Angel 39 (returns)

‘You’ve another visitor’s request.’ Church stood in the door of the cell, with a slip of paper in her hand.

‘That’s great.’

Angel made her wait. Bruno, true to his word, had visited at every opportunity and dragged Tony along. He wanted to know everything about the babies, including its possible hair colour and whether he should use crimpers, or whether it was too early to think about that.

Angel was lying on the floor of the cell doing her exercises, while Lisa counted for her, watched telly, and made her sweat. Her cell mate enjoyed being in charge.  Squat thrusts, only smaller. Lisa had told her than unless she stuck at the pelvic exercises her fanny would fall out and no man would want her after that. She’s laughed at the time—Lisa being Lisa—but she wasn’t taking any chances, especially with the kind of luck she’d been having.

‘Another ten,’ Lisa watched Angel thunder through them and finish with a wheeze. ‘That’s it.’

Sweating, Angel used the frame of the bed to stand up. Her body felt hollowed. She held her hand out and Church handed her the slip. She gave it a cursory glance and then gulped down air and her legs nearly went under. Pizza Face, Graham Grimley’s name, was on the request.  

‘Aye, that’s fine.’ She wiped at her shining forehead, tugging the front of her top away and exposing her growing bump. ‘When do you think he’ll be allowed?’

‘Probably be Thursday night,’ Church looked along the corridors towards the common room, somebody was screaming. ‘Before we can fit you in.’  

The guard hurried away and Angel plonked herself on the lower bunk. Lisa pulled her legs and feet up so she could sit against the wall.

‘What do you think the twins are thinking about?’ Lisa fell to silence, smiling like a cat. Her moods waxed and waned, but her eyes glimmered and she hadn’t talked about suicide for a while.

‘I don’t know if they think as we understand it.’ Angel put her hand protectively over her belly. ‘They haven’t got the words.’

Lisa slid along the bed, ‘Can I feel?’

Angel lifted her T-shirt up to her breasts and guided Lisa’s hand over her bump. She patted her stomach, gently.

Lisa’s face glowed. ‘I think they know who I’m ur.’

‘I’m sure they do. They’ll have heard you talking and walking and farting…’

Lisa chuckled.

‘And smoking.’

She bit her lip. ‘Do you think they fight?’

‘Nah,’ Angel rubbed her belly. ‘Well, maybe, but not in a bad way. Probably in the stupid way me and you fight, over nothing, because we’ve no space and nowhere to go.  And I’ve already told you, you can be a godmother and if it’s a wee girl we can call her Lisa.’

‘That’s the best ever.’ Lisa hugged herself, but then her face grew stern. ‘Better keep up your exercise routine. No slacking! We don’t want wee Lisa to turn oot to be a wee fatty baby.’

‘Fatty babies are good,’ Angel laughed, picking a pillow up and hitting her with it. ‘Babies need meat on their bones to grow big.’

‘No too big!’ Lisa shoved her arm away as Angel reached for the edge of the pillow and tickled at her leg.

‘Aye, no too big,’ Angel shuffled forward on her bum and stood up, reaching for the ladder to the top bunk. ‘No too big and no too small. Just perfect would be perfect.’

She knew she was a soft touch, but didn’t want to think about Pizza Face until the lights went out.  Thursday visiting would be deaf ears and no soft touch.

Angel kept her eyes to the ground and trudged into the visiting room, when she looked up Pizza Face was watching her. He was sitting wearing frayed denim jacket with a checked shirt, slung in the chair, long arm hanging casually over the back of it, but his smile lifted him from the seat. He rushed to meet her.  Grabbing her hand.

‘I’m fucking so sorry for everything.’ He kissed her lips hard.  ‘It’s all my fault. How can I make it up tae yeh?’

She pulled away, a guard and some of the prisoner were watching and her cheeks flamed. Pizza Face didn’t seem to notice or bother and kept holding her fingers, until she waltzed sideways and along and sat across from him.

‘How you been anyway?’ his eyes eating her up. ‘I’m going crazy. I’ve really missed you.’

‘Aye, no bad,’ she smoothed down her T-shirt.

His eyes strayed to her belly. ‘They’re fair feeding you up, I see.’

‘Aye, they have.’

They both nodded, awkward.

She broke the silence. ‘The food in here’s no too bad,’

‘Aye, the food in Barlinnie is murder.’ He rubbed at his cheek and the birthmark and as a reflex action turned to see if anybody was watching. ‘But you eat it anyway, daen’t you?’

‘Aye,’ she agreed. ‘Yeh, dae, but I thought you’d be in a bit longer.’

‘For whit?’ Anger ghosted into him and he spat it out. ‘Trumped up charges. Lot of shite. They never had nothing on me and I walked.

A child fell over and began to wail. They both looked over and smiled at each other as if it was their secret.

‘I got some of yer letters and I meant to write to you,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m no good at that kinda stuff and I knew I’d be getting oot soon. So I thought it would be better if I just came to see you. And you know how it is, the bastards keep holding you back. Then something else happened and I hit a prison guard and they kept me in for that. And it was a fuck up.’  

‘Aye,’ she smiled, recognising him for the way he was.

‘But I’m here noo.’ He sat on the edge of the table and tucked his knees under the table and leaned across, his eyes fixed on her face, on her eyes, on her mouth. ‘I love yeh. I’m gonnae marry you. And I’m gonnae get you out of here. I’ll get the best QC and money is no object. Don’t you worry, because I might have fucked up, but I’m gonnae fix it.’