“Angel” With a Secret
Miles sat in the warmth of his mother’s kitchen, his hands cradling a mug of tea the colour of toast. His eyes glimmered with an odd delight, and every now and then a dreamy smile played upon his lips. He simply couldnt keep from talking about HERthe girl who had recently crashed into his life and sent all his certainties spinning.
Shes an angel, Mumtruly, he exclaimed, gazing at his mother with a fervour usually reserved for football finals. Awe suffused his every word. So kind, so lovely, so beautiful When I look at her, I still cant quite believe she chose me. Im just a regular ladnothing extraordinary.
Rosamund, poised across from him, listened intently, a knowing warmth lighting up her face. Shed seen this change in Miles: he was different, suddenly vivid and brimming with joy, as if someone had lit a candle inside him. Now, watching him, she knew for certainher son was passionately in love.
Oh, my love, its happenedyouve fallen! she laughed, leaning back in her kitchen chair. When are you going to introduce us?
Miles hesitated, his gaze dropping to steam curling in twirls over his mug. His chest fluttered with anxious hope. He wanted it all to be perfecthe wanted his mum to see what a wonder was now by his side.
I hope soon, he managed at last, peering up. She says meeting the parents is a big stepshe wants to be sure our feelings are right first.
Rosamund nodded; she knew patience was needed in these matters. Pressing someone always spoiled the bloom.
Well, I hope youll charm her round, she said, reaching over to gently ruffle his perfectly combed hair.
Miles jerked back, half-protesting, Mum! Come on, dontIm not a child anymore!
Rosamund simply chuckled, her eyes shining with fondness.
Bring her by on Saturday, she offered, letting the banter float away. Ill bake something nice. My diarys clear for once, so Im taking a day off.
Miles mulled it over, tallying all the pros and cons. This was the chance Rosamund had so quietly hoped for.
All right, he agreed, resolve slipping into his voice. Ill try to persuade her. Saturday should work.
For years, Rosamund had run her nail studio from homea snug, sunlit room with neat shelves of polish, every shade imaginable, a carefully arranged table, and a high-backed chair for clients. Hundreds of women had sat in that chair, each carrying their own mood and story.
Some came timidly, barely whispering their requests. Some breezed in, loudly unfurling debates about the world before theyd even sat down. There were haughty women who examined every tool with suspicion and dismissed her work with a sniff. Rosamund had a gentle firmness; she could listen, could steer a conversation back to neutral, could draw any woman out if need be.
But some years back, one client had stuck sharply in her memory. Her name was Pippaa perfectly ordinary sort, at first glance. Tidy, understated dresses, a faint smile, voice quiet as rain. She came regularly, always chose the softest pinks, never once haggled. Rosamund privately liked herhere was a gentle, unpretentious girl.
Yet one afternoon, as Rosamund carefully painted a swirl of blossom shells on her nails, Pippa began to talk. Her words trailed slowly, as if shed awoken from a dream.
I have three children, she said offhandedly, watching the light catch her new polish.
Rosamund froze, file in hand. That, she had not expected.
Really? she asked softly, hiding the jolt. Where are they?
Ones with his father, anothers in care, Pippa replied, just as calmly. The youngest is still with mebut hell go to care, too. Sooner or later.
The silence clanged like a dropped mug. Rosamund struggled to grasp the meaning, but Pippa continued, placid as a milkmans round:
Children are useful, you seeif you pick the right man.
And she explained herself, as if describing her secret scone recipe. She never wanted marriage. She looked for men with money and, ideally, a wife already. Shed begin an affair, wait until he was properly entangled, then have a child.
A man with a wife is always more generous, Pippa explained too-casually, straightening a loose hair. Hes anxious to avoid scandal, so he pays upalimony, hush money, whatevers needed. Anything for a clean break.
For her, the child was simply a means to an end. Once hed served his purpose, he became, at best, an afterthought.
Thats my way of making a living, Pippa said, as if invited to confess. Her voice was settled, without an ounce of shame. You can look down on me if you like. But by twenty-five I had a flat in the city centre, a nice car, my own business that makes more than enough. And you? Youre twice my age. You spend all day looking after women luckier than yourself. In the café I spend more than you make in a week!
Her words bit deep, but Rosamund masked her reaction, drawing a quiet breath. Then, in a voice thick with disbelief, she asked, Buttheyre your children, your own blood. How can you just let them go?
Pippa gave a bored shrug.
Kids need raising, and I havent the time. Theyll be better in caremaybe theyll find a family, a proper mum. But thats not me.
She spoke with the nonchalance of discussing rain. Rosamund shivered, but Pippa cut in, eyes cool:
Dont look at me like that. I never wanted to be a mother. Im not built for nappies, no sleep, the whole thing.
It was stunningher voice held not a drop of guilt; only a stern certainty. She inspected her new manicure, as though debating which shade to choose next.
Rosamund slowly set her tools aside. Inside, a storm of outrage and sorrow brewed. But what could she say? Could words reach to the root of someone so quietly unrepentant?
Are you sure thats the right thing? she whispered, hoping to stir something human.
Pippa only laughed:
Right is whatever brings me comfort and money. The restit doesnt matter.
Rosamund stared, searching for anything redeeming in this girls cool mask. To her, it was beyond comprehension.
How ever did you come to think like this? she blurted, with pain, not spite.
Pippa shrugged, half-amused. For some reason, she was in a confiding mood. Why not spill to a stranger? Shed never returncould always find a new manicurist; money was no object. Shame thoughRosamund really was exceptionally skilled, better than half the posh salons.
It all happened on its own, really, Pippa mused, eyeing her nails. I was nineteen, madly in love for the first time. Of course, he was married. I was just a fling.
She fell silent. Rosamund let her be.
When I found out, it was too lateI was four months on. Too late to do anything, so I had the baby. And what did he do? Bought me a flatjust to keep me quiet. Took the boy to live with him. God knows what he told his wife.
Her voice was iceno pity, not even for herself.
Thats when I realisedlife gives you chances. Youd be a fool not to take them.
She paused, seeming to measure her own words, a shadow flickering beneath the cool mask.
I provide for myself, now, she finished, steady and proud. Dont need anyone. Maybe one day Ill meet a decent man, settle down, have his children. Then Ill live the good life.
She smiled, painting herself a sweet future. For a second, something passed across her gazea flicker of doubtthen vanished.
All the while, Rosamund fixed her gaze on Pippas nails, carefully finishing her work, not meeting the girls eyes for fear her own feelings would show. A tempest raged within her. She wanted to call things by their right name. But she held her tongue.
Arent you afraid shell know what youve done? she asked at last, sadness more than anger in her voice. I cant call it anything but betrayal.
Pippa smirked, tilting her head.
Ive left no trace. Moved across the country, lost touch. Mum wont speak to me and I dont mind that. Nobody left to tell. You? You wont gossip, will you? She eyed Rosamund with faint mockery.
A cold tightness filled Rosamund. She squared her shoulders and laid down the nail file.
Ive more than enough to do than run around after you and your old flames. And Ill never gossipits not my way. But let me tell you this: all secrets get out, in the end. No matter how careful you are, something always surfaces.
She took a breath and switched to a cool professional note.
Im finished. Are you pleased?
Pippa didnt answer right away. She slow-rolled her fingers across the perfect polish, seeking any flaw, but there was noneRosamund was always meticulous.
Its fine, she said curtly, laying down a handful of crisp pounds on the table. Ill find someone else next time. Goodbye actually, fare well.
She stood, swung her bag over her shoulder, and strode out. Rosamund watched her leave in silence.
When the door clicked shut, the house went utterly still. Only the tick of the kitchen clock disturbed the hush. Rosamund packed her tools away, her mind heavywondering how wildly people diverge in what happiness and responsibility could mean.
After that day, Pippa never returned. Occasionally Rosamund recalled their conversation, but refused to dwell on it. Everyone must travel their own path, and carry the cost of their own decisions.
****************
As the weeks passed, Rosamund pondered how best to host her sons beloved. Her own flat felt too cramped, too ordinary for the occasion. But at their cottage in the countryside! Fresh air, green lawns, the scent of wildflowers there you could lay a table in the garden, grill sausages over smokey coals, sit beneath the old oak for hoursjust the atmosphere for a first meeting.
So, when Saturday came, Rosamund bustled from early morningdusting, setting out roses in jugs, assembling cakes and crustless sandwiches. She checked the clock every few minutes, adrenaline mounting. This was no small thingthis was proof her boy was grown, his feelings serious, perhaps that hed found The One.
Miles was no less a bundle of nerves. He darted about the garden, altering the seating, straightening a wayward trellis, brushing leaves from the path.
Mum, is everything all right? Did I forget anything? Should I do more? he worried, only for Rosamund to laugh gently: Its wonderful, stop fussing. In truth, her heart beat with the same trembling hope.
At last, when the hour arrived, Miles tugged on a crisp shirt, smoothed his hair, and announced,
Im off to fetch Pippa. We’ll be back in half an hour.
Ill be waiting, she smiled, affecting nonchalance.
Left alone, Rosamund did one last circuit: tablecloth smooth, fruit bowl full, wildflowers beaming. The scent of honeysuckle drifted in and she steadied herself. Never had Miles brought a girl to meet her with such intentonce or twice, years ago, but fleetingly, as if it didnt matter. But today… Today, he had even bought a ring! Hed confided as much, glowing with happiness the night before.
Half an hour slipped by. Rosamund stood by the garden gate, peering down the lane. A car appearedMiless. He parked, came around, and gallantly opened the opposite door. From the passenger side stepped a slender young womanblue-eyed, blonde, dressed in an airy white summer frock fluttered by the breeze.
Miles took her hand, leading her up the garden path. Rosamund could not help but admire the pairher son radiating happiness, his companion almost ethereal, as if conjured from a reverie.
As they drew nearer, Rosamund searched the girls face. There was something achingly familiar about her, though the great sunglasses shielded her eyes. An angel, indeed, Rosamund thought, recalling her sons breathless tributes.
Mum, this is Pippa, Miles announced, nudging the girl gently forward.
Standing on the cottage step, Rosamund smiled, meaning to praise Pippas grace and summer dress, when suddenly the girl halted, movements growing slow, mechanical. She took off her sunglassesand in that instant Rosamund recognized her, the one who had told that chilling story while her nails were being painted.
Pippa turned to Miles, her lips trembling, voice ringing stark and cold:
We have to end it.
Miles went white. He made to reach for her hand, but Pippa drew away.
Why? His plea was no louder than a breeze. Whats happened? We were just
I wont explain, she cut in, implacable. Its finished.
Without waiting for another word, she spun on her heel and strode away. Rosamund and Miles stood rooted as if struck by a spell.
Moments later, a car appeared at the lanes end. Pippa climbed in and disappeared, never once looking back.
Miles collapsed onto the step, shoulders slumped, gaze lost to the shadows. Rosamund placed a hand on his shoulder but he barely responded.
A cold clarity washed over her. Everything shed said to Pippa flickered in her mind: Secrets always come out. How chillingly true it rang now. Was it fate, she wonderedof all the men in the city, Pippa had chosen the son of the very woman who knew her darkest truth? Or was it simple, cruel chance, shattering her sons happiness in a heartbeat?
Rosamund watched the road where the car had vanished, her chest aching for Miles. He didnt need comfort now; he needed time. Time to gather himself, to begin again
********************
The hush of evening, earlier so gentle, felt suddenly oppressive. Somewhere distant, a dog barked, making Miles start. He glanced helplessly at his motherpain and confusion clouding him as if he were a boy again, unable to comprehend the worlds sudden cruelty.
Miles sat on the cottage step, his gaze fixed on the fading sunlight, now turning the grass silver and shadows long. Beauty escaped him; inside, he felt only a blank, heavy silence.
Rosamund drew close, sitting by his side. She waited, not pushing him with questions, simply offering her presencethe same calm shed shared when hed grazed his knees or come home stung by some long-ago slight.
Ten minutes passed before, his voice sandpaper-rough, Miles managed:
Mumwhy? Can you tell me, why does it all turn out like this? I did everything I could for her.
Rosamund inhaled deeply. She knew the truth had to be told, bitter though it was.
My love, theres something you should know, she began, gentle. Id met her before. She came here, for her nails, months backand she told meabout herself.
She paused to gather her thoughts. Miles said nothing; but his whole body tensed, waiting.
She has children, dearthree. One with his father, one in care, one still with her but she said hed soon go to the authorities as well. Sheshe never wanted to be a mum. For her, children are ways to money, a home, security. She finds wealthy men, has their child, then takes their money and vanishes.
Each word was an anvil. Miles turned pale, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists.
When I saw her today, I realised straight away. And, I suppose, so did she. Thats why she left so quickly.
Silence pressed in. Somewhere, another car passed in the distance, but they hardly noticed.
But…how? whispered Miles. She was always so…tender, so thoughtful. We talked about the future. I bought a ring…
His voice broke. Rosamund took his hand, squeezing gently.
I know, darling, I know. It hurts dreadfullybut its better this way than later, when it might be so much worse.
He buried his face in his hands. He sat thus, silent, shoulders trembling, until Rosamund gathered him in, the way she had when he was little and the world had bruised him.
Cry, if you want, she murmured. Let it out. The pain will pass. Slowly, but it will.
He did not cry. He simply leaned into her shoulder and she stroked his hair, remembering how all those years ago, hed sought her for comfort just the same.
Why are people like this he whispered. Why do they play with other peoples feelings?
Not everyone, dearest, Rosamund murmured. But some never learn to love properly. They want only whats convenient. True feeling frightens them.
At last, Miles sat up and rubbed at his eyes. There was still pain in his face, but also the tiniest hint of understanding.
So she liedall along?
Yes. But it isnt your fault, Miles. You simply loved the wrong person.
The sun slipped away behind the trees, drawing down the first twilight. Rosamund rose, pulling her son gently to his feet.
Lets go inside and have tea. Well talkit will help. And thenyoull start again. I promise, things will get better. Not today, though. Today, its all right to be sad.
Miles nodded and let himself be led inside. He didnt know yet how he would move forward, but in that moment he knew: with his mother by his side, hed find a way.
