Lost Angel (7 page)

‘I don’t want him there,’ Johnny told her bluntly, unable to hold his tongue any longer. ‘And I can’t believe you’re still trying to force him down my throat after everything he did.’

‘Oh, Johnny, not this again,’ Cathy groaned. ‘I know you blamed him for your dad walking out, but he wasn’t even around at the time. He’s done nothing but try to support us.’

‘And beating the shit out of me was supporting us, was it?’

‘Stop it,’ Cathy scolded. ‘He might have given you the occasional smack, but that’s all. And you should think yourself lucky, ’cos anyone else would have snapped if you’d pushed them as far as you pushed him.’

‘Really?’ Johnny raised an eyebrow and stared at her.

‘Yes,
really
.’ Cathy held his gaze. ‘I’m the one who had all the neighbours looking down on me like I was the world’s worst mother whenever the police dragged you home, so don’t try and make out like you were some kind of angel.’

‘I never said I was,’ Johnny replied coolly. ‘But I was only nine when he moved in, and I’d never got into any kind of trouble before, so didn’t it strike you as odd that I suddenly went off the rails?’

‘You were twelve when you started playing up,’ Cathy reminded him. ‘All kids are little bastards at that age.’

‘Especially if they’re getting the shit beat out of them day in, day out, eh?’

Cathy tutted. ‘Les never did anything of the sort, and you know it. You just said it to break us up, ’cos you’d had me all to yourself and you were jealous of him moving in. But it didn’t work then and it won’t work now. Les might not be perfect, but he’s done his best by me –
and
you. It wasn’t his fault you wouldn’t let him near.’

Johnny’s cheek muscles twitched as the rage he’d tried so hard to suppress came bubbling to the surface.

‘Oh, he got near, all right. Every time you went out, he was on me like a fucking dog. I remember how scared I used to get when he was standing over me with that evil look on his face. And he fucking
loved
it – seeing me cry, and knowing I’d end up pissing my bed and get into trouble with you.’

Cathy gave him a pained look. ‘I can’t keep doing this, Jon. I’ve lived with Les for near enough ten years, and I know him inside out. If he was like that, I’d know.’

‘So all the bruises I started getting after he moved in just came out of thin air, did they?’

‘Lads play rough. You were always getting scuffed up when you were out with your mates.’

‘Not when I was
nine
,’ Johnny reminded her. ‘You didn’t let me play out till I was eleven, ’cos you always wanted me where you could see me after my dad left. Don’t you remember?’

‘Oh, so now I’m a bad mother because I tried to protect you?’ Cathy shot back defensively. ‘The kids round here were a load of hooligans; I didn’t want you ending up like them.’

‘I’m not saying you were a bad mother for keeping me in,’ Johnny replied coolly. ‘Just for leaving me with a man you didn’t even know, then calling me a liar when I told you what he was doing to me. Any mother who cared about her kid would have kept an eye on the bloke if she heard something like that. But not you – you just fucked off out and left him to it.’

‘I had to work,’ Cathy reminded him.

‘No, you
wanted
to work,’ Johnny corrected her. ‘You got a buzz from it. Used to come home boasting about you and Julie getting all the tips ’cos you had a “special way of flirting with the punters”.’ He did speech marks in the air with his fingers.

Cathy’s eyes sparked with anger and she gritted her teeth. ‘Don’t you dare try and make out like I was some kind of tart.’

‘I’m not. I’m just saying if it was
me
, and
my
kid was covered in bruises every time I came home from work, I wouldn’t care how much I liked my job, I’d jack it in and stay home to make sure it never happened again – even if I didn’t really believe him.’

‘You can think what you like, but until you’ve been there you haven’t got a clue what it’s like bringing a kid up. A parent
knows
when their kid’s lying. And you were a born liar – just like your dad.’

They locked eyes across the table and glared at each other for several long moments, the silence broken only by the sound of their breathing. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils when he’d had enough, Johnny stabbed the butt of his burned-down cigarette into the ashtray, scraped his chair back and stood up.

‘So, that’s it?’ Cathy peered up at him with a hint of victory in her eyes. ‘You’re just going to piss off like this is all my fault?’

‘No point staying if you still think I’m lying,’ Johnny replied. Calmer now, but no less angry, he added, ‘You’re my mum, and I love you, but you’re wrong about Les.
He
’s the one who caused this, not me. I just hope you can live with yourself when you realise I’ve been telling the truth all along.’

‘Won’t happen.’ Cathy shrugged. ‘You’re lying, and we both know it.’

Johnny shook his head in disgust. He could understand why she might have believed Les rather than him when he’d been a trouble-making teenager, but not when he’d been a scared little boy crying out for protection. But if the bruises hadn’t alerted her, and she hadn’t thought it strange that a nine-year-old who hadn’t wet the bed in years would suddenly start again for no reason, then nothing was ever going to convince her.

‘I’ll see myself out.’ He headed for the door.

‘You’ll let me know about the baby, won’t you?’ Cathy called after him. ‘I’m going to be its grandma, so I’ve got a right to see it. I’ll take you to court if I have to.’

‘Whatever,’ Johnny called back, slamming the front door firmly shut behind him.

He trotted down the stairs, walked out into the crisp air and breathed in deeply. It had been going so well to start with, but he should have known it would end like that. As long as his mum insisted on making out like he was the devil and Les was some kind of saint they were never going to rebuild that shattered bridge. Which left him with two choices: wallow in self-pity for the rest of his life – or put the past to bed once and for all and concentrate on the future.

Opting for the latter, Johnny set off back to the bus stop with a new resolve in his heart. The thought of being responsible for a tiny baby absolutely terrified him, but if he was going to be a parent he’d rather be one like Frankie than like his mum. Frankie might be an evil bastard but no one could question the strength of his love for and loyalty to his own. He worked his arse off to provide for Ruth and her mum and, despite his frequent absences, he’d instilled a real sense of family, respect and decency into Ruth.

Johnny still wasn’t looking forward to being tied to her for the rest of his life, but now that he’d started to think about the child as being his he was determined to give it a better upbringing than the one he’d had. It hadn’t asked to be conceived, and it deserved to feel safe and loved. Whatever other failings Ruth might have, he had no doubt that she would do her damnedest to be a good mum – and he, in turn, would try to be a great dad.

4

Johnny woke up on the morning of the wedding with the stench of piss in his nostrils, a foul taste in his mouth, a banging head – and absolutely no recollection of the events of the night before. He didn’t even know where he was when he opened his eyes, and it took a few moments before he realised that he was in his own room.

As he lay there waiting for the bed to stop lurching beneath him, he had a vague recollection of Dave and the lads dragging him out for his stag party. But he had no clue where they had gone, what had happened when they got there, how he’d got home, or who had undressed him and put him to bed.

Feeling sick, he rolled onto his side and groaned when he felt a telltale damp patch beneath his thigh. He peeped at the other side of the bed through half-closed eyes, and was flooded with relief to see that he was alone. That would have been all he needed – some girl telling everyone that he’d pissed the bed.

He got up, yanked the shameful sheet off and stuffed it into a plastic bag to take to the launderette. He was pulling on his dressing gown when Dave burst through the door a couple of minutes later.

‘My alarm didn’t go off! We’ve got less than half an hour till the car gets here.’

‘
Sshhh
,’ Johnny begged, holding his aching head in his hands.

‘Never mind sshhh.’ Dave shoved him out into the hall. ‘Get washed – and hurry up, for fuck’s sake. Frankie’ll kill me if I don’t get you to the church on time.’

‘Oh, no,’ Johnny moaned, feeling nauseous again at the mention of that name and the thought of what lay ahead.

‘Oh, yes.’ Dave pushed him into the bathroom. ‘Hurry up!’

Johnny closed the door and took a piss. Then, sitting on the edge of the bath, he filled the sink with cold water and sank his face into it until he felt more awake.

Dave was dressed and waiting for him in the hall when he came back out.

‘Drink that and take them,’ he ordered, shoving a fizzing glass of Alka-Seltzer and two paracetamol tablets into his hand. ‘Then get your suit on. You’ve got fifteen minutes.’

Johnny did as he was told, and was almost ready when a car horn tooted down below. Dave looked out of the window and waved to let the driver know they were coming.

‘Ready?’ he asked, turning back to Johnny.

‘No.’ Johnny shook his head miserably.

‘Ah, you’ll be fine,’ Dave said, shoving his friend’s hands aside and doing his tie for him before straightening the blood-red carnation in his buttonhole. That done, he picked up his keys and cigarettes and patted his pocket to check that he had the rings before hustling Johnny out of the door.

Johnny felt as sick as a dog as he numbly followed Dave down to the car park. It was a freezing cold day, and a dark grey cloud hovered above them as they climbed into the back of the E-type Mercedes that Frankie had sent. Shivering, he hunched in the corner and felt sorry for himself. This was all happening too fast. He hadn’t had a chance to wake up properly yet, and he desperately needed a coffee. His head felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton wool, and he could barely remember his own name so he had no idea how he was going to remember what he was supposed to say when he got to the church.

‘Come on, mate, shake yourself out of it,’ Dave said with forced cheeriness. ‘Soon be done.’ He lit two cigarettes and passed one over.

‘Easy for you to say,’ Johnny grunted, winding the window down an inch. ‘And how come you’re so lively when I feel like shit?’

‘’Cos I paced myself last night,’ Dave told him, glancing at his watch. ‘Frankie warned me not to let you get in a state, so I had to keep a clear head.’

‘Didn’t do a very good job, did you?’ Johnny grumbled. ‘I can’t remember a fucking thing. What happened?’

‘Later,’ Dave said offhandedly. Then, to the driver, ‘Any time you’re ready, mate.’

They set off with a lurch, and Johnny swallowed down a mouthful of bile. Stomach churning all the way, he felt like his bowels were going to give when they reached the church and he saw his mates having a smoke on a pile of old flat gravestones round the side. Their women were already inside – no doubt fighting over the aisle seats, from where they could best see and bitch about the bride when she arrived.

If
she arrived.

Please, God, don’t let her come.

‘Where’s Mikey and Andy?’ he asked. As the car came to a stop outside the gates he clocked that those two weren’t with the others.

‘I don’t think they’ll be coming,’ Dave told him quietly.

‘Why not?’

Dave cast a furtive glance at the driver and lowered his voice to say, ‘There was a bit of bother at the club last night and I haven’t heard from either of them since, so I’m guessing they might have got arrested.’

‘Why, what happened?’ Johnny demanded. ‘And what club?’

‘Not now,’ Dave whispered. ‘Just concentrate on what you’re doing. And don’t look so worried. That priest looked like a right little pisshead when we came for the rehearsal, so I’m betting he’ll race through the service like a bat out of hell so he can get to the bar.’

‘Hope so.’ Johnny ran a sweaty hand over his clammy face.

Frankie came out through the church door just then. Dave chuckled, and nudged Johnny.

‘Jeezus, cop a load of that. We must have took a wrong turn and ended up in Vegas.’

Johnny glanced out at his soon-to-be Elvis-in-law and groaned. Frankie’s face was practically orange, and there was so much gel in his slicked-back hair that it looked like he’d just stepped out of an oil shower. But his suit was surprisingly nice compared to the shit he’d got Johnny and Dave trussed up in. He’d taken them to a tailor and had them fitted out to make sure they looked the part, but the suits that had been delivered yesterday bore no resemblance to the ones Johnny and Dave had spent an hour describing to the tailor. They’d wanted chino-type pants and fitted jackets, but they’d ended up in suits that only a Teddy boy would rave about, with lapels like pieces of string and trousers to match.

‘Bastard,’ he muttered, guessing that Frankie had done it to punish him.

‘He don’t look too happy,’ Dave murmured as Frankie spotted the car and came striding towards them with a thunderous look on his face. ‘You’d best try and look a bit more enthusiastic, or he’ll think you’re having second thoughts.’

‘Try third, fourth and fifth,’ said Johnny.

Frankie yanked the car door open and glared in at them.

‘What fuckin’ time do you call this? Ruth got here ten minutes ago and I had to tell the driver to do another lap. Do you know how much shit I’m going to get off her mam when she finds out I had to send her away?’

‘Sorry,’ Johnny apologised, forcing his wobbly legs to carry him out of the car. ‘My stomach’s been a bit dodgy.’

Frankie snapped his glare onto Dave who was climbing out the other side. ‘He’d best not have a hangover! I warned you what’d happen if you let him get in a state.’

‘He hardly drank anything,’ Dave lied, peeling the crotch of his ultra-tight trousers away from his nuts. ‘He was as good as gold. Went home early, and everything.’