Youre not my mum!
Youre not my mum! Leave us and my father alone! Go away!
Every girl who ever dreamed of sharing a bed, a loaf of bread and a foldout sofa with Arthur Whitmore had heard it. Little Milly Finch hissed venomously, hurled plush bunnies and, at times, sharp pieces of plastic whenever a hopeful stepmum crossed the threshold of their cramped towerblock fortress. Maybe you should see a therapist with your tantrums, the last woman to try warned, as Milly shattered a porcelain dovestatue against the wall.
Sorry, heaven forgive me. I didnt think shed throw it Arthur muttered, sweeping the trembling head and tail of the dove into a dustpan. I warned you she could never recover from her mothers death
I lost my dog not long ago, but Im not screaming like a madwoman or flinging things!
A dog? You compare losing a mother to a dog?
I loved her. Leave us, you lot of eccentrics.
Sniffing as if catching a foul scent, Milly turned the key hard, then the other way. She slammed the door so loudly that lamps on four floors flickered on in response to the sound.
Darling, why did you do that? Its been almost four yearsdont you see I cant cope alone? Arthur knelt before his daughter.
Dont worry, Ill help you. That aunt isnt needed; shes bad, all of them are bad, Milly whispered, clasping his neck.
Each new day Arthur retreated further into himself. Octobers cold wind seemed to blow yearround, until one day a stranger named Evelyn Clarke warmed his heart. She didnt just warm his heart; she dripped coffee on his trousers in the Underground, stepped on his foot three times, and even fired an umbrella at his eye. All this after a thousand apologies.
Just in case you break your nose or end up painted, Evelyn said, pulling out a second pack of wet wipes to clean his trousers.
Does this happen to you often?
Periodically, she answered without thought.
After that first coffee on the Tube, Arthur invited Evelyn for a second, then a third. She turned out to be a walking magnet for absurd mishaps: a bus door catching her, a neighbours cat scratching half her face, fines for jaywalking like an Olympic champion. Yet Evelyn never seemed to notice, her spirit untouched, never angry. That made Arthur adore her like a schoolboy.
When we get home, ignore her snide remarks. Shes good, I just dont know how to reach her. All these women Im to blame, but
Quiet, breathe deeper, Evelyn soothed, patting his hand as they reached the landing. We dont have to go to your flat. Shall we meet here, on the street?
On the street? Arthur asked.
Yes, you said she gets nervous at home. Plus my boots smell of catsmy neighbour asked me to look after her Maine Coon, but he doesnt like me, she giggled.
Dont worry. Ill bring her in. Arthur pressed the intercom button; as the door buzzed open, he vanished inside.
Evelyn was aimlessly browsing the web when a voice from behind called, Is that your wallet?
Startled, she spun to see a girl of about seven, clutching her wallet, cards and a prescription. Thanks, I almost lost it, the girl smiled.
You should be more careful, the girl tutted.
Why are you alone? Evelyn asked.
Im not; Im with Grandpa Joe and Graham, the girl pointed to an elderly man tinkering under a black foreign car, while a boy of the same age held a wrench.
A parcel fluttered onto Evelyns shoulder from a nearby post.
Oops, a flying rat pooped on you, the girl giggled.
Just a trivial thing, Evelyn said, pulling a pack of wipes from her bag. And those arent rats, theyre pigeons.
The grandpa says theyre rats.
Pigeons are the postmen of the skies, not rats delivering letters to angels, Evelyn declared, and a few pigeons above seemed to listen.
The girl wrapped her head in a scarf.
What if they deliver to ordinary folk instead of angels?
Why not? Just give the right postcode.
Before she could finish, the landing door buzzed open and Arthur stepped out.
There you are! I thought youd been taken. He scooped the girl into his arms.
Grandpa called, you didnt answer. Did you see the note?
Yes, meet Evelyn, Arthur introduced. And this is Milly.
Millys face hardened, her stare scorching Evelyn.
The next half hour was a tableau of awkward silence, conversations stalling like a broken clock.
Sorry, Arthur said as he led Milly home.
Its fine, Evelyn whispered, barely audible.
A week later Evelyn passed the landing and saw Milly hiding behind a bench.
Hey. What are you doing?
Catching pigeons, Milly replied, eyes fixed on a grey bird pecking moldy bread. Oh, youre you she muttered, turning toward Evelyn.
How do you plan to catch it? Evelyn asked, ignoring Millys fierce glare.
With my hands.
Yes, youll catch very little that way. Use a net.
Where will I get one? Milly asked, looking at Evelyn as if she were foolish.
Ill bring one.
Really?
Yes, wait here, feed it, Ill be back from Childrens World and return.
Milly could not answer as Evelyn sprinted to the bus stop, returned forty minutes later with a huge net and a sack of sunflower seeds.
Better to scatter more bait at once, Evelyn said, pouring half the sack onto the pavement. Milly nodded.
Within minutes a grey, cooing blotch covered the sky. Pigeons descended noisily, clustering on the asphalt.
Your turn, Evelyn handed Milly the net.
Milly lunged, flinging the net over the flock, which scattered instantly.
I caught one! I caught one!
Great, now the letter! Evelyn pulled a pigeon from the net.
I havent written it yet
What now? What do we do with it? Milly stared at the pigeon, whose view seemed to span three hundred forty degrees.
Youve created a mess. The pavements now covered in droppings, boomed a cleaning lady, sounding like a kettle about to boil.
Lets go home, Evelyn nudged the girl toward the landing, and they hurried up. Is dad home? Evelyn asked as they reached Millys floor.
Yes. Should we say you came?
No need, Evelyn smiled, sensing the child’s sorrow and mistrust. Were here for something else. Go write the letter, Ill wait on the stairs.
Milly smiled and disappeared into the flat. She returned five minutes later with a bundle of thread.
Shh Evelyn placed a finger to her lips, pointing at the pigeon perched on the windowsill. Millys eyes glittered with excitement.
Evelyn offered the pigeon seeds; it pecked cautiously, then greedily. When the bird finally let its guard down, Evelyn tried to catch it, but the pigeon was quickerthough not smarter. Instead of flying away, it darted straight at Evelyn, shrieking. Feathers struck her eyes, claws scraped her cheeks. She raced around the landing, trying to shake the bird, while neighbours peeked, laughter and curses spilling out.
For ten minutes Evelyn wiped herself and half the floor with wet wipes. The pigeon eventually fled through the window, never trusting humans again. Milly vanished behind a door, reappearing with a bucket of water and a mop.
Thatll be faster, she said, slapping the mop on the floor. The air smelled of damp stone.
Where are you off to, Milly? Arthur appeared in the doorway, looking bewildered at his daughter and Evelyn scrubbing the landing. Whats happening?
Dont ask stupid questions, Evelyn winked.
Yes, dad, you dont need to know everything, Milly muttered.
Alright, I get it, Arthur shut the door.
You know, I wondered why were catching these birds. There are proper pigeon lofts where professional postal birds live, not freelance freelancers, Evelyn said once the floor was clean.
Seriously? Why didnt you say something earlier?
I just forgot. Its been ages since I sent letters to the sky.
Can we visit them? Please! Milly bounced with impatience.
We can, but only tomorrow. Ill pick you up after work, okay?
Yay! Milly squealed.
That evening Evelyn called Arthur, spilling everything.
Do you think its a good idea? When she grows up and understands, she might hold a grudge for the deception.
If I’d been told the truth from childhood, Id probably have gone mad.
Youre right. Are you coming tomorrow without me?
Yes, I think well manage. Shes clever, Id love to talk to her.
Thank you.
The next day Evelyn collected Milly, and they hailed a black cab to the pigeon loft.
Wow, theyre so white and beautiful, Milly cooed, eyeing the birds. Can I pick any? Will it deliver the letter to the right person? Does it have a GPS? I need it to reach my mum.
The key is a correct postcode, Evelyn reminded.
I wrote our home address; its duplicated, right? And I added who the daughter is so the angels dont mix it up, Milly said seriously.
Evelyn handed the keeper a handful of pounds, and they tied the letter to a pigeons leg before releasing it skyward.
Dont mind me, the keeper muttered, wiping tears with his sleeve as he closed the cage.
Thank you, Evelyn, Milly hugged the girl. Evelyn simply stroked the childs hair.
Two days later Arthur called.
Milly says she got a reply from the sky, and it mentions you. Want to read it?
Of course, Ill be there soon.
The news shook Evelyn so much she quit work early, accidentally deleting the project shed been drafting all day.
She raced up to the flat, rang the doorbell. Arthur answered.
Millys out with a neighbours boy in the courtyard. She left a letter on the table, probably too shy to hand it over herself.
Evelyn entered, unfolded a crumpled sheet scrawled in childish handwriting, full of errors:
Thank you, dear, for the letter. I miss you a lot and love you. I think of you and dad every day. I looked at Evelyn; shes nice. She isnt your mum, but you could be friends. Id like that. Your mum.
Evelyn swallowed a lump, barely cursing as the ink began to run.
Looks like she understood, Arthur said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
Evelyn merely nodded, tears still streaming.
I always thought I should find her a mum, but she just needs a friend, because she already has a mum.
I never meant to overstep, she whispered, noticing a pigeon perched outside the window, watching them. It seemed to listen, ready to fly to the heavens and tell the angels what had just happened.
