ANGEL

ANGEL
She had been dredged up from the dank river and flung on to the bank. I had imagined she would be bloated, fish like, with the stench of the river clinging to green flesh, and yet as I walked towards the body I could smell her perfume. It was ‘Angel’, the same as I had bought for my girlfriend last Christmas.
She was still pretty with a doll like appearance verging between girl and woman. Her pink lipstick had been smudged as though in some childish pique she had wiped her hand across her mouth and never had the chance to reapply. Her bleach blond hair was matted with foliage which now she would never be able to brush away.
Skimpy night club clothes clung to the gentle contours of her ripening body. White lace bra had come undone and was caught up round her chin, looking slightly ridiculous like a baby’s summer bonnet.
Her unkissed nipples could be seen, erect and dark beneath the gossamer thin dress which barely covered her ghostly skin. Matching briefs had been smudged with fat thumbprints of mud streaking downwards over her thighs, down to an oozing red graze on her schoolgirl knees. Her small feet still had the blistering strap marks from the high heels she had bravely worn all night.
For a fleeting moment I thought of taking my jacket off and placing it over her shoulders, as a father might tuck his child in bed, yet that very act had a familiarity, almost an indecency about it and I kept my distance, hiding behind the formality of my task. I began to snap away, holding the horror of this scene within the parameters of my camera frame. Measured and thereby manageable.
Her eyes dazzled. Even behind the protection of my camera lens I did not want to focus on them. Unblinking, impenetrable, they stared into my soul, down to the pathetic, snivelling, small boy I thought I had buried long ago. They saw beneath my Hugo Boss suit and aspiring reporter’s badge down to the weedy excuse of a body that was never picked for the football team and was still sometimes frightened of the dark.
Her unflinching eyes saw humanity in all its dirt and depravity, naked, exposed and irretrievable.
‘Terrible aint it mate? Just a kid. Have you got enough?’
‘Yes,ok. I think I’m finished here. I’ll head off home now’.
I turned my face to the bitter wind, feeling the zoom lens of my camera digging into my side.

I won’t wait up for her; she’ll only think I’m fussing, being an overprotective mum but I can’t help worrying. At least I know the taxi’s booked and she’ll have her friend Jenny with her.
When she came down stairs she looked so grown up; such a beautiful young woman yet still my little girl. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
I still remember that breathless feeling as I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, wondering if tonight I would meet him, the boy of my dreams, straight from a Jackie comic.
Hot pants, white frilly blouse and platform toes, I would dance to T Rex, Abba, and wait to be chosen, praying I would not be the one left unclaimed at the end of the night or suffer the indignity of waiting while my best friend arranged a date with the boy I fancied.
But then after that night I never went dancing again. How stupid and naïve I had been to go outside with him. Of course he wanted more than a kiss and cuddle and to look at the stars.
I should have known; the way he grazed me against the canal bridge as soon as we were beyond the disco lights and the music was just a dull thud. There was something cold and indifferent about him. He smelled of sweat and fags as he fumbled to undo my white lace bra. I can feel his prodding gritted fingers on my skin, taste his sour spit in my mouth. He had stuck chewing gum in my hair, and when I cut it out long strands of my blond hair were glued to it. I never wore that blue mini dress again. Never told anyone what happened that night.

Mum had tears in her eyes when I came downstairs. She said she wouldn’t wait up but I knew she would. She worries so much about me, still treats me like her little girl.
I had looked forward to going out for weeks; my first night clubbing.
Jenny was supposed to be my friend then why did she chat Jason up the minute my back was turned? Only last night I had confided how much I fancied him. We had practised seductive looks and poses; I even let her use the Angel perfume mum had bought me for Christmas.
We had got there too early when there was still a lot of floor space. I didn’t think Jason and his mates had arrived but she must have seen him. I went to the toilet to reapply my lip gloss and when I returned she had her tongue down his throat and his hands were all over her. I couldn’t believe she would do that to me. Neither of them even noticed as I stormed out of the night club.
I stood in the entrance and then some pervey old guy started trying to chat me up. In his fancy suit he thought he was something special. Making out he was so concerned about me and ‘could he help?’ because he could see I was upset while all the time he had his eyes on my breasts, imagining what it would be like...
Honestly mum I tried to phone for a taxi but there was a forty minute wait and I just had to get out of that place. I couldn’t avoid the route by the canal and it wasn’t that late; there were plenty of people about. I thought if I just walk quickly I could be back before you had time to worry about me.
He just came out of nowhere.
I was glad when my body hit the water. Glad that it had ended and he could not hurt me any more.