Lost Angel by Mandasue Heller Page B

with two choices: wallow in self-pity for the rest of his life – or put the past to bed once and for all and concentrate on the future.
    Opting for the latter, Johnny set off back to the bus stop with a new resolve in his heart. The thought of being responsible for a tiny baby absolutely terrified him, but if he was going to be a parent he’d rather be one like Frankie than like his mum. Frankie might be an evil bastard but no one could question the strength of his love for and loyalty to his own. He worked his arse off to provide for Ruth and her mum and, despite his frequent absences, he’d instilled a real sense of family, respect and decency into Ruth.
    Johnny still wasn’t looking forward to being tied to her for the rest of his life, but now that he’d started to think about the child as being his he was determined to give it a better upbringing than the one he’d had. It hadn’t asked to be conceived, and it deserved to feel safe and loved. Whatever other failings Ruth might have, he had no doubt that she would do her damnedest to be a good mum – and he, in turn, would try to be a great dad.

4
    Johnny woke up on the morning of the wedding with the stench of piss in his nostrils, a foul taste in his mouth, a banging head – and absolutely no recollection of the events of the night before. He didn’t even know where he was when he opened his eyes, and it took a few moments before he realised that he was in his own room.
    As he lay there waiting for the bed to stop lurching beneath him, he had a vague recollection of Dave and the lads dragging him out for his stag party. But he had no clue where they had gone, what had happened when they got there, how he’d got home, or who had undressed him and put him to bed.
    Feeling sick, he rolled onto his side and groaned when he felt a telltale damp patch beneath his thigh. He peeped at the other side of the bed through half-closed eyes, and was flooded with relief to see that he was alone. That would have been all he needed – some girl telling everyone that he’d pissed the bed.
    He got up, yanked the shameful sheet off and stuffed it into a plastic bag to take to the launderette. He was pulling on his dressing gown when Dave burst through the door a couple of minutes later.
    ‘My alarm didn’t go off! We’ve got less than half an hour till the car gets here.’
    ‘ Sshhh ,’ Johnny begged, holding his aching head in his hands.
    ‘Never mind sshhh.’ Dave shoved him out into the hall. ‘Get washed – and hurry up, for fuck’s sake. Frankie’ll kill me if I don’t get you to the church on time.’
    ‘Oh, no,’ Johnny moaned, feeling nauseous again at the mention of that name and the thought of what lay ahead.
    ‘Oh, yes.’ Dave pushed him into the bathroom. ‘Hurry up!’
    Johnny closed the door and took a piss. Then, sitting on the edge of the bath, he filled the sink with cold water and sank his face into it until he felt more awake.
    Dave was dressed and waiting for him in the hall when he came back out.
    ‘Drink that and take them,’ he ordered, shoving a fizzing glass of Alka-Seltzer and two paracetamol tablets into his hand. ‘Then get your suit on. You’ve got fifteen minutes.’
    Johnny did as he was told, and was almost ready when a car horn tooted down below. Dave looked out of the window and waved to let the driver know they were coming.
    ‘Ready?’ he asked, turning back to Johnny.
    ‘No.’ Johnny shook his head miserably.
    ‘Ah, you’ll be fine,’ Dave said, shoving his friend’s hands aside and doing his tie for him before straightening the blood-red carnation in his buttonhole. That done, he picked up his keys and cigarettes and patted his pocket to check that he had the rings before hustling Johnny out of the door.
    Johnny felt as sick as a dog as he numbly followed Dave down to the car park. It was a freezing cold day, and a dark grey cloud hovered above them as they climbed into the back of the E-type Mercedes that