Angels
Page 110
‘In my day,’ Mum said, ‘if you broke off an engagement you were sued for breach of promise.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’
Various unspoken hostilities filled up the room and when Mum decided to go to the bathroom, they spilled over into an actual row. All of a sudden, Helen and Emily were leaning into each other, trading clipped barbs – concerning Troy.
‘If you like him that much, why don’t you do something about it?’ Helen scorned. ‘Like, if you don’t stake your claim on him, you can’t blame anyone else if they do.’
‘It’s too late,’ Emily muttered. ‘Now that he’s met you.’
‘Don’t be so stupid, I’m leaving in a week.’
‘I bet you’ll decide to stay for him.’
Helen barked with laughter. ‘Are you joking me? I’m going back to Ireland to set up my detective agency. Why would I bother staying here?’
‘Because of Troy.’
‘He’s not that special.’
‘Emily,’ I had to cut in, ‘what do you care about Troy? You’re just friends with him. Aren’t you?’
She shrugged sullenly and I had my answer: she was in love with him. I’d suspected the previous night and now I knew for sure.
I withered with shame; I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems I hadn’t seen what was under my nose. I’d been so dense. Worse, I’d been so selfish.
‘Well, why didn’t you say before now?’ I pleaded. ‘Then we mightn’t all have slept with him.’
‘I haven’t,’ Anna said.
‘I’d get in there fast,’ Helen said.
Mum had come back from the bathroom but the argument was too advanced to knock it on the head. She picked up on it immediately. ‘What did I miss?’
We all lapsed into tight-lipped silence.
‘Margaret?’ she demanded. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Ah, um…’
‘It’s about Troy,’ Helen supplied. ‘Emily’s mad about him.’
‘And he’s mad about her,’ Mum said. ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘No, you stupid old woman,’ Helen said. ‘He’s mad about me,’
‘Troy?’ Mum confirmed. ‘The one with the nose? That one? Yes, he’s mad about Emily.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Helen repeated. ‘Just because the crowd of nutters next door think you’re some sort of wise-woman-guru type doesn’t mean you actually are.’
‘Helen, you were just a diversion to the chap. And I suppose he thought it was no harm to make Emily jealous.’
‘But–’
‘Am I right, Emily?’ Mum asked. ‘He’s got his eye on you?’
‘Well, once he had,’ she conceded, then coyly went further. ‘He said he was in love with me.’
‘When?’
‘About a year ago.’
‘And were you mad about him then?’
‘Yes, probably.’
‘So what,’ Mum demanded in exasperation, ‘in the name of GOD was stopping you?’
‘He was too into his work,’ Emily mumbled. ‘I’d always be second. I thought it wouldn’t work, then we wouldn’t even be friends.’
‘And now?’
A head-bowed reluctant mumble. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘But in the meanwhile he started “getting off” – is that the phrase? – with all of your friends?’
‘Yeah, except Lara.’
‘Why not Lara?’
‘I’ll tell you some other time.’
‘And you were jealous of these other girls?’
‘’Course.’
I closed my eyes at the memory of Emily realizing I’d slept with Troy, of her in convulsions when I asked if anything had ever happened between them. God, it must have been horrible for her.
‘But I didn’t totally mind, because I knew he liked me more than any of them and that his work was still his main love. But… but… I was worried about Helen.’
‘Don’t be,’ Helen said. Not exactly pleasantly. ‘You can have him.’
‘He mightn’t want me any more.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Mum said.
‘You mean ring him and ask him?’
‘I do not!’ Mum was appalled. ‘I never rang anyone and told them I fancied them and I had my pick of the men. No, flirt with him, wear perfume, maybe cook him his favourite meal.
‘Ring him and ask him,’ Helen, Anna and I chorused.
‘OK,’ Emily said thoughtfully, lighting another cigarette. ‘I will.’ She took the phone and the ashtray into her bedroom and closed the door, and ten minutes later she came out again. She was dressed, made-up and happier looking. ‘I’m going out to meet him,’ she said.
‘Act coy,’ Mum advised.
‘Be straight,’ I urged.
‘Be straight yourself, Maggie,’ Helen said slyly. Mum darted me a suspicious look.
‘Now what’ll we do?’ Mum asked, when Emily’s block of flats had screeched away. ‘Tell a joke, someone.’
We were all a little too fragile to want to do much else. Helen told a joke, Anna told one too but got the ending wrong, and I was garnering laughs by making my fringe stand out at right angles from my head when there was a knock on the door.
‘The Goatee Boys, I suppose,’ I said. ‘Coming to apologize for not feeding you all last night.’
I opened the door, and there, standing outside, was someone I recognized but who didn’t belong here. Garv.
Words deserted me.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘You said if you weren’t home in a month to come and get you. It’s a month.’
It was actually only four weeks, not a full calendar month, and I knew that the real reason he was here was because he’d heard I’d been out with Shay Delaney. The bloody cheek of him, after his carry-on with Truffle Woman.
He looked the way people do when they’ve been trapped on a desert island for a while. His hair was longer than I’d ever seen it and was sticking up in tufts, three-day beard growth shaded his chin and jaw and, in the harsh glare of the sun, his eyes were lit blue – at least the bits that weren’t bloodshot were. Even his jeans and T-shirt looked like he’d slept in them, and if he’d just got in on a flight from Ireland, I suppose he probably had.
‘Thanks a bunch.’
Various unspoken hostilities filled up the room and when Mum decided to go to the bathroom, they spilled over into an actual row. All of a sudden, Helen and Emily were leaning into each other, trading clipped barbs – concerning Troy.
‘If you like him that much, why don’t you do something about it?’ Helen scorned. ‘Like, if you don’t stake your claim on him, you can’t blame anyone else if they do.’
‘It’s too late,’ Emily muttered. ‘Now that he’s met you.’
‘Don’t be so stupid, I’m leaving in a week.’
‘I bet you’ll decide to stay for him.’
Helen barked with laughter. ‘Are you joking me? I’m going back to Ireland to set up my detective agency. Why would I bother staying here?’
‘Because of Troy.’
‘He’s not that special.’
‘Emily,’ I had to cut in, ‘what do you care about Troy? You’re just friends with him. Aren’t you?’
She shrugged sullenly and I had my answer: she was in love with him. I’d suspected the previous night and now I knew for sure.
I withered with shame; I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems I hadn’t seen what was under my nose. I’d been so dense. Worse, I’d been so selfish.
‘Well, why didn’t you say before now?’ I pleaded. ‘Then we mightn’t all have slept with him.’
‘I haven’t,’ Anna said.
‘I’d get in there fast,’ Helen said.
Mum had come back from the bathroom but the argument was too advanced to knock it on the head. She picked up on it immediately. ‘What did I miss?’
We all lapsed into tight-lipped silence.
‘Margaret?’ she demanded. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Ah, um…’
‘It’s about Troy,’ Helen supplied. ‘Emily’s mad about him.’
‘And he’s mad about her,’ Mum said. ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘No, you stupid old woman,’ Helen said. ‘He’s mad about me,’
‘Troy?’ Mum confirmed. ‘The one with the nose? That one? Yes, he’s mad about Emily.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Helen repeated. ‘Just because the crowd of nutters next door think you’re some sort of wise-woman-guru type doesn’t mean you actually are.’
‘Helen, you were just a diversion to the chap. And I suppose he thought it was no harm to make Emily jealous.’
‘But–’
‘Am I right, Emily?’ Mum asked. ‘He’s got his eye on you?’
‘Well, once he had,’ she conceded, then coyly went further. ‘He said he was in love with me.’
‘When?’
‘About a year ago.’
‘And were you mad about him then?’
‘Yes, probably.’
‘So what,’ Mum demanded in exasperation, ‘in the name of GOD was stopping you?’
‘He was too into his work,’ Emily mumbled. ‘I’d always be second. I thought it wouldn’t work, then we wouldn’t even be friends.’
‘And now?’
A head-bowed reluctant mumble. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘But in the meanwhile he started “getting off” – is that the phrase? – with all of your friends?’
‘Yeah, except Lara.’
‘Why not Lara?’
‘I’ll tell you some other time.’
‘And you were jealous of these other girls?’
‘’Course.’
I closed my eyes at the memory of Emily realizing I’d slept with Troy, of her in convulsions when I asked if anything had ever happened between them. God, it must have been horrible for her.
‘But I didn’t totally mind, because I knew he liked me more than any of them and that his work was still his main love. But… but… I was worried about Helen.’
‘Don’t be,’ Helen said. Not exactly pleasantly. ‘You can have him.’
‘He mightn’t want me any more.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Mum said.
‘You mean ring him and ask him?’
‘I do not!’ Mum was appalled. ‘I never rang anyone and told them I fancied them and I had my pick of the men. No, flirt with him, wear perfume, maybe cook him his favourite meal.
‘Ring him and ask him,’ Helen, Anna and I chorused.
‘OK,’ Emily said thoughtfully, lighting another cigarette. ‘I will.’ She took the phone and the ashtray into her bedroom and closed the door, and ten minutes later she came out again. She was dressed, made-up and happier looking. ‘I’m going out to meet him,’ she said.
‘Act coy,’ Mum advised.
‘Be straight,’ I urged.
‘Be straight yourself, Maggie,’ Helen said slyly. Mum darted me a suspicious look.
‘Now what’ll we do?’ Mum asked, when Emily’s block of flats had screeched away. ‘Tell a joke, someone.’
We were all a little too fragile to want to do much else. Helen told a joke, Anna told one too but got the ending wrong, and I was garnering laughs by making my fringe stand out at right angles from my head when there was a knock on the door.
‘The Goatee Boys, I suppose,’ I said. ‘Coming to apologize for not feeding you all last night.’
I opened the door, and there, standing outside, was someone I recognized but who didn’t belong here. Garv.
Words deserted me.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘You said if you weren’t home in a month to come and get you. It’s a month.’
It was actually only four weeks, not a full calendar month, and I knew that the real reason he was here was because he’d heard I’d been out with Shay Delaney. The bloody cheek of him, after his carry-on with Truffle Woman.
He looked the way people do when they’ve been trapped on a desert island for a while. His hair was longer than I’d ever seen it and was sticking up in tufts, three-day beard growth shaded his chin and jaw and, in the harsh glare of the sun, his eyes were lit blue – at least the bits that weren’t bloodshot were. Even his jeans and T-shirt looked like he’d slept in them, and if he’d just got in on a flight from Ireland, I suppose he probably had.
