She buys each of her kids an ice cream, and they gulp them down quicker than I can believe. As soon as they're done, they want another.
"No, you know the rule," Angie tells them. "You'll get another one next week."
"Please?"
"Please?"
One of them starts having a tantrum, and I wish for a second that I have to straighten the kid out. Thankfully, he stops pretty fast because he wants a go on the slippery dip.
Angie watches them awhile until she gets too bored and drags them away with her.
I know.
I know already.
This one's easy, I think.
Easy as ice cream.
Watching her walk away, it's her legs that sadden me. I don't know why. I think it's because they move slower than what's natural for her. She loves those kids but they slow her down. She walks a little lopsided so she can hold her daughter's hand.
"What's for dinner, Mum?" asks one of the boys.
"I don't know yet."
She gently throws a wisp of dark hair from her eyes and moves on, listening to the words spoken by her daughter. She's telling Angie about a boy at school who keeps teasing her.
As for me, I continue watching the small steps of Angie's wandering legs.
They still make me sad.
I get a big share of day shifts after that and do a lot of walking in the evenings. My first stop is Edgar Street, where the lights are on and I can see the mother and her daughter eating. It strikes me that without the man there, they might not have enough money coming in to pay the bills. On the other hand, he probably drank a lot of the money away, and I'm fairly certain she'd prefer being a little poorer in return for his absence.
I also walk by Milla's place, and later on I call in on Father O'Reilly, who is still on a high after the Meet a Priest Day congregation. There were considerably fewer people at the following week's ceremony, but the church was still a lot fuller than it had been.
Last, I go to each address that houses someone by the name of Rose. There are about eight of them, and I find the one I'm looking for on my fifth attempt.
Gavin Rose.
He's about fourteen and wears old clothes and a permanent sneer. His hair is reasonably long and his flannel shirts all resemble rags. They stream down his back.
He goes to school.
He's teenage-smoker tough.
He has blue eyes the color of fresh toilet water and a dozen or so freckles flung across his face.
Oh, and one other thing.
He's a complete bastard.
For example, he goes into corner shops and shows disrespect to the owners who can't speak much English. He steals from those shops--anything that fits under his arms or in his pants. He shoves weaker kids and spits on them if he gets the opportunity.
While getting a look at him before school, I'm careful not to be spotted by Sophie. Some previous fears surface, and I cringe at the idea of her noticing me and thinking that I like to hang around school yards. Watching.
Mostly, I see Gavin Rose at home.
He lives with his mother and older brother.