Despite the Angels (35 page)

“No, and Lucy’s twenty-three. Don’t do anything rash. Stall. Go on, put your magazine away safely, you’ll be needing it.”

There was a buzz in the energy of the room.
The lights flickered and David looked up.
Trynor arrived, his energies in disarray, wild points of red and orange light jagging out of him. Jotin got up, startled. He moved over to Trynor and tried to soften the points of energy, to smooth his friend down to a state where it would be worth asking questions. Some of his own energies began to fizz in harmony with Trynor and he struggled to maintain his calm.
The lights went out. David sat for a moment and when nothing happened, got up and began to feel his way towards the cupboard where the candles were kept.

“Come on, friend, calmness now, calmness. Tell me what has you like this and I can help.” Jotin continued to move his energies across Trynor’s and gradually the colours muted and the jags of light softened. Trynor’s mouth opened and shut several times and at last he croaked-

“He proposed. And the idiot girl said yes. Come and look.” The two guides flicked out of the room.
The lights came back on, just as David was lighting a candle and a voice from upstairs asked ‘what have you done to the lights?’

“Nothing. They just went off. Seem okay now.”

“Come up. I’m lonely.”

I wonder does that mean anything, thought David. Maybe, if I’m positive about the vasectomy idea…He picked up the Penthouse off the table and went over to the bin, but as he was putting his foot on the pedal to open the lid, a thought struck him and he turned. He pulled over a stool, got up on it and slid the magazine onto the top of one of the high cupboards. I’ll get it down when everyone’s out, he thought and put it back upstairs. Just in case I need my Clothilde-on-page-seventeen again, who knows. This might be a flash in the pan. If anything even happens. He switched off the lights, blew out the candle and headed hopefully for the stairs.

“Look!” Trynor was still upset, but was trying to calm down. Lucy was in Martin’s arms, her hands were at the back of his head and a diamond ring was on her finger. They were kissing deeply. Roki was sitting in the other armchair, sprawled out in it, relaxed and amused. Trynor rounded on him.

“How could you? How could you? You’re wasting this life. We’ll have to start again, yet again.”

Jotin was calmer than Trynor. It was a bit easier for him, he thought, he had watched David make this mistake years ago and was more used to it.

“Yes, Roki,” Jotin joined in, “They are meant to be together and with Moonsong. She’s sitting there at Home waiting for Lucy and David to be ready for her. Just waiting, when she could be getting on with things. And if Lucy and David don’t marry this time, she’ll have to find something else to do, or another life to live. We could be centuries before we can get all three of them free at the same time.”

“And this world might even be gone by then,” Trynor added, “so we have to hurry.”

“Chill, man,” said Roki, “look at my guy. He’s happy. So is your girl. Doesn’t happiness count for anything?”

“It must be guides like you in charge of a lot of humans. Inexperienced souls, not interested in the big picture, with no foresight. Meanwhile the ozone layer thins, the glaciers melt and species become extinct.”

“So what is Lucy going to do about that?” Roki’s mouth lifted into a sneer.

“I didn’t say she was going to do anything. I just want her to be with David and Moonsong.”

Roki yawned and stretched.
Martin moved suddenly and Lucy gave a little cry of protest as she began to slide off his knee. Martin pulled her back, ran his hand up under her jumper and began to unhook her bra. He fumbled with the catch and Lucy reached back and pushed his hands away as she undid the familiar hook and eye. As Martin’s hands moved up under the edge of her bra and his fingers began to make circles over her nipples, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to concentrate on the delicious feelings that were beginning to flood her. Her head fell back a little and Martin leant forward and kissed her neck. She could smell his hair and she nuzzled her chin into it. Martin pulled her jumper up further and bent his head. As he did, Lucy began again to slip towards the floor, but this time she did not protest
. But Trynor did protest, his energies spiking orange and red
and Lucy shuddered with pleasure, as Martin slid off the chair also, his hands moving all over her.

“Come on, Trynor, you aren’t helping,” Jotin was pulling his friend from the room. “Your anger is only making her excited. Maybe if we leave she’ll come to her senses.”

“I doubt it,” said Roki, “I’m staying. How about we make a baby for her now?”

Trynor raised his fists and moved towards Roki, who backed away, laughing.

“Only kidding. We’ll leave that for later.”
Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out a little packet.
Jotin pulled Trynor away, trying to keep both their tempers.

Lucy woke early on a bright May morning and stretched lazily. Strange but wonderful, she thought. Imagine, I’m getting married today! Not just any old wedding, but actually mine. Why do I want to get married? …do I want to get married? Well, I don’t particularly want to stay here putting up with Alison’s Finals all next year and listening to her bitching about Martin. I can’t help it, just ’cos she doesn’t fancy him – I do and I’d like to do my fancying in peace and not have to listen to ‘why are you still with that boring guy?’ all the time. So, maybe he doesn’t fascinate her. You don’t have to be scintillating to be a good guy. He’s decent. Why do I want to marry him- is that the best I can think of, decent?  His indecent moments are the best! She flung herself out of bed and over to the mirror.

“OH MY GOD- you couldn’t, that’s just not fair! LOOK at the spot on my nose, I can’t go out in public with that, I just can’t!”

Alison came in. “What was the screech? Have you seen sense at last, or do I still have to make a show of myself in that stupid dress?”

“Not as much of a show as I’m going to be- look” wailed Lucy, as she contemplated her nose again, peering at the mirror for a closer look. “Have you any good concealer, or any better ideas, or are you just going to gloat?”

“Don’t get her anything, please! It’s hard to make a good spot that quickly. Don’t spoil it!” Trynor sat fidgeting on Lucy’s bed. “Alison, come on - you’ve heard me and Kumbal before, we’ve got to stop this. Time’s running out.”

“Hey. Lucy!! Hey Lucy!” Trynor got up and looked in the mirror over Lucy’s shoulder. “You don’t want to go out in public like that, do you? You don’t want to stand beside that drop-dead gorgeous guy with a beacon on your nose. It’s good, isn’t it? Even though I say so myself, it’s a pretty good bit of creation. I should feel proud of it- what d’you think?”

“I should feel proud to be standing next to Martin.  I’m not going to let a silly spot stop me having My Day- he should love me even with a spot. Maybe a bath will relax me, I’m starting to feel jittery. Can I have some of your bubbles, Alison?”

“Yeah, I suppose. I don’t think I can talk any sense into you anyway.”

“Jittery is good. Proud is not good. That was for me, you silly chump. You really will have to tune in better. I’m trying my best here. Now listen to me- YOU DO NOT WANT TO MARRY MARTIN. There is a much better plan for you, just be patient. You’ll attract another guy, you’re pretty enough. In fact WE HAVE A REALLY NICE GUY FOR YOU-you just have to wait a bit. What’s your rush?”

“Are we in a rush? Alison, what’s the time? Oh, God, should I have set my alarm?” and Lucy fled into the bathroom, still calling out in a frenzy to the household.

Three hours later, Lucy came into the living-room. The spot on her nose was almost invisible, due to Alison’s grudging ministrations with a makeup stick. Her hair was finally up, held with a veritable porcupine of pins, as it had inexplicably kept escaping, no matter what they did with it. Mum and Alison had stood by, with combs and mouths full of hairgrips. As Mum said, it really seemed as though her hair didn’t want to stay up. But they had got the better of it and it looked OK. The dress looked all right, too, despite a bit of the satin shrivelling up under the iron. They had pulled it flat again almost immediately and there was only a tiny tear. If Lucy kept her hand by her side it would never be seen. The arrival of the bouquets an hour earlier had caused a wave of hysteria. “But I told them I wanted the greenery to trail, not stick out all round like a tacky Christmas decoration” Lucy sobbed. “Anyone would think I wasn’t meant to get married, the way everything is going wrong.”

“That’s right- you’re getting the point at last! You have me in a right tizz here, trying to think of what to do next. That’s a problem of never having been a human adult, it’s harder to think of good annoying ideas. I wish Jotin was free. But really, a famine is more important, he’s looking after a few souls starving over in Africa who really need him. Come on, Lucy, call it a day and let me go and check on some of my others.”

Robert kissed Lucy on the nose. ‘Careful, Dad, you’ll rub off the makeup and I’ll look like Rudolph again.’

“I don’t care, you’re my pretty girl anyway and if that idiot Martin can’t remember what you looked like yesterday without a spot, he deserves you even less than I think.”

“Not you too, Dad! What is wrong with Martin?”

“Nothing, that’s probably the problem. Do you not remember your mother listing out his good points when we met him first? Once he said he wasn’t interested which church he got married in, we couldn’t find a thing wrong with him. We could never stay awake long enough to notice anything.”

“Oh, Dad. Do you still think he’s dull? He has a good job and we talk about all sorts of things.”

“Does he make you laugh?”

“Should he? Laughter isn’t everything.”

“It is, you know. We laugh nearly all the time here. So do you, when you’re here. Laughter is the whole point, really. And I don’t hear much when you’re with Martin. Too many intense discussions about the future. This future you should not be sharing. Your future is waiting for you in a house in Donnybrook, trying to realise he has the wrong wife. Jotin is working on him, he’s depending on me to work on you.”

“I like to hear you laugh. You always did when you were little. You got a bit serious when you got to college.”

“It was hard work. I had to concentrate. It would have been easier if I’d met Martin earlier, he could have been supportive.”

“Would have been better if you’d met David. There’s real support. Though the temptation to have the baby would have kicked in. At least this way you can earn your own money.” Trynor was rambling, feeling desperate, wishing his friend Jotin was here to help share the agony. But he had refused to come and watch ‘the last chapter of our disaster’ as he had named Lucy’s wedding day. He had gone off to Ethiopia and was doing his best there. Diljas, Robert’s guide, was standing with Robert, but not sure what to do. At last he leant forward and talked softly to Robert.

“Come on, if we’re going? The car has been waiting for ten minutes and the posse of girls has been gone for ages. They’ll be shivering on the church steps by now.” Robert stopped and looked at Lucy. Always in a rush, he thought, always wanting the loose ends tied up. Is that why she’s getting married? Just to have it behind her, one less uncertainty in the world. Oh, my poor little girl, he thought suddenly. Always afraid of the dark, of strangers, terrified of sharp knives. Cautious on beaches, not like Alison, who ran carefree. Did I not protect her enough, make her feel everything would be fine no matter what happened? Maybe I’ve really let her down, maybe school fees and nice clothes, a warm house and plenty of food isn’t where it’s at these days. Maybe I’ve missed something; is she scared of the whole world? Time to put it right.

“Lucy.”

“What?”

“Lucy, if you don’t want to go through with this, if you think it might be a mistake, or too soon, that’s not a problem. You stay here and I’ll go on down to the church and explain. Don’t worry about the reception or anything, it doesn’t matter, compared to making a huge mistake.”
Diljas nodded his thanks to Robert.

Lucy stared at her father. He was normally so jovial, so sure about things and here he was suggesting she might be making a mistake. Why, she wondered. He never made mistakes, why should she?
Trynor stilled his energies, pulled them into a concentrated ball and beamed his thoughts as hard as he could towards Lucy. ‘Mistake, mistake, mistake’ he thought, as hard as he could.
Lucy took a deep breath and looked firmly at her father.

“I think you’re making the mistake, Dad,” she said. “I know what I’m doing.” She reached for her bouquet. “I’m ready to go.” She walked firmly towards the door,
with Trynor running beside her, mumbling as he went,

“You’re making the mistake, Lucy, not your Dad and here I am not stopping you, they’ll all say I’m a useless guide, I’ll never be able to hold my head up again.”

Lucy, preceding her father out of the house, straightened up, threw back her shoulders, took a deep breath of her wedding day air and forgot to duck her head to get into the limousine.  Her headdress caught in the top of the door and fell backwards into the dirt. Lucy took a deep breath, picked it up and fixed it on as best she could. Alison could check it later. She sat back comfortably onto the leather seat and sighed with pleasure.