Read Angel Cake for Free Online Page B

Pearl, as she usually did, swaying off up the street, so she was spared the sight of her marching out holding the biscuits at arm’s length, as though they contained a plague bacillus, and hurling them furiously into the first litter-bin on her path.
    Thursday was still distinct because it was the day after Pearl came. Friday was already blurred. Apart from ‘Desert Island Discs’ on the radio, it could have been any day of the week. Alicia’s one luxury would have to be her dentures. The ‘Meal on Wheels’ was a piece of blue-grey fish, muddy-looking boiled potatoes and ancient sprouts. She wondered if her caller would come back. Saturday, she knew it must be Saturday because the ‘Meals on Wheels’ stopped coming for the weekend. She carried down a framed photograph of Leonard on the steps of The Gaiety in Scarborough and put it on the shelf near the front door to keep watch over her. Sunday, when it came, was one long-drawn-out agonizing wait. The possibility raised by Pearl loomed at the end of the day with crazed contorted features. Although Alicia realized that, logically, there was no reason at all why the caller should come back at exactly the same time as he had last week, her sleeping pills did for logic. From the moment shewoke up, she was on tenterhooks. A good part of the morning was taken up with finding new spots for the belongings which she had brought downstairs during the week, and with the morning service on the radio. The hymns did her good; the surging voices settled her, like a dose of Eno’s salts or milk of magnesia. Towards lunchtime, she noticed that outside the sun had come out but instead of filling the front room with welcome light, it rudely showed up the layer of thick dust which lay over everything. Alicia’s first thought was to curse Pearl – most unfairly, since she never let her lay a finger on the front room. But then it occurred to her to find the feather duster and to do some dusting of the delicate objects which Pearl would surely break. The dusting made her wheeze and she had to stop after a while and have her lunch.
    In the afternoon, she must have got up to look out of the front-room window at least a dozen times. She was beside herself, but strange to relate, it seemed to be as much with excitement as with fear. It made such a difference to have something to look forward to, even if it was only the possibility of her undoing. As it began to get dark, fear gained the upper hand over excitement. What would she do if he came back with a gang? If he poured petrol through the letter box like in the
Shepherd’s
Bush
Gazette,
if he broke a window? To calm her thudding heart, she tried to think of other alternatives; it had only been a neighbour’s child up to mischief, like Pearl said, or collecting signatures for some petition against war or for trees, or doing a school project. It had only been a mistake. He would not come back. She was so disappointed by the last alternative that she dismissed it. She would prefer danger. She did not turn on the light, so that she could see out but not be seen. No one came by, no one stirred; it was Sunday. Once, a small black boy sped down the street on roller-skates. You could not see the skates on his feet until he shot past the front gate; he seemed powered by some silent demonic motor on which he flew effortlessly the length of the street. When it was almost completely dark, Alicia left the window. It was half-past four already and she was on the verge of wanting her tea. But she felt she ought to postpone tea, in case the caller returned andcaught her at it again. On the other hand, she would want to be well fortified if he came. She went into the kitchen. It would be sardines today, on toast. She didn’t want sardines. She wanted a visitor. At a quarter to five, she went and turned on the light in the hall, although with the light coming in from the street-lamp she could have managed without it for a little bit longer. Hang the