Angel 64 (old friends)
By celticman
- 1007 reads
Church, who almost never swore, told the cab driver to ‘Fuck off’ and charge the fare to the prison. A sudden squall of rain soaked them as she harried Angel from the cab and into the house, but it wasn’t easy and she couldn’t find the front door keys.
Adam, dopey with tiredness, was also in a bad mood and it didn’t matter which was Angel held him, it was the wrong way. His head bumped against her nose and it began to bleed.
‘Fuck,’ muttered Church. ‘That’s all we need.’ She rooted in her pockets for a hanky and grimaced when she came up empty handed. She complained she’d been on duty for sixteen hours straight.
Angel, her shoulders heaving, blubbered and cried. Church patted her arm, pressed her thin lips together and apologised. She helped carry Adam into the house and up the stairs.
They stood in the lobby between kitchen and Angel’s room. Angel took the weight of Adam from Church and cradled the soft down on the back of her twinless twin’s head.
‘You take him in to get changed.’ Church sneezed, holding and hand over her mouth and shaking her head. She sniffed, and then sneezed again, talking through her fingers. ‘And I’ll whip something up and get us something to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ Angel edged towards her room. ‘I’ll get him changed and get his dummy and put him into the cot.’
Angel was glad to shut the door behind her and be alone with Adam. He squirmed and cried when she changed him. She held the stinking nappy with two fingers and dropped it into a plastic bag, tying it into a knot. Usually, she’d have taken it to the bins, but she left it beside the door. Adam sucked on his dummy and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Angel dragged a pillow and the quilt from her bed and lay on the floor beside his cot. She listened to his breathing and the sounds of the other women in the unit knocking about until it got late. She’d heard or read somewhere the twins were telepathic. There was a space missing on the pillow next to Adam, where Lisa’s head should have been. She wondered about that duality, if Lisa was still in touch, in some sense for Adam, still touchable, or if she’d already faded away and he’d forget her face and what she looked like. Angel clutched her sides as she rocked and cried and tried to sleep, but every time Adam sighed or turned she sprung up, checking on him.
After lunchtime, the next day, Anna, the psychiatric nurse, from the main block, came to visit. Angel had just fed Adam and put him back down, he hadn’t slept very well. She never had any dealings with Anna, but heard from the girls that knew her and had dealings with her, she was useless, had been in the prison service longer than many of the old lifers and was nearing retirement.
She was fat faced, with a brillo-pad of steel-grey hair and wore large-framed, black spectacles. She hovered at Angel’s shoulder, a sour unwashed smell, mingled with nicotine, coming from her undersized uniform.
‘He’s lovely,’ croaked Anna, clearing her throat and looking down at Adam.
She wangled a packet of twenty Regal from her side pocket. ‘Mind if I smoke?’ a crickle in her chest as she spoke and glanced out the window at the main block, but she was already lighting up before Angel could reply. ‘You want one?’ she asked.
‘Nah,’ Angel shook her head.
‘You got an ashtray?’
‘Aye, o’er beside the couch.’
Anna meandered over and sat down with a grunt on the couch. She seemed in no hurry and slightly bewildered, her mouth hanging open and frowning at the unplugged telly.
Angel felt sorry for her and perched on the cushion as the other end of the couch.
‘I’m here,’ Anna put a finger to her lips as she paused and looked over at Angel. She started again, ‘I’ve no brought a pen wae me, or the right forms, but I’ll fill them out later. I’ve been sent o’er to assess whether you’re a suicide risk’. She sucked on her cigarette and sighed, breathing out smoke. ‘Well, ur yeh?’
Angel stroked her forehead and rubbed her eyes, and stared back at her. Her lack of guile slightly amused her. ‘No, I don’t think so. I need to take care of Adam. I’d ne’er do that. Kill myself and leave him all on his ownie-oh.’
‘That’s good, because if you were a suicide risk we’d need to take you back into the main block and arrange for him to get taken into care. And let’s face it. We don’t want social work involvement. All those, meddling, busy-bodies.’
She held her cigarette in her lips as she picked up the patterned cushion nearest her and held it out for Angel.
Angel stuck it beside her thigh. ‘Whit’s this for?’
‘It’s just,’ Anna took a long drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out. ‘Some of the mother’s that lose children like to have something soft in their lap.’ She smiled. ‘To hold.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Go ahead. It’s good fer you.’
‘No thanks.’
‘Suit yerself.’ Anna took a deep breath. ‘I need to check your medication. Whit you on, exactly?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Anna’s eyebrows pushed up almost into her hair. ‘You sure?’
‘Aye,’ Angel looked over at the cot as Adam, whimpered. ‘Don’t you know?
She stood up and went over to check him. He stirred and his long lashes blinked open and looked at her and his eyes shut again.
‘Course I know,’ Anna was watching her with Adam. ‘Just need to check…Any other issues?’
‘Like whit?’
‘You sleeping all right, eating alright, mingling with the other prisoners.’
‘Aye, I’m sleeping great.’ Lisa smiled down at Adam. ‘My appetites been a bit down but I’ve had something to eat this morning. I have noticed, right enough, the other mum’s have been avoiding me as if whit happened to me’s contagious.’
Anna leaned one hip, spreading her weight to get up from the couch. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Well,’ Angel frowned. She found it hard to put into words. ‘Some of them are alright, saying how sorry they were, but most of them…let me put it like this, the kitchen’s usually a hive of activity, windows steamed up, pots on the rings, something in the oven. Now it’s the ping of the microwave and other mother’s tiptoeing around Adam and me and skulking away.’
‘Oh, that’s perfectly normal.’ Anna patted her pocket, checking she’d her packet of cigarettes. She went towards the door. ‘I was just wondering, ‘Who would you want us to contact if we did need to take you back to the main block?’
‘Whit dae you mean?’
‘Och, nothing to worry yer wee heid about.’ She ambled towards the door, reaching for the handle. ‘It’s just if we had to contact somebody, in the short-term, that could take Adam for a night or two, until we got things sorted.’
Angel darted across before she could get away, making a grab for her arm. The panicked look in Anna’s eyes and Angel knew it was a mistake, holding her back, like that. ‘Contact, like who?’
Angel’s hand fell to her side and she forced an insipid grin onto her face.
Anna glared at her, but the simple bovine expression reasserted itself on her face. ‘Och, you’ve nothing to worry your pretty wee heid about. Just leave it all to us. Don’t worry.’
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Comments
not one ounce of sympathy is
not one ounce of sympathy is there - or anything else for that matter. I guess that means you've created a finely drawn character. I hope things are better nowadays
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Poor Angel, she's got to keep
Poor Angel, she's got to keep her wits about her, even with all she's been through. I like how you've created the tension, it was almost as if Anna was daring her to say the wrong thing.
I suppose if there's one thing Angel's past has taught her, It's to be strong willed and know her own mind.
Keep em coming Jack.
Jenny.
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