An Angel with a Secret
Edward sat in his mothers kitchen, hands cradling a steaming mug of strong English tea. His eyes gleamed with an unplaceable delight, and every so often the ghost of a dreamy smile would flicker across his face. He simply couldnt stop talking about HERthe remarkable girl who had so recently tumbled into his world, turning everything upside down.
Shes honestly an angel! he declared with fervour, glancing over at his mother, his voice brimming with adoration. Shes so gentle, so kind, so beautiful… I can hardly believe my luck, sometimes. Why would she pick me? Im just some ordinary lad, nothing to shout about.
Margaret, perched across the scrubbed table, listened with rapt attention, her features aglow with a warm, knowing smile. Shed long noticed the subtle alchemy in Edwardsome crackling spark inside, making him more alive, more buoyant, radiating the fragile happiness of the newly smitten.
Oh, my boy, youre besotted! she teased, merrily arching back in her chair. When do we finally get to meet this mystery girl of yours?
Edward faltered for a heartbeat, eyes dropping to the table. Something inside him twisted, anxious and hopeful all at oncehe wanted everything to be perfect, wanted his mother to see just how marvellous this girl truly was.
Soon, I hope, he said softly, looking up again. She just wants to be certain, you know? She says meeting the familys a big thing. She wants to be sure about us first.
Margaret nodded, recognising the girls careful wisdom. In these things, patience mattered more than anything. Dont chase the bird from the hand until its ready to perch.
Well, youll talk her round, she assured him with gentle confidence, stretching out a hand to ruffle her sons pristinely neat hair.
Edward squirmed away in mock outrage. Mum! What are you up to? Im not a little boy anymore!
Margaret just laughed, her gaze suffused with warmth and pride.
Bring her along on Saturday, she said, deciding not to dwell on their playful tussle. Ill bake something lovely. Got no other clients booked ingiving myself a proper day off.
For a moment, Edward hesitated, weighing the idea with solid English reason. He knew it was the ideal occasionjust the sort of gentle nudge his mother longed for.
All right, he agreed at last, his voice firm with resolution. Ill persuade her, then. Saturday should be just dandy.
Margaret had been working as a home nail technician for years now. The small extension at the back of her semi in Leicester was transformed: neat table, a whole rainbow of varnishes, and a sturdy chair for clients. Women from all walks of life drifted througheach one bringing her own stories, moods, and quirks.
Some were shy as mice, barely whispering which shade they fancied. Others would barge in, drawing the walls into their boisterous tales of love or loss. And somewell, some looked down their noses, quick to criticise every cuticle tool and sniff at the workmanship. Margaret knew how to handle them allpolite but firm, always able to nudge a conversation somewhere safe and harmless.
One client, though, had left a sharper impression than most. Her name was Lilyat first glance perfectly unremarkable. Always trim and tidy, never showy. She spoke quietly, watched the world with gentle blue eyes, and never once quibbled over price. Margaret found herself warming to this reserved, decent soulsurely, she thought, a simple, good-hearted girl.
One afternoon, as Margaret painted careful swirls on Lilys chosen pastel nails, the girl began to speakslowly, almost absently, as though thinking aloud.
I have three children, Lily murmured, examining her cuticles with cool detachment.
Margarets hand stilled with the emery board, caught entirely off guard.
Really? she ventured, hiding her surprise. Where are they now?
Ones with his father, ones with social services, Lily said with peculiar calm. And the little ones still with me. For now, anyway. Hell probably join his brother soon.
The silence that followed was almost painful. Margaret groped for words, but Lily glided on, oddly matter-of-fact:
Children are a good way to sort ones life out, if you choose the right men.
And then, as if she were sharing a recipe for scones, Lily mapped out her lifes philosophy. She never cared for marriage or the usual attachments. Instead, she sought out well-to-do menmostly married, sometimes just comfortably partnered. Start a fling, let things blossom, and then… have a child.
Married men are much more generous, explained Lily, twisting a blond curl. They dont want scandalfar too dreadfully English for all that. So they paychild support, hush money, whatever keeps me out of their lives and their wives in peace.
She spoke blithely, as if lifes most practical puzzles could be solved with little compromise and a stiff upper lip. Her children, once the financial arrangements had run their course, were just dispensable weights.
Thats my way, really, Lily confirmed, sensing the silent question behind Margarets eyes. Her steady tone carried neither guilt nor uncertainty. Judge me if you like, but lookby twenty-five, Ive a flat on Regents Park, a Mercedes, and my own nail studio with a pretty sensible income. And what have you? Not much, right? Twice my age and you spend all day primping luckier girls than yourself. I could spend more in an afternoon tea at Harrods than you pocket in a week!
Her words hit like a slap, but Margaret hid her feelings, drawing a slow breath before asking quietly, but firmly:
But theyre your childrenyour own flesh and blood. Dont you feel anything giving them up?
There was an anxious quaver in her voice; she simply couldnt fathom it, nor would she ever. How could anyone treat a child as an inconvenience to be passed down the line? Tiny souls, looking up with wide, trusting eyes, calling you mum.
Lily simply shrugged, a wry half-smile flickering.
Children take up all your time, she said. Someone else will do a better job, honestly. Maybe a proper family will adopt them. A nice woman will be their mumbut that woman wont be me.
So matter-of-fact, as though discussing a new brand of polish or the latest weather. Margaret shiveredLily noticed and shot her a sharp glance, adding coolly:
Dont look at me like that! I never wanted to be a mother. I cant stand nappies, baby screams, wakeful nights. Just not my cup of tea.
Margarets hands trembled around her manicure tray. Inside, a storm of anger and aching pity swirled silently. But what could she possibly say? Would it change anything?
Do you really think thats the right way? Margaret pressed, still hoping to hear just a flicker of doubt.
Lily laughed. Right is what keeps me comfortable and well off. The rest is irrelevant.
Margaret watched Lily with searching eyeslooking, searching for any humanity behind the chill calculation. She couldnt possibly comprehend how Lily could talk so lightly about her own childrens fates.
How on earth did you come to this? the words burst from her, mingled confusion and honest pain.
Lily shrugged indifferently, as if describing last nights dinner. She was oddly in the mood to confess. Why not? Its not as if shed see Margaret againthere were plenty of other technicians in London, after all. A pityMargaret was so painstaking, so precise, but still…you can always find another if youve got the funds. Odd, really, how home salons often outshine those glossy city shops.
It sort of just happened, really, Lily drawled, examining her immaculate nails. I was nineteenfell head over heels, honestly, for the first time. Gave my heart away, no questions. But he was marriedsilly, really, looking back.
She broke off, lost for a second in the memory.
When I found out, I was already well alongcouldnt exactly turn back, could I? So I had the baby. My lover bought me the flatjust wanted everything kept hush-hush. He even took our songoodness knows what his wife thought.
Her voice was colourlessno regret, no hurt. Just business.
Thats when I realised, Lily continued, chin lifted, a girl could really make her own way, if she played things right.
She paused, gathering her thoughts, some shadow flickering in the depths of her eyesan old, hidden ache resurfacing before she pressed it down.
I manage fine now, truly. Dont need a man at all. In fact, perhaps soon Ill find a decent fellow, settle down, have a few adorable children. Live properly for a change.
A bright smile perched on her lips, but in her eyes something submerged flashed, which she quickly smothered with bravado.
All the while, Margaret continued her work, head bent to the delicate taskshe dared not meet Lilys eye, afraid everything would spill out, all her judgement and disbelief. Inside, she burned to blurt out the truth, name everything for what it was. But she steeled herself, gripping her files tighter.
Do you not worry shell find outabout your past? she asked at last, her voice edged with powerless sadness. I cant think of another word for it but…treachery.
Lily tilted her head back, eyes glinting with a frigid mockery.
Oh, Ive covered my tracks perfectly, she said. Moved to the other end of England. No witnesses. My friends dont suspect a thing. My mother and I havent spoken in years. Who could possibly talk? You? She flashed a sharp, mocking smile at Margaret.
Margarets heart squeezed. She set her file down, straightening to look Lily squarely in the eye.
Ive better things to do than chase after you, she retorted, voice stinging slightly. Or your admirers, for that matter. Im no gossip. But take it from mesecrets always find daylight. No matter how you try to scrub away the footprints, something always turns up.
She drew a breath, switched to her brisk work tone.
Thats it. Is everything all right with your nails?
Lily didnt answer immediately. She slid her purse out, peeled off a stack of crisp pounds, and laid them on the table.
Its fine, she said coldly, rising from the chair. I wont be coming back. Ill find someone else. Goodbye. In factfarewell.
With unyielding certainty, she gathered her things and swept out. Margaret silently watched her go.
When the door clicked shut, only the ticking of the kitchen clock remained. Margaret packed away her tools slowly, her mind circling round Lily, the absent childrenhow strange, how different, peoples notions of happiness and duty could be.
And after that day, Lily never returned. Sometimes Margaret went over their final conversation but tried not to dwell. Everyone, she supposed, walked their own path and bore their own consequences.
**********
Margaret spent days deciding how best to meet this would-be daughter-in-law. The flat in Leicester seemed too small, too humdrum, too everyday. The cottage near Rutland Water, though, was entirely differentbirds, fresh green smells, a garden table beneath a wisteria arch. All the ingredients for a first meeting where nerves might be gently calmed by dappled light and the promise of lemon cake.
She bustled about, bees in her hair, dusting and arranging flowers, setting out the tea things, her nerves humming and hands fluttering. This wasnt just an introductionthis was the moment her son truly became a man, committed at last to something solid and certain.
Edward was every bit as restless. He dashed about, fiddling with the rickety gate, tidying, plumping cushions, straightening the chairs around the patio. Mumis everything right? Have I missed anything? Should I do more? She only smiled, patting his arm: Its lovely. Just breathe, darling. But inside, her heart galloped as wildly as his.
At the ticking time, Edward dressed in a fresh shirt, smoothed his hair, and announced, Im off to fetch Lily. Well be back in half an hour.
Ill be waiting, Margaret said, doing her best to hide her nerves behind a brisk, comforting smile.
Alone at last, Margaret surveyed the tablea neat cloth, bowls of ripe fruit, wildflowers in a jug. Everything glowed with a familiar, homely loveliness. She exhaled, fighting back the shakes. Today was different. Edward had barely ever brought girls home. Rare, quick meetings, nothing significant. But today! Hed bought a ringMargaret had seen it for herself, sparkling in its little box.
The minutes moved strangely, ballooning and collapsing. At last, a car pulled up. Edward stepped out, opening the door for a slender girl with clear blue eyes and summer-blonde hair, her dress pale and ethereal as morning mist. The gentle English breeze fluttered her skirt. She took Edwards hand, and they walked up the garden path togetherlooking, Margaret couldnt help but think, exactly as shed imagined from Edwards rhapsodies.
Thats Lily, said Edward, gently ushering her forward.
Margaret stood on the doorstep, smiling, the summers air sweet with jasmine and grass. She was about to greet Lily, to comment on her soft beauty and the pale cloud of her dresswhen suddenly, the girl froze.
Her movements turned slow, strange, almost puppetlike. She slipped off her sunglasses, and Margaret finally sawthose same eyes that once stared blankly from her nail-studio chair, recounting the coldest of stories.
Lily turned to Edward. Her lips twitched, but her voice was pitiless:
We need to break up.
Edward stared, stark and pale. He reached a hand toward her, desperate, but Lily stepped away.
Why? he whispered. Whats happened? We
Im not explaining, she shot back, cold and final. Its just over.
She didnt wait for a reply, but spun on her heel and strode down the garden. Edward and Margaret were rooted, dumbstruck by the sharpness of the moment.
A passing car slowed. Lily climbed in without a backward glance.
Edward folded down slowly onto the steps. His shoulders caved inward, gaze hollow. Margaret laid a hand on his back, but he barely noticed.
And suddenly, Margaret knew. Her own words from that distant appointment flashed in her mindNo secret stays buried forever. However well you cover your tracks, something always surfaces.
Those words now rang with an eerie, terrible truth. What were the oddsthat, of all the men in England, Lily had chosen her son? Fate or cruel coincidence? Either way, happiness evaporated in a single instant.
Margaret watched the dust settle behind the leaving car, her heart tight for her boy. He needed no platitudes now; only time, slow and kind, to mend and breathe again.
************
The evening hush, once so peaceful, now pressed in like damp wool. Somewhere, a neighbours dog barked, startling Edwardhe looked up at his mother, his gaze raw, as lost as any frightened child.
Edward just sat, staring at nothing. The sun had slipped low, throwing long blue shadows across the flagstones, but he noticed nothing: inside, numb emptiness, neither rage nor tears.
Margaret came and quietly sat beside him. She didnt press him to speak, just rested nearby, the way she used to sit quietly when he was small and his scraped knees or childish heartbreaks needed unspoken comfort.
Ten silent minutes ticked by, before Edward murmured, hoarse and distant:
Mum…why? Please, just tell mewhy does it have to be like this? I really did everything I could for her.
Margaret sighed, searching for the truth and the right words.
Darling, she began gently. I have to tell you something. Ive met Lily before.
Edward looked up, blankly confused.
What? Whenhow?
She came to me for her nails. Months ago. And she told me about herselfabout her life.
Margaret inhaled, gathering fortitude, while Edward waited, body tight as a wire.
Shes got children, Edward. Three. One lives with his father, ones in foster care, and the thirdthe youngestwont be with her long, either. She never wanted to be a mother. For her, children were…a way to make money. A flat, a business, a car. Find a man, have a baby, collect your payout, move on.
Her words fell like small, heavy stones. Edward went ashen, silently clutching his fists.
When I saw her today, I knew at once…and I think she recognised me, too. Realised I knew everything. Thats why she left so quickly, so abruptly.
A thick silence filled the twilight. Somewhere, a lorry rumbled past, but they heard nothing.
Buthow could she? Edward finally whispered. She was so…loving. We had plans. I had a ring…
His voice broke. Margaret pressed his hand, hanging on tight.
I know, love. I know what youre feeling. But better now, while you can still walk away, than years inwhen it would only hurt more.
Edward hid his face. At first he was still, then his shoulders trembled slightly. Margaret wrapped her arms around him, the way she used to when he was littlegathering him into her warmth, as though she could banish heartbreak with the simple magic of a hug.
If you need to cry, cry, she whispered. Its only right. Itll take time…but it will pass.
He did not weepjust pressed his face to her shoulder, while she stroked his hair and remembered the many times shed soothed him before, all those small heartbreaks that childhood never failed to bring.
Why are people like this? he asked at last, desolate. Why do they play with other peoples feelings?
Not everyone, darling, Margaret replied. But some dont know how to love. They care only for their own comfort. Real affection is strange to thema burden, not a joy.
Edward sat up, blinking away the last ache from his eyes. In his expression, grief lingered; but something steadier, something clearer, began to flicker.
So she lied. All this time.
Margaret nodded. Its not your fault. Some people just…arent built for kindness.
The sunlight vanished, and the shadows thickened around the garden. Margaret stood, gently drawing Edward to his feet.
Come inside. Lets have some tea. Talk for a while. When youre ready, the world will start up againjust not tonight. Tonight, its all right to be sad.
Edward nodded, hollow but grateful. He didnt know what tomorrow would look like, but he knew his mother was beside him. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.
