“An Angel with a Secret”
Martin sat at his mums kitchen table, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and every now and then a dreamy grin would cross his face. He couldn’t stop talking about HER the girl who’d only just entered his life, turning it completely upside down.
Shes honestly an angel! he exclaimed with passion, meeting his mothers eyes, his voice positively brimming with admiration. So lovely, so kind, and beautiful I just cant believe she picked me. Im just an ordinary bloke. Nothing special.
Margaret, sitting opposite, listened to her son with a gentle, knowing smile. Shed noticed Martin had changed lately brighter, almost like something inside him had been lit. Now, seeing him so, she was convinced: her son was truly in love.
Oh, my boy, you’re head over heels! she laughed, pushing herself back in her chair. When am I going to meet this mystery girl of yours?
Martin hesitated for a moment, glancing down, the excitement mingling with a thread of nervousness. He wanted everything to go perfectly, wanted his mum to see how wonderful this woman was.
Hopefully soon, he replied, looking up. Im just waiting for her to say shes ready. Apparently, meeting the parents is a really major step for her wants to make sure our feelings are real first.
Margaret nodded, understanding the girls caution. She knew how vital it was not to rush these things, to let a relationship breathe and develop in its own time.
Well, I hope youll convince her, she said softly, reaching over and affectionately ruffling his carefully styled hair.
Martin recoiled, pretending to be annoyed.
Mum, what are you doing? he declared in mock outrage, trying to smooth out his hair. Im not a kid anymore!
Margaret laughed, her eyes alight with warmth and affection.
Come round on Saturday, she suggested, steering away from their little squabble. Ill bake a cake. I havent got anyone booked in, so I thought Id give myself a day off.
Martin mulled it over, weighing up pros and cons. He realised it would be a perfect opportunity a first step toward the introduction his mother had been longing for.
All right, he agreed at last, resolve in his tone. Ill see if I can persuade her. Saturday sounds good.
For years, Margaret had worked from home as a nail technician. Her snug little room doubled as a mini salon: a neat table loaded with tools, shelves lined with a rainbow of polishes, and a comfy chair for clients. Over time, shed met hundreds of girls and women of every sort. Each brought their own story, their moods, their quirks.
Some were shy and barely dared to describe the design they wanted, while others would launch into booming monologues about life before taking off their coats. A few were imperious, scrutinising each instrument or making catty remarks about the job. But Margaret always found a way with them polite but firm when setting boundaries, ready to listen, or to nudge the chat back to neutral ground when needed.
But there was one client she remembered more vividly than the rest. Her name was Daisy an unassuming girl at first glance. Always smartly dressed, never flashy. She spoke quietly, looked people squarely in the eye, and smiled a little, almost shy smile. She came regularly, picked pastel colours, and never quibbled over price. Margaret even felt a fondness for her she seemed so simple and kind, drama-free.
But once, as Margaret was carefully painting on Daisys chosen design, the young woman suddenly started talking. Calmly, as if pondering aloud, she began telling her story. With each word, Margarets view of her changed.
Ive got three kids, Daisy remarked in a matter-of-fact way, studying her nails.
Margaret froze, file in hand, not having expected that.
Really? she asked gently, trying to mask her surprise. Where are they?
Ones with his father, ones in care, Daisy replied, just as calmly. And the youngest is with me. But hell be off to a foster home soon.
A heavy pause filled the room. Margaret tried to process this, and Daisy continued as if discussing the weather.
You see, children are a good way to get a foothold in life. The real keys picking the right man.
She laid out her strategy in detail, completely unembarrassed. Marriage was never her goal. She looked for men with money often attached, usually with their own families. Shed seduce them, wait for things to get serious, and then have a child.
If a mans married, hes much more generous, Daisy explained, fixing a strand of hair. He doesnt want drama. Hes terrified his wife might find out. So he pays maintenance, hush money, whatever it takes so Ill leave him alone.
She described it all breezily, almost as if she were sharing a baking tip. To her, the child produced this way was simply a tool once they’d served their purpose, they became a burden.
Its my way of getting ahead, she said quietly, directly, as if she could read Margarets thoughts. I know you might judge me. But by 25 I had my own flat in the city centre, a nice car, a little business bringing in good money. What do you have? Not much, really. Youre twice my age, spending your days servicing women like me! I probably spend more in a coffee shop than you make in a week.
Her words cut deep, but Margaret kept her composure. Instead, she sighed and quietly but firmly asked:
But theyre your children, your own flesh and blood. How can you just leave them?
Her voice trembled with genuine confusion. How could anyone walk away from the most precious thing a person can have a piece of themselves, a small pair of eyes that call you Mum?
Daisy only shrugged, a wry smile on her lips.
Kids need raising, and I dont have time for that. Theyre better off in care maybe a good family will adopt them. Some woman will be their mother, but it wont be me.
She said this in the same tone one might use to discuss the weather or a new polish. Margaret shivered, and Daisy, catching her look, snapped:
Dont look at me like that! I never wanted to be a mum. Im not cut out for it. Changing nappies, sleepless nights, all the noise Not for me!
There was no trace of regret, just cool stubbornness. She leaned back, recrossed her legs, tweaked the sleeve of her expensive jumper, as if what shed just revealed was no more significant than a new shade of varnish.
Margaret slowly put down her tools, her emotions warring inside shock, pity, even anger. But what to do? Words would change nothing.
Do you really think thats the right way? she asked quietly, still hoping for even a flicker of doubt.
Daisy merely laughed.
The right way is whatever gets me comfort and plenty. Everything else doesnt matter.
Margaret couldnt hide her shock. She looked at Daisy, trying to see something, anything, that might explain such calculated coldness. It was simply inconceivable to talk like that about your own children.
How did you even come to this? she blurted out, her voice full of baffled pain.
Daisy just shrugged, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. For some reason, she felt like baring her soul today. Why not? No point telling her friends theyd just judge. And this woman shed never see her again. Daisy would just find another technician money was no concern. Pity, really; Margaret did a great job. But she wasnt the only skilled one in town. Odd, though, how home salons often beat the big-name ones for care.
It just sort of happened, Daisy said, gazing at her nails. I was nineteen, and I fell for a bloke. Hopelessly, I’d have done anything for him! Turned out he was married. I was just a fleeting bit of fun for him.
She paused, reliving it. Margaret didn’t interrupt.
By the time I found out, I was four months along. Too late to well, you know. So I had the baby. The fella gave me a flat just didn’t want any trouble, didnt want his life ruined. He even took the boy himself no idea how he explained that to his wife.
Her voice was icy, matter-of-fact.
And then I realised this was my shot at a comfortable life. Why not take whats handed to you?
She grew silent for a moment. It was harder than shed thought, pouring it all out, pretending nothing about it mattered. Somewhere deep inside, something still stirred something she smothered behind that brash mask.
Now I support myself fully, she said more firmly, almost as if trying to convince herself as well. Dont need anyones help! Maybe one day Ill meet a proper chap, get married, have a couple of gorgeous kids, live happily ever after.
She said it with a smile, as though painting a perfect future in her imagination. But for a moment, something unreadable flickered in her eyes before her confidence returned.
Margaret kept her attention on Daisy’s hands, focusing on her work, afraid her face might betray her thoughts. Inside, a storm raged: she wanted to say all she really thought, to call things by their name. But she held back, gripping her file.
Arent you scared shell find out? About what you did? I cant call it anything but cruel, she finally managed, her voice more sad than cross.
Daisy smirked, tossing her head back, a cold, defiant sparkle in her eyes.
Ive covered my tracks well, she replied coolly. I moved to the other end of the country. No witnesses. My mates havent a clue. My mum wants nothing to do with me frankly, I dont care about her either. And who could tell? You? she added, with obvious sarcasm, staring at Margaret.
Margarets insides twisted. She set the nail file down and sat up straight.
As if Ive nothing better to do than follow you and your boyfriends about! Id never gossip, she snapped, hurt rising in her chest. Its your life. But heres a bit of advice. Secrets always find a way out. No matter how careful you are, something always surfaces.
She stopped, took a deep breath, and switched to business.
Im finished. Is everything all right for you?
Daisy didnt answer straight away. She examined her nails, running a finger over the perfectly smooth polish searching for a fault, but there was none; Margarets work was always impeccable.
All right, she said coldly, pulling out some notes and laying them on the table. I wont be coming again. Ill find someone else. Goodbye. Actually, farewell is better!
Her voice was firm, and she shouldered her handbag, heading for the door. Margaret watched her go in silence.
The door clicked. The only sound was the ticking of the kitchen clock. Margaret tidied her tools away, her mind full of Daisy, her children, and the different ways people could understand happiness and duty.
Daisy really never did return. Occasionally, Margaret thought of her, but tried not to dwell. Everyone charts their own path, she reminded herself and carries their own consequences.
*************
Margaret had been mulling over how best to arrange a meeting with her possible future daughter-in-law. The city flat seemed too small and everyday. But the cottage outside town now that was just the setting! Fresh air, garden greenery, summer scents. An open-air table, some sausages on the grill, the gazebo perfect for a relaxed and friendly first meeting.
When the day arrived, Margaret was busy from dawn: dusting, arranging flowers, making sandwiches. She kept checking the time, her nerves mounting. This wasnt just a meet-and-greet; it was a sign that her son had grown, that his feelings were true, and he might have found the one.
Martin was every bit as unsettled. He bustled round the garden, fixing the gate, sweeping the path, shifting deckchairs into neater lines. He kept asking, Is everything all right, Mum? Have I forgotten anything? Anything else I can do? Margaret just smiled, telling him, Its all perfect, love. Stop worrying. But inside, she too trembled.
Finally, when it was time, Martin slipped on a fresh shirt, tidied his hair, and said:
Right, Im off to pick up Daisy. Back in half an hour.
Ill be waiting, Margaret replied, trying to disguise her nerves.
Alone, she glanced round the place: the cloth on the table, a bowl of ripe fruit, a bouquet of wild flowers. Everything was warm and welcoming. Margaret took a long breath to steady herself. This was the first time her son had taken a relationship so seriously. Before, he rarely brought a girl home and if he did, it was brief, nothing special. Today, though, hed even bought a ring. Margaret knew; hed confessed the night before, beaming with happiness.
Half an hour slipped by fast. Margaret stood at the gate, peering down the lane. At last, Martins car appeared. He got out, then opened the passenger door. Out stepped a slender girl blonde, blue-eyed, in a simple white summer dress. The breeze played with her dress and hair as she crossed the garden.
Martin took her hand, leading her to the house. Margaret couldnt help admiring them: her son looked truly happy, and the young woman beside him was so graceful, so light she almost seemed unreal.
As they neared, Margaret peered into Daisys face. Something seemed familiar, but the huge sunglasses made it hard to see her features. Like an angel, Margaret thought exactly like her son had described.
Mum, this is Daisy, Martin said gently, nudging the girl forward.
Margaret stood on the porch, ready to make some kind remark about how lovely Daisy looked in her white dress, but then the girl suddenly froze.
Her movements became slow, mechanical. She took off her sunglasses, and at that instant Margaret saw those eyes the same ones that had one day met her from across the nail table.
Daisy turned to Martin. Her lips trembled, but her voice was ice.
We need to break up.
Martin blanched, stepping toward her, reaching out as if to hold onto her, but Daisy pulled away.
Why? he whispered in disbelief. Whats happened? We were just
Im not explaining, she said flatly. Its just over.
She spun round and strode to the gate without waiting for a response. Margaret and Martin stood in shock, unable to move.
Moments later, they heard a car slow on the lane. Daisy climbed in without looking back.
Martin slumped onto the front step, shoulders hunched, his stare empty. Margaret went to sit beside her son, laying a hand on his shoulder, but he didnt react.
And Margaret saw it all. Her own words, spoken to Daisy months before, echoed in her mind: Secrets always come out one way or another, no matter how well you try to hide them.
Now they felt dreadfully real. Was it fate that Daisy had chosen her son, out of all the men in England? Or just a cruel twist that shattered Martins happiness in an instant?
Margaret watched the dust settle on the lane, heart heavy for her son. He needed no comforting words, just time time to accept what had happened, and find the way forward
********************
The evening, so peaceful before, now pressed down oppressively. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, making Martin shudder. He looked up at his mum, eyes clouded with pain and confusion like a boy unable to make sense of a suddenly cruel world.
He sat staring at the stone path, oblivious to the beauty of the sunset. Inside, he was numb no tears, no rage, just a heavy emptiness.
Margaret sat quietly beside him. She didnt force conversation, just stayed close warm, solid, as she had when he was small and came to her with scraped knees and playground sorrows.
A long time passed before Martin finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
Mum Why? Just tell me why does the world work like this? I I did everything for her.
Margaret drew a deep breath. Now, she knew, was a time for honesty however harsh.
Son, she started carefully. I need to tell you something. Ive seen that girl before.
Martin turned sharply, confusion flickering in his eyes.
When? Where?
She came to me for a manicure. Months ago. And she told me about her life.
Margaret hesitated, steadying herself. Martin said nothing, but sat rigid, braced for what was coming.
She has children, Martin. Three. Ones with his father, another in care, and a third with her but she said hed be given up soon as well. She she never wanted to be a mother. For her, children are just a way to get money, a flat, an easy life. She finds wealthy men, has their babies, then gets payouts and disappears.
Her words fell like stones. Martins face grew whiter, hands clenched tight.
The minute I saw her today, I knew. And, I think, she recognised me too. She realised I knew her secret and thats why she left so suddenly.
They sat in silence, the air thick with it. Somewhere, a dog barked, a car rolled past, but neither noticed.
But how? Martin finally whispered. She was so gentle, so thoughtful. We were making plans. I bought her a ring
His voice faltered. Margaret reached out, pressing his hand firmly.
I know, love. I know it hurts. But its better you found out now, rather than much later when it wouldve been even worse.
Martin buried his face in his hands. At first, he sat motionless; then his shoulders began to tremble. Margaret pulled him close, hugging him as if he were still the little boy seeking comfort after playground upsets.
Cry if you need to, she murmured. Its all right. The pain will pass. Slowly, but it will pass.
He didnt cry only sat huddled against her, as she stroked his hair, remembering the younger Martin whod sought her arms for solace.
Why are people like this? he whispered after a time. Why do they play with other peoples feelings?
Not everyone, Margaret said. But some just cant love. Theyre after security, comfort Real feelings are alien to them.
Martin sat up, wiping his eyes. The pain hadnt gone, but reality was beginning to take hold.
So she was lying all along?
Yes. And its not your fault. You just trusted someone who didnt know how to love honestly.
With the last thread of sunlight fading and dusk wrapping round the quiet cottage, Margaret stood, tugged her sons hand.
Come on in. Lets have a cup of tea. You need to talk it all out. And then Well, then youll turn the page. I promise things will get better. Just not tonight. Tonight, its all right to be sad.
Martin nodded. He didnt know just how to move on yet but with his mum by his side, he knew hed find the strength.
