Read The Night the Angels Came for Free Online Page A

coffee?’
    ‘Could I have a glass of water, please?’
    ‘Of course. Michael,’ I asked, ‘would you like a drink? Or how about an ice cream?’
    Michael looked up from the table and for the first time smiled.
    ‘Is it all right if I give Michael an ice cream?’ I asked his father.
    He nodded.
    ‘Would you like one?’
    ‘No, just the water, please,’ Patrick said. ‘Thank you.’
    I didn’t bother asking Adrian and Paula if they wanted an ice cream because I knew what their answers would be. I went into the kitchen, took three ice creams from the freezer and, together with three strips of kitchen towel, returned to the table and handed them out. I poured a glass of water for Patrick and we went into the sitting room, where I pushed the door to so that we couldn’t be easily overheard.
    ‘Sorry about that,’ Patrick said.
    ‘Don’t worry. It’s to be expected.’
    As Patrick sat on the sofa he let out a sigh, pleased to be sitting down. ‘That’s better. It’s a good walk from the bus stop,’ he said.
    ‘You caught the bus here?’ I asked, surprised.
    He nodded, took a sip of his water, and then said easily, ‘I sold my car last month. I thought it would be one less thing for Eamon and Colleen to have to worry about. Eamon and Colleen are my good friends who are executors of my will. I’ve been trying to make it easier for them by getting rid of what I don’t need now.’
    Although Patrick was talking about his death he spoke in such a practical and emotionless manner that he could have been simply making arrangements for a trip abroad, so that I didn’t feel upset or emotional.
    ‘All that side of things is taken care of,’ Patrick continued. ‘What money I have will be held in trust until Michael is twenty-one. I have a three-bedroom house and I was going to sell that too and rent somewhere, but I thought it would be an unnecessary upheaval for Michael. It’s always been his home and he will have to move once I go into hospital, so I decided there was no point in making him move twice.’
    ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I think that was wise of you.’
    There was a small silence as Patrick sipped his water and I watched him from across the room. I liked Patrick – both as a person and a man. Already I had formed the impression that he was kind and caring, as well as strong and practical, and despite his illness his charisma and charm shone through. I could picture him out drinking with the lads and chasing women in his twenties, as he’d said he had at the meeting, and then being a loyal and supportive husband and proud father.
    ‘I think you are doing incredibly well,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t cope so well.’
    ‘You would if you had to, Cathy,’ he said, looking directly at me. ‘You’d be as strong as I’ve had to be – for the sake of your children. But believe me, in my quieter moments, in the early hours of the morning when I’m alone in my bed and I wake in pain and reach for my medication, I have my doubts. Then I can get very angry and ask the good Lord what he thinks he’s playing at.’ He threw me a small smile.
    ‘And what does the good Lord say?’ I asked lightly, returning his smile.
    ‘That I must have faith, and Michael will be well looked after. And I can’t disagree with that because he’s sent us you.’
    I felt my emotion rise and also the enormity and responsibility of what I’d taken on. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said, ‘but I’m no angel.’
    ‘You are to me.’
    I looked away, even more uncomfortable that he was placing me on a pedestal. ‘Is there really no hope of you going into remission?’ I asked quietly.
    ‘Miracles can happen,’ Patrick said, ‘but I’m not counting on it.’
    There was silence as we both concentrated on the floor and avoided each other’s gaze. ‘I hope I haven’t upset you,’ I said after a moment, looking up.
    ‘No.’ Patrick met my gaze again. ‘It’s important we speak freely and you ask whatever you