Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,37

twins,” Kathleen wailed again and threw herself backwards onto the bed, drumming her heels against it.

David watched her and wondered what he could do to help. Was she right to be angry, was it really his fault? Probably Kathleen was right and a week in the sun would help. He sat down beside her and reached out to stroke her hair, such beautiful hair when it wasn’t sticking out like this.

“Leave me alone, you bastard.” Kathleen sat up with a jerk and glared at David. “That’s how you got me into this situation!”

David said nothing. Kathleen was too fond of the ‘all men are raving sex-maniacs’ argument, they had been down that road many times. But when she wanted a baby there were plenty of bedroom eyes and hands, he thought ruefully. And now the twins have spoiled my chances for a second go of being wanted in bed. Two babies for the fun of one. Great bargain.

He stood up and looked down at Kathleen. She had her eyes closed and her head turned away. She fidgeted.

“See you later, then. Bye.” David went out to the front door. He could hear Kathleen, sighing and moaning softly in the bedroom. He went back, and hesitated in the doorway, looking down at her, wondering what he could say that would help.

“Nothing. She’s not listening, not even to Haliken. Out, go on, leave. Or you’ll be late for your lecture.”

David looked at his watch and ran from the room. Kathleen followed him out into the sitting room and stood watching their front door as it closed behind him. Her hands twisted together, then ran through her hair, twisting and pulling.

“Get him to fix up a break, Jotin,” said Haliken. “She’s not meant to be here. Maybe if she got away for a couple of days she might remember that there is more to it than just this. I’ll try and work on her patience.”

“Good luck! Doesn’t look like great material to work with.”

“No, she hasn’t signed up for patience training yet. She’s not really ready. But we can always have a go.”

“Haliken!” Clare’s guide was in the doorway, “my little one is crying. Give her Mum a nudge, would you? Oh, hi, Jo. You not off to College yet?”

“I think he can manage the bus without his hand held.” Jotin paused for a moment. “I hope.” And he was gone.

Haliken turned and put his arms around Kathleen. “Come on, Kathleen. Listen. Little Clare is crying. Go to her. Go on, before she gets more upset. Come on, my love, you have to do this now. Come on, all will be well. All will be well.”

Oh bloody hell, thought Kathleen. She could hear the wail from the bedroom. She stood still for a moment. The wail was joined by another more tentative cry, which grew as she listened, becoming demanding. Bloody, bloody hell. She turned reluctantly away from the door, that elusive symbol of freedom, to go and investigate.

David’s mind whirled as he stood at the bus stop. He did not notice the grey weather, the heavy mist obscuring the approaching bus, or the grumbling people jostling to be first in the queue. All he heard was the voice in his head saying ‘There must be something I can do. She’s so unhappy since the girls were born, I suppose it is sort of my fault. Our fault, anyway and Kathleen isn’t in any fit state to sort herself out. But where can I get the money from for a break in the sun? Where could we go? London would be just as cold.’ He didn’t hear the voice outside his head saying

“It’s going to be really bright and sunny in Wexford next weekend. Get the train. Book a bed and breakfast for two nights. That’ll cheer her up. Wexford… Wexford… Wexford… Won’t be too dear. The landladies in those B&Bs aren’t too busy this time of year, they’ll mind Kathleen for you. It could be just what you need, a home from home.”

“Rome!” David looked round, not realising it was he who had spoken. The bus squealed to a stop beside him and he shuffled forward with the crowd. As he got on the bus and settled uncomfortably on the back seat between two large ladies armed with shopping bags made entirely of corners, he thought again: ‘Rome?’ Maybe Rome would be nice. It certainly ought to be warmer than here. How much would it cost to fly to Rome? It would show