Angel's Fear

ANGEL'S FEAR&;#8230;
I took the evening barmaid job at The Fox to eke out my salary which
never seemed to stretch till the end of the month. My best friend
Rosalind didn't mind this too much. It was only 3 nights a week and
gave her an even better excuse to spend evenings in The Fox on the
pretext of chatting to me at the bar, while she eyed up the local
talent. She had recently ditched her latest boyfriend and I knew she
was on the prowl for another; her cheerful company at the bar would be
short-lived.
Rosalind was the kind of girl who didn't have to try very hard; she
just drew men like moths to a flame. A natural ash blonde with
unbelievably dark blue eyes, she had a near perfect figure, always wore
the trendiest gear and said exactly the right witty things.
Not like me. I'm no raving beauty by any stretch of the imagination.
I've got masses of dark unruly hair which just sort-of hangs around,
and I buy only clothes which suit me regardless of fashion. I wouldn't
be seen dead in a mini-skirt - as I'm rather tall with long slim legs,
I think I'd look like Olive Oyl.
I often wondered why Rosalind bothered to be friends with me, unless it
was to shine even brighter by comparison, but I enjoyed her bubbly chat
and hearing all about her latest escapades. Then there was the bonus of
all the nice young men who stopped by when she was around. I didn't
have any problem with socialising - I chatted to these as easily as if
they were girls. I never realised then how different it would be if I
met a really special man&;#8230;

I first saw him on my third night at The Fox. A fleeting impression of
dark eyes and broad shoulders, then my heart lurched and I was forced
to look away as I found myself blushing. In my confusion I dropped the
glass I'd been holding, which fortunately landed in the metal sink of
frothy water.
"What's the matter Angie?" Roz was the only person who didn't call me
by my given name - Angel. She knew I hated it.
"Don't look now..." I said, knowing she would anyway, "but who's that
gorgeous hunk over there by the fruit machine?"
She swivelled right around on her bar stool, making it painfully
obvious that we'd mentioned him, and she gave him her most enchanting
smile.
I groaned inwardly. 'Goodbye Gorgeous - it's been awful never knowing
you'.
She turned back and looked at me quizzically. "He's nothing special -
and his clothes look like his Dad's."
I hadn't noticed these defects, nor did I think them important, but I
sneaked another glance to make sure I hadn't imagined his effect.
He was still looking our way with dark-eyed intensity. I panicked once
more and my eyes snapped back to Roz. "He is gorgeous. I feel all funny
inside - I feel dead scared."
Her dark blue eyes widened, then she giggled most unhelpfully. "Oh
Lord, I don't believe it. The Ice Maiden melteth at last. I think
you've got it real bad Angie. Shall I call him over?"
"No, don't do that!" I felt I would shrivel up and die if she
did.
She was still smiling. "I bet he'll come over when he's finished his
drink."
"He'll have to or die of thirst." I sounded more flippant than I
felt.
He stood up then and moved to the juke box to make a selection, while I
safely feasted my eyes on his back. He was tall, broad and dark-haired
- quite scrummy in fact. "Oh wow!" I whispered.
Rosalind giggled again. "I'll nip out to the loo," she offered. "Give
you a chance to give him the eye." She tipped me a blue-eyed wink as
she deserted.
Strident sounds of Prince filled the small bar. The man of my dreams
was walking towards me with his empty glass. I had to fight the urge to
turn and run away.
"Pint of bitter please," he said quite calmly.
This close, the dark eyes smouldered, turning my insides to jelly. One
quick glimpse was enough to defeat me; I simply could not meet his gaze
again, and served him with lowered lashes, trembling so much I had to
top up his pint three times.
"Have one yourself, and your friend..." His voice was like honey on
gravel and caused even greater havoc in my whirling emotions.
"No!" It sounded like a rebuke. I mentally kicked myself. "No thanks,"
I said, more gently.
I sensed his shrug. Then he was walking away from me as I silently
berated myself. Idiot - you blew it!
Roz was back with an expectant smirk. "Well?" she enquired, as she
clambered back on her stool with a careful display of glossy black
stocking.
"He bought a drink," I said stupidly.
"You eejit!" she rightly admonished. "You're useless!"
"I know," I said defeatedly.
She shook her head. "This isn't like you Angie, I've never known you
tongue-tied before."
"First time for everything." I bemoaned my fate.
"Tell you what," she said helpfully, "I'll go over and put in a good
word for you."
"That will be so obvious." I voiced my despair.
"Trust Roz." She winked again. "I know how to handle a mere man."
I just had to hope she was right - except for the "mere". I was sure he
wasn't that. She sauntered towards him, and he looked up in surprise at
her approach. I was then distracted by the arrival of several new
customers.
Rosalind did not return to the bar.
I was kept busy for the rest of the evening with time for only
occasional glances in their direction. They seemed to be leaning close
and talking earnestly. Several times he came to order drinks, but
managed to get served by Jim, the landlord each time. The pub filled
up. I couldn't even see them any more through the crowd, and the hubbub
of voices drowned even the juke-box music.
By the time last orders were called and the pub began to clear a bit, I
noticed they were gone.
Little bitch! I thought wretchedly. Rotten little traitor! She's
supposed to be my friend! She didn't even like him much! All the way
home in the taxi, I felt close to tears to think she could be so
callous. She'd probably done it just to prove how easy it was - for
someone like her. Somehow her betrayal hurt more than his disinterest.
I was shattered.

Rosalind worked in the same office building as I did, though
fortunately not in the same department. I was determined to avoid her
all the next day; I certainly didn't want to hear about her antics this
time. Whenever she rang my extension, I hung up on her; and I
deliberately changed the times of my coffee break and lunch hour so I
wouldn't have to see her gloating. I spent the entire day wallowing in
gloomy thoughts, and was reprimanded several times by my boss for
daydreaming. At least I was glad I didn't have to work at The Fox that
night. Rosalind would surely be there - possibly with Him. It didn't
bear thinking about.

5.30, as I left the building, I saw her waiting at the bus-stop down
the road. She called and waved, but I immediately turned and marched
off in the opposite direction. I felt I'd rather walk home than travel
with Rosalind.

I arrived home late, in a foul mood, and slammed the front door a
little harder than I should have. I stormed up the hallway, almost
colliding with my dear old dad who was just shuffling out of the
lounge, in his slippers, to meet me.
"Steady on Angel," he said. "You've got a visitor - a young lady." Then
he shuffled off to the kitchen before I could utter a word of
protest.
Well, that was that. I had no choice but to enter the lounge and face
her. The alleged "young lady" was perched gracefully on the settee,
looking infuriatingly innocent, and even managing an air of
timidity.
"That was a neat one!" I raged as quietly as possible, in case my dad
was eavesdropping. "Creeping round my Dad. I just don't believe your
nerve."
"Angie, please listen," she begged. "I've been trying to get you all
day. I've got something very important to tell you."
"Oh yeah? I s'pose you're engaged already," I said sarcastically.
She shook her head wildly. "You've got it all wrong Angie. It's not
like you think - please listen.."
Curiosity overcame my resentment. "Okay Roz, but you'd better make it
good!" I moved to the wall unit to pour a shot of Dad's whisky. As an
afterthought I poured one for her also, though she didn't deserve it.
"Hope you don't want ice," I said ungraciously. "I can't be bothered to
go to the kitchen."
"That's okay." She accepted the drink gratefully, while I seated myself
opposite her, in Dad's chair.
She gulped half the drink nervously, before she began:
"I want to tell you about Steve - that's his name."
"Spare me the juicy bits." I swigged my own whisky.
"I'm sorry about last night Angie. I didn't know it would go like that.
I know how it must look to you."
"Please get on with it Roz." Before I quietly brain you.
"You see Angie, all he did was talk about you."
"What...?" I was stunned.
"He really liked you - but when he tried to speak to you, you wouldn't
even look at him."
"Oh Hell.." I remembered this wretchedly.
"At first, I tried to convince him he was wrong," she continued. "I
tried to persuade him to come over to the bar and talk to you - but he
wouldn't - he said he couldn't face another brush-off."
"Oh Roz..." I almost wailed, then drained my glass and stared at her
miserably.
"I must confess..." She blushed a little, "...then I went to work on
him myself. He almost had me convinced that you weren't interested. I'm
sorry Angie."
But suddenly, I wasn't angry any more. I felt sort-of empty and
drained, and at least she'd been honest. That's what friends are
for.
"But it didn't work," she said, surprisingly. "He walked me home, still
asking endless questions about you. I was quite fed-up by then, I can
tell you. I gave him your phone number and told him to stop talking
about it and get on and do something."
"Oh? What did he say?"
"He said..." She paused to giggle. "When I told him your name, he said
it really suited you - he said you looked like a mysterious angel. I
never heard a guy go all poetic like that."
I could hardly believe ny ears. "Do you think he needs glasses?"
"Course he don't, you eejit! I've told you before - there's nothing
wrong with you, and you do look sort-of mysterious." She was grinning
wickedly. "Guess what else..?"
"You mean there's more?"
"Oh yes!" she said with obvious enjoyment. "He's gonna ring you tonight
around seven."

At precisely seven o'clock, the phone rang. I stared at it, afraid of
disappointment. on the third ring, I picked up the receiver and quoted
the number.
A voice like honey on gravel said, "Hello Angel..."

Bernie Morris