Free One Step Too Far by Tina Seskis Page A

out for babysitters, and she supposed it was better than being left at home alone.
    By the time Angela reached the front Ruth had disappeared and the pianist was already packing up his sheet music. It was quicker now for Angela to get to the dressing room via the stage than cut round the back of the bar. As she raised her arms to climb onto the too-high boards one of the customers said, “Need help, sweetheart?” and he lifted her above his head and she clambered up on her hands and knees. She stood up, straightened her red spotty dress to cover her knickers, and ran diagonally to the left, as fast as she could.
    “Hello Mummy,” said Angela shyly, as she poked her head around the dressing room’s curtain. She adored her mummy but was never quite sure what mood Ruth would be in, what reception she'd get.
    “Hello angel!” said Ruth, as she bent down and hugged her tight. “Have you been a good girl for your Uncle Ted?” She was wearing a tight sequined midnight blue dress and had big hair and kohled eyes and Angela thought she was the most beautiful mummy in the whole wide world, with the most beautiful heart-breaking voice that even Angela recognised cracked with sadness and a life lived.
    “Yes, Mummy. Can we go home soon, Mummy? I’m tired.”
    “I know, sweetheart, I’ll just get out of this dress and then we’ll have one drink with Uncle Ted and go straight home.”
    “But I want to go home now, Mummy,” Angela said.
    “I told you darling girl, one quick drink and then we’ll be off. Mummy’s thirsty after all that singing.”
    “Please Mummy, I want to go home. I want to go to bed."
    “I said no, Angela,” said Ruth. “Shall I get you a lemonade?”
    “NO!” yelled Angela, out of control suddenly as the tiredness took hold. “I want to go home NOW.”
    “Don’t you talk to me like that, young lady,” said Ruth. “We’ll go home when I say so.”
    Angela stopped screaming and pulled herself up into the only chair in the room, a proper dressing table chair, with gold legs and padded arms, covered in faded pink velvet with a single kidney-shaped stain on the seat. She dangled her legs sullenly and stayed silent – she knew not to argue with her mother when she took that tone with her, she didn’t want to get a whack.
    Ruth changed out of her evening dress and stood before the mirror in her matching bra and pants, in lacy petrol blue, still wearing her high heels, still sexy. She wiped at her armpits with a damp flannel and sprayed antiperspirant under her arms, across her still-flat stomach and around the tops of her legs. Then she put on plain black Capri trousers and a cap-sleeved tight black top. She left her hair and make-up as it was, and in this light and with the way she walked she could have been a raven-haired Marilyn Monroe. She took Angela's hand, firmly rather than roughly, she obviously wasn’t too cross with her this time, and they made their way along the corridor and out into the smoky club, where Ted was waiting for them at the bar. Ted bought Angela a lemonade and a packet of prawn cocktail crisps, and Ruth’s one drink turned to three or four, and Angela finally fell asleep, jack-knifed over a barstool with her head resting between her thin little arms on the beer-sopped counter-top.
     
    11
     
    I sit in the cafe with Angel and I'm surprised at how hungry I am. It’s run by a nice old Greek couple and the coffee is good but the food is great. It’s like I haven’t eaten in months, and I wolf down egg and bacon, mushrooms, beans, fried tomatoes, toast, my stomach telling me there’s more living in store for me yet, even if my heart doesn't believe it. Angel seems tired when you look closer, but she retains that sweetness at the core that only some people have, and it transcends the bags under her eyes.
    “What are you up to today, babe?” says Angel.
    “I don’t know, I need to go food shopping, maybe get to the bank if I can face it, and then tomorrow I need to