Despite the Angels (10 page)

“Her guide says we must pay no attention. This happens sometimes, when a soul realises it has skills. He will bring her to teachers, she will learn. As you all will.”

“You have a lot to learn yet,” said Jotin, “You are doing well, all of you, but I don’t think you are ready to be together again just yet. Even if Arma here wants you as her parents.”

“Of course I do!” said Armishamai. “Though it means being a baby again. Your energies are special when you are together. It was lovely being protected by both of you at once. I felt invincible.”

“Really?” asked Alessia. “You want to be our baby again? To set us free of the vow and of  Planidi?”

“Of course I do, but not for the vow,” Armishamai’s tone was solemn, “for me. In fact, I insist on it. And as the baby, I might cry if I can’t!”

“You’ll just have to cry, then,” said Mohmi, “I think you have other places to go and things to do that are more urgent. We will talk with your teachers and get their advice. When the time is right, you can all be together again. And maybe you can all use the experience to learn something, not just sort out a silly promise you made on a balmy hillside in a fit of romantic fervour. Right, Trynor, Jotin?”

The two guides nodded, smiling. “Yes,” they said. “We’ll let you know when it’s a good time. In the meanwhile, go back to your groups, get on with other tasks. We’ll let you know when you’re ready.”

Danthys looked at Alessia and reached a tendril of energy towards her.

“I wish we were in the same group,” he whispered, “or even at the same level. Then we could see each other all the time and not have to wait to be given lives.”

Alessia nodded and turned to Trynor.

“Can we not be put into the same group, Trynor? Soul mates ought to be together, surely?”

“When you have learnt more, maybe you will be put into a skill group together. But for now, you are more advanced than Danthys. He would hold you back.”

“No!” Alessia was indignant. “Our energies match, you saw them. We would help each other. Please!”

“Not yet, my love. We will arrange another life together for you as soon as we can. And you can meet here sometimes, between classes. Be patient. Say goodbye, now.”

David could hear the sounds of happy singing coming from the kitchenette of their little flat, along with the crashing and banging that indicated that a meal was being prepared. It was just over a week since they had arrived home from their honeymoon in Spain, a lovely sunny warm fortnight, when Kathleen had seemed to love him more than ever, had invited him back to bed at every opportunity and had encouraged him to love her in the most physical ways. Quite a change from the one hurried New Year’s Eve fumbling before the marriage, which had resulted in the pregnancy. Maybe being married is the key, thought David, wincing at yet another crash in the kitchen. She just wasn’t relaxed before. Pity we got pregnant so quickly though. Not enough time to think things through, to finish my course, to get those qualifications. Now I might have to do it as a night course. His mind wandered down the trail labelled ‘night’ and he felt a familiar frisson as he remembered Spain. Isn’t quite so good the last few days, she’s more inclined to huddle under the covers. Probably the weather, it’s cool here and we were spoiled by that sunshine.

Kathleen came in, carrying two plates. “Ta Da!”

“I take it my beautiful wife has produced a masterpiece?”

“Don’t I always?” Kathleen was flirtatious.

“Oh, absolutely. Puree of spaghetti, singe of chops, risotto a la carbon. Delicious.”

“You ate them.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Didn’t you make them? What is it tonight?”

“Ham salad.”

“Great. Explains all the crashing. Lots of cooking to do. Oh Kath, I love you!” David reached out for Kathleen, who sidestepped him and put the plates on the table. Her hair swung forward and he put out his hand to stroke it. She flicked it back over her shoulder and smiled at him.

“Sit,” she said as she took her own place, humming her happy little tune.

“Is your morning sickness still all right, love? It seemed OK in Spain. Mum told me it only usually lasts about three months.”

“I’m not four months pregnant.” Kathleen fixed her eyes on him and a chill ran down David’s back. He looked at her, not having taken in what she was saying. “I’m just five weeks. Dr Holden told me today.”

“What? How can you be only five weeks pregnant? It’s May. Ages since New Year.” 

“I wasn’t pregnant then. But I am now, isn’t it great? Five weeks, counting from two weeks before we got married.”

“You told me you were pregnant. So we had to get married. What happened?”

“I wasn’t pregnant. But you were dithering and not getting on with proposing. I couldn’t propose to you, I’m the girl.”

“You could have asked me. It’s 1972, not the Middle Ages.”

“But what if you’d said no?”

“I would have said no. I didn’t want to get married, to anyone.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say!” Kathleen put her head into her hands and stared at the table, “To say to your wife that you didn’t want to get married!” She kicked the table leg.

“Well, I didn’t. But I thought we had to,” David stopped and looked at Kathleen, as realisation shot into his mind. His eyes widened and he continued “You fucking bitch, you tricked me. Seduced me into having sex with you -”

“I didn’t.”

“You did seduce me. You were all over me, your tongue was –”

“No, I didn’t have sex with you. Not properly. You were totally pissed and you seemed to think we had, so....” Kathleen was smiling. No, thought David as his mind whirled and he tried to make sense of what had happened, she’s smirking.

“You bitch! You trapped me into marrying you with a big fat lie!”

“Like I said,” Kathleen said, her voice soft and silky, “you weren’t getting on with it. You needed a push.”

“I wasn’t getting on with it, as you say, because I wasn’t thinking of getting married. For God’s sake, Kathleen, we’re only twenty-two. I haven’t finished college. And we certainly didn’t need a baby.”

“I want a baby,” said Kathleen sullenly.

“So that’s why all the lovey dovey in Spain? Because you want a baby. Not happy to trap yourself a husband, you then engineer a pregnancy too. Why didn’t you take the Pill and put it off until I’d qualified?”

“I couldn’t take the Pill. I was pregnant already, supposedly. What would you have thought if you’d seen me taking the Pill?”

“Who cares? What do you think I’m thinking now? That you are a scheming little slut who comes out of this squeaky clean, with a baby the regulation nine months after the wedding; unless I tell everyone what you’ve done.”

“Please, David, don’t do that. It won’t change anything. I’m having a baby now. It’s due at the end of January.”

David stood up and reached for his jacket. “I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“I’m going to see James. Tell him what an idiot I am. Get him to laugh at me, maybe it’ll cheer me up. I can’t stay here looking at you.”

“That’s horrible. When’ll you be back? You haven’t eaten your dinner.”

“It won’t go cold. It was never bloody hot. I don’t know. Maybe I won’t be back. Maybe I’ll stay with James. He might not have rented out my room yet.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t leave me!” Kathleen’s voice was shaky. “I’m pregnant!”

“That’s your fault. You should have thought it through. I’m going to. With a friend.”

“But I’m your wife!”

“Unfortunately. But you’re not my friend, are you? Seeya. Maybe.”

David let himself out of the flat and walked quickly down the stairs. He felt as though he had just come through a wrestling match, he was winded and aching. His mind was whirring, but empty, except for two words, the bitch, the bitch, the bitch. He walked down Ranelagh and turned towards Rathmines, those two words rolling over and over, every step he took banging back up at him, the bitch the bitch, as he looked down a tunnel into his future, a tunnel that suddenly looked very narrow and dark.

“It’s not as bad as you think, David. Just keep going, she’ll die as arranged and you’ll be fine with the baby. Your Mum will help. Don’t give up.” Jotin was plodding alongside, remembering all the times he himself had been betrayed, all the different ways that humans managed to find to torment each other. “I haven’t met this one before, David, it seems pretty vicious, but it’ll all pan out in the end. Actually, I hadn’t met Kathleen before either, so I couldn’t predict this. But her guide tells me she needed a baby to fulfil her life plan. And look at it sensibly: you did need some distraction to keep you busy till Lucy grows up. Pity you couldn’t have just had the sex without the getting married stuff. Lot of nonsense. Following silly rules. Daft. Specially now that they have invented such good ways to avoid pregnancy.”

“She should have gone on the Pill,” David muttered to himself as he climbed the front steps to what had been his home three short weeks ago. He rang the doorbell and after a minute an upstairs window opened and James stuck his head out.

“What are you doing here? Hang on.” A moment later a key skittered across the pavement and fell into the gutter. David rescued it, let himself in and went up the stairs.

“Whoa, look who it is! The married man is slumming. You gone mad?” James was grinning.

“Yea, no girls here,” added Paddy, “And if there were, they’re ours. You’ve got one.”

“All to yourself, lucky bastard,” said Ken. The boys laughed and one of them made kissing noises. David sat down, suddenly feeling very old.

“Yea,” he said, “Right.”

“Of course,” said James, “you’re nearly a dad. Proves you’ve had fun. When is it, Halloween? ‘Just six more months, that’s all the time you’ve got,’” he sang.

“I’m being a Daddy in the morning!” sang Ken.

“Waa Waa the baby’s going to cry!” added Paddy, as they got to their feet and started to march around the little room.

“Not till the end of January. I’ve been fool and she’s a gold star bitch,” said David. James stopped singing and sat down suddenly beside David.

“How come?” So David explained, leaving nothing out except the fact that he had apparently not actually even had proper sex with Kathleen on New Year’s Eve. Ken and Paddy fell silent and listened. David was barely aware of their mutterings of “Jasus!” and “the hooer!”

“I feel such an idiot.”

“Well, there’s a reason for that,” James said, punching his shoulder playfully. “You are. I told you not to have anything to do with her. She’s not your type. I told you not to bring her to that party.”

“It was only a party. I had nothing else planned.”

“Rubbish. Everyone always has plans. You just succeeded with them. Lucky bastard.”

“No, it was her idea, really.”

“Well, don’t tell too many people that part. Getting off with her is the only bit of this story that makes you look good. D’you want a beer?”

“Thanks.”

The next morning was Saturday, so David stayed in his old bed and got re-acquainted with the furry mouth and drumming head that seemed to live in it. His head, the bits of it that were still functioning, was full of conflicting ideas, plans and thoughts about the future. Mostly he felt ashamed. Ashamed that he had let himself get drunk enough and into a position (literally, ha!) where he could be duped into thinking he had fathered a child. I’m an idiot, total. I wonder do I qualify for an annulment? Or would those bishops just say ‘you had your willie where it shouldn’t, tough luck.” A long sentence for one small mistake. Eejit. Eejit. It wasn’t even that much fun. Spain now, that was good. But that was only because she wanted to get pregnant. Oh fuck. David ran his hands through his hair and pressed his head, to distract himself from the pounding. He drifted off, into a dream where Kathleen was holding him at knifepoint and saying ‘but you asked for kebabs!’ and he was backing away, away, until he lost his footing and fell, the world whirling around him and he woke just in time to hold his head over the edge of the bed as the rush of vomit arrived.

Eventually he dragged himself out of bed and made feeble efforts to clean up after himself. He slouched blearily into the livingroom, accepted a mug of instant coffee from James, and sat on the sagging couch, holding the coffee, looking at it and every now and then steeling himself to take a sip. The steam was comforting, as was the warmth between his hands, but his stomach felt no better and his heart felt worse. There was a buzz at the door. James heaved himself out of his chair and looked out the window.

“Yes, Mrs Hyland, he’s here. Come on up.” He threw down the key.

“Oh, Jesus, not my mother. How does she know I’m here?” David looked wildly around for an escape route.

“We’ll leave you to it. Come on lads.” The three boys sniggered their way into the kitchen, where they turned on the radio, very loud.

“Hello, Mum.” David closed the door behind her and sagged back to his place on the couch.

“So, tell me why you’re here? What’s your version of this nonsense?”