and agreeing that next time, maybe they should go to the real Zoo, to see some of them ‘with their own insides and eyes’ as Robbie put it.

Aisling and Robbie fought for the right to control the trolley and with Lucy behind them keeping peace and steering, they made their way into the supermarket. They started in the vegetable section and Lucy was choosing carrots when Aisling gave a squeak- ‘Clare!’ Lucy looked round.

“Look, Mum, over there, it’s Clare!”

“Who?”

“Remember, Clare who babysat for Marge once, when we were there. She walked us home. She was nice.”

“Oh yes, I remember vaguely,” Lucy looked round and at the end of the next aisle saw a young woman with beautiful auburn hair and a full trolley, talking to an older man. He was taking jars off the shelf and studying them and then turning to Clare to ask her opinion. Clare said something, the man smiled and Lucy caught her breath.

“Will I go and say hello?” Aisling asked and Lucy nodded.

“Hello, Clare! Do you remember me? I’m Aisling and there’s Robbie,” she pointed, “And you met my Mum!” Aisling fell silent, suddenly dumbstruck. Lucy stood and smiled uncertainly at Clare. What on earth was she thinking, they had barely met once, nearly two years ago. Clare was too old to babysit then, she would be well out of that now. What would they have to talk about?

“Oh, hello, Mrs Fitzgerald!” said Clare.

Lekna kicked Aisling on the shin
. Aisling yelped. Clare looked at her, her face a question.

“Mum doesn’t call herself Mrs any more. Not since Daddy left. She’s ‘Ms’ Browne now.” She rubbed her shin and glared at Robbie, who stuck out his tongue at her.

“That’s the girl, Aisling. We’re nearly there.” All their guides were gathered quietly around. If they had needed to breathe they would have been holding their breaths. They were holding a ring of energy around the little group and waiting. Selta whispered to Clare.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Ms Browne. Anyway, this is my Dad,” she indicated the tall man beside her. Lucy looked at him again and he lifted his eyes to meet hers as he put out his hand to her.

“David Hyland,” he said and his eyes lowered again. Lucy looked at them, followed their path and felt a giggle beginning to form deep inside her. This gorgeous man was checking her out. Me, she thought, me of the tiny boobs and here is a lovely guy, looking straight at them. First time that ever happened to me. Maybe it’s the too tight tee-shirt.

“No, the flower.”

She grinned, as she said “Lucy Browne” and looked David straight in the eye. She knew him from somewhere, she was sure of it. Her face still wore the delighted grin and David’s began to match it, his mouth widening and his eyes crinkling. They stared at each other, still holding hands in a handshake that had never got off the ground. Clare looked from her father to this pretty woman and then at the two children, who were staring at their mother, wide-eyed.

“Aisling and Robbie,” she said softly, bending down to them, “I think we should go and check out the sweets aisle for a minute, don’t you?” She held out her hands to them and the three of them moved away, discussing the relative merits of Smarties and Skittles. Aisling looked back and saw her mother still holding hands with Clare’s father. She thought she ought to be bothered, but she wasn’t.

“I’m sure we’ve met before,” said David.

“You bet!” chorused the five guides, “Come on, get on with it, we’ve got rid of the kids.” The children’s guides had stayed behind to watch, knowing not much could go wrong in the sweets aisle.

“Yes, it feels like that to me, too,” said Lucy and she looked down at their linked hands. “So maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel odd to be holding hands with a total stranger?” Now why did I say that, she wondered, drawing attention to something embarrassing. But she wasn’t embarrassed. And she still wasn’t embarrassed when David raised her hand to his lips and bowed exaggeratedly over it, brushing the back of it with his lips and staring again at her breasts.

“Madame,” he breathed, as he raised his eyes and looked into hers.

“Monsieur,” Lucy answered, wondering only for the tiniest of moments had she gone mad, as she looked back into his eyes, captured by their depths.

“How about going for a coffee?” said David, returning to the modern day, “there’s a café just outside. Leave the trolleys here, Clare will find them. Come on.” He turned, still holding Lucy’s hand and they moved together towards the café. They were both still smiling and looking at each other as they walked.

The guides began to relax, they looked round at each other and smiled. Then Jotin raised his arms in the air and began to shout,

“Yes! Yes! We did it!” He held his hand towards Trynor’s and they copied the humans’ ‘high five’, beginning to dance together, circling and weaving. The children’s guides joined in, happy that all was at last working to plan and they began to sing a song of hope and triumph. Other guides, passing with their Saturday afternoon frazzled humans, asked what was going on and when it was explained they began to smile too, joining in the clapping and dancing, so that very soon, the shop was full of dancing and circling guides, singing in triumph and
all over the shop, people found themselves tossing wine, fillet steak, cakes and all manner of unnecessary treats into their trolleys and beginning to sing snatches of happy songs.

Over in the little café, David pulled out the chair for Lucy and as he leant over to push it in for her, he breathed in the scent from her hair.

She woke in the dark, with an aching damp between her legs, and as she remembered her cheeks became damp too, but the ache was deeper. For a moment she had been so happy, as she had heard her son’s first cry. Then they had told her– it is only a girl. TieJuan looked down now, into the little crib and could just make out the form of her sleeping daughter, her tiny hands curling against her face. I will fight for you, she thought, I will fight for your survival, my pretty one. Yesterday had been loud, first the noise and excitement of the birth, but then the recriminations had filled the farmhouse. The tests had said it was a boy, so he had survived and would have been protected, to work the farm. But the tests were wrong and according to her husband’s mother, it was TieJuan’s fault, maybe she had even lied. She was accused of ingratitude, of theft, of cheating. She was tired now, tired of defending herself, and knew she would need all her energy to defend her daughter. My little one, she thought, my blood, my tears. Not unwanted, not at all. Even your father wants you and wants to love you, though he dares not admit it. His mother is too strong, has survived too much adversity, to accept defeat. If she wants a grandson, she will get a grandson. In horror and dread, TieJuan had heard through the door as it was explained how that might be possible, what fate might await this precious scrap of babyhood; she had clutched the baby tight to her and screamed defiance when the deceitful grandmotherly arms reached out.