The Third Angel Page 5

  “Oh, he didn't move. There hasn't been furniture in there for over twenty years and that hasn't stopped him. Ghosts go wherever they like. They don't need a bureau or a desk.”

  “I thought you didn't believe in such things?”

  “I don't,” Kara said. “But I've actually heard this one.”

  “You're not serious.”

  Maddy saw the expression in Kara's eyes.

  “Good lord, you are,” she said.

  “The incident took place in 1952, which is fairly modern in terms of a haunting, if there is a haunting.”

  “Not that you believe,” Maddy said.

  “Exactly. One of the participants in the actual event comes to the bar every night. Probably reliving what happened. But he won't discuss it.”

  “Teddy Healy? The older gentleman?”

  “That's him.”

  “Are you telling me that's what I'm hearing at ten-thirty every night?”

  “I'm just telling you a story,” Kara said. “You can decide the rest.”

  MADDY HAD BEEN planning to take a cab to her sister's, but now she thought she might walk. She didn't like talk of ghosts and of love gone wrong. It was a good thing she'd decided to stop drinking. She was going to get on with her life. She carried the maid of honor dress over her shoulder. In the sunlight it looked even more brilliant as it floated behind her. When she turned into the park everything was dreamy and green. Today, she didn't hate London, even though the weather was still hot. There was the scent of something that reminded her of the marsh at home. It had a spicy, fragrant odor. The Serpentine was ahead. There were model boats in the water. The leaves on the trees were green, but the edges were yellow. She entered a garden where huge white roses grew—white saucers that seemed carved out of ice, except that they moved with the breeze.

  Maddy was going to be late, but she didn't care. She had done everything wrong so she might as well be the last to arrive at her sister's. She stopped at a kiosk for a fizzy lemonade. She could see why somebody might want to haunt this park, walk down this path again and again, smell the same roses forever after. That would be a nice loop to be doomed to repeat if you had to be a ghost, if you believed in such things. Ghosts didn't need furniture, so maybe they didn't need love either. Maybe they slept in nests in the trees, looking down at the stupid things human beings did.

  Maddy made her way to Bayswater. When she entered Allie's flat, the other bridesmaids were already there in their creamy suits. They stood around in silence; it seemed more like a wake than a fitting for a joyous event.

  “Couldn't you be on time this once?” Georgia said.

  “Not that it's any of your business,” Maddy said, “but I got lost.” It was almost true, after all. “Where's my sister?”

  “Why don't you find her yourself?”

  Allie was in the kitchen, crying.

  “Look, I'm sorry,” Maddy said. She tossed her dress over a kitchen chair and went to put her arms around her sister. “I'm an idiot and I'm late. There are no excuses for the stupid things I do. Your friend Georgia has already informed me of that, and I can't argue with her. I am so sorry, Allie. I think you should disown me.”

  Allie leaned in close. “He's ill, Maddy. He has been all year. I didn't want to burden you, and Paul didn't want anyone to know. He's been so angry. Now he's taken a turn for the worse.”

  Maddy could hear how noisy the fridge was in this apartment. She hadn't noticed it before. She hadn't noticed, either, that her sister looked so drained. She had never seemed excited about her wedding, only dutiful.

  “He was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma last year, stage four when we found it. I found it. He'd been sweating at night and he'd lost his appetite. We were in the shower together when I felt it. A lump under his arm. We thought it was nothing, a bug bite that had become infected, something like that, but that wasn't it. It turned out to be cancer. It was everywhere. He didn't want me to talk about it. The thing is—I was going to break up with him before he became ill.”

  Maddy went to the sink for some glasses of water. That way Allie couldn't see her face.

  “He was a lousy boyfriend. I don't know if I ever really was in love with him or if it was just time to settle down when he proposed. We were both wrong for each other, but there we were. I had to see him through treatment, didn't I? I'm not the sort of person who leaves, but it was horrible. Much worse than Mom. He was so sick from the chemo, they didn't know if he'd survive it. He lost thirty pounds, he lost his hair. I had to stay.”

  Maddy brought the water to the table. “Of course you did.”

  “He was enraged. Why him? Why us? Why anything. Well, I wasn't going to do what Dad did, was I? I wasn't going to leave in the midst of a crisis. Then he went into remission in the winter. He didn't need a bone marrow transplant. He was getting stronger. In March, I told him that it was over and he got so mad again. God, he was furious. We had pretty much broken up right before you came to visit in April. I was just going through the motions; you must have guessed at that cake tasting. I was going to cancel. And then it came back and everything changed.”

  Neither sister could drink her water.

  “It was too late for the transplant,” Allie said.

  “He'll get better.”

  “You're not listening to me, Maddy. There is no better. There's probably not even a tomorrow. He was admitted back into the hospital after the dinner. It's happening so fast. He's lost his vision. He can't move his legs. It's up and down his spine.”

  Maddy needed to sit down. “I didn't think this could happen so fast.”

  “I'm sorry to tell you like this. I told the others when they arrived today. Georgia and Hannah knew, but no one else. Oh, and Mom. She's always known.”

  “Mom?” Maddy could barely swallow. “You told her and you didn't tell me?”

  “I wanted to protect you.”

  “Of course. I'm so weak. I couldn't be any help to anyone!”

  Allie looked wounded. “I didn't mean that at all.”

  “Why can't you ever treat me like I'm an equal?” Maddy took out her pack of cigarettes and lit one. Allie didn't even tell her to put it out. Here was Maddy, once again thinking of her own hurt first. She took one drag, then stubbed the cigarette out in a plate. “I'm an idiot,” Maddy said. “I'm sorry.”

  “We'll have the wedding in the hospital. I wish we could have it under the sycamore tree. We could tie bells and bows to all the branches.” That was what the heron wife had done to call her husband home when he strayed in Allie's book. “We'll have to pay off the Orangery—the caterers and the flowers and everything—we always knew that was a possibility. That's why I wouldn't let Mom and Dad pay for anything.”

  “Dad knows? God, Allie, the whole world knew and I didn't?”

  “Paul didn't want you to know.”

  “Did he single me out? Did he say, Don't tell Maddy?”

  “No, of course not. He's just so headstrong. He's the kind of person who will refuse to see our closest friends, then take some lonely old lady out to the theater or to dinner. He didn't want to ruin my life with his illness. He did everything he could to make me dump him. I thought it was just because he was so angry at me. Now I understand he wanted to set me free.”

  “Are you telling me that he's dying?” Maddy didn't quite sound like herself.

  Allie was wearing her wedding suit. She'd lost so much weight she was down two sizes. “He is,” she said.

  Georgia peeked around the doorway, then came into the kitchen. “Everything all right?” Georgia linked her arm through Allie's and gazed over at Maddy. “You told her?” Allie nodded. “We don't have to go on with the fitting,” Georgia suggested. “We can send the tailor home.”

  “Hell, no,” Allie said. “I'm going to make sure everything's moving right along.”

  When Allie went into the parlor to see about her bridesmaids, Maddy turned to Georgia. “What hospital is he in?”

  “Bart's,” Georgia said. “S
t. Bartholomew's Hospital. That's where he was in the autumn. Hannah and I took turns staying with Allie back then.”

  “I had no idea,” Maddy said.

  “Did you ever ask?”

  “Don't make this my fault. Allie can never accept any help.”

  “Well, your mum has been back and forth all spring and summer. She's been helping out all the while.”

  Maddy felt stricken.

  “I'm surprised he didn't tell you himself,” Georgia said. Here it was; the reason for her dislike. “Did you think I didn't know when I saw you together in the taxi? You both looked so guilty. Let's just hope Allie never finds out.”

  Maddy escaped into the parlor and slipped on the blue silk dress. None of the bridesmaids was speaking. Only the tailor and his helper were chattering away. Maddy's dress didn't need to be taken in at all. “Perfect,” the tailor said.

  “You look gorgeous,” Allie agreed. “The dresses have already been paid for, so they may as well fit correctly. You can all wear them for some other occasion.”

  The tailor and his helper began to pack up their packets of needles and pins.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Maddy asked her sister. She knew what the answer would be.

  “I'll call you if I need you,” Allie vowed, even though they both knew she never would.

  Maddy took a taxi back to her hotel, left the dress at the front desk, then returned to the waiting taxi and continued on to the hospital. There was a great deal of traffic and it was nearly dinnertime when she got there. The hospital was like a labyrinth, crowded and confusing. She hated hospitals. No one seemed to have any information, but at last Maddy found Paul's room. A nurse stopped her and insisted she put on a blue mask. Maddy went in, eyes averted so she wouldn't be imposing on the first occupant in the room, who was in bed and breathing with great difficultly. Already she felt like crying. Paul was in the second bed, ashen, half-asleep, hooked up to an IV. Paul strained to see.

  “Allie?” he said.

  His optic nerves had been affected and all he could see were shadows. Maddy should have realized that at the groom's dinner. She'd been too busy hating him to really notice what was going on. He was desperately ill.

  “No. It's me,” Maddy said.

  “The little sister.” Paul grinned. He looked his age. Not so boyish now. “You're supposed to bring flowers and sweets on hospital visits.”

  “I can't believe you're such a good liar.” Maddy sat on a hard-backed chair beside his bed. She took his hand. It was limp, cold. “You should have told me.”

  “Told you what? That I must have fucked up in the eyes of God or the angels? That my life was ruined and that I was ruining Allie's life? I was so damn angry at her.”

  His dinner was on a tray, uneaten. Soup, some flat soda, toast with a pale coating of butter. Paul's lips looked dry and sore.

  “She didn't love me,” Paul said.

  “Would you like a drink?” Maddy asked.

  “Scotch and soda. A double.”

  Maddy held the paper cup up and Paul sipped from the straw. Ginger ale.

  “We had the dress fitting today,” Maddy said. “She looked pretty.”

  “Maybe you should get her a vat and some black dye. She deserved better.”

  Maddy tried to get him to drink some more, but he waved her away.

  “Do you know why I'm really mad? Because I knew this would happen and it has. I can't move my legs, little sister. I can't see you.”

  Maddy put the drink down, and took up the watery soup. “You should eat.”

  “That's enough,” Paul said after three spoonfuls. “I'm throwing up blood.”

  Maddy put the tray away and came to sit beside him on the bed; she leaned her head against his chest. There was his heart, still beating.

  “Poor Allie,” Paul told Maddy. “Her childhood repeated all over again. A life spent in someone's sickroom. I wound up doing exactly what I vowed I'd never do to her. She's fucking terrified.”

  “Allie was never terrified of anything,” Maddy said.

  Paul laughed and then began to cough. “You don't know her as well as you think you do. She's terrified all right.”

  “Stop talking. You need to rest up.”

  “I don't have to rest up to die. And don't tell me I'll be well again.” Paul closed his eyes. “Let me have one person who's honest with me.”

  “The way you were honest with me?”

  “I never lied. You lied to yourself. If you're going to be here in my last hours, the least you can do is entertain me.”

  Why did she not hate him anymore? If anything she hated herself for being stupid, for being duped, for betraying Allie. There was a blue vein across Paul's skull that Maddy had never even noticed. “Here's a true story,” she began. “There's a ghost in my hotel.”

  Paul laughed again, then turned his head toward her, interested. His eyes were leaking fluid.

  “Seriously,” Maddy went on. “He's haunting a fellow who spends all his time in the bar.”

  “Dear Maddy. You are so innocent. You believe anything anyone tells you. Next thing you'll tell me the devil is beside me.”

  The man in the first bed had started to moan.

  “Close the fucking curtain,” Paul told her. “People are so damned noisy when they're dying. You'd think they'd give the rest of us some peace.”

  Maddy went and drew the curtain more tightly; in the process she glimpsed an old man doubled up in pain. A shiver went through her. She turned back to Paul. On the other side of his bed there was a curtain as well. She couldn't see the patient behind the curtain, just a stream of light filtering through the fabric. Paul was curled knees to chest. It was almost as though she could see through him. It wasn't until that moment that she realized Paul truly was dying. He was half there and half not.

  She'd never been good at dealing with illness. She'd always wanted to run away when it got anywhere near this point. Maddy thought of the horrible things she'd said to her mother when she was younger—if it wasn't cancer, it wasn't considered a problem. It was nothing. She had never hated herself as much as she did at this moment. Paul didn't look like the same person as the man she'd slept with in the spring. She didn't even know him. She would have liked to have gone out into the hall. She could have kept on going, out the door, continuing on until she reached the white rose garden in the park. Instead, she forced herself to pull a chair close to the bed. She was afraid she might hurt him or spill something.

  “I think after what happened between us, I should be the one to take care of you,” she said.

  Paul laughed, a short dry laugh that quickly faded. “Are you mad? I'm a desperate fucking narcissist in the jaws of death. You don't want me.”

  He had to stop talking; he began to struggle for air. He turned his head from Maddy; his body was limp, as though his muscles were no longer connected. The cancer was along his spine. When the end came, it was ridiculously fast. The bones were like lace now, beautifully destroyed. “She's the one I love. You knew that.”

  He lay there quietly. Maddy thought she heard him crying.

  “We had a huge tree in our backyard,” Maddy whispered. “If you climbed it you could reach the sky. We tied bells and bows around it to call the birds to us. But they only answered the sound of Allie's voice. They never even heard me.”

  “Right.” Paul's eyes were still closed, but he was nearly smiling. “There's my girl. Entertain me. I knew I could count on you for that. I knew you could tell a good story. Tell me more about her.”

  WHEN SHE RETURNED to the Lion Park, Maddy was informed that she had a guest. Her mother was waiting for her in the restaurant. Maddy wanted to go upstairs and lie down; instead she went to join her mother.

  Lucy had ordered a glass of white wine even though what she really wanted was a whisky. A plate of melted ice was beside her glass. The temperature had risen. The hotel was air-conditioned in its public rooms, but it was still stuffy. She remembered that about it.

  �
��The place looks the same. Just older.”

  For the past several nights, Lucy had walked past the hotel. This was where she first began to understand that a person could lose herself if she wasn't careful.

  “I came here because I remembered you talking about it,” Maddy said. “And you had the ashtray. I thought it was going to be nicer.”

  “It was the first time I'd been to London. The first time I'd been anywhere, really. I was here for a wedding then, too. I see they still have the old stone lion.”

  “So tell me, Mother, was I the last person in the world to know Paul was so ill?”

  “He's a very private man. And he was in terrible shape. Allie told me she didn't want to go ahead with the marriage before his diagnosis, but she stood by him. That's the way she is.”

  “Fake?”

  “Loyal.”

  “Right. It's always Allie. The good one, the loyal one. She always gets everything.”

  Lucy laughed until she saw that her daughter was serious. “What she has is a terminally ill man.”

  “I could help,” Maddy said. “I could do my part and see him through.”

  Lucy reached across the table and took her daughter's hand. Maddy had always believed her mother never loved her, not the way she loved Allie. The proof of it was when Maddy went into her mother's bedroom one day to find the shades pulled down and all the lights shut off. Lucy's eyes were closed. She sensed someone in the room, and she had opened her eyes and was startled to see Maddy standing by the door. Her mother said, I can't, just like that, and Maddy had run. She was sure of what it meant: I can't take care of you. I can't love you. Now she wondered if perhaps she'd been mistaken. Maybe her mother had meant, I can't have you see me this way. I love you far too much for that.

  “There's nothing to take care of, Maddy. It's over. This is their business. This man is going to be Allie's husband, whether or not he's dying. She's the only one who can see him through.”

  Maddy pulled away and covered her face. Her hands smelled like hospital soap, clean and sharp. She certainly didn't want her mother to see her cry. Lucy ordered another glass of wine. This was the daughter who didn't feel anything; the one she could never reach.