Who Was Angela Zendalic (10 page)

If it was up to Peggy, of course she could. She could have dogs and dollies, and pretty dresses and a tricycle; in fact anything that was essential to the happiness of a five-year-old, funded by her recent promotion to County Libraries Supervisor, and Mr Agarowlia (now a research translator at The Indian Institute) still happy in his upstairs bedsitter.

With the picnic eaten, Ted took the child's hand. ‘I've got something to talk to you about, sweetheart.'

‘Shall I go for a walk', Peggy mouthed.

He shook his head and coughed. ‘Angel, when you were little ...' He stopped and coughed again. ‘When you were a baby ...' He tried to continue but nothing came out of his mouth. He stood up, looked at Peggy, and shook his head. ‘I'm just off to watch a few overs, duck. Auntie Peg's going to tell you a story.'

‘Hooray. A story,' the child said, moving over to sit on Peggy's lap, and to wrap her arms around her. And so, whilst mother and daughter sat with their faces touching, the story was told.

‘Once upon a time there was a very rich and very handsome Prince who had black skin, and came from Africa.'

‘Where's Africa?'

‘It's a big hot country, a long way away over the sea, where there are lions and tigers and elephants. The Prince had come to England, to go to a grown up school called Oxford University.'

‘Like my Daddy works at the Oxford University Press.'

‘That's right. Daddy makes the books they learn from. So the Prince studied hard at his lessons, and one day he met a lovely lady with white skin and long blonde hair. They fell in love, and they were so in love they got married and had a very beautiful baby daughter. And because her daddy had black skin, and her mummy had white skin, she was born with lovely smooth brown skin, just like yours. They said she was so beautiful she looked like an angel, so they called her Princess Angela.'

The child sat bolt upright, and beamed. ‘Just like me.'

‘That's right, darling. Just like you. The Prince and the lady loved their little girl so much, and every day they said thank you to God for giving them such a wonderful gift. But then suddenly there was a war in the far-off country called Africa and ...'

‘Is a war like the one when Uncle Ted was a sailor, and you were a flying lady?'

‘Yes, that's right, so the handsome Prince had to go back to his own country, to make sure his people weren't harmed, but he promised to return to them very soon. The lady cried and cried because she loved him and really missed him, but then something even sadder happened. The Prince was made to stay in Africa, by his cruel father, the King, and was forbidden for ever to come back to England.'

Angela's hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, no! Poor lady and poor Princess Angela.'

Peggy made a sad face and nodded. ‘The lady was broken-hearted, and she soon found that without her lovely husband to look after her she'd become very, very poor and was afraid that Princess Angela would starve. The only thing to do was to find another home for her, so she looked all over the land for a perfect new mummy and daddy and at last she found them. The mummy was called Edie, and the daddy was called Stan.'

Angela opened her mouth in an expression of wonderment. ‘Just like my mummy and daddy!'

‘Yes. That's right.
Just
like your mummy and daddy. The lady cried and cried again when she had to say goodbye to Princess Angela, but she was very happy as well because she knew she was going to have a wonderful new home. So that was how Princess Angela came to live at No.55. Auntie Peggy was asked to be her Godmother, and Uncle Ted was asked to be her Godfather, and they all lived happily ever after.'

The child didn't say a word, but she got up and pulled on Peggy's hand. ‘Come on, Auntie. Let's go and tell Uncle Ted that I'm a really a Princess.'

Recognising Edie's familiar thumps on the door knocker, Peggy's heart jumped. Would she be wearing a smile of relief, or be on a war footing of fury? She bustled in, wearing her familiar floral apron and fur-edged carpet slippers, waving a box of Black Magic. ‘I've come to say thank you. First thing she did was come roaring in, “Mummy, Mummy, Auntie Peggy told me I'm really a Princess. I'm a very special brown Princess.” She hasn't grasped all the ins and outs yet, but at least the seed's sown and she's happy. Thanks ever so.'

‘I just said her daddy was an African Prince and her mummy had long blonde hair.'

‘Actually, Peg, in the strictest confidence, African Prince is a bit more right that you know.'

Peggy's stomach lurched and a hot flush of terror flew up her neck. What on earth had Edie been told? ‘I shouldn't tell you this,' she continued, ‘but I know I can trust you. We
do
know a bit about where she came from, but the odd thing is that there's two versions. When Ted set it up he said he thought the mother was a young kid and the father played in a jazz band. Then, when all the legal work was done, and we got the adoption papers, there was a line that said her mother was an older professional woman, a respectable widow, and the father was an African student. Possibly a member of the ruling classes.'

Peggy's head swam to dizziness, but she had to say something, and the sooner the respectable widow was erased the better. ‘I'm going to plump for the young girl and the jazz band,' she said quickly. ‘It might explain where she gets her musical ability.'

‘She's certainly got that.'

‘And she really loves her piano lessons.' She inhaled and diffidently put her head to one side. ‘Actually, Edie, I've been meaning to ask you. Can she join that little theatre group that's started up at St. Paul's? Dancing and singing classes, and a proper piano teacher. Violin as well, if she shows an interest. My treat, of course. Perks of a Godmother.'

‘Can't see no harm,' Edie replied. ‘She dances more than she walks, and sings more than she talks. Very generous of you, Peg, but that's all mind. She was going on about having a dog, but I draw the line there.'

When she'd gone, Peggy dropped her shoulders and simmered down with relief. Please God that no more would be said. That the hurdle had been got over. The future would now go forward in bringing up a happy little girl, surrounded by love and protection. She walked across the room and idly lifted the framed Worcester College photograph off the wall. There was Joseph, a wide smile revealing his perfect white teeth and the feathers of his fez blowing in the wind. She, standing demurely on the sidelines, her feet together and holding an umbrella. How she still yearned for him, the man who would remain forever young. No, he would never come back, not after all this time, but pray God he was surviving the turmoil of conflict in Ankanda. Mr Agarowlia, a keen follower of world politics, had explained to her that the state was under intense internal pressure, and was surrounded by other crumbling African colonies. That independence movements, and political activists, threatened the stability of the whole dark continent.

She slipped on her diamond ring, set the familiar black disc to play on the record player, closed her eyes, and swayed in time to Sidney Bechet's nostalgic notes.

April 2014
Monks Bottom

A
fter
guiding Shea back to bed, and kissing him a loving goodnight, he instantly fell asleep, but I came downstairs with a heavy heart, trying (once again) to concentrate on the problem in hand. Zen-Dall-ick? Zen-Dall-itch? Zen-Darlek. The name sounded like a wartime spy. Could it be Eastern European/Slavic? Had she been a young girl or a mature woman? Either way, she and Pa must have had, what was called in those days, an illicit affair. When my sisters had talked about Pa's infidelity (which it must have been) I was spiky and derisive, but I really found it unthinkable. He worshipped the ground that the beautiful, sweet-natured Merryn walked on, and she was so adoring of him. ‘My darling, Pierrot', she called him, until her mind slipped out of her head.

Oh, Pa. You truly were a man of backboned decency. You devoted your life to Mummy and us girls, so what happened? There's always been a print called ‘
The Broad and Narrow Way
' hanging in Pa's music room, and it says it all. It illustrates the choices given to Man; of following the ‘straight and narrow' to the joys of piety and heaven, or veering off onto the ‘broad way' to meet a hapless end in hell and damnation. What seductive joys did Angela bring to you, Pa? What was it about her that pulled you, like a magnet, into her Salome arms? Or maybe it was you who did all the running?

I would now sign up with all the ancestry websites, and discover every available fact on Angela, but although I was filled with nervous anticipation to get cracking I found I was immobile with exhaustion. It was too much effort to move and my brain was like porridge. I took the cowards way out and turned on the telly, choosing a repeat of
Grand Designs
, but by the time the enigmatic Kevin McCloud had made his introduction I could feel my eyes closing.

November 1963
Jericho

T
ed,
having just returned home from work, heard Edie's familiar knock on his front door. ‘An urgent word,' she said, forcefully walking through to the kitchen and slapping down a child's colouring book. ‘Right! Take a look at that.'

Ted slowly turned the pages. The word NIGGER was written across every one, in thick black crayon. ‘Christ almighty,' he said softly. ‘What little bastard's done this?'

‘That's what I'd like to know,' Edie fumed. ‘Stan was all for marching round the school, and blowing his top, but I said we'd better ask you what to do. Oh, if I ever get my hands on the little bleeder ...'

‘Calm down, Edie. What about Angie? Is she upset?'

‘Not about the nigger word. She's got no idea what it means. She just came home crying because someone spoiled her book. I asked her who it was but she didn't know.'

‘Well, we can't have it, can we? I'll pop round to Barnie first thing tomorrow, and have a chat with Mr Saxon. Leave the book with me.'

‘Thanks, Ted. You're a brick. And not a word to Peg, mind. It'll break her heart, not that it hasn't broken mine, but I've got enough to worry about without having to prop her up as well.'

The next morning, in mufti, Ted walked round to St Barnabas School, and knocked on the Headmaster's door. ‘Mr Saxon, I can't ignore this. Somehow we've got to nip it in the bud.'

‘We certainly need to deal with it,' he agreed, ‘but Angela mustn't be aware she's been victimised. It's a delicate situation.' He shook his head with bewilderment. ‘Do you know, Sergeant Rawlings, in the four years she's been here we've never had one word of what I have to call prejudice from any pupil or their parents. In fact, she's adored by one and all. Oh, dear. What on earth can be done?' Ted outlined his plan of action and Mr Saxon agreed.

‘I'm dealing with it tomorrow morning,' he told Edie, ‘but Mr Saxon thinks she shouldn't be there.'

‘Right,' she replied. ‘I'll say she's been coughing in the night and she's got to have a day off school. She'll fall for it. We'll go on the bus to Abingdon. It's market day, and there'll be lots of things to look at. Then we can have some fish and chips in that nice café down by the river.'

In his full police sergeant's uniform Ted, walking tall and serious, entered Angela's classroom, and her teacher, Miss Leeson, clapped her hands. ‘Now, children. We've got a visitor. Does anyone know who he is?'

‘Sergeant Rawlings,' the children chorused back.

‘That's right, boys and girls,' he said. ‘My job is to look for criminals and make sure they're punished if they're found guilty. Now, I'm here today to talk about Angela Zendalic. She's away today with a bad cough and you're not to tell her I've been here. Is that understood?'

‘Yes, Sergeant Rawlings,' the children chorused again.

‘Now, who can tell me something nice about Angela.'

The hands went up: she was always happy, she was pretty, she was friendly, she had lovely blue eyes, she could play the piano and the violin, she was top of the class, she had lovely shiny ringlets, she had a beautiful singing voice, she was a wonderful dancer, and she was going to be one of Ken Dodd's Diddymen in the New Theatre Pantomime at Christmas.

Ted nodded. ‘Well it seems that everyone likes her a lot, but there's one thing that nobody said, and I think that's because it doesn't matter a bit. Angela's brown, isn't she?' The children nodded. ‘Now some people are very cruel to people with brown and black skin, and I'm sorry to say there's someone like that in this class.' Ted stopped speaking and looked around. Twenty-eight sets of innocent eyes looked at him, but one set looked to the floor and shuffled his feet. ‘I'll say no more,' Ted concluded, ‘but that's not the way the children of St Barnabas School behave, is it?' He then stared at them with a firm level expression and wagged his finger. ‘I'll be off now, but remember what I said. No-one's to tell Angela I've been here in case she gets upset. If she does find out I'll ask her who told her, and they'll be in trouble for breaking a promise.'

He moved to Miss Leeson's desk and wrote on a piece of paper,
The blonde boy on the left with the blue check shirt
.