John Connolly - The Wrath of Angels

That pause was interesting, thought Barbara.

‘I’m Barbara,’ she said. ‘Barbara Kelly.’

‘I’m Caroline. Hi, pleased to meet you.’

The two women shook hands slightly awkwardly through the open window. Caroline gestured to the boy. ‘Come here, Billy, and say hello to the nice lady.’

Reluctantly, or so it seemed to Barbara, the boy came forward. He was not a good-looking child. His skin was very pale, and Barbara wondered if he was ailing. If this woman was really his mother, and there was already some doubt about that, then there was little of her in him. The boy seemed destined to grow into an ugly man, and something told her that he was not a child with many friends.

‘This is Barbara,’ Caroline told him. ‘She’s going to help us.’

The boy didn’t speak. He simply stared at Barbara with those dark eyes, like raisins set in the dough of his face.

‘So,’ she said, ‘hop in.’

‘You’re sure we’re not imposing?’

‘No, not at all. I’d just be worrying if you insisted on staying out here, so I’ll be happier if I know that you’re safe. You need anything from the car?’

‘Just my purse,’ said Caroline. She turned away, and left Barbara and the boy alone. With his hood up, and his windbreaker zipped, he looked older than his years. He reminded her uncomfortably of a doll come to life, or a homunculus. He regarded her balefully. Barbara did not let her smile waver. She had all kinds of medicines in her house, and she could easily put a child to sleep.

His mother too, if it came to that, for she could almost taste Caroline, and the warmth had begun a slow, insistent throbbing.

Repentance could wait.

The two women chatted as they drove to the house. It seemed that Caroline and William had been on their way to visit friends in Providence, Rhode Island, when the tire blew. Barbara tried to figure out where they might have been coming from to have found themselves in her neck of the woods. When she asked, Caroline said that she had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and Barbara did not pursue the matter further.

‘You been to Providence before?’ asked Barbara.

‘Couple of times when I was a student. I was a Lovecraft fan.’

‘Yeah? I never really got Lovecraft. He was too hysterical for my liking, too overblown.’

‘That’s not an unfair criticism, I guess,’ said Caroline. ‘But perhaps he was that way because he understood the true nature of the universe, or thought he did.’

‘You mean ancient green demons with weird stuff covering their mouths?’

‘Hah! Not like that, although who knows? No, I mean the bleakness of it, its coldness, its absence of mercy.’

The word ‘mercy’ struck at Barbara like a blade. She could almost feel the infected lymph nodes responding to the stimulus of the word, a painful counterpoint to the demands of her lower body. I’m like a walking metaphor, she thought.

‘Cheerful,’ said Barbara, and the woman beside her laughed.

‘A puncture in the rain will do that to a girl,’ she said.

Barbara signaled right, and they turned into the short drive that led to her house. The lights were on inside. It looked warm and welcoming.

‘I never asked,’ said Caroline, ‘but where were you going when you found us? We haven’t taken you away from anything urgent, I hope.’

A church, Barbara almost replied. I was going to a church.

‘No,’ said Barbara, ‘it was nothing important. It’ll wait.’

She showed them into the living room. She brought them towels with which to dry themselves, and invited them to remove their shoes. They both did so, although the boy seemed reluctant. Nevertheless, he insisted on keeping his windbreaker zipped, and the hood raised. It made him look even more like a malevolent dwarf. Barbara could see that he was overweight. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his appearance. The woman smiled at him indulgently, then followed Barbara into the hallway as she hung up her coat to dry.

‘He’s very much his own man,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wonder who is really in charge in our home.’

Barbara glanced at the woman’s ring finger. She wore no wedding band. Caroline knew where she was looking, and waved her left hand.

‘Still free and single,’ she said.

‘The father?’

‘He’s not around anymore,’ said Caroline, and although she spoke lightly an undertone made it clear that any further questions on the subject would not be welcomed. ‘What about you? You married?’

‘Only to my job.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a consultant.’ It was her standard reply to the question.

‘That sounds very vague.’

‘I advise on contracts and negotiations.’

‘You’re a lawyer?’

‘I have legal training.’

Caroline laughed. ‘I’ll let it drop,’ she said.

‘Sorry,’ said Barbara, and laughed in turn. ‘My work isn’t very interesting.’

‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You seem too smart a person to end up doing a job that’s dull.’

‘Another one deceived,’ said Barbara.

‘Such modesty. So, you may be married to your job, but do you fool around on the side?’

Barbara caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror, and turned away. She did not consider herself attractive. Her hair was lank and dull, her face unremarkable. She could count her sexual partners on one hand, with fingers to spare.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t fool around much at all.’

Caroline looked at her quizzically.

‘Do you prefer women to men?’

The bluntness of the question surprised Barbara.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Just a vibe. It’s not a judgment or anything.’

Barbara let a couple of seconds go by.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I prefer women to men. In fact, I’ve only ever dated one man. I was young. It didn’t take. I’ve always been sexually attracted to women.’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Hey, I’ve been with women. I prefer men, but I was wild in my youth.’

She winked at Barbara. Jesus, thought Barbara, this one is really something. She’s perfect. It was almost as if she were—

An offering. The word was both unexpected, and apt. Could they have known the direction of her thoughts? Could they have sensed the doubts that assailed her? Was this their way of keeping her with them: a gift, like a fly cocooned in silk presented to the spider who stalked the web? It was not beyond the realms of possibility. After all, that was how they worked. That was how she worked. Still, the idea troubled her. She wanted a minute or two alone to consider it. The woman’s presence was somehow overpowering, and the boy was an enigma. He watched them both with a knowingness, his eyes unblinking in that desolate, bleached face.

‘Would you like something to warm you up?’ asked Barbara. ‘Coffee, or tea?’

‘Coffee would be fine.’

‘What about William, or Billy?’

‘Oh, he’ll be okay just as he is. He has a sensitive stomach. It’s been acting up this trip. Better to just leave him be.’

Barbara went to the kitchen. After a minute, during which Barbara could hear her speaking softly to the boy, Caroline followed. She leaned against the counter while Barbara poured water into the coffee machine, and the slow trickle began. Her presence was starting to make Barbara uneasy. Perhaps it had been a mistake to invite her in, but then, if she had been sent by them, why had she not come directly to the house?

Unless she had been on the way to the house when her tire was punctured.

‘You have a lovely home,’ said Caroline.

‘Thank you.’ Barbara realized that she sounded abrupt. ‘I mean, it’s nice of you to say. I decorated it myself.’

‘You have very good taste. By the way, I didn’t mean to be insensitive back there. You know, about your sexuality. I just think that it’s better to be clear on these things, before we go any further.’