Angel 75 (waiting for Pizza Face)

The old man lifted the bottle and held it up. ‘You want a wee snifter? A wee Whyte and Mackay to set the world to rights?’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I’m no’ much of a drinker.’

Blind-eyed, smiling, he stood up and searched among his dishes for a glass, dishes rattling as he rinsed a glazed mug under the cold water tap. He slapped his chest and made coughing noises before picking up the whisky bottle. ‘Here, drink it.’ He held out the mug. ‘You’re shaking like a leaf. And this isnae drink, this is medicine for your soul.’  

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’d rather not.’

‘Fine,’ he sniffed at the mug and his face lightened. ‘I’ll just take it through to the living room and put it beside your chair. In case you change your mind.’

She followed at his back and with great ceremony he put the mug down beside the phone. He peered down at Adam, ducking down and tickling his back. ‘The wee man, eh, they’re great at that age. Aren’t they?’

‘Aye, they ur. You got kids?’

‘Eh, aye, My Jessica and Stephen, but I don’t see them much, they’re pretty far away and too busy now.’

He picked up a gingersnap and crouching, held it out in front of Adam. Her son reached for it and rolled against the couch after grabbing it. The old man chuckled with delight. ‘He’s the boy, eh!’

Angel swooped down and took it out of his hand and he howled in fury. ‘I’ll need to get him something to eat.’

‘There’ll be something in the kitchen.’ He waved a hand, ‘You help yerself. Milk in the fridge.’ He wheezed as he took a deep breath, 'Anyway, I’m going to go into my room and lie doon a while, to read the paper.’ He frowned as he looked around to where he’d left it. ‘An insult to my intelligence, but somebody’s got tae dae it?’

Angel began crying, ‘I don’t know how to thank yeh.’

‘Thank me!’ he cried. ‘I should be thanking you for your company. Don’t often get the chance to talk to decent folk. A pleasure. A real pleasure. You take whit you need and dae whit you’re gonnae dae. That’s thanks enough for me.’

She scooped down and picked up Adam, holding him up to the old man and instructing her son, ‘Gie a kiss to the nice man?’

Adam screamed louder and tried to push the old man’s unshaven cheek away as he leaned over. He found it funny and snorted with laughter.

She grinned, ‘he’s a monster’.  

When he’d gone she found waiting for the phone to ring was the real monster. She pottered about in the kitchen, cleaning up, getting Adam’s breakfast. Changed his nappy and listened for the old man, even hoping he’d appear.

Adam was still tired so she sat him in her lap beside the phone and played with him, watching it out of the side of her eye. He dozed, fitfully and she clung to his warm body on her lap. She eyed the glass of whisky and picked up and sniffed it, as the old man had done, ready to put it down quickly if somebody waltzed in and caught her.

She took a sip and held it, rolling it around her tongue, warming her mouth and palette, but the taste was vile. When she swallowed the liquid hit her stomach like lightening and she felt the warmth fan out and up her arms and legs. Another sip and her neck muscles loosened and her hands stopped shaking. Another sip and she felt lighter, the glass almost finished and she pushed it away before her legs floated up to the ceiling. Pursed her lips, and for a moment, understood why her mum took to the drink.

The phone rang, jolting Adam out of his sleep and her son’s face looked angry. She dived for the receiver knocking over the glass and rubbing spillage into the arm of the couch.

‘Hello, you there?’ Tony said.

‘Aye,’ she answered. ‘I was just, eh, daydreaming.’

‘Right,’ Tony wasn’t really listening, talking in a rush of words. ‘I got in touch wae Pizza Face and he was goin’ aff his rocker, and he said he’s no’ got a car, but he’d get wan and he’d come and pick you up. Gottit?’

‘No,’ she said and pulled a book out of Adam’s mouth. ‘Don’t eat that, it’s dirty!’ She pulled at his shoulders as he howled and breathed back into the phone… ‘I don’t mean you, aye, I’ve got it – whit’s he so angry about?’

‘Dunno,’ said Tony. ‘You know whit he’s like?’

‘Aye,’ she huffed. ‘I know only too well. So when’s he coming?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Does he know where he’s coming?’

‘Dunno.’

‘So whit dae you know?’

‘Nothing much,’ Tony admitted. ‘But I think he’s gonnae pick up Bandit, who knows that neck of the woods.’

‘Who’s Bandit?’

‘Dunno.’

She laughed, ‘It is whit it is.’

‘I wish I could dae more…I’ll dae anything for you.’

‘Aye,’ she said, ‘Got to go, Adam’s trying to eat my leg.’

‘Love you,’ he said.

‘Aye,’ she hung up before she burst into tears.

The old man shuffled into the room and she sat up a little straighter and grabbed Adam as if he was going to wander off. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and blinked. ‘You alright?’

‘I’m just waiting on somebody – my boyfriend to pick us up – that alright?’

He sniffed the air, ‘Whit’s that smell?’

She pulled Adam closer and sniffed his bum and then she realised, ‘Oh, eh, I dropped the mug.’

‘Och, nae harm done.’ He sucked in through his teeth. ‘Just make sure the wee barra doesn’t lap it up like a dog.’ He smiled, ‘Then we’d both be in trouble…Anyway, I’m going to make a cuppa tea. You want a cup?’

‘Aye, alright then, black, two sugar.’

 ‘Whit about the wee barra?’ He chuckled, pointing a finger at him and twiddling it to attract his attention. ‘Does he want Whyte and Mackay wae his?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she wrestled with him to keep him still and rolled her eyes. ‘I think he’s had more than enough.’

He bent his knees, lifted the tray from the table. ‘You can put your own sugar in it. And I don’t dae teabags—they’re for charlatans.’

He stood a few seconds, pondering. ‘You fae that place up the road?’  

Angel glanced down at her feet where she’d left the holdall and turned her head to check where her coat was, shifted her bum forward in the seat, her grip on Adam tightening as she prepared to bolt. ‘Whit place is that?’   

She unzipped the bag, her fingers working through the top layers, searching for a warm jacket for Adam.

‘You know,’ he raised his bushy eyebrows and his head furrowed. ‘That women’s prison.’   

‘Nah,’ she pulled out a blue and white checked coat, grabbed Adam’s wrist and hand and swung him around as she put it over his shoulder and fed an arm into the sleeve. ‘Didn’t know there was one there.’

His eyes followed her quick movements. ‘Well, whit I was gonnae say is, you seem nice enough – and I can see you’ve had a bit of trouble. And if—hypothetically—you were from that place up the road, I don’t really gie a fuck.’

She buttoned Adam’s jacket and nudged the bag with her the side of her toes so she could swing Adam around and stand up.

He noticed that and sweetness came into his face. ‘I’m gonnae go in the kitchen to make tea and if you want to leave that’s fine—I’m no’ stopping yeh, the door’s open—but if you want to stay, that’s fine tae.’  

‘You could get into trouble,’ she blurted out.

He shrugged and the tray wobbled in his hand, the teapot almost toppling, ‘At my age? Whit they gonnae dae, hang me?’

She sung back into the couch and unbuttoned Adam’s jacket, her legs shaking.