Nowhere man, p.7
Nowhere Man, page 7
“Yes, but -’ Angie remonstrated.
‘Yes, I know. There’s no time to buy a proper dress etc. etc., but your mum has kindly agreed to help you sort it all out. The wedding has to be next week because I’m off on another extended trip after that.’
‘Don’t worry, Angie. We’ll get everything organised in time for you to marry this lovely young man of yours.’ Her mother beamed.
Angie felt a sudden wave of nausea break over her and she rushed out of the room.
Ray followed her into the downstairs toilet and closed the door behind them. It was a very tight squeeze.
‘We’re already married,’ Angie hissed.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t need to know that, does she? And neither does the registrar. It’s easier than telling her we’ve already done it, which she’ll never forgive. Run with me on this, Angie baby. It’ll be fine.’
He pecked her on the nose and sidled out of the loo.
Just under a month later, they married once again in the registry office in Cambridge, with Mrs Frost - resplendent in her navy suit and matching feathered hat purchased especially for the occasion from Country Casuals - and a random person from the street as witness. Mrs Frost, while now accepting of the union, was still reluctant to make it common knowledge, hence the stranger. Afterwards, they had a celebratory afternoon tea at a small cafe on Magdalen Bridge and then Ray drove everyone back to Ely.
‘Well, I must be going back to London now,’ Ray announced as they arrived home.
‘Tonight?’ the women chorused.
‘It’s our honeymoon night, Ray,’ Angie moaned, grabbing him by the arm.
He raised his bushy eyebrows at her. ‘Yes, I know. It’s hugely disappointing for me too, darling, but my boss is a complete bastard and refused me more any time off. I’m so sorry.’
And with that, Ray kissed her deeply, jumped into the car and revved the engine, speeding off into the early evening dusk, and not returning for almost another month.
It was just as well that he did show up eventually. Angie was growing increasingly fretful that her mother might begin to do the maths regarding the pregnancy - that was when she eventually got to hear about it. She needed Ray to return supposedly to perform the honeymoon act sooner rather than later, even if it was all a pretence. She felt frightened and alone with Ray uncontactable, tortured by the fact that she was lying to her mother. Her mother might be irritating, but she was her mother after all, and Angie was not used to lying to her. She tended to tell the truth, even when it got her into trouble. And she had resisted the temptation to talk to her friends, who would have been shocked and probably spread the news all over town within hours.
She had not even had a chance to think about what having a baby actually meant. It had been an accident, and before she got pregnant, nothing could have been further from her mind. She had a place at Leeds to read English and she had been excited about it, even if it was not the professional qualification desired by her mother. She had been looking forward to getting away from home and becoming independent. Of course, that would all have to be abandoned now. She had not counted on becoming a wife and mother at the age of eighteen, and she certainly did not want to rely on her own mother. Of course, Ray had reassured her that this would not be the case, but he travelled most of the time and had suggested that for now at least, she continued to live at home. She was effectively trapped, waiting day to day for Ray to contact her or to arrive to see her. She could not call him, as he said his work phone was restricted. When he called her, it was always from a call box or from a different mobile number. ‘Burners,’ Ray called them. She had heard the term before, but only in crime shows on television, rather than as part of someone’s work.
She lay in bed at night, nauseous and scared, trying to imagine this thing multiplying inside her, and wondering how this had happened. Sometimes, when she was particularly anxious or annoyed because Ray had not been in touch, she questioned whether she should have an abortion and simply tell Ray that she wanted a break or even an annulment, so that she could go to university and lead a teenaged, normal life. She could ask Ray to wait. After all, he was so busy that he might not mind. But when she thought about Ray, her body and brain melted. She loved him and she wanted to be the most important thing in his life. She knew he would be unlikely to wait for her and he seemed to really want to have this child. Maybe she was lucky because she did not have to wait years to find true love. Maybe this was another way to get out from under her mother’s rule, which would truly be a blessing.
Never religious, she lay there, talking to her bedroom ceiling, hoping for some guidance. Mostly, she spoke to her father, whom she had lost eight years before. He had developed liver cancer and was dead within four months of the diagnosis. She had watched him wither away to skin and bone - this huge, powerful man who had been able to take her on adventurous bike rides and toss her high in the air and who now did not even have the strength to hold a spoon to his own mouth. Angie thought she would never again be able to picture him as the person he had been, but only as the skeleton he had become, and sometimes the vision of him as he was at the end still reared up before her in her dreams like a horrifying ghoul. But most of the time, she could regress to a time when he was fit, healthy, and smiling. Her mother had smiled often then as well, but her father’s death had soured and hardened her.
Sadly, her father had offered her no real solutions as she lay in her bed in those first solitary weeks as a married woman, but one morning when she woke up, her favourite Brandon Flowers poster had fallen off the wall and Angie thought to herself that maybe it was a sign that her childhood fantasies were over, and that she needed a real man like Ray to replace Brandon and her father. Ray would protect her.
And protect her he had to, because several weeks later, her life was overturned once again. Ray had come back on a Monday, and they were enjoying a passable lamb stew that her mother had made for dinner. Sheila tended to batch cook at the weekend, so that she did not have to worry about making food from scratch after work. She was a stickler when it came to feeding Angie homemade food, refusing to buy ready meals. She believed that they were invented for the idle, and abhorred pizza and the like, which she pronounced tasteless and always cold and soggy. She had become even more fastidious now that her grandchild was on the way, feeding Angie the best food she could afford to buy. Angie, just overcoming nausea, was grateful to her, while at the same time wishing that her mother would stop fussing over her. She felt cooped up and bored, just waiting for this baby to arrive and yet dreading it all at the same time.
‘So, Ray, when are you coming to live in the village permanently? I know you’ve got a swanky place in London, or so Angie tells me, but you can’t keep leaving her behind like this for much longer, you know. You really need to sort out a place of your own soon. After all, you don’t want to be moving in after she’s given birth with a squealing infant. Are you thinking of staying in London or moving out a little? A one bed will be quite awkward with a new-born. More broccoli?’ She paused for breath, spooning a huge heap onto Ray’s plate before he had time to answer.
‘I’ve got everything in hand, Sheila. Don’t you worry. Angie and I will be out of your hair very soon.’ Ray gulped his red wine and reached over to the bottle of Tesco Bordeaux that he had plucked off Sheila’s wine rack in the kitchen to refill his glass.
‘Oh, I don’t mean to suggest anyone is in the way,’ Sheila protested, shaking her glass towards Ray so he could top her up as well. ‘I just know that you’ll need some privacy and time to get to know each other properly that’s all. And I just want you to be comfortable before the little one destroys all your peace.’ She downed her wine and burped. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Apple pie anyone?’ she asked, her face vermillion as she rose from the table.
Angie and Ray burst out laughing the moment she left the room.
‘I think she’s a little tipsy.’
‘I wish I was,’ Angie moaned, sipping her water.
‘Oh, I know. Just a few more months to go, hey, and then you can get pissed.’
‘With a baby to look after? I doubt it. I’ll just have to get Mum to babysit when I feel the urge!’
Ray reached across and squeezed her hand.
Three days later, Ray left before it was light outside, and Angie was only vaguely aware of him slipping out of the bedroom. She heard his car engine fire, and he was off again, while she snuggled back into her duvet and went back to sleep. She did not hear her mother leave for work either. She was just so tired; the baby seemingly devouring all her energy, leaving her hollow.
She was woken much later by an insistent ringing on the doorbell. She groaned and slipped one arm out of bed to retrieve her dressing gown which she had dropped by the bed when she got in the night before. Ray liked to sleep naked and insisted that she do the same.
‘I like to feel your skin when I roll over in the night. It connects us,’ he had told her.
She stood up and pulled the robe around her, the person at the door now ringing and knocking at the same time. ‘Bloody delivery guys. No patience,’ she muttered to herself as she headed down the stairs.
‘Where’s the fire?’ she demanded, throwing open the front door.
‘Angela, may I come in?’
It was Dr Collins from the surgery. ‘Did my Mum ask you to come? It’s totally unnecessary. I’ve been very sick in the mornings, but otherwise I’m fine and I’m not due a check-up for a few weeks yet.’
Dr Collins had walked through the door and closed it again while Angie was remonstrating with him. ‘Can we sit down?’
‘Of course. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?’ Angie wondered if the doctor was unwell.
‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’
Angie showed the doctor into the lounge.
‘Sit down, Angela. I need to tell you something.’
She sat down on the sofa and the doctor sat next to her. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that there was an accident this morning on the lane running up to the main road.’
He paused and considered the faded paisley pattern on the Axminster carpet. Angie spotted a Kit-Kat wrapper stuck under the table and thought how cross her mother would have been if she had had a visitor and it had been lying there, dropped by Angie and not picked up.
‘It’s your mother, Angela. She was late for work, which as you know is unheard of. I’ve never known anyone with better timekeeping. It’s why she’s the most efficient person I’ve ever employed.’ He looked down at his shoes, which were slightly dusty from the gravel drive outside.
‘Anyway, around nine-thirty, a patient arrived, who told me there had been an accident down the road and that it looked bad. Someone appeared to have driven into a tree. You know the big oak on the bend before you reach the T-junction?’
Angie stared at him blankly.
‘Anyway, I jumped into my car and drove down there to see if there was anything I could do to help and also because I had a bad feeling on account of your mother not arriving on time and all that.’
He coughed into his hand.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but when I got there my premonition was right. It was your mum, and she had crashed into the tree. I can only assume that she was running late and maybe took the bend a little too quickly and – ‘
‘Is she alright?’ Angie felt her heartbeat begin to quicken.
‘No. I’m afraid not, Angie. I’m afraid to tell you that she has passed away. The ambulance crew thought it was probably instantaneous, as she hit the tree head-on. Maybe a deer ran across the path or something. There were no witnesses apparently. I’m so very sorry.’
‘But she never drives too fast. She always drives much too slowly. There’s usually a huge line of cars behind her hooting.’ Her mother’s driving drove her mad. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’
Angie dug her nails into her palms, thinking that perhaps she was still asleep, and this was one of her many nightmares where she woke up with a start, whimpering and sometimes screaming.
‘Yes, sadly I’m absolutely certain. The ambulance was already there by the time I arrived. I identified her car.’ He focused on the carpet again, or perhaps it was the still-visible Kit-Kat wrapper that bothered him.
‘Where is she now?’ Angie whispered.
‘At the hospital, but I would not advise going to see her. She’s not, well, she isn’t very recognisable.’
Angie stared at the doctor.
He paused. ‘Is there anyone you’d like me to call?’
Angie hesitated. Ray was still a secret; at least, she did not think that her mother had told anyone yet that she was married. The doctor knew about the pregnancy, but he had not asked any questions about the father and no information had been offered.
‘No, no, thank you. I think I’ll go back to bed. I’m exhausted.’ Angie rose and staggered zombie-like past the doctor, up the stairs, diving under the duvet and covering her head.
‘I’ll pop back in later to check on you!’ she heard a muffled voice shout up the stairs.
When she heard the front door slam, she began to shriek, and she did not stop until her lungs could shriek no longer.
Ray arrived back at the house that evening, unexpectedly - as he was usually away for several days, yet fortuitously, he explained, his next trip had been postponed. He scooped Angie up in his arms and held her tight.
‘Don’t worry, I’m here now. I’ll sort everything out.’
True to his word, Ray was a total marvel. He organised the funeral just as her mother would have wanted, with perfect flowers and the right kind of canapés. It was very well-attended by everyone who had known and liked her mother and many, many people who had not particularly, but who enjoyed a decent wake and a nose about. While Angie could barely think or function, Ray located the will and organised probate very swiftly, only bothering Angie when she had to sign something as next of kin and sole beneficiary. She was eternally grateful to him.
‘I think it would be best if we put the house in joint names, given that we are officially married, and it will be much better legally for the baby,’ he suggested. ‘Just sign here. I’ve checked it all thoroughly. I’m using my London solicitors, who are very good. I’ve used them for years.’
On the days when Ray was around, life was exhausting, as he took her through papers and reorganised the house. Her mother had been a fastidious saver, it turned out, leaving Angie with a decent nest egg, which allowed them to kit out the nursery and buy new lounge furniture. They had decided to stay at the house rather than move now that they had it to themselves. Ray reasoned that they would never be able to afford anything as big in London.
‘I don’t know how I would have got through this without you,’ Angie whispered to Ray as they lay in bed one evening. ‘I’ve been so thrown by Mum’s accident, and I can’t get used to her not being around. I always dreamed of getting away and of having a new life with you, and now I feel as if I might have willed this to happen.’
‘Angie, baby, don’t be ridiculous. None of this is your fault. If anything, it’s mine. I wasn’t careful enough and now we’re having a baby. And it’s dreadful that your mum won’t be here to see him, but I will always look after you and my son. I will never abandon you.’
‘Or daughter,’ she sobbed into his chest as he stroked her hair.
Angie felt so blessed and grateful for Ray’s thoughtfulness and attention, especially now that her mother was gone, who she missed every day, far more than she could have ever thought possible.
And she missed Ray when he was away, particularly as they were so rarely able to speak when he was working and she had to wait patiently for him to call her. But eventually, after the initial shock and grief of losing her mother subsided, or at least became less all-consuming and the baby growing inside her became more so, she got used to having her freedom. This was her house now. If she left the dirty dishes in the sink for hours or did not empty the bin bag every day, no one castigated her. She made up her own rules.
The last month of Angie’s pregnancy was brutal. It was only May, but it was unusually hot. Her ankles swelled and just became an extension of her calves, so that she could only wear slippers. She could not sleep, because her stomach was quite simply in the way. She suffered from dreadful heartburn and every day, time seemed to move slower than the last. She just could not wait until the baby arrived and she could deal with it from the outside instead of in. But she was also frightened. She did not want her waters to break and to go into labour all alone.
‘What will I do if you’re not here when it happens!’ she bleated down the phone to Ray one evening when he did manage to call her. ‘What should I do?’
‘The week you’re due, I’ll try to ring every day,’ he soothed.
‘But can’t you just take some time off and be here?’
‘That’s totally impractical. I can’t be away for weeks on end, and you could be a month late.’
‘Don’t say that! And anyway, they induce you after two weeks. I bloody hope it’s not late. I can’t do this for much longer.’
The baby gave her an extra-hard kick, probably instructed to do so by her mother, who had forbidden all swearing of even the mildest kind.
‘Look, you know what you’ve got do. Doctor Collins is on standby. You will call him as soon as anything happens, and he will sort it all out. He told me it was the least he could do for your poor mum.’
‘But I want you to be there!’ she moaned.
‘Now, come on. Be my big girl. You’ve got this. Women give birth every day.’
‘Easy for you to say.’
‘I did my bit. It was tough but I got through it.’
‘Very funny. Just make sure you’re here, alright?’
But inevitably he missed it all. Angie was woken in the middle of the night by painful cramps and when she stood up, she soaked the carpet by her bed as her waters broke. She wobbled there for a moment, surprised and uncertain, before remembering Doctor Collins. She called his mobile and he picked her up within the hour and took her to hospital. Hours of painful labour followed, with gas and air the only pain relief on offer as the hospital was short staffed and by the time the obstetrician came, it was too late for an epidural. Eventually, almost twenty-four hours later, at around one the following morning, the baby arrived, howling like a banshee from the moment he hit fresh air, as if disturbed from his pleasant slumber far too early. The nurses checked him over and then placed him on her chest, where he stopped crying instantly and stared up at his young mother with huge, mauve eyes.
