She Becomes a Cleaning Lady and, in Her Boss’s Bedroom, Stumbles Upon a Framed Photo of Her Mother

Emily had just been hired as a cleaner in London and was heading to her first job. It was a grand townhouse in Kensington, but something unsettled herin the study, a framed photograph of her mother sat on the mantelpiece. Then a man walked in.

“Ill do a brilliant job,” Emily repeated to herself for courage. She and her friend Sophie had moved to London days earlier to chase their dreams of performing in the West End.

But first, they needed work to afford rent. By luck, Sophie got a job in a boutique, and Emily signed on with a cleaning agency. It was perfectnot too time-consuming, and she liked the soothing rhythm of tidying. If the house was empty, she could even practise singing.

Just before stepping inside, her mothers face flashed in her mind. Her mum, Margaret, had hated the idea of her pursuing such dreams, let alone living in London.

Emily had grown up in Manchester, not so far away. She had no father, and her mother never spoke of him. For reasons unknown, Margaret despised London. Shed smothered Emily her whole life, pushing her to run away.

When she and Sophie planned their escape, Emily knew her mother would never allow it. She half-expected Margaret to fake an illness to stop her. But this was her life, her fight. So she left a note on her mothers dressing table while she slept and fled.

Days had passed without a call, which was odd. Emily assumed she was just furious. Maybe shed forgive her once Emily made her West End debut. For now, she focused on cleaning.

The agency said an older man lived here alone, so it wasnt too messy. Emily used the key hidden under the doormat and got to workkitchen first, then the sitting room, before moving to the bedroom.

She paused at the studys threshold, solemn and book-lined, but no rules barred her from entering. She avoided disturbing the desk and kept cleaning.

A grand fireplace dominated the room, shelves above it, and towering bookcases lined the walls. The sort of study Emily had only seen in films.

She tidied swiftly, then froze at the mantel. Several photos sat there, but one seized herher mothers face. She looked decades younger, but it was undeniably her. “Why is my mums photo in this mans house?” she whispered.

Footsteps sounded, and an older man entered. “Ah, hello! You must be the new cleaner. Im Edward Whitmore. This is my home,” he said warmly. “Nearly finished here?”

“Almost, sir. Butmay I ask something?” She hesitated, fearing his reaction. “Whos this woman?”

“Who?” He stepped closer, adjusting his glasses. “Ah. Thats Margaret. She was the love of my life.”

Emilys pulse spiked. “What happened?”

“She died in a coach crash. She was pregnant at the time. I couldnt even attend the funeralher mother loathed me. It was madness. I tried to move on, but… I never did. I still love her,” Edward said, removing his glasses before sitting heavily.

“Sir, Im sorry for prying, but… this woman looks exactly like my mother. Its uncanny,” Emily admitted.

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, my mum, Margaret, is her double. Older, of course, but the resemblance is staggering. Im 98% sure its her,” she said, turning to Edward as she pointed at the photo.

“Margaret? Your mothers name is Margaret? Where did you grow up?”

“Manchester,” she replied, shrugging. Then her eyes widenedif this was Margaret, this man could be her father.

Edward covered his mouth. “It cant be…” he breathed. “May I have your mothers number?”

“Of course,” she said, handing it over.

“Would you stay while I call?” he asked. Emily nodded.

He dialled on the desk phone, and after a few rings, her mothers voice answered. “Hello? Emily, is that you?”

Edward glanced at Emily, then spoke. “Is this Margaret Hayes?”

“Yes. Whos calling?” Margarets tone sharpened.

“Margaret, its Edward,” he said, voice already shaking.

“Edward who? WaitEdward Carlisle? What could you possibly want after all these years?” Margaret snapped, her voice hardening inexplicably.

Emily and Edward exchanged bewildered looks, but he pressed on. “What do you mean, after all these years? I thought you were dead!”

“What?”

Edward explained the supposed crash, how hed lost his fiancée and their unborn child. He added that Margarets mother had barred him from the funeral and refused to speak to him afterward. But Margaret had no idea what he was talking aboutshe told her side.

“Mum told me you called to say you wanted nothing more to do with me. So I raised my daughter alone,” Margaret revealed, leaving Emily stunned.

“That isnt true. Margaret, Id never have left you. I never moved on. I thought of you every day. I grieved you. I ached for you and our child for twenty years,” Edward said. Margaret was silent.

“I cant believe Mum would do that. But it sounds like her. I dont know what to do now,” Margaret finally said. “Waithow did you find out Im alive?”

“Mum, Im here,” Emily cut in. She hurriedly explained and reassured her she was fine in London.

“I can hardly believe this. And I cant even ask Mum why she did itshes been gone for years. Anyway, when are you coming home, Emily?” Margarets voice turned stern.

“Im not coming back until Ive made it in the West End. And now… well, Ive got another reason to stay,” Emily said, smiling faintly at Edward.

“Fine. But Im coming to London soon,” Margaret said before hanging up. Edward and Emily stared at each other in silence.

“So… I suppose youre my dad,” she said lightly. He burst out laughing, breaking the tension.

Whats the lesson here?

Let your children chase their dreams. Emily ran away because her mother smothered her. Guide them, but let them choose their path.

Some parents dont act in your best interest. Margarets mother committed an awful betrayal, and theyll never know why.