“Angel with a Hidden Secret”

Angel with a Secret

Aiden sat in his mothers kitchen, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, wearing the kind of smile he hadnt shown since he was fifteen and discovered he could grow sideburns. His eyes glimmered with the daft sort of joy known only to those recently struck by Cupids cheap arrows. Frankly, he just wouldnt shut up about HERthe girl whod suddenly appeared in his otherwise unremarkable life and flipped it over like a pancake at a village fête.

Shes just an absolute angel! he blurted, gazing at his mum with the intensity usually reserved for football finals. I mean, shes so lovely, so kind, proper gorgeous sometimes I catch myself just grinning like a muppet whenever I look at her. But what on earth made her pick me? Im nothing special, not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Across the table sat Marilyn, his long-suffering mother. A gentle, knowing smile crept across her face. Shed noticed the change in Aiden for weeks nowa new bounce in his step, ridiculous optimism, humming along to songs on the radio in a way that could only mean one thing. Now, watching him with all his earnestness, she knew for sure: her boy was absolutely smitten.

Oh Aiden, my darling, youre in love! she laughed, leaning back in her chair with a theatrical sigh. So when am I going to meet this mystery girl of yours, then?

For half a heartbeat, Aiden froze, eyes darting awkwardly at the tables battered surface. He wanted everything to be perfect when his mother met The Girl, wanted her to understand just how wonderful she was.

Hopefully soon, he managed, cheeks colouring. She reckons that meeting family is a really big deal. Wants to make sure were properly together before she meets the parentals, as she puts it.

Marilyn understood, nodding sagely. She knew better than to rush these things. Some relationships just needed to simmer instead of boiling over.

Well, I hope you can talk her round, she replied, reaching out to ruffle his hair as if he were still five.

Aiden ducked away, feigning exasperation. Mum! Cmon, Im a grown man! Youll ruin my hair!

She only cackled and topped up his tea, eyes twinkling with maternal mischief.

You both should come over Saturday, she said, expertly dodging the faux protest. Ill bake a Victoria sponge, really push the boat out. I happen to be child-free in the bookingsdecided I deserve a proper day off.

Aiden paused, weighing up the opportunity. It was an ideal chance for everyone to break the awkward icebesides, he was pretty sure his mothers cake was half the reason for his continued existence.

All right, he agreed, voice ringing with sudden resolve. Ill ask her. Saturdays perfect.

For years, Marilyn had run a small nail salon from her spare rooma bright, comforting space stacked with rainbow nail polishes, files, and that distinctive scent of acetone married to vanilla candles. She had seen all sorts come through the door: timid types whod whisper their requests as if choosing a shade was a matter of national security; chatty ones who shared every detail of their marriages, childhood traumas, and mobile data plans; and even the odd one whod inspect every tool as if it were a relic in the British Museum, making snide remarks about the quality of service.

But one client stood out sharply in Marilyns memory. Her name was Chloea perfectly ordinary name for a perfectly ordinary-looking girl. Well put together, always neat, never garish. She chose gentle pastel shades, never quibbled over the price. Marilyn felt a certain warmth towards hera straightforward, nice sort. Or so she thought.

Once, while Marilyn was painting delicate daisies on Chloes nails, the girl began to talk. Not gossip, just talking. Her voice was steady, her expression unreadable.

Ive got three kids, Chloe mused, inspecting her cuticles as if reciting a list of breakfast cereals.

Marilyns hand stalled, brush poised mid-stroke. Do you really? she asked, mustering her best poker face. And where are they now?

Ones with his dad, ones in care, Chloe replied, as matter-of-fact as discussing the weather. Youngest ones still with me, but not for much longer. Hell be off to foster soon.

The silence that followed was fat and heavy. Marilyn didnt know what to say, but Chloe pressed on.

See, kids are a useful way to set yourself up. You just have to pick the right man, she explained cheerfully, as if sharing a new pension scheme.

Then, she spelled it out. She never actually wanted to settle down. Chloe found well-off men already married or in committed relationships, charmed them, waited for attachments to form, then fell pregnant.

Married blokes are much more generous, Chloe confided, twirling a strand of her hair. They want things quietkeep the wife in the dark, so they shell out. Sometimes its child support, sometimes just a wad of cash to make me disappear. No fuss.

She said it as if she were describing a scone recipe, and the children well, they were a means to an end. When their role was done, they became a burden.

Thats how Ive sorted my life, she concluded, reading the unspoken shock on Marilyns face. No trace of guilt or doubt. You can judge me, I really dont mind. Ive a flat in Central London, a posh car and my own beauty business, all before I hit twenty-five. Whatve you got? Youre twice my age and spend your time pampering girls like me! I probably tip more in cafés than you earn in a week!

Her words cut deep, but Marilyn steeled herself. She drew a deep breath and asked quietly, But theyre your children. How can you just give them up?

Chloe smirked dismissively. Its a hassle, raising kids. Ive got no time for that. Theyll be better off in care. Maybe someone nice will adopt them and pretend to love them. I wont. Im not mum material. Changing nappies, being woken at nightnot for me.

There was no fighting it, that cool determination. Chloe slouched in her chair, adjusting her designer sleeve as if discussing a new gel polish, not the abandonment of her own kids.

Marilyn set her tools down, her insides a whirl of disbelief and pity, but what could she say? Arguments seemed so pointless.

You really think thats the right choice? Marilyn managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Chloe just laughed. The right choice is what makes my life more comfortable. The rest doesnt matter.

Marilyn watched her, stunned. She wanted an explanation for this cold logic, but Chloe just shrugged.

It all sort of happened by accident, really, Chloe recounted, examining her nails. I was nineteen, proper infatuatedlike, ready to do anything for this man. Turned out he was married. I kept the baby, too late not to, and he sorted me out with a flat just to keep me quiet. Took the kid, tooLord knows what he told his wife.

She paused, then stiffened her jaw, an air of practiced defiance.

Thats when I realised: why not use it? I dont need anyone now, really. I run my own business, make my own money. So maybe Ill meet someone decent and play mum for real someday. For now, Im happy.

But in her eyes there flashed somethingperhaps regret, expertly camouflaged.

Marilyn finished the manicure, desperate to keep her gaze on Chloes fingers. The words she wanted to hurlraw and unsanitisedfought to get out. But she bit her tongue.

Youre not worried your past will catch up with you? she finally asked, not with malice, but with aching sadness. I cant call what youve done anything but cruel.

Chloe gave a chilly half-smile. Ive covered my tracks. Moved miles from where I started. No witnesses. Friends know nothing, and my mother wants nothing to do with mefrankly, the feelings mutual. Wholl tell? You? Her raised eyebrow was pure challenge.

Marilyn felt her heart contract. She set her tools down and straightened up.

Ive better things to do than watch your businessheavens, Ive got enough drama! she retorted, stiff-backed with dignity. This is your life. But let me say this: secrets never stay buried. Sooner or later, something always comes out.

Then she switched to business mode, clipped and brisk. All finished. Everything all right?

Chloe inspected her nails, searching for flaws, but found none. Fine, she said, cool as a cucumber, fishing out crisp twenty-pound notes. I wont be back. Have a good lifeor whatever. Goodbye!

She flounced out, bag slung over one shoulder, leaving an odd silence in her wake.

Marilyn collected her tools, lost in thoughtabout Chloe, about her children, about the baffling ways people defined happiness and responsibility.

True to her word, Chloe never returned. Marilyn tried her best to forget. After all, everyone must walk their own pathand live with the consequences.

**********************

For weeks, Marilyn pondered the best way to meet the possible future daughter-in-law. Their poky London flat felt inadequate for something so momentous. No, her cottage in the Cotswoldsnow that was the place. A little country air, roses nodding in the breeze, roast chicken sizzling away, strawberries and cream on mismatched plates. The sort of idyllic English setting where even awkward small talk is dissolved by birdsong and the occasional sheep bleat.

The big day arrived. Marilyn was a flurry of energy: dusting, putting wildflowers in jam jars, checking on the pudding. She checked her watch every three minutes at least. It wasnt just an introduction; it was a sign her son was growing up, taking things seriouslyand might, at last, have found the one.

Aiden was as jittery as a cat in a thunderstorm. He fettled the dodgy gate, swept the path, rearranged chairs on the patio four times, and interrogated his mother: Do I look okay? Is the shirt all right? What if she hates chicken? Do we have vegan sausages? Marilyn beamed at him, resisting the temptation to record him for later blackmail.

Youre perfect, darling. Just breathe.

The clock inevitably ticked to the moment. Aiden vanished to fetch Chloeyes, Chloeand Marilyn, left alone, gave the room another nervous tidy. The vases, the cake stand, the scent of fresh bread and English roseseverything ready. She knew Aiden had even bought a ringhed shown her, practically glowing with hope.

Half an hour later, she stood by the front gate, craning to spot their car. Aiden pulled up, smart shirt crisp, hair combed within an inch of its life. He crossed to open the passenger door.

From the car emerged a vision: long-legged blonde, blue eyes shining (even behind sunglasses half the size of Cornwall), wearing a crisp white summer dress. Hair bouncing, dress fluttering, a Pinterest fever dream of English loveliness.

Aiden took her hand, leading her up the path. Marilyn watched, heart in her mouth. Something seemed vaguely familiar about Chloe, but the sunglasses were a good disguise. She really does look angelic, Marilyn thought, recalling Aidens rhapsodies.

Mum, this is Chloe, Aiden introduced proudly.

Marilyn, determined to be welcoming, smiled warmly, ready to remark on that perfect white dress, but Chloe halted abruptly. She slipped off her sunglasses, eyes meeting Marilyns.

In that instant, Marilyn knew. It was the same girl, the one whose stories still haunted her quietest moments.

Chloe turned to Aiden, her lips trembling, but what she said was decisivealmost brutal: We need to break up.

Aidens face went white. He reached for her arm, unbelieving. Butwhy? Whats happened? We

I dont want to explain, Chloe replied, voice clipped. Its just over.

Without waiting, she whirled and strode away, heading back down the garden path. Aiden and Marilyn stood frozen in shock.

In seconds, a passing taxi paused; Chloe flagged it down and was gone, not looking back.

Aiden slumped onto the garden steps, shoulders caved, face hollow. Marilyn joined him, laying a hand on his arm, but he didnt respond.

Now Marilyn understood. Her own warning to Chloe months beforeSecrets always come out, no matter how much you try to cover your trackshad proved prophetic. Was it just chance that Chloe had found her way into Aidens life? Or was fate simply bored, orchestrating cruel plot twists for its own amusement?

Marilyn watched the car vanish down the lane. Her heart ached for her son. Words wouldnt be enough nowhed need time, and lots of it, to heal from this.

***********************

The peace of a long summer evening felt leaden, not soothing. Somewhere a dog barked, making Aiden flinch. He gazed at Marilyn, grief and confusion written all over him, looking far more like a little boy than a man of twenty-five.

He sat unmoving, eyes fixed on the horizon, utterly oblivious to the beauty around him. Inside, emptiness pressed in.

Marilyn quietly joined him on the steps, content just to be there, like back in the days when Aiden turned up weeping with a grazed knee or a broken toy.

After a long silence, broken only by a blackbird in the apple tree, Aiden rasped, Mum why? Why does this always happen? I thoughtI did everything for her.

Marilyn sighed, honesty her only choice. Aiden, love I know this wont be easy. But I have to tell youIve met Chloe before.

He turned, confusion in his eyes. You what? Where?

She came here for her nails, Marilyn said softly. A few months ago. And she told me all about herself. About her life.

Aiden was silent, but his knuckles blanched.

Shes got children, Aiden. Three. Ones with his father, another is in a care home, and the youngest well, she plans to put him there too. For her, children are a way to well, secure her future. She never wanted to be a mum, she just wanted safety. After, she takes the money, disappears, and leaves the children behind.

The truth landed dead heavy. Aidens face turned ashen, but he listened until she was done.

When I saw her today, I realised at once. She recognised me too. Thats why she left so quickly.

For a while, only the sounds of the summer evening broke the silence: a car rumbled by, a fox yipped in the distant field.

But how? She was always so kind. She wanted the same things I did. I bought her a ring

His voice broke. Marilyn squeezed his hand.

I know, sweetheart. I know youre hurting. But better now than years down the line, when it could all fall apart.

Aiden buried his face in his hands. Marilyn hugged him, holding her grown son like she used to after his first playground heartbreaks.

Cry if you need to, love. Theres no shame. It will liftslowly, but it will.

He didnt cry, just leaned on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, mind flicking back to the dozens of times shed comforted him over grazes and bullies.

Why do people do these things? Aiden murmured. Why play with others feelings?

Not everyone, darling, she replied. But some just cant love. They want comfort first and foremost, nothing messy.

Aiden pulled back, wiping his eyes. The pain was still there, but maybejust maybea sliver of understanding glinted through.

So she was lying all along?

Yes. But you mustnt blame yourself. Some people are just incapable of honest love.

The sun had finally dropped behind the trees; dusk settled over the cottage garden. Marilyn stood and offered her hand.

Come inside. Lets have some tea. Well chat, put the world to rights. Tomorrows another day, love. Tonight youre allowed to be sad. But it will pass. Promise.

Aiden nodded. He didnt know how to start over just yet, but with his mum there, for the first time, it didnt feel completely hopeless.