Eighteen months ago, the band got a gig in Paris. With all their gear, they took a minicab to the airport. At check-in, Angela realized that she'd forgotten her passport and dashed back home.
Only to find the cab driver standing embarrassed in her sitting room, hugging her stereo, jiggling it up and down as if it were a baby .
Angela teaches art at Holloway prison. Yesterday, that cab driver showed up in her class. He stared embarrassed again.
Actually, it's kind of cool to be in a situation where you're training somebody who robbed you. Why else did she volunteer to teach art in prison? She picks up the Standard . And puts it down.
Because she's fucking angry. She's angry because she missed the plane, missed the gig; the police treated her like the criminal. And because at night, alone in her house, she's not cool at all.