Angel Breaths

Chapter 1

I have never been born. I came together, two cells dividing into four cells, eight cells, and began my journey down that long, long tunnel, its soft warmth cradling me, propelling me onwards to the opening of a crimson chamber. It allowed me to enter and I drifted, wafted on an invisible current, nestled into its pulsating wall but it was unyielding, unwelcoming, it refused to let me embed. Rejected before I’d had a chance to live, to survive, to be. I was thrust into a different tunnel, not so comforting; I shouldn’t have been there, not then, not until I’d grown. I should have been back there in that ruby warmth but I drifted, out of control, out, out into the light and soared away from the cluster of cells.

My mother wept; my father comforted; I watched unseen, a soul without a body, never to share their world, never to bring them joy. Angelique, that was who I was to have been, sent by the angels my mother said, but as the angels gave, they took away and I never knew love, well not earthly love. My family is here, in this realm; Daisy and Alf were their earthly names and they’d have been my great grandparents. They took care of me and I grew.

Chapter 2

October 1995 Earth Time

It is two earth years since I failed to exist in human form. I have been joined here by two sisters who shared my experience. Our parents didn’t have names for them so I call them Evangeline and Henrietta. Evangeline – Evie – was the first to join me and Henrietta – Hetty – came next, then no-one. I watch my earth family but they are unaware of me. I am watching now as two very different conceptions are about to take place. You may wonder how I know about such matters after only two years of being, but I have ‘been’ for many years. Time is different in this realm, and we are wiser.

The orange street lamp in the alley behind the garages gutters and flickers and the young girl sitting beneath it with the syringe curses; there is barely enough light for her to find a vein. At last she does and laughs with the initial rush. She gets up and twirls, arms outstretched, face upturned into the light drizzle then she sits back down as the drowsiness kicks in. Of how long she remains in this state she is unaware, but a hand on her thigh pierces her consciousness and she blinks open her eyes.

Titus! Whaddya want?

Titus grins revealing blackened teeth, the result of years of alcohol and drugs. You promised, remember.

Promished what? she slurs.

We could get together.

The girl is befuddled and he squeezes her thigh, slipping his hand under the grimy skirt.

When did I say that?

Couple of nights ago. He strokes her bare flesh, grubby fingers inching higher and she pushes him away with a burst of clarity.

No fuck off. I never said any such thing.

Unabashed he puts his hand back and continues to stroke. You did. In the subway under the bus station when you held my hand.

She looks at him scornfully. Wasn’t me, musht’ve been someone else. Titus is thirty something beneath the bedraggled, unwashed hair and she is seventeen; she’d never have said that to him.

Was you. You squeezed my hand, said ‘Next time we meet I’ll show you a good time,’ and walked away with a saucy smile. Such a lovely smile, a promising smile.

A dim memory threads its way through the fuzziness of her brain – I am aware of her thoughts as my realm is a world of thought. She had been in the subway; she often went there if it was raining, at least it was dry in there. Had she promised him? She must have been drunk; she couldn’t remember. Surely she wouldn’t have suggested anything to Titus; it was The Puma she liked. No-one knew his real name; everyone called him The Puma because of his cat like grace. At least he washed and was younger.

Come on Leah. The hand gets more persistent and it stirs something within her through the mist in her head. ‘So what,’ she thinks, ‘it’s just a fuck. It won’t matter, and I’ll make sure it never happens again.’

As if sensing her weakening resolve the hand gains confidence, probing between her legs and she puts up no resistance in her drug induced soporific state.

It is over quickly and Leah pushes him away, straightening her clothes. That’s it Titus. No repeat performance, a one off, get me?

He nods. Here, have this. He pulls a half bottle of vodka out of the worn pocket of his jacket and offers it to her.

She thinks for a moment then shakes her head. Nah, you keep it. I don’t want you to think you’ve bought me, and with that she scrambles to her feet and staggers off to the public toilets to clean herself.

I am joined by my sisters Evie and Hetty. We drift together in our amorphous form into the house where we were to have lived on the earth plane. We are linked in thought; we need to be here; something is about to happen of which we feel a part. Our mother is cooking. It is a special meal. The occasion is their wedding anniversary. No-one has spoken, we just know this. She sings as she cooks. She doesn’t often sing. Since we failed to be she has been veiled in sadness, her emotions smothered in a shroud, but tonight she is happy; she knows that the time is right.

The dining room is set for seduction. While the steak cooks and softens in ale in the oven Michelle scatters rose petals over the white damask tablecloth and adjusts the red candles in the silver candelabra that had been a wedding present. Jason will be home soon and she wants everything to be perfect for him.

They have been married for four years today and are as in tune as it is possible to be. Her thoughts mirror his and each often knows what the other is going to say before they say it. They’d been childhood sweethearts, meeting at nursery and neither feels whole without the other. His key sounds in the door and she runs to greet him.

He bends his dark head and kisses her cheek. Something smells good. Have you had a busy day?

She nods. Busier than at work. Balancing the tills is far easier than preparing a three course meal but not so rewarding. What about you?

Just another day at Henshall’s. You missed the regional director’s visit.

I know! Lucky me eh!

They had both got weekend jobs at Henshall’s supermarket in Horton, a small Staffordshire town at sixteen and had taken promotions until they now held the positions of chief cashier and assistant manager. People say they live in each other’s pockets but that is the way they like it, to stay close. Besides, they hardly see each other at work but their presence is sufficient.

He releases himself from her embrace. I’ll just go and get changed. Is it nearly ready?

Won’t be long but no rush; there’s nothing spoiling.

He goes off upstairs whistling and she carries the first course through, tuna stuffed tomatoes on a bed of lettuce with thin slices of wholemeal bread. She lights the candles, dims the lights and returns to check on the main course. It is under control; it will wait whilst they eat their starter. The sweet is already prepared, lemon meringue pie, Jason’s favourite.

As she puts the plates to warm she allows her mind to fast forward several hours to what will follow. After three miscarriages she hardly dares hope but she can’t give up trying. Both she and Jason had been heartbroken at the loss of the pregnancies – us. They’d chosen a name the first time – for me – Angelique, as if I were a gift of the angels although its actual meaning is messenger of God, but they’d learned by that mistake, though it hadn’t felt any less painful with the following two losses being nameless. With the third loss she’d vowed that in future she wouldn’t even do the test until she felt sure of the changes in her body, something tangible to go on. If she didn’t know – or hadn’t accepted – that she was pregnant, and she lost a fourth child, then it wouldn’t be as bad as knowing and facing a definite loss – would it?

The other times she’d been so thrilled and had been unable to conceal her joy but the next time she’d keep any suspicion of pregnancy to herself. It was heartbreaking enough as it was without having to go round telling people. She’d tell no-one except Jason until it showed. But she mustn’t let herself think about it, then they’d both be relaxed and let their love take its course.

Are we ready then?

Oh you made me jump. She hasn’t heard him come up behind her. He slides his arms around her waist and nuzzles her neck.

Mmm you smell good enough to eat. We might have to skip dinner.

No chance! Not after I’ve spent all day on it, and besides, she turns in his arms her eyes full of promise, it will be so much more exciting for the wait. Come on, the first course is ready.

She puts on a love songs CD and turns the volume low whilst he pours the wine and they sit down to eat.

To us. He clinks her glass.

Yes. Four marvellous years and here’s to many more.

And may there be three of us by next year.

Let’s not think about it. Let’s just enjoy the night and each other.

As they eat their mouths talk about life: work, friends, family, but their eyes, soft and molten above the candlelight speak of love, desire, passion. When the meal is over they blow out the candles, hastily stack the dishes in the dishwasher, Jason pours the remaining wine into their glasses and they move to the sofa.

He drapes his arm across her shoulder as they sip their wine in the gentle glow of the lamplight and she leans languorously into him.

I’m so full I don’t know if I can make love, she teases and he murmurs into her ear, Oh I think I know which buttons to press… like this one. He raises his hand from her shoulder and twirls her long, dark hair round his finger. And this one. He lets the finger trace her neck and round under her chin. And this one. He kisses the invisible trail left by his finger and lets his lips wander downwards as he puts his glass on the coffee table, takes hers and puts it beside it, and continues to delight her with his touch. As Michelle closes her eyes and loses herself in her husband a tiny thought, a silent prayer, escapes from her passion and we feel its urgency.

Please let it work this time.

Chapter 3

You are wondering what it is like in my realm; then I shall try to explain. This is my experience you understand; yours may be quite different. It is a world of thought. We do not sit on clouds playing harps; we exist as you might on your earth plane but in a more diaphanous form. We don’t walk we drift. Our spiritual bodies are as we were in our prime on the earth plane but of course my sisters and I never had earthly bodies so ours are as we’d choose. I imagine I’d have had my mother’s long, dark hair, my father’s dark eyes. Evie and Hetty look a bit like me; we all have the same thought.

We play games, just as we would have if we’d been earthly sisters. We have friends, all children who came here to this realm too soon just like we did, and there is a park with virtual swings, slides, roundabouts. Daisy and Alf our great grandparents take us or sometimes we play alone in the fields and woods. It is like your earth in our imagination. We see a beautiful cornfield with its waving ears glowing in the ethereal light; we see a golden beach and hear the waves lapping the shore. We see whatever we want to see, be whatever we want to be. We don’t have seasons; we can imagine what we want. We don’t need to eat, sleep, touch. Our minds do all that. They are linked to each other and we sense and think. We think, ‘Let’s go to the park,’ and we are there. ‘Let’s go to our parents,’ and we are with them. It is a beautiful place and we are happy. We have family but we like to be with our earth family too, and I with my soul mate, who will be called Louis.

You are wondering about the two conceptions. Both clusters of cells embedded. Both are male. One is my brother Harry and one is Louis.

Leah’s despair is all consuming; black and suffocating but not suffocating enough or she’d be dead and out of her Hell. It is a Hell of her own making she knows this but she can’t retrace her steps, and now this has happened. She’s missed two periods. At first she told herself it was the drug abuse damaging her body but then she started to feel sick. Every morning she retches, her stomach heaving but she is never actually sick; there is never enough in her stomach to bring up. She tries to keep enough money to buy a cup of coffee and a bun for her breakfast; that has to last all day unless she has good fortune.

Her life is a mess; she lives in a deep black pit whose sides are too steep to climb, too sheer to allow her a handhold, a foothold. If there was a way she could turn back time she would, go back to a time before that party at Stacey’s house where she’d met Miles.

Older than her, he was a friend of a friend of Stacey’s and he’d seemed mature with an air of danger about him. She’d been attracted to him immediately. Not in a sexual, fancying way but she just wanted to be around him, his charisma was magnetic, people were drawn to him. The first thing he’d given her had been a spliff, wordlessly handing it to her as he’d sat so close his presence had been intoxicating, and she’d coughed and spluttered on it before becoming spaced out. The next was ecstasy in a club. She never went with him but he always seemed to be there, ubiquitous, appearing amid throngs of teenagers, a man among boys. It had progressed and then had come the day when her mother had found heroin in her room. Leah would never forget that scene.

Are you out of your mind? her mother had squawked, waving the packet at her and she’d yelled back.

What are you doing snooping in my room? It’s none of your business what I have in there.

Oh but it is my girl. You’re sixteen and under my roof and while you’re here you’ll abide by my rules. I’ll have no drugs in my home. With that she’d whisked the packet away and emptied it in the bin, as if that would be an end to it!

It hadn’t. Leah had just got more from Miles and found a different hiding place for it.

The next time, a couple of weeks later, her father had been involved and had tried the softly, softly approach, appealing to her conscience.

Look Leah this is a really bad thing. We thought you’d stopped this stupidity after your mother had talked to you.

You call that talking? You mean after she’d laid down the law?

She was shocked and worried about you, we both were – are. You could end up killing yourself and we couldn’t bear that.

She’d smiled sympathetically at him. Chill out Dad, I know what I’m doing. I can control it; it’s not going to get out of hand.

She’d fooled no-one but herself; she was hooked and it was all too late. Her father’s worried eyes had poured his love over her and she’d put her arms round him.

Leah you’re so precious to us. Promise me you’ll stop taking it.

I promise.

She’d intended to wean herself off it to please him. She hadn’t needed it, it was Miles, always there, always keeping her supplied. Over the next weeks she’d tried to get off it but she’d felt ill: she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t keep still, her stomach had been upset and she’d ended up taking more just to relieve the symptoms. She’d just take it the once she’d told herself, just until she felt OK but she never felt OK without it and so had come the final row with her parents. Her father had been angry then.

You promised me Leah.

You know nothing about it Dad. I tried, really I did but I’m ill if I don’t have it. I need it.

Let’s get you to a doctor then, they’ll help.

Doctors can’t help me, I know what I need. I’ll be fine, I know what I’m doing.

You don’t though. You’re killing yourself!

I’m not! Look, it’s my life and I’ll do what I like.

Not under this roof! put in her mother.

Hush Tricia, don’t say that. We must help her.

How can we help her if she won’t help herself?

I don’t want your help. I’m fine and if you don’t want me here Mum I’ll find somewhere else.

Where you silly girl? Who do you think will put you up while you’re taking drugs?

I’ll find someone don’t you worry! Furiously Leah had begun throwing clothes into her school bag and her mother, realising that the situation was getting out of control had panicked.

Talk to her Dan.

Her father had tried his best. Come on now Leah, see sense. You can’t go rushing off to who knows where.

I can’t stay here, not now. I don’t want you running my life for me. I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen. I’m not your little girl anymore; you can’t tell me what to do.

Her father had tried to coax her. We’re not trying to tell you what to do, we just want you to be safe because we love you.

You keep bugging me! How can I get on with my life with you two buzzing round me like bees over their larva? You’re choking me; I have to get out.

She’d collected what money she had, her bag with a few clothes in it – and of course the necessary drug – and pushed past them, their distraught voices failing to penetrate her anger.

She’d just walked and walked until she’d found herself in town. Other teenagers had thronged from clubs but she hadn’t sought company, she’d wanted only solitude. Her anger had dissipated and she’d wondered what she’d done but she’d been in no mood to go back home – she realised now that she should have, should have listened to her parents, seen a doctor, but at that point their reasoning had seemed wrong. She’d found a quiet spot to get her fix, then she’d slept and woken up cold and stiff to her new reality.

Over time she’d got to know others on the streets. Of course she’d needed to find Miles to keep her supplied and she’d found a way to get enough money to survive; she sang. It was the only thing she’d always loved doing, singing and she’d found a spot in the Market Square and sang every day, whatever the weather.

Singing doesn’t lift her mood today though. In fact it is the last thing she feels like doing but she has no choice. It is December and the Christmas shoppers are bustling about buying gifts for their loved ones. She thinks of her loved ones: her family, her friends, her parents, and her mood is as grey as the cold damp mist that swirls around the shops and seeps into every pore.

Her songs are melancholy to match her mood, haunting love songs and people stop to listen; they are entranced. Subconsciously she searches among the faces for her mother, or her father, but what will she do if she sees them? Run, disappear, that’s what she’ll do. Oh she needs the comfort of their loving arms so much it is a physical ache within her, but she needs the drug more.

A well dressed woman steps forward from the crowd and tucks a note into her hand. You have the voice of an angel. Use it and get yourself a life.

As she walks away on her expensive shoes, Leah looks down at the ten pound note and absorbs her words. If only she could. Her life is over, wrecked by dependency on drugs and now she is pregnant – by Titus of all people! If it had to have been anybody why couldn’t it have been The Puma? No-one would snare him though; he was aloof, elusive. He’d appear suddenly like a phantom, quiet and stealthy as his name portrayed.

Leah. How’s tricks?

She’d turn, a thrill of pleasure running through her that he’d sought out her company.

Fine yeah. You?

I’m good.

He’d offer her a swig from his bottle of water and she’d take it, savouring the moment where her lips followed his on the rim of the bottle. If only they could touch in reality.

Let’s walk.

He’d pull her to her feet from the ball she’d tucked herself into to conserve body heat. They’d fall into step and she’d draw her heat from the close proximity of his body. They never talked much. She felt he was more of a thinker but she loved to be with him. She wondered about his life before he’d come to the streets but the time was never right to ask.

What would he think if she told him she was pregnant? The time would come when everyone would know but she couldn’t bring herself to mention it now – and she most certainly wouldn’t be telling Titus!

Come on love, you can’t stand about here. A policeman has emerged from the mist and the Christmas shoppers to move her on and she bends to pick up the coins which have been thrown onto the sleeping bag she’d laid on the ground. Not a bad morning. There was enough for a bottle of water, a cup of tea and a sandwich, but always, always, she must put by enough for the drug.

I am with my mother, Michelle. There is a glow about her yet she doesn’t let herself believe it has happened at last. She keeps a bottle of water in the cash office, and she takes occasional sips to ease the nausea – she can’t even bear to suck mints, even they turn her stomach but she’s told no-one of her queasiness, not even Jason my father. She will do though; she’ll share it with him, but only him.

She calls to the supervisor. You can start bringing the tills in to be checked Mary.

One by one the cashiers bring their till drawers in; the money is counted and balanced against the reading and they return to their post. One of them is five pounds short. However much it is checked the discrepancy remains the same.

You’ll have to go up to the manager’s office to explain it, my mother tells the cashier.

Oh no please. I don’t know how it has happened, I’ve been so careful.

"It isn’t my decision Cara. I have rules to obey like everyone else and Mr