Fallen Angel. Andrew Taylor

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and chat.

      ‘That’ll be all, thank you,’ said Angel haughtily. When she and Eddie were alone again she went on, ‘I hate men like that. So pushy. Where was I?’

      ‘The manager knocking on the door.’

      The irritation faded from Angel’s face. ‘He had a policewoman with him. Apparently Angie had gone up to the West End. Drinking steadily, of course. Somehow she managed to fall under a bus in Shaftesbury Avenue. There was a whole crowd coming out of a theatre, and people coming out of a pub, and a lot of pushing and shoving.’ Angel sighed. ‘She was killed outright.’

      ‘How awful.’ Eddie hesitated and then, feeling more was required, added, ‘For you as much as her.’

      ‘It’s always harder for those who are left behind. No one else grieved for her. And then – well, I must admit I was tempted. I mean, who would it harm if I pretended to be Angie? Without a qualification I couldn’t hope to get a decent job. It was so unfair – I knew more about the practical side of nursery nursing than she ever did, and I could easily read up the theory. And then she had this ready-made contact in Mrs Hawley-Minton, who’d never met her. So I told the police that Angie was me, and I pretended to be her.’

      ‘But didn’t they know her name? From her handbag, or something?’ Sensing Angel’s irritation at the interruption, he added weakly, ‘I mean, they knew the hotel where she was staying.’

      ‘She didn’t have any identification on her – just cash, and a card with the name of the hotel.’ Angel smiled sadly. ‘She’d left her passport and so on with me, in case they got stolen.’

      ‘Oh yes. I see now. But surely the passport photo –?’

      ‘I had an old one in mine. And physically we weren’t dissimilar.’

      ‘There must have been an inquest.’

      ‘Of course. I didn’t tell any lies. I didn’t want to. There was no need to.’

      ‘Didn’t they ask your father to identify the body?’

      ‘He’d gone to work in America years before this happened. We’d lost touch completely. He simply couldn’t be bothered with me.’ Angel leant closer. ‘The point is, Eddie, I know Angie would have wanted me to do what I did. Just as I would have wanted her to do the same if the positions had been reversed.’

      ‘I think you were right.’ Eddie’s voice was thick and his tongue felt a little too large for his mouth. ‘I mean, it didn’t hurt anyone.’

      Briefly she patted his hand. ‘Exactly. In a way, quite the reverse: I like to think I take my job very seriously, that I’ve made a difference for a lot of children.’

      ‘What was your real name, then?’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. I gave it to Angie, and it’s buried with her. Look forward, that’s my motto. Don’t look back. After the funeral I just waited until the dust had settled, and then I wrote to Mrs Hawley-Minton. And from there everything’s gone like a dream.’ She broke off and rested her head in her hands. ‘Until now.’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘It’s such a shame – just as everything was going so well.’

      ‘I’ll talk to my mother. I’ll make her see sense.’

      ‘You’re a darling. But I don’t think you’ll succeed.’

      ‘Why not?’ He was almost shouting now and heads turned towards him.

      ‘Hush, keep your voice down.’

      ‘She wouldn’t like us both to go away. She’d be lonely.’

      ‘She’s jealous of us. Don’t you see? I wish I were richer – then we could get somewhere together, just you and me. As friends, I mean, just good friends. Would you like that?’

      ‘Yes. Oh God, yes.’

      There was a long pause, filled with the noise from the rest of the restaurant.

      Angel picked up the bottle. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

      Eddie said, elaborately casual, ‘What sort of children do you look after? You could always bring them to the house if you wanted. For tea, I mean. Make a sort of treat for them.’

      ‘They often want to see where I live. But I don’t think the idea would go down very well with your mother.’

      Another silence stretched between them, heavy with silent suggestions and questions. Angel refilled their glasses.

      ‘Drink up.’ She held up her glass and clinked it against his. ‘This may be our last chance of a celebration, so we’d better make the most of it.’

      They finished that bottle before they left. By now Eddie was very drunk. Angel had to support him up the stairs. In Frith Street the fresh air made his head spin and the light seemed very bright. He vomited partly into the gutter and partly on the bonnet of a parked car.

      ‘There, there,’ Angel said, patting his arm. ‘Better out than in.’ Later he heard her calling out in her patrician voice: ‘Taxi! Taxi!’

      Eddie remembered little more of the evening. Angel took him home. He could not remember seeing his mother – it was very late, so perhaps she was asleep.

      ‘Come on,’ she said when they got home. ‘Up the wooden stairs to Bedfordshire.’

      In his mind there was a picture of the palm of Angel’s right hand extended towards him with three white tablets in the middle of it.

      ‘Take these. Otherwise you’re going to feel terrible in the morning.’

      He must have managed to swallow them. After that he fell into a dark, silent pit. The first thing that made an impression on him, hours later, was the pain in his head. This was followed, after an immeasurable period of time, by the discovery that his bladder was extremely full. Later still, he realized that if anything the headache was worse. He dozed on, reluctant to leave the peace of the pit and physically unable to cope with the complicated business of getting out of bed.

      The next time he woke the light on the other side of the curtains was much brighter, and the sight of it made his headache worse. Someone was shaking him.

      ‘Eddie. Eddie.’

      Shocked, he turned over. As far as he knew Angel had never been in his room before. What would his mother say when she found out?

      Daylight poured through the open door. Angel shimmered so brightly that he could not look at her. She was wearing her long white robe and, though her face was immaculately made up, her hair was still confined to its snood. His eyelids began to droop.

      ‘Eddie,’ Angel called. ‘Eddie, wake up.’

7

      ‘… we are somewhat more than our selves in our sleeps, and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the soul.’

      Religio СКАЧАТЬ