A is for Angelica (9 page)

‘I know. I didn’t mean that.’

‘What did you mean?’

‘You know what people say about him.’

I barely finished my sentence before I felt my father’s hand across my cheek. I stumbled, fell to one knee, stood back up immediately. I touched my face with the back of my wrist. I said
nothing.

‘He was a good man.’

‘Yes, Dad. I know he was.’

I picked the last gift off the floor and slid it onto the parcel shelf. My father reached up and shut the boot. He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me, his breath still fresh with
smoke.

‘You’ve got a good one there,’ he said. ‘Make sure you look after her.’

My father sat in the front with Georgina’s dress on his lap while my mother drove. He used his non-broken arm to smoke out the passenger seat window. I sat squashed
between Georgina and her mother in the back. The smell of almost-stale sandwiches wafting in from the boot. Corned beef and mustard. My father’s pickled onions.

‘Are you sure they’re not leaking?’ I said.

‘Those jars don’t leak,’ said my father.

‘They’d better not leak on my presents,’ said Georgina.

‘Your presents?’ I said.

My father turned round in his seat, ‘Those jars are watertight.’

Georgina laughed and squeezed my arm, ‘Are they vinegar tight though?’ My father laughed with her and winked. My mother cleared her throat. ‘It doesn’t matter how tight
they are, they won’t stop the smell,’ she said. ‘It’s all right for you. You don’t have to live with it.’

‘Not anymore,’ I said.

We’d moved into our new house the weekend before the wedding. It meant we had to delay our honeymoon for six months. We didn’t mind though. We’d found the house we’d been
looking for. The house we wanted. Number eighteen, Cressington Vale. Kitchen, bathroom, living room. Two bedrooms. One master and one spare for when guests came, or if we ever had children. Two
gardens but no garage. A spacious loft. It would be hard work. But it would be worth it. It would be perfect. We’d have to decorate. Use boxes for chairs until we found our own furniture.
Keep frozen food in Don Donald’s freezer. Our new neighbour. The one whose wife just left him. He had plenty of space.

‘Next left,’ said my father.

‘I know where I’m going,’ my mother replied.

She pulled the car into Georgina’s street. Georgina’s old street. We came to a stop outside what was now just her mother’s house. My father stepped out the car and opened the
back door. My mother put the handbrake on and took her feet from the pedals. She left the engine running. Mary had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I dug my elbow into her ribs to wake her up.

‘We’re home,’ Georgina said. ‘Gordon’s Dad’s going to walk you to the door.’

‘Thanks for all your help,’ I said.

‘Are you coming in?’

‘No Mum. We’re going home.’

‘Home? You’ve only been there a week.’

‘It’s been such a long day. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘It’s not your home yet.’

‘You can help us strip the wallpaper if you like, Mary.’

My father grabbed her forearm and helped her out of the car. He bent down, looked through the open window and said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ Georgina’s mother turned
and waved as he put his foot on the garden gate, pushed it open with his heel. We waved back at her. ‘Sleep tight,’ my mother shouted as they wandered down the path towards the house.
Georgina’s mother opened her bag, shoved her hand inside and started searching for her keys. After thirty seconds my father snatched the bag and started searching for them himself. After
another minute, he pulled them out and unlocked the front door. He opened it, switched the light on in the hall. We watched them go inside. The door closed slowly and of its own accord. The springs
too tight on its hinges.

‘Is she all right?’ I said.

‘She’ll be fine,’ said Georgina. ‘She’s just drunk.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘She takes up a lot of room.’

‘I know, I could hardly breathe.’

My mother put her elbow on the edge of her seat and used it to turn herself around. ‘Don’t be cheeky, you two,’ she said. ‘You might be old enough to get married, but
you’re not too old... ’ and then she stopped. ‘Mary’s lost one of her earrings.’

‘Where?’ I said.

‘Right next to you.’

‘Where?’

‘There.’

‘What do you mean, “there”? I can’t see it.’

‘It’s by your leg.’

‘Which leg?’

‘That leg.’

‘This leg?’

‘No, the other leg.’

Georgina reached over, picked up the earring and held it to the window. It caught the light from the streetlamp. ‘She’s right,’ said Georgina. ‘Can you see the other
one?’ I ran my hand across the upholstery, felt a sharp pain in my thumb and yelped. ‘It’s here,’ I said.

‘That was lucky. Why don’t you run in and give them to her now?’

‘I’m not running.’

‘You know what I mean.’

I pulled the earring out of my thumb and checked for blood. Georgina gave me the other earring. I put them in my pocket, stepped from the car and walked towards the house. ‘Tell your Dad
to hurry up while you’re there,’ I heard my mother shout. The rain had stopped but the lawn was soaked. I grabbed my trousers at the knee and lifted them above my ankles, opened the
front door with my shoulder. It closed behind me as I walked through the hall towards the kitchen. The only room with a light on. I passed the entrance to the living room, thought about
Georgina’s father sat drinking in his comfy chair. Then I heard the sound of someone laughing. Or crying. Georgina’s mother in the kitchen. I stopped. I stood still. The door was half
open, half closed, but wide enough for me to peer through the gap between the door and the frame. I edged closer. My father had his back to me. Georgina’s mother’s face buried in his
chest. She was definitely laughing. Or crying. She had her arms around him and her hands on his shoulder blades. I could see a bottle of wine and a packet of cereal on the table. The Sunday dinner
table. My father had one hand on her hip, the other inside his sling and pink cardigan. I watched Georgina’s mother’s fingers slide down his back.

‘I’ve got your earrings, Mary,’ I said, looking away, pushing the door open, walking into the kitchen. They let go of each other. Stood side by side.

‘Gordon,’ my father said. ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘She wants you to hurry up. You left your earrings in the car.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Mary. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘They cut my finger.’

‘Could you put them on the table?’

‘Mum says the engine’s running.’

I turned and walked back down the hallway. ‘Right, we might see you tomorrow then?’ I heard my father say, ‘We’ll let ourselves out.’ And then he followed me
through the door and into the garden. He jogged to catch me up. He put his arm around my shoulders. We walked across the wet lawn together. He kissed me on the back of the head and waved at my
mother and Georgina in the car. He told me it had been a beautiful day. A wonderful wedding.

Inhibitions

Unfortunately, Kipling has diarrhoea again. Sometimes there’s nothing wrong with him. We get up, I take him for his walk and he spends the rest of the day by the
radiator. Everything’s normal. On other days, he refuses to leave the house. He sits shaking by the bathroom door and loses control of his bowels. I’m sitting in the surgery waiting
room with my legs apart and a cardboard box on my knee. It was easy to get Kipling inside the box. When he’s not shaking, he’s sleeping. I’ve poked holes in the bottom with a fork
so he can breathe. No-one suspects a thing. I’ve also checked my files. It’s half past three. Angelica should be here any minute. I spoke to her yesterday. I stood in the garden on
purpose, waiting for her to leave the house. I asked her what her plans were. She told me she would be here. We’re becoming friends. My appointment is at four, but I arrived an hour ago. I
didn’t want to miss her.

Doctor Jonathan Morris has received an official warning for repeatedly leaving his intercom on during consultations. Last week, a man came in to see him with a suspected hernia and someone made
a complaint to the receptionist. Now they’ve got rid of the intercom system completely. It’s been replaced by an electronic sign that sits above the
door-to-the-corridor-that-leads-to-the-doctor. Patients’ names scroll across in a series of red dots that make up letters. They’re followed by the name of the doctor they’re here
to see. If someone misses their name, they drop a place in the queue. I preferred the intercom.

The horseshoe of seats is full. I’m sat with my legs apart for two reasons. First, it means the air can get to the holes in the bottom of Kipling’s box. And second, so I take up more
room on the seat. When Angelica gets here she’ll have nowhere to sit. That is, she’ll have nowhere to sit unless I close my legs and make some space for her. She’s coming now. I
can tell by the shape of her shoulders through the frosted glass of the surgery door. It’s like looking through her bathroom window.

‘Hello Gordon,’ she says. I shuffle up and she sits next to me.

‘Hello.’

‘You’re here again?’

‘And so are you.’

‘What’s in the box?’

‘I can’t really say.’

‘Well, that’s intriguing.’

‘Promise you won’t tell?’

‘Probably, yes. What is it?’

If possible, I speak to Angelica every day. Sometimes, she doesn’t come out of her house, but I can usually orchestrate a chance meeting by referring to her file. We get on well. She does
most of the talking.

I lean over and whisper, ‘It’s Kipling.’

‘Kipling the dog?’

‘Of course.’

‘You shouldn’t bring him in here.’

‘I know. It’s okay though. I’m taking him to see Doctor Morris.’

‘You need a vet not a doctor. What’s wrong with him? He’s not still shitting everywhere is he?’

Angelica has a foul mouth, there’s no doubt about it. I bring out the worst in her. I swore when we first met. She remembers. She thinks I’m the type of person who swears. I
don’t care. She has a wonderful smirk on her face. This is excellent.

‘Angelica, do you know what he did this morning?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘He shit in my slippers.’

Note: Gift ideas for Angelica. Something small. Something practical. Something that I know she likes. Refer to files. Note end.

We’ve been chatting for nearly eight minutes. My name goes past on the electronic sign. I ignore it. Angelica didn’t see as she was busy talking. We’ve been
together long enough for her perfume to attach itself to my clothes. I’ll be able to smell it for the rest of the day.

‘You’ve got a car?’ I ask her.

‘Oh, you’ve seen it then?’

‘Only from a distance.’

‘Yes, well it’s very old, but it’ll do the job.’

‘As long as it gets you from A to B.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

Why has my name scrolled past again? They never show the same name twice. I look across at the receptionist. She’s glaring at me. I look back at the electronic sign. It’s on
repeat.

‘Why was Benny washing it?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I saw Benny washing your car.’

‘I asked him to.’

‘Even though I told you about the stealing?’

‘I mentioned that to him actually. He laughed.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t tell him that it was you who told me.’

‘Okay,’ I say, more feebly than I mean to. Angelica folds her arms and looks up at the sign.

‘Gordon, your name’s been flashing for a while now. I think you’d better go in.’

Doctor Morris has his back to me. His hands are on his head and he’s staring out the window. Kipling is asleep on his desk. He turns around. I can see his sweat
patches.

‘For the last time, I cannot examine – or treat – your dog.’

‘It won’t take a minute.’

‘I can’t do it. And even if I could, I wouldn’t know how to. I’m a doctor. A human doctor. I am not a veterinary nurse or person. I can’t believe you brought him in
here, Gordon. I really can’t.’

‘I thought you could help.’

‘Why? Why did you think I’d be able to help?’

‘Aren’t vets expensive?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve no idea if vets are expensive. Do you want to know why? It’s because I’m a doctor. I’m not a vet.’

He sits down behind his desk. I lift Kipling and put him back in the box. I close the lid. It was stupid of me to bring him here. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’ll be fine.
Doctor Morris moves his chair in front of the notice board. I can read the posters over his shoulder.

Teenage pregnancy: Five top tips for parents.

‘I should apologise, Gordon. I shouldn’t lose my temper like that. It’s unprofessional. However, there’s nothing I can do for your dog. Perhaps you should take him to see
someone else.’

Angelica will be sitting here soon. She might even be next. I wonder what she’s here for. I should ask her. She probably calls him Jonathan. I can see it now. She’ll fold her arms to
make her cleavage creep towards her chin. Like she does with Benny.

1. Be clear about your own sexual values and attitudes.

She’ll lean backwards in her seat and flick her ponytail. He’ll offer her a drink. He has coffee in a drawer under his desk. For special occasions.

2. Supervise and monitor your children and adolescents.

‘There’s a veterinary clinic about fifteen miles away, Gordon. A friend of mine takes their cat. Let me see if I’ve got their number.’

3. Know your children’s friends and families.

She’ll drink his coffee and leave lipstick marks on the rim of the mug. Some of the coffee will dribble down the outside. She’ll lick it off with her tongue. He’ll ask her to
take her clothes off and make herself comfortable on the bed.

4. Take a stand against your daughter dating a boy significantly older than she is: don’t allow your son to develop an intense relationship with a much younger girl.

She’ll lie half naked while he rubs his hands together. A red mark wrapped around her back where her bra was too tight. Her stomach squeezing over the sides of her jeans. Jonathan’s
palms glistening as he holds them up to the strip lighting.