The angel offered a compromise: a spot round the corner about fifty yards away. With some creative shoe-horning, Barbara squeezed her Mini into a space fit only for a motorbike. She trudged back the way she'd come and swung open the gate at the yellow Edwardian house behind which her bungalow sat.
In the long drive across town, the pleasant glow from the champagne had metamorphosed in the way of most pleasant glows arising from alcohol: She was killingly thirsty. She set her sights on the path that led along the side of the house to the back garden. At the bottom of this, her tiny bungalow looked cool and inviting in the shade of a false acacia.
Looks deceived as usual. When Barbara unlocked the door and stepped inside, heat engulfed her. The three windows were open, in the hope of encouraging cross ventilation, but there was no breeze stirring without, so the heavy air fell upon her lungs like a visitation of the plague on the unprepared.
"Bloody hell," Barbara muttered. She threw her shoulder bag on the table and went to the fridge. A litre of Volvic looked like a tower block among its companions: the cartons and packages of leftover take-away and ready-to-eat meals. Barbara grabbed the bottle and took it to the sink. She swilled down five mouthfuls, then leaned over and poured half of what was left onto the back of her neck and into her cropped hair. The sudden rush of cold water against her skin made her eyeballs throb. It was perfect heaven.
"Bliss," Barbara said. "I've discovered God."
"Are you having a bath?" a child's voice asked behind her. "Shall I come back later?"
Barbara swung round to the door. She'd left it open, but she hadn't expected that its position might be interpreted as an invitation to casual visitors. She hadn't actually seen any of her neighbours since being discharged from the Wiltshire hospital where she'd spent more than a week. To avoid the potential of a chance encounter, she'd limited her comings and goings to periods when she knew the residents of the larger building were out.
But here stood one of them, and when the child ventured a hop-and-step closer, her liquid brown eyes grew round and large. "Whatever have you done to your face, Barbara? Have you had a car smash? It looks perfectly dreadful."
"Thanks, Hadiyyah."
"Does it hurt? What happened? Where've you been? I've been ever so worried. I even phoned twice. I did that today. See. Your answer machine is blinking. Shall I play it for you? I know how.
You taught me, remember?"
Hadiyyah skipped happily across the room and plopped herself onto Barbara's day bed.
The answering machine stood on a shelf by the tiny fireplace, and she confidently punched one of its buttons and beamed at Barbara as her own voice was played.
"Hello," her message said. "This is Khalidah Hadiyyah. Your neighbour. Up in the front of the house. In the ground floor flat. "
"Dad says I'm always supposed to identify myself whenever I ring someone," Hadiyyah confided.
"He says it's only polite."
"It's a good habit," Barbara acknowledged. "It reduces confusion on the other end of the line."
She reached for a limp tea towel hanging from a hook. She used it on her hair and the back of her neck.
"It's awfully hot, isn't it?" the message continued chattily. "Where are you? I'm ringing to ask d'you want to go for an ice cream? I've saved up so I have enough for two and Dad says I c'n invite anyone Hike so I'm inviting you. Ring me back soon.
But don't be afraid. I won't invite anyone else in the meantime. Bye now." And then a moment later, after the beep and an announcement of the time, another message from the same voice. "Hello.
This is Khalidah Hadiyyah. Your neighbour. Up in the front of the house. In the ground floor flat. I still want to go for an ice cream. Do you? Ring me please.
If you can, that is. I'll pay. I can pay because I've saved up."
"Did you know who it was?" Hadiyyah asked.
"Did I tell you enough so you knew who it was?
I wasn't sure how much I was s'posed to say, but it seemed like enough."
"It was perfect," Barbara said. "I especially liked the information about the ground floor flat.
It's good to know where I can find your lolly when I need to steal it to buy some fags."