Nowhere man, p.6
Nowhere Man, page 6
Her mother tried to reach across to pat her hand, but Diana was too far away. ‘Now then, Diana. None of that. You’ve had a terrible shock, that’s all. I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better soon.’ She leaned back again in her chair. ‘Now how about that tea and maybe a couple of biscuits?’
‘OK, Mum,’ she sniffed.
‘Or do you fancy a brandy? It’s good for shock.’
Diana did not enjoy brandy, but right now the thought of something strongly alcoholic to numb her constant pain was quite appealing. ‘I’m driving,’ she sniffed, rooting in her handbag for a packet of tissues. She took one out and blew her nose loudly.
‘Jesus, Diana. You sound like an elephant.’
Diana dabbed at her eyes, which were red and swollen.
‘This guy, Mum. How’s often has he been round?’
‘Which guy?’
Diana sighed with the effort of summoning up enough energy to continue the conversation. ‘The one from the council.’
‘Oh, a couple of times. He’s offered to help me to file my paperwork as well. You know how I never get round to it.’
‘Oh, no.’ Diana had raised her voice more than she intended to. ‘Mum, this isn’t right. No man from the council would come round to file your papers. I think he must be a scammer of some kind.’
‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ Her mother threw her knitting onto the floor. ‘Why do you always have to be so suspicious. Can’t you see that he’s just trying to do me a good turn?’
‘I don’t think he is, Mum. In fact, I think he’s most probably doing quite the opposite. Let me at least call the council when I get home and check him out for you. Just to make sure.’
Her mother made no reply.
‘In the meantime, please can you keep the chain on the door. I ask you every time and it’s never on when I come.’
‘Because I usually know when you’re coming, and it saves me having to get up.’
‘Hmm, well, just keep it on, alright?’
‘Don’t lecture me, Diana. I’ve got this far in life without your help, thank you very much.’
Diana rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Let me get you your tea.’
Chapter Fifteen
Angie was seated at the desk in her office, staring at the locked filing cabinet. She had converted the box room years before so that she could work comfortably from home, but in effect, it had become Ray’s office almost immediately. She much preferred to work at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, as it provided a far greater level of distraction - she could procrastinate by staring out into the garden at the back of the house, watching the birds hopping on the lawn and digging for worms; or out to the street at the front, where random passers-by strolled along. She also liked being closer to the kettle and the fridge, so that coffee breaks were both more frequent and more convenient. These days, she hardly ever ventured into the office upstairs apart from dusting it occasionally.
It was totally empty apart from a white Ikea desk and a black chair from Staples, that she had bought during one of their sales. It was horrendously uncomfortable to sit on, which was probably why it had been such a bargain at the time. In one corner lay a large plastic folder overflowing with old paintings that Ben had done over the years at school and photographs of his various sports teams, many still in their original cellophane wrappers. In the opposite corner was a silver, metallic filing cabinet consisting of two drawers, which Ray used to store important documents, such as their wills and the deeds to the house. She had never had cause to open it and had never until now been curious about its contents. But after her last conversation with Julia, she had begun to wonder whether she should try to have a look inside it. What if Ray ever got injured at work? Or possibly worse? she reasoned with herself. She would need to know its contents in such a situation. And maybe there might be some clues in there about Ray’s work. It felt that it might ease her mind to know more than she already did, or alternatively it could terrify her. She had never attempted to open it before because Ray had always insisted that she did not.
‘It’s my only private area in the whole house. Some men have sheds to retire into. I have my poor filing cabinet. And there’s nothing in there that you need to be concerned about. You’ll only ever need to hack into it if someone turns up and tells you that I’m dead. And that’s very unlikely to happen.’ He had laughed, pulling her to him and hugging her tightly. ‘You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.’
Angie had never given it much thought. In fact, she never questioned anything very much. She had always trusted Ray implicitly: from the first moment they met to when he talked her into bed a few days later, and ever since. Her mother had been far more distrustful.
‘Angela, he’s almost twice your age. It borders on paedophilia,’ her mother had carped after she first introduced her to Ray.
‘Hardly, Mum.’
‘And you’re just seventeen and he’s what? Twenty-six? I mean, it’s simply not decent, is it? Why is he preying on young girls?’ She had pushed her glasses back up her beaked nose and sniffed loudly.
‘He’s not preying on young girls. We met and we hit it off, that’s all. It’s not that unusual to have a such big age gap among couples. Look at you and Dad.’
‘That was only five years. Anything over that number is completely inappropriate.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says everyone, Angela. It’s just a fact.’
Her mother was very good at quoting so-called facts that were completely unsubstantiated by any evidence whatsoever, and there was little point arguing with someone who stated things so incontrovertibly. When Angie thought about her mother, she often reflected that she might have been a tremendous asset to any political party given her ability to hold her ground no matter how wrong she was.
‘And I dread to think what your father would say, Angela, may his soul rest in peace. He’s probably turning in his grave as we speak. He had such big dreams for you, you know. He wanted you to be a doctor or a lawyer, or even an accountant would have been acceptable. I know you miss Dad, we both do, but this guy can’t be a substitute for him, you know.’
‘He’s not a father replacement, Mum. Don’t be ridiculous!’
Her mother frowned.
‘Look, I just worry, that’s all. The way you’re going, you will end married to this bloke, possibly pregnant, and then he will bugger off, leaving you with nothing!’
Angie had stalked out of the living room, leaving her mother to continue shouting in her wake.
‘You want to get rid of him now, my girl, before you get yourself a reputation.’
Her mother proved to be somewhat prophetic. Ray did get her pregnant within a few weeks of their meeting despite the fact that she only saw him once or twice a week. He had reassured her that he was an expert at the withdrawal method, but it turned out that on one occasion he had been rather slow off the mark in that respect. But he had absolutely no intention of leaving her in the lurch. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Angie had no way of contacting Ray unless he called her, and she spent an agonising five days after she turned the lines on a pregnancy test bright pink before she could tell him. In that time, she had bitten all her nails down to the quick until they were red and bleeding and failed to get any sleep. Eventually, Ray did call, and they arranged to meet in a pub, but not the local where everyone went. There was another, rather grotty place on the road out of town, which very few people ever drank in and where they could talk privately.
She arrived first by bus and sat herself at a table in the corner, where she sat nibbling at the remaining skin around her fingers and twisting her fine, blonde hair into knots. She gave him a wan half-smile as he approached.
‘Hey, Angie baby. You don’t look very well. Have you been ill?’
She looked up at his broad, crooked smile lighting up his face and burst into tears.
Ray glanced around. ‘Hey, come on now. Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad. Let’s not make a scene, eh?’
He sat down, blocking the view of her from anyone who might be looking over. He held her hand.
‘Come on, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?’
Angie rummaged up the sleeve of her jumper and produced a soggy tissue. She blew her nose loudly.
Ray put his hand in his pocket and produced a pristine, white handkerchief. She took it gratefully and shortly it was stained with snot and mascara.
‘Now, what is it?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ she whispered, her words almost inaudible. ‘I’m not sure how it happened.’
His ruddy face drained to white.
‘I thought I’d been careful, you know. And I thought you were going to go on the pill?’ he whispered back.
She could not remember having discussed the pill with Ray.
‘No, not yet. I have an appointment with the GP to discuss it next week, but I didn’t want my mum to know, so it’s been difficult to arrange, especially as she works there.’
Her mother was a part-time receptionist at the local practice; a job she thoroughly detested and felt was far below her significant capabilities, as she was happy to tell any patient who would listen and even those who would not.
‘Ah, I see,’ Ray muttered. ‘Well, don’t worry,’ he replied, his smile if not his colour returning. ‘This is easy to fix.’
Angie stared at him with her dark-rimmed panda eyes caused by lack of sleep. ‘You want me to get rid of it?’
‘No, quite the opposite. I propose that we get married and make that baby legitimate. I’ve always wanted a son of my own.’
‘But what if it’s a girl?’
‘Well, it’s a possibility, I suppose, but fingers crossed. What do you say, to marrying me, I mean?’
Angie replied with a torrent of weeping.
‘Shush, Angie. Calm down now. Everyone is looking at us.’
There were only two other punters in the pub - both of whom looked as if they could barely balance on their bar stools – plus the publican himself, who merely raised his eyebrows at Ray when he glanced over as if to express his solidarity over a crying girl.
‘So, shall we get married then? Or do you want me to go down on one knee and ask you properly? I mean it’s not the most romantic location I would have chosen for such a momentous occasion admittedly, but.’
‘Yes, Ray, yes please,’ she nodded through her tears.
‘Terrific. Let’s do it. Shall I go and buy us a drink to celebrate?’
She shook her head. ‘Mum will never allow it, you know. She thinks you’re a pervert as it is because of our age gap, and she’ll go totally berserk when I tell her I’m pregnant. I think she’ll make me have an abortion.’
‘In which case we must remove her from the equation. Let’s elope and tell her afterwards. I’ll win her over when we’ve tied the knot, and there will be nothing she can do about it by then anyway.’ He scooted his chair closer to hers and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Trust me, Angie. I’ll never let you down.’
So, the following week when Ray was due to come back again, instead of him coming to her, she caught a bus to Stanstead airport and flew to Newcastle on a ticket emailed to her by Ray. They met at the train station and travelled from Newcastle Central to Gretna Green where they were married by teatime - Angie having hastily changed into a faded, pink, cotton dress that she had bought the previous year at Topshop, while Ray wore his usual suit and tie. They spent their honeymoon night in a stuffy, top-floor room at a local pub and then returned to Newcastle by train.
‘I’ll see you next week and we can talk to your mum then. In the meantime, don’t say anything to anyone.’ He took her hand, where a thin, gold band nestled on her finger. ‘Here, give me that. I’ll hang onto it until we’ve got this whole thing sorted out.’
He pecked her on the cheek and ran off to catch his train to Kings Cross in London, leaving her to negotiate her own way back to Newcastle airport, where she flew in reverse to Stanstead and then caught a National Express coach back to Ely.
She did not hear from Ray for three weeks after that. Every day she expected him to call, but there was nothing, until one day when he appeared at her home unannounced with an ostentatious bunch of flowers and a large box of Ferrero Rocher.
‘Ray!’ she screamed excitedly, delighted that her mother was still at work terrifying patients instead of her.
‘Sorry it’s been a while, Angie baby. I got called away on an urgent case and had to take a small trip.’
‘Don’t worry, Ray. I mean, I was worried, but I know that your work is very important - and secret, obviously. It’s just so great to see you. I was beginning to think I’d imagined the wedding. And look what you’ve bought me. But I don’t think I can eat the chocolates. I’ve been feeling pretty sick, to be honest.’
Ray smiled and kissed the top of her head. ‘They’re not for you. They are for your darling mother. Is she in?’ He scanned the lounge with a frown on his face, as if she might be hiding behind an armchair and be about to leap out at any moment like a ghoul in a horror film.
‘No, she’s at work for another two hours.’
‘Excellent. Well, I am sure we can find something to do to entertain ourselves in the meantime, can’t we?’
Angie giggled and led him silently by the hand up the staircase to her bedroom.
‘It’s a bit messy, I’m afraid.’
The walls were plastered with posters of Brandon Flowers.
‘I see that you like The Killers?’
‘Well, I like Brandon. He’s super sexy, don’t you think?’
‘Well, he’s not my type exactly.’
He eased her gently onto the bed and began to stroke her thigh.
‘I think you look a bit like him actually.’
‘Oh, so that’s the appeal, is it? And I thought I was special.’
‘You are.’ She looked down at her pink, fluffy slippers.
‘Let me show you exactly how special,’ he countered, removing her T-shirt, delighted to find as suspected that she was braless underneath it.
A couple of hours later, they heard a car pull up outside. By now, they had showered and dressed and were drinking tea in the lounge. Angie’s mother turned the key in the door and entered the hallway mid-sentence.
‘Believe what I had to deal with today, Angie. I swear that half of the people in this town are rude, and the other half are stupid. They all moaned on and on about the amount of time they have to wait at the surgery, and then when it came to it, three people had turned up on the wrong day and we had five or six no-shows. There’s no consideration whatsoever given to people like me who -’ She stopped short as she bulldozed into the lounge, silenced instantly when she spotted Ray sitting in her late husband’s armchair. No one sat in that chair.
Ray leapt to his feet and held out his hand to shake hers.
‘Mrs Frost, Ray Reynolds. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
Mrs Frost pursed her lips together and then turned towards Angie, who was perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Get off the arm, Angie, I’ve told you a thousand times that you’ll break it.’ She gripped her handbag more tightly to her chest. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Ray just popped in,’ Angie stammered.
‘I’ll bet he did.’ Mrs Frost turned to Ray, who greeted her with a wide, open smile, his arm now dropped to his side.
‘Mrs Frost, I understand that you have your reservations about my relationship with your daughter, and I completely understand, I really do, but I want to reassure you that I have only the best intentions at heart.’
Mrs Frost harrumphed like a small pony.
‘If I may, I’d like to explain. Is that alright with you?’
Mrs Frost remained static and unspeaking.
‘I know that you are concerned about the age gap between Angie and myself. Angie is so special, and I know that you act purely out of love and your desire to protect her. It’s only natural. I also recognise how hard it must have been for you since your husband passed away, raising her by yourself and working as hard as you do in such a demanding, responsible position.’
Mrs Frost grimaced, but loosened her grip on her handbag, just slightly.
Ray took a step forward and touched her lightly on the shoulder. ‘The thing is, Mrs Frost, I love Angie with all my heart. She has such great intelligence, kindness, and real maturity, which I know must come from you. And she is so respectful and well-mannered. You’ve done quite an amazing job.’
Mrs Frost sunk down gingerly onto the edge of the sofa, still silent; her fingers on the straps of her bag, which she then placed by her side.
‘The moment I met Angie, I just knew she was my soulmate. I may be older, but I think that’s a good thing, because I have learnt what I want in a partner and until now I have never been able to find the right person, someone who completes my jigsaw, if you know what I mean.’
‘My husband was passionate about jigsaws,’ Mrs Frost whispered, pointing at the boxes stacked on the bookcase on the far wall.
‘Really, I had no idea, Mrs Frost. Or may I call you -?’
‘Sheila,’ she whispered, addressing her handbag.
‘Sheila.’ He smiled again and Mrs Frost sank a little further into the cushions on the sofa. ‘Angie, why don’t you go and make your mother a nice cup of tea. She must be parched after her exhausting day at work,’ Ray suggested, turning to Angie, who nodded and wandered off slowly into the kitchen.
By the time she returned, her mother was laughing, Ray sitting right beside her chattering away animatedly. Angie could not remember the last time she saw her mother smile, let alone laugh.
‘Well, that’s all settled then. I’ll call the registry office in the morning, and we’ll set a date for next week.’
Angie muttered something under her breath, spilling the tea onto the carpet as she did so.
‘Angie!’ shouted her mother. ‘Watch what you’re doing! See, Ray, this is what you’ll have to put up with from now on.’
‘Angie, I’ve just asked your mother for permission to marry you and she has agreed. Isn’t that marvellous?’ Ray stood up and rescued the mug from Angie, handing it to her mother.
