Innocent
Milly was five when she became a permanent orphan. First her mother fell ill and passed away, then, barely a month later, her father died. Six months after that her grandfather breathed his last, and a year later her grandmother, the only close relative left, slipped away.
Milly was taken in by her Aunt Agnes, who lived in a tiny hamlet in the Yorkshire Dales and was raising three children on her own. Life under Aunt Agness roof was anything but sweet. The aunt never spared her own youngsters, shouting at the slightest inconvenience and delivering a harsh slap when she felt like it. Occasionally she would repent in front of the family icons, shedding bitter tears, and the sobbing youngsters would cling to her, pitying the old woman. For a fleeting moment a shaky peace settled over the house.
Milly kept her distance from that uneasy family, fearing the scorching hand of an angry aunt. She dreamed of growing up fast and getting out of that place forever, clinging to memories of a home where love and understanding once reigned.
Poor thing, will you vanish after me? her ailing mother would gasp, gently stroking Millys hair, foreseeing her own imminent departure.
Years slipped by.
When Milly turned eighteen she bade a relieved farewell to Aunt Agnes and her cousins. She didnt care where she went, only that she could escape the loathsome house and its occupants. She returned to the city where she had been whisked away as a child a bustling London suburb she still remembered as the place where the air seemed sweeter, the stars shone brighter, and the people felt more like family. She moved back into the tiny flat she had once shared with her closest relatives. Everything was familiar, almost painfully warm; even the scent of the room took her back to those carefree days. Aunt Agnes had been subletting the flat to various tenants over the years.
Milly found work as a waitress in a café. Tips were generous, admirers persistent, and champagne flowed like water. How could a stilltender soul resist that whirlpool of passion? Young life spun into a dizzying dance.
A year later Milly found herself alone, cradling a newborn. She was forced to head back to the Dales to see Aunt Agnes. Naturally the aunt launched into a tirade.
You havent even got out of the doorway and youre already bringing a baby into the fold!
Yet Aunt Agnes took Milly in and, with a sigh, suggested baptising the child at the local St. Marys. May an angel spread its wings over this little one, she said. They named the girl Faith.
Milly wept day and night, convinced her youthful prospects were forever ruined. Fortunately, the village never lacked work, so she kept busy and eventually settled down enough to keep her dream of leaving alive.
When Faith grew a bit, Millys desire to depart intensified. She never grew accustomed to country life. Aunt Agnes gave her a parting warning:
Listen, love, sin can drag you down into the abyss. Choose your company wisely.
Back in London, Milny placed Faith in a nursery and hired herself as a helper to a market stall keeper named Asher, who sold exotic sweets. Asher was fond of Milly, offering her treats, promising marriage, trips abroad, introductions to his relatives Milly, feeling secure, eventually bore Asher a daughter, whom he named Jasmine after his mother.
Soon after, Asher began to avoid Milly, then fired her outright and cut off all contact.
This time Milly didnt bother Aunt Agnes. She would have been mortified to show up with two halforphaned kids. Lord, why do I keep leaping from one ditch into another? she muttered, vowing to pull herself out of this quagmire alone.
Only God knew how hard life had been for the young woman. When she felt her spirit sag, she recalled Aunt Agness words: Youre now without clan, rely only on yourself. Perhaps a sliver of sunshine will peek through your window.
Despite the aunts prickly nature, Milly eventually saw her as a stoic example: a woman who raised three children and still took in an orphaned niece despite having plenty of relatives. Milly finally grasped the aunts toughness without judgment.
Years rolled on. Milly grew cautious in relationships frankly, there werent any. Her children grew, and responsibilities multiplied. She placed a hefty cross on her own shoulders, dubbing her fate bitter wormwood. Yet at thirtyseven, life tossed her a fresh encounter.
Valerie spotted Milly at a community centre. He admired how she cared for her daughters, how she chatted with them, how she smiled, and how she sometimes gave him a lingering look. In short, Valerie and Milly struck up a friendship.
On their first evening together Milly poured out her tumultuous past, wanting simply to vent. Valerie listened attentively, nodding, absorbing every word. When she finished, he said, Milly, marry me. You wont regret it.
Thus Valerie and Milly became a couple. Faith and Jasmine grew close to Valerie, who loved them sincerely. Valerie adored Milly, buzzing around her like a bumblebee over a fragrant flower. Milly, however, stayed cool. She doubted his love, feared being burnt again, and couldnt shake the memory of past mistakes. She never showed her feelings openly, convinced that as a wife she was already doing enough. The husbands fed, the laundrys done, the irons hotwhat else do you need?
Valerie often hinted at having a child together, but Milly brushed the suggestions aside, insisting shed raise her daughters just fine. One frustrated evening he shouted, Snow Queen, give me a glance of affection at least!
Milly replied, deadpan, What, are you a pig on a string? Let them take you away, I wont shed a tear.
Soon after, Milly returned home to find Valeries belongings gone. He had left for good.
What on earth was missing? she wondered.
At first she liked her single life: eat what she wanted, sleep when she wanted, never be scolded for dirty dishes, mismatched socks or unpolished boots pure freedom!
Years later, the daughters married and flew from the nest, leaving Milly alone with her freedom and a trove of bittersweet memories. She began longing to see Valerie again, to hear his voice, even if just for a moment. Twenty years had passed, but the urge persisted.
Through mutual acquaintances she learned that Valerie lived in a suburb of Manchester. She decided to pay a visit, hatching a quick excuse: If his wife shows up, Ill claim Im a distant relative.
At the gate a woman of about fortyfive opened the door.
What can I do for you? she asked.
Hello, Im looking for Valerie, Milly replied, a hint of nerves.
He lived here Who are you to him? the woman probed.
I Im his cousin. Annabelle, I suppose, Milly improvised.
Come in, Im Lucy, his widowed wife, the woman said, ushering her inside.
Milkypale legs gave way, and Lucy helped Milly to a chair, offered water.
When did this happen? Milly whispered.
A year ago. Valerie was very ill. He had a secret another woman he loved madly. He lived with me, called her Milly in his sleep I forgave him, I wept, we never had children. He waited, then that other Milly called and he vanished.
Lucy sighed, eyes brimming. If hed protected me from all misfortune, Id have moved him to the moon and back.
She explained that Valerie lay in hospital, near death, and shed asked Milly to speak his name one last time. Valerie refused, saying he wouldnt understand.
So I closed his eyes, whispering Milly, Lucy said, her voice trembling.
Milly stared, stunned.
I am Milly, the woman confessed, I came here to see Valerie, only to find its too late. I crushed his love. Im sorryI never learned to love, to cherish. I was an orphan from five, raised by Aunt Agnes in the Dales, always fleeing in dreams. Once I got my passport, I thought I could fly anywhere, but the world kept pulling me back to mud. Thats why I trusted no one, and Valerie felt it.
Lucy, wiping tears, replied, You were his sanctuary! If youd arrived a year earlier, he might have healed. It seems fate gave me the chance to hear your confession. Youre not wholly to blame; love never touched you as a child. Perhaps you were simply unnurtured.
Milly shrugged, bewildered.
The two women embraced, like longlost sisters, and sobbed together, the room echoing with the sound of old wounds finally being aired.
