Angel 50 (dinner and dates)

After Angel fed the twins her nipples were chaffed, but she wanted to make sure they had settled. To distract herself, she picked up the remote and flicked through the channel, but there was nothing on and she allowed her mind to drift and to think of Tony. She felt she had always loved him, not in a sloppy way, just because he was handsome—although that was a plus—but for his kindness and bravery. He’d saved her from Jaz. She imagined them living in a little house and she looked about her, much like the one she was living in now, but detached, with three bedrooms and a garage and a big garden for the twins to play with their scooters in.

Another voice was in her head telling her she was kidding herself. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and didn’t love her. She should stick to Pizza Face, who had kissed her, kissed her hard and who did love her. How he had never asked her to do anything that she didn’t want to – apart from sucking his cock. And he was probably the father of the twins. All babies might look the same, but Lisa seemed to have the same nose as Pizza Face. When she imagined kissing anybody it wasn’t Tony she imagined, it was Pizza Face’s lips. She felt herself getting wet, her hand making a space in her blouse and stretch slacks and in her pant and fingering her clit for the first time in a while. But she was so tired she gave up thinking and doing and her eyes flickered over a gameshow on the telly. All noise and no substance.

Stacey made an appearance later on, telling her she was finishing her shift and going home. Angel lifted Lisa and Adam, and checked their nappies weren’t wet, before putting them back down again. Stacey stood at the edge of the rug and watched her fussing and smiled.

‘You hungry?’ Stacey asked. ‘I mean we’ve not had a chance to get out yet. And one of the girls had made a bit too much spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread.

‘Aye,’ Angel bounded up from the couch. As soon as food was mentioned she could smell garlic wafting from the kitchen. ‘Absolutely starving.’

‘Mon then,’ Stacey laughed. She glanced down at the cot in front of the telly. ‘I’ll make the introductions. You can bring them, or leave then here for a minute.’

Angel picked up the cot, eyelids fluttering with concern, leaving them behind was like asking her to take off her skin. She followed Stacey through to the kitchen.

‘That’s Margo,’ Stacey said. ‘She’s a marvel in the kitchen.’ The smell of her cooking confirmed it.

Sharp, dark eyed Margo stole a glance at Angel and she smiled when she noticed the twins. A shred of tobacco stuck to her lower lip and she picked it off. A roll-up was behind her ear and hennaed hair, she shifted her bum and the overworked seat creaked. Sallow skin and long black eyelashes, everything about Margo was big and she made the kitchen seem smaller. She seemed shy and blunt at the same time, not trapped by good manners. ‘Whit you in fer?’ she asked, Angel and rifted.

Angel put the cot at her feet.  ‘Attempted murder,’ this was a game Angel had played many times, an initiation ritual of the different tribes of incarceration stretching from children’s homes to Corton Vale.

‘Snap. Me tae,’ Margo seemed to consider it further and Angel wondered if she was a bit slow. ‘Suppose it was yer husband, eh?’

‘No, a guy that raped me.’

Margo showed a splinter of yellow teeth, a deep-chested roar curled up inside her print dress and bubbled out of her mouth. ‘That’ll show the cunt, eh?’

Stacey stood looking from one to the other, like a referee, ready to step in. ‘Angel was wondering if you’ve any of that spaghetti left and perhaps a bit of garlic bread?’

‘I said I did, didn’t I?’ Margo grunted, her pasty hand on the kitchen table, as she stood up. The kitchen her domain. She sashayed over to the cooker and took a dinner plate from the drying rack, the window unhooked and letting in a draught.  She plated the spaghetti like an Italian and added sauce with a ladle.  ‘Much garlic bread you wanting?’ she asked, turning her head and frowning at Angel.

Angel took a deep breath, noticing the steam rising from the plate in Margo’s hand. ‘Much garlic bread huv you got?’  

‘Like it,’ Margo laughed. ‘That’s whit I’d have said tae.’  

Stacy held up a hand and twirled her fingers before leaving. ‘I’ll leave you two girls to it.’

‘You want coffee or tea?’ Margo flicked the kettle on.  

‘Tea, cheers.’ Angel slipped into the chair near the door, the twins snug at her feet.

Margo put the plate down in front of her and fetched a knife and fork and watched her wolf in, coming up for air now and again, to sip at her tea and munch on garlic bread.

Margo wandered out the door and a lighter appeared from her pocket, cigarette in her mouth. Angel watched her bulk disappear and with it the shuffle of carpet slippers and a sour, unwashed smell.

Angel quickly finished her dinner. She looked at the unwashed pots and dishes and ran the hot water in the sink, searching in the unit below it for Fairy washing-up liquid. She washed down the table with a wet cloth, and put the cot on top of it, where she could see the twins, before she got started on the dishes. It made her feel good to be doing something useful and she’d nearly finished the pots when she heard the shuffle of carpet slippers in the hall.

‘Spick as a new pin,’ Margo fell into the nearest seat and parked her arse. ‘I was just checking on the wee yin.’ She leaned over and had a peek at the twins. ‘Bonny babies.’

‘Thanks,’ Angel let the cloth fall into the sink and washed her hands with hot water, using the dish cloth to dry them.

‘That’s unhygienic,’ declared Margo, frowning.

‘Sorry.’ Angel bit her lip, wondering the last time Margo had a shower or bath, the stench from her had corners.

Margo lumbered up from the seat. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’

Angel got out of her way and sat in the seat she’d vacated. ‘Aye, that’d be nice.’ And held her hand over her mouth as she yawned. ‘Whit age is your wee one?’

Margo had the tea caddy in her hand paused, mid-air as she thought about it. ‘Just over a year…She’s in the room sleeping, the noo.’

   ‘That’s nice.’

‘I’ve got five other kids. They aw got took aff me.’

‘That’s a shame.’

Margo stared out the window, the lights from street outside illuminating part of the pavement where the wheelie bin was put out beside the kerb. ‘Aye, this is my last fucking chance,’ she declared, with a sigh, and picking up a teaspoon from the draining board and rubbing it on her chest to shine it. She glanced over at Angel. ‘Many other kids you got?’

Angel laughed. ‘Just these two – that’s enough!’

‘Och,’ the teaspoon pointed in her direction. ‘You’ve got your whole life fucking laid oot in front of yeh, you’ve got nae worries. Wish I was your age. Starting again.’