Lost Angel (3 page)

But she’d already reapplied her make-up several times over to no avail, so there was nothing more she could do. She just hoped that Johnny would be too wrapped up in thoughts of being a dad to notice.

Outside on the doorstep, Johnny rang the bell for a second time – although he didn’t see how anyone on the inside expected to hear it over the God-awful country music they were blasting out.

This was the first time he’d ever been to the house. Ruth had invited him round loads of times, but always when Frankie was out of town. And since it was Frankie he’d been desperate to get in with, Johnny hadn’t seen the point. Now that he was actually here, it was nothing like he’d imagined. He’d thought it would be some kind of mansion, with stone lions on the gateposts and a fancy fountain on the manicured lawn – because that was the kind of place
he
’d have bought if he was as loaded as Frankie was supposed to be. But this was just a semi – and a shabby one at that, even by Johnny’s standards, which were pretty low considering the squalor of the flats he’d grown up in and now lived in by choice. There were chunks of plasterwork missing off the walls, and the fence was falling to pieces, while the garden was little more than a mud-pit dumping ground for all the knackered old motors that were parked up on it. The way Ruth acted, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the Hyneses were related to the Queen. But now he knew that they were no better than him, he felt a bit easier about being here.

Johnny pushed the bell for a third time, and added a couple of sharp raps on the knocker for good measure. That did the trick. The music stopped abruptly and, seconds later, the door opened and a gaunt-featured skinnier version of Ruth stared out at him. Guessing it to be her mother, he held out his hand and gave her one his most charming smiles.

‘Mrs Hynes? Hi, I’m Johnny . . . Ruth’s friend.’

Rita Hynes’s thin lips arched down in a contemptuous sneer.

‘Is that what you call it these days? Not boyfriend, or lover? Or how about
father of the illegitimate child she shouldn’t be carrying
?’

Engulfed by a waft of sour whisky-breath, Johnny drew his head back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. So much for the charm offensive. There was no need to guess how bad this was going to be, because Rita Hynes wasn’t even bothering to pretend it would be pleasant.

‘You might as well come in now you’re here,’ Rita ordered, drink sloshing over the rim of the glass she was holding as she stepped aside to let him in. She slammed the door shut behind him. ‘Frankie’s running late, so you’ll have to make do with me till he gets here. And
her
,’ she added, glancing back when she heard footsteps on the staircase.

Ruth’s cheeks were crimson when she reached the foot of the stairs.

‘Why don’t you go and sit down?’ she suggested quietly to her mother. ‘I’ll let you know when Dad gets home.’

Rita stayed put stubbornly and raised the glass to her lips. She took a long, slow drink and raked her gaze from Johnny’s face to his feet and back again. Then, sniffing as if she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about, she walked unsteadily down the hall and disappeared into her parlour.

Ruth turned to Johnny when she’d gone, all set to apologise. But the words died on her tongue when she saw his face.

‘Oh, please don’t tell me my dad did that? He
swore
he wouldn’t hurt you.’

‘He didn’t,’ Johnny lied, guessing that Frankie wouldn’t be too happy if he told her the truth, considering
he
obviously hadn’t. ‘I, er, got a bit roughed up playing footie with the lads.’

‘
Footie
?’

A frown of disapproval replaced the concern as Ruth wondered how he could even think about playing games after receiving such life-changing news. And then she noticed how dirty his clothes were, and saw a bit of sock peeping out through a hole in the toe of his scuffed trainers, and the frown deepened.

‘You could have got changed before you came round,’ she scolded. ‘You must know how important it is to make a good impression – tonight of all nights.’

‘Didn’t have time,’ Johnny replied, shrugging as if he didn’t see the problem – although he was secretly pleased that Dave’s plan seemed to be working already.

He’d been nowhere near a football pitch, as it happened, he just hadn’t bothered washing today. He also hadn’t brushed his teeth, and had spent the last few hours chain-smoking to ensure that his breath smelled rank. And, to complete the picture of shameless neglect, he’d pulled the dirtiest clothes he could find from the bottom of the pile on his bedroom floor.

Ruth wasn’t impressed, but she bit her tongue, reminding herself that it maybe wasn’t too smart to criticise him when she was the one who was trying to put their relationship on a firmer footing.

‘Sorry.’ She dropped the scowl and gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Didn’t mean to be so tetchy, but it’s been a bit tense round here today. Anyway, let me get you a drink while we wait for my dad. Do you want a brew, or something stronger?’

‘Tea,’ Johnny murmured, disappointed that she hadn’t reacted more strongly, because he’d put a lot of effort into making it look like he’d made none. And he could have murdered a beer, but he had a feeling he was going to need a clear head for when Frankie got home.

Ruth led him into the kitchen and waved for him to take a seat at the table while she got on with preparing the drinks. If she’d been nervous before, she was even more so now. Johnny hadn’t kissed her – although that was hardly surprising, because her mum’s presence was enough to put anyone off. But he also hadn’t hugged her. And his face was giving absolutely nothing away, so she had no clue how he was feeling.

When everything had been done that could be done, and all that was left was to wait for the kettle to boil, Ruth turned around and leaned back against the ledge. Even with his battered face and dirty clothes, Johnny was still heart-wrenchingly handsome, and she longed to feel his arms around her, to hear him say that everything was going to be okay. But there was an invisible wall between them, and she wasn’t brave enough to scale it on her own.

Johnny was looking around, taking in the fact that the inside of the house was every bit as shabby as the outside. The floor was covered in the same type of lino as his nan’s – although this was way more scuffed and cracked; and the fridge and washing machine looked older than him, Ruth, and his nan combined. But it was pretty clean for all that, and somebody had tried to pretty it up by putting a vase of flowers in the middle of the table – although, if their sweet scent was supposed to mask the nasty smell that was hanging in the air, it wasn’t working. He’d caught a whiff of it out in the hall, but it was far stronger in here, and he guessed it was coming from the drains – or maybe from the bulging bin-bags he’d just noticed heaped up against the back door.

The kettle switched itself off with a loud click. Glancing around, Johnny was unnerved to find Ruth staring at him with a strange intensity in her eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

Shaken from her thoughts by the sound of his voice, she blushed and placed her hands over her stomach.

‘Just feel a bit sick. It’s been coming and going for the last few days, but I’m hoping it won’t last as long as it did for my mum. She reckons it went on all the way through with me.’

Wishing he hadn’t asked, Johnny gave her a tight smile and gazed down at his hands. But Ruth wasn’t about to let him lapse back into silence. Now that the subject had been broached, she was determined to keep him talking.

‘I hope it wasn’t too much of a shock, my dad coming round like that?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to tell you myself but he insisted.’

‘It was a bit,’ Johnny admitted. ‘Can’t say it’s the best news I’ve ever heard.’

Tears sprang into Ruth’s eyes and she dug her nails into her palms to keep them at bay. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but she’d hoped it would be more positive than
that
.

‘What’s up now?’ Johnny asked when he saw her glittering eyes. ‘Have I said something wrong?’

‘No.’ She folded her arms tightly as her chin started wobbling. ‘I just thought you might be a bit happier about it, that’s all.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Johnny screwed up his face and stared at her in disbelief. ‘What lad in their right mind would want to be a dad at my age?’

A tear escaped and trickled slowly down her cheek. Groaning when he saw it, he said, ‘Oh, don’t start, Ruth. That ain’t gonna help.’

‘I’m
pregnant
,’ she whined. ‘And you don’t care, so I think I’ve got a right to be upset.’

‘Course I care,’ he lied, wishing she’d keep it down before her mum heard her and came rushing in to see what was wrong. ‘But you must know this isn’t going to work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m only nineteen, and you’ve only just turned seventeen. How can we have a kid when we’re still kids ourselves? We’d be shit parents.’

‘Other people manage. And so will we.’

‘Oh, get real,’ Johnny moaned, slumping back in his seat. ‘I’m doing my best here, but you’re not making it easy.’

‘You think it’s easy for
me
?’ Ruth shot back tearfully. ‘I’m the one who’s carrying it – the one who’s being sick and getting fat.’ Her face crumpled now, and she wailed, ‘I’m going to be a big fat pig, and you won’t w-want me any
moooore
.’

I don’t even want you
now
!
thought Johnny, grimacing when he saw the snot bubbling out of her nose. He didn’t know why girls thought that crying softened a man’s heart; it just turned his stomach and made him want to tell them how ugly they looked.

Her sobs were getting louder by the second. Desperate to shut her up, Johnny sat forward and said quietly, ‘Look, you’re not fat. But if it’s upsetting you this much just
thinking
about it, don’t you think that’s a good reason to put a stop to it before it gets that far?’

Ruth inhaled sharply as if he’d just punched her in the stomach.

‘You want me to kill our
baby
? Just to stop myself from getting
fat
?’

‘You’re the one who’s getting worked up about it,’ Johnny reminded her. ‘I’m only saying it would be better if we—’

‘Better if you what?’

Almost falling off his seat in shock, Johnny turned and gaped at Frankie standing behind him in the doorway.

‘I said, better if you
what
?’ Frankie repeated, walking fully into the room now and slamming his car keys down on the table. ‘Come on, big lad . . . you had enough to say when you thought it was just you and her.’

‘I – I was just saying I think we’re too young for a baby,’ Johnny croaked. ‘And it might be better if we – you know – think about stopping it before it goes too far.’

He cast a helpless look at Ruth, begging her with his eyes to help him out. But she raised her chin and shook her head.

‘I wouldn’t get rid of it even if I could,’ she said, a firmness in her voice that hadn’t been there moments earlier. ‘I’ve wanted it from the second I knew about it. It’s ours, and I already love it – just like I love you.’

She and Frankie both stared at Johnny now, and he started to feel physically sick. That was obviously his cue to say it back, but he didn’t feel that way, so he couldn’t.

Frankie hissed in disgust and looked at Ruth. Shaking his head when he saw the desperation in her eyes, he said, ‘I don’t know why you’re bothering, love. He obviously don’t feel the same. Know what he said when I told him about the baby? He said it ain’t his.’

‘You
didn’t
?’ Ruth gaped at Johnny in disbelief. ‘Why would you say something so horrible? You know you’re the only one I’ve ever been with.’

Ashamed of how pathetic he sounded, Johnny muttered, ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You know what I’m like. I don’t think before I speak, and shit just—’ He caught himself and gave Frankie a nervous look. ‘Sorry,
stuff
just jumps out of my mouth.’

Frankie leaned forward and slammed his fist down on the table, knocking the vase over.

‘It ain’t the stuff coming out of your mouth I’m bothered about, it’s the stuff you’ve been putting
in her
.’ He jabbed a finger in Ruth’s direction. Then, straightening up, he rolled his head on his neck until a loud crack echoed through the kitchen and said, ‘But the doctor says it’s too late to get rid, so we need to decide what we’re gonna do about it.’

Not daring to move as the spilled flower water poured down onto his trainers, Johnny cast a hooded glance of accusation at Ruth, silently cursing her for letting him go on about getting rid of the baby when she already knew it was too late.

‘Am I talking to my fucking self here?’ Frankie snapped. ‘I said what are we going to do about it?’

Johnny was well and truly trapped. He spread his palms in a gesture of surrender and said, ‘I’ll do whatever you want, Mr Hynes. I know it won’t be much after I’ve given my flatmate my share of the electric, and food, and that, but I’ll give you whatever’s left of my dole money. And I’ll do my share of babysitting, and make—’

‘Are you having a laugh?’ Frankie interrupted. ‘You think I’m gonna let you walk away and leave her to do all the dirty work? Not a chance, sunshine! You both had the fun of making it, so you’ll both have the grief of fetching it up.’

‘I’ve already said I’ll do my bit,’ Johnny mumbled. ‘Any time you want me to have it, just tell me and I’ll come and get it.’

Frankie inhaled deeply and clenched his fists. The boy was winding him up, and he was struggling to keep his hands off him. But he’d promised Ruth, so he had to try.

‘You still ain’t getting it,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘My girl ain’t gonna be no single mother. And no grandchild of mine is coming into this world a bastard.’

It took a few seconds for the meaning of his words to sink in. When it did, Johnny’s eyes widened.

‘You’re not serious?’

Frankie’s patience snapped and he seized Johnny by the collar, barking, ‘Do I look like I’m fucking joking?’ as he slapped him hard around the face.