Despite the Angels (39 page)

“What?” Kathleen’s voice was dull and uninterested.

“Have you ever thought of getting a job involving travel?” Now where did that come from, David thought.

“Me. Someone has to keep trying round here. Get her out of your hair for a while and find out who you are for a change. Stop all these trips and save up for that piano you want.” Jotin was sitting on the sofa beside David, watching the television. He enjoyed good plays. Unfortunately, this was not a good play, so he was trying a bit of manipulation again. Probably won’t work this time either, he thought. This is one tough assignment. Wretched Trynor, if he’d got it right those two would need almost no minding at all, they’d be doing it themselves.

“Want to get rid of me, do you?” said Kathleen.

“Yes” said Jotin.

“No, of course not” said David.

“Coward” said Jotin. “Why don’t you just say yes and get it over with?”

David continued. “I just thought, you’re always so unhappy here, always wanting to go somewhere, that maybe if you could be, I dunno, a tour guide or something, that you might be happier. And it wouldn’t cost anything.”

“How could I be a tour guide? I don’t speak any languages well enough. And I’m too old to start being an air hostess, in case that was your next smart suggestion, trying to get me killed off in an air crash.”

“You’re not afraid of dying in an air crash when we’ve bought the tickets, why should you if you’re being paid?” David sat back and tried to think of some other job Kathleen could do. “How about presenting travel programmes? You’d have to get into RTE first, I suppose. How about improving your French, or learning a new language? An unusual one, so you’d be in demand? What about writing a travel guide? You know most of Europe inside out already. Just find an angle.”

“You write the bloody book. You present the programmes. You learn a language. Leave me alone!” Kathleen threw the atlas on the floor and ran out of the room, taking huge gulping breaths as she went. David closed his eyes. Up to bed, under the covers and cry, up two hours later and stamp into the bathroom for a hot bath, cucumber slices on the eyes and a demand for hot chocolate and an apology. The same every time. And I apologise. Every time. But what exactly have I done wrong? Just opened a discussion point. Idiot. Why didn’t I remember, Kathleen doesn’t discuss, Kathleen states. That’s it. No more discussions. Just ignore her as best I can from now on, do what she wants when I must. Trying to solve things is just too tiring.

David let himself into the house. He stood for a moment and listened. He was sure he was on his own. What a luxury, he thought, a few minutes to draw breath before the onslaught. In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and switched it on, then leaned over the counter to look out of the window. There was a bit more light in the sky every day now. Soon the grass would need cutting again. Soon the summer travel brochures would appear again and his sheets of calculations would have to start.

The water hissed and a cloud of steam engulfed him. David got out a mug and spoon and reached for the jar of coffee. Propped against it was an envelope, ‘David’ starkly on it. He took it and sat down, a million thoughts tumbling simultaneously through his mind, some bad, some good, but none of them simple. It was Kathleen’s writing, looking rushed, as always. Open it, you idiot, stop trying to guess. You’d never keep up with her anyway.

“Dear David, I’ve gone. I can’t stay here any more. It was a big mistake, me trying to be with you. I always have wanted to be somewhere else, but then when we go somewhere, that’s not right either-

“You can say that again” said David aloud, his voice startling the room. “You always were a discontented bitch.”

-so I think it must be us that’s the problem. So I’m going, don’t bother to track me down, I’ll be moving around. I’ve taken the money. Maybe I’ll get a divorce if I pass through Las Vegas. I’ll let you know. Kathleen”

David read it again and again. The light slowly faded while he tried to decide what to think, even what to feel. He wouldn’t miss her, though he’d certainly notice her absence. The girls would keep him busy. The girls. What will they think, has Kathleen explained to them? His thoughts, now only in thousands, whirled round and round, circling and dodging, refusing to settle. I tried, oh God, how I tried, he thought. And this is the end of it. I wasn’t good enough. She wants so much and it’s not what I want, or what I have to give. We really weren’t partners at all, just spouses. But I thought it would be me that would crack and now it’s happened, but it’s on her terms. The money. She says she’s taken ‘the money’. What money? She can’t have!  He got up and went into the back room to searched the sideboard for the building society book. The rainy day money, not much but growing slowly, they’d both agreed to pretend it wasn’t there, so that the girls could go to college, or have slap-up weddings one day. They would be dipping into it this autumn, for the college fees. It was gone.

“So, in the end, the girls are taking second place to Miss Whinge. Again.  But I really didn’t think you’d go so low, Kay, I really thought that was sacrosanct. I didn’t realise before, but I was right just now. You really are a bitch.”

“Who’s a bitch, Dad?” Caroline was behind him and her arms snaked round his waist. “Not me?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised” said Clare. “Worms can turn.”

“No, not either of you.” David stopped and looked at them, these beautiful young women he had worked so hard for and put up with so much for, and wondered what to say to them. Could he bad-mouth their mother? Could he lie and pretend he and Kay had parted amicably? What would be the best? Nothing would be good and in the end he decided the truth was easiest for everyone. No trying to remember the story, for one thing. So he told them, just the bald facts, and showed them their mother’s letter. They stood quietly together, their long hair hanging like two glossy brown curtains, one smooth, one wavy, as they read the short message and then four wide eyes turned to him.

“Is that all?” said Clare. “She didn’t say anything about us?”

Caroline was running up the stairs. Her feet pounded around above their heads for a few minutes and then she was down, her eyes glistening.

“Nothing. No notes for us. Nothing.” And she started to cry. Clare put an arm around her and sniffed.

They sat around the table later, over a scratch meal of rashers and baked beans. The girls were very quiet, their eyes red rimmed.  David felt disloyal, because within him was no grief, just a feeling of relief.  At last there was a change; he wouldn’t have to struggle to finance yet another trip and field the complaints when the trip was a disappointment.

“Why are you smiling, Dad? Is there a joke?” Caroline’s voice was sharp. David sighed.

“It’s really hard to explain. I don’t think anyone will understand. I don’t really understand myself, yet.” He looked at the girls, pleading silently with them to at least withhold judgement. “I’m sorry, loves. I’m really sorry this happened.”

“Why are you sorry, Dad? It’s not you that’s walked out,” said Clare.

“Your mother was really hard work…”

“Yea, high maintenance, it’s called. We noticed.” Clare slumped in her chair and pushed her plate away.

“ …so I suppose I’m smiling at the irony of it. That I struggled for years to keep her happy, not to walk out like I’ve been advised; and in the end she walks out and saves me the bother. I’m sorry girls, but there it is. Maybe I can relax a bit now. Though I have to start the rainy day fund over again.”

“I don’t care about your rainy day fund. I’m just going to miss Mum,” Caroline was crying again. “We don’t even know where she is. Or if she’s safe.”

“Probably once she’s got somewhere and got over the shock and excitement of leaving, she’ll let us know. Let you know, anyway. She’ll be fine, she’s very competent, your mother, underneath.”

“I’ll get on to Haliken and make sure Kathleen keeps in touch with the girls. Don’t worry, this is much more how it ought to have been, years ago. Relax. It’ll work out, now. If  Trynor and I have anything to do with it.” Jotin stroked his hand over David’s head
and David sagged in his chair, his eyes closing.

“Dad, you’re knackered. Go on up to bed.  Me’n Caro will tidy up. Seeya tomorrow.” 

Jotin rushed through the crowds of gossiping guides and angels, looking for Haliken. He was excited, his energies whirling around him in flashes of bright colours. Where was Haliken? Surely he hadn’t taken all his energy to Earth to go with Kathleen?

“Haliken, Haliken, over here!!” Jotin panted up to Haliken and frowned at him.  “What d’you think you’re up to, doing that without warning me? It took me totally by surprise, I didn’t get to David for ages, I didn’t know he needed help. Never mind the girls.”

“Steady on there. I didn’t know either. The first I heard was a call from the airport, about the difficulty of getting a flight to somewhere interesting at short notice.”

“You mean Kathleen just up and left? On her own? Without you prodding her? After all this time, why now?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to get her out for years, reminding her how independent she used to be, how the ability to cope on her own was still deep inside her. I’m fed up telling her she would be better off using her energies to organise herself instead of bullying David. Maybe eventually all my persuasion hit critical mass. Anyway, yes, she just up and left. With no plan. And no ticket. So I hear, ‘oh come on, somebody, get me out of here!’ so I got her out of there.”

“So where’s she gone?”

“Paris. It was the next flight we could get. And she has a little French.”

“And then what? It’s a big place, easy to get lost, or into trouble.”

“I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble and trying to make herself understood will calm her for a few days, at least. I think she has an old school friend there. I’ll remind her. Or there are plenty of trains and planes out. She has a passport!”

“Don’t we know it. Well, I really came after you to say, get her to contact the girls. I know she’s not interested in them, but there’s no point in them finding out and if they’re happy, my David can be happy and I can get on with the real work. She didn’t leave them any sort of note and they’re very upset.”

“Did she leave David a note?”

“Yes, not a very nice one, just saying she might get a divorce and that she’s taken the money.”

“Okay. I’ll get her to spend a little of it as soon as the shops open. If you need me, just shout.” Haliken stood back a bit and he and Jotin regarded each other solemnly. They had worked together for eighteen years longer than they had expected originally, but were surprised by the sudden ending of their close alliance. It would seem strange, suddenly being apart, maybe even on different continents.

“Let me know if she does get a divorce. Try to get her to send enough information to stop the family worrying. I hope she finds something to ease her pain, till her body is ready to let her go Home.”

“Will do.”  Haliken and Jotin threw their energy around each other, in a gesture badly mimicked by the human hug and were quiet together for a moment. Then Haliken was gone.

A few days later, there was a ring at the door just as David and the girls were getting ready to go out and the postman handed in a parcel. In it were two beautiful scarves and a few postcards of Paris.

“So, what do you think, Jotin? Is there any point in trying?” Trynor was lounging on some grass, in a beautiful garden made for him to think in. “I mean, the whole point was that they could have a baby together, and allow Moonsong, Dawn, to spend a life with them.” He rolled onto his back and looked at the sunlight, shining out of a clear sky above him. Really, his friend was very skilled at making Earth facsimiles. This one was quite like France. He closed his eyes and listened. Yes, he could even just hear the hum of insects. Clever.

“I don’t know, really. David is available and still very interested in women. I mean, he’s only forty-one. But that vasectomy does seem to spoil it all. Lucy is hardly going to go for a man who can’t give her a baby, is she? Or is she happy to stop at one?”

“Two. Did I not tell you, she had a son too, just over two years later. He’s one and a half now, a cute little thing. She still has quite an urge to have another, but she’s uncertain about it. She thinks it’s because she has to work so many hours, but it’s really because her soul knows she’s not meant to have them with Martin. Her Aisling and Robbie are both good kids. Souls she knew already, so they can work through some small issues together.”

“Did they know Martin?”

“No. Roki says children were ‘surplus to requirements’ this time, so we used souls who knew Lucy. None of the ones who knew Martin were free, he wasn’t really meant to have any children this time.”

“Did Roki say what he is meant to be doing?”

“Learning honour and self-reliance, apparently.” The two guides sat quietly after this, for a long time. Then Jotin caught Trynor’s eye and asked “Did he say how he was doing?” and they both burst into peals of laughter. Bits of energy broke free from them as they laughed and floated up, shimmering in the sunlight, before drifting back down to coalesce again with them, as they lay on the grass, holding their sides. Trynor was hiccoughing.