She didn’t really want her latte but she sipped it anyway. Her stomach was in knots and it was making her feel queasy. A few couples walked in, and she looked away before they could see the desperation in her eyes. Checking her phone to see if he’d messaged to cancel, there wasn’t anything since he’d said he’d meet her here.
The door jingled once more and this time there was a handsome young man standing there looking around, scanning the tables that were mainly couples and friends meeting forcoffee. Eventually his gaze fell on her. She was the only person sitting on their own, and he smiled, mouthing, ‘Angela?’
She smiled, nodding emphatically. Her eyes filling with tears she had to bite the inside of her cheek to try and stop them from spilling down her face and making him run a mile before they’d even had the chance to talk.
He walked over to her and pulled out a chair. ‘Can I get you a fresh coffee?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m good, thanks, let me get yours?’
‘No, it’s okay. Won’t be a minute, I’m on a quick break and need some brain fuel. It’s been one hell of a day so far.’
He joined the queue, and she had to stop herself from watching him like some crazy stalker. He was wearing a smart suit, white shirt with a brightly coloured tie. He looked so handsome and unfortunately a lot like Jonathan did when he had dressed up for important client meetings at the office. He shared the same coloured eyes as his father and wore his hair in a similar style to how Jonathan had back when they were married. Angela couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever questioned the striking similarities between himself and his uncle Jonathan because he looked nothing like Susan or Jim. Why would he? He wasn’t their baby, he was hers and Jonathan’s that thought sent a fresh wave of pain through her heart. But he was here now and like it or not, regardless of the consequences, she was going to tell him the truth, no matter how painful it was.
He carried a tray over with a cappuccino and two pieces of flapjack, passing one to Angela.
‘I don’t want to eat on my own, but the flapjack is amazing. It’s better than Mum’s and she could cook a mean chocolate flapjack.’
Angela nodded. ‘Susan was always very good at baking. She could put her hand to any recipe and it always tasted good.’
She reached out her hand. ‘Angela.’
He took it and shook it gently. ‘Hi, Angela, secret wife of stuffy Uncle Jonathan who I never knew existed. Who knew, eh, after all this time?’
She smiled. ‘He was stuffy, wasn’t he?’
He laughed. ‘He really was, such a stick in the mud, in his own words. I’m intrigued, what can I do for you? I mean, I don’t know if I can be of any use to you. I didn’t really see much of him; he was always working and rarely came to Mum’s unless it was Christmas and he had to put in an appearance. Why did you guys divorce and why did I not know you existed?’
She took a gulp of the lukewarm latte and found it hard to swallow. The liquid felt as if it had turned to stone. ‘It was complicated, one day he decided he hated me a lot, so he threw me out and that was that.’
He was nodding at her. ‘Yeah, I can see him doing that. If you didn’t serve a purpose, he wouldn’t want you hanging around. What did you do, though, Angela? Why did he hate you? I mean, he wasn’t the nicest of people, but I don’t see him turning on you out of the blue for no good reason.’
She felt beads of perspiration beginning to form on her brow. She couldn’t talk about it here, in public, when she hadn’t spent more than five minutes in his company. What had she been thinking? This was so unfair to him.
‘It was so awful, I can’t really talk about it here. I just wanted to meet you in person that’s all, sorry. I know I sound like a weirdo, and I apologise for dragging you here and wasting your time.’
He pushed half of his flapjack into his mouth, nodding his head.
‘There is some big secret then?’
Suddenly Angela didn’t want to be here, she was in too deep. All she could do was nod her head.
He smiled at her. ‘I think I know what you’re going to tell me, so why don’t I tell you what I’m thinking, and you can say if I’m right or if I’m completely wrong.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Are you my birth mum?’
A high-pitched gasp escaped her lips, but she nodded. The word didn’t want to come out, and she had to force it. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re right, we shouldn’t have this conversation in public. Would you like to come to my flat? I’ll let work know I’m taking the rest of the day off and I can make us some supper. I cook a mean Bolognese, we can talk in private, and you can explain to me everything that I’ve been puzzling over the last couple of months. How does that sound?’
‘You’re not angry?’
‘Why would I be angry? There must be a very good reason that you weren’t involved in my entire life up to now, and I would bet anything it had to do with Susan, Jim and Jonathan. If you didn’t meet their expectations, then you were surplus to requirements and if there was a good reason for Susan to take me in, it must have meant you needed help, and I bet none of those three offered it to you.’
Angela couldn’t speak; she pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. ‘I’ve longed for this moment all of my life.’
‘Then you better not say no to my Bolognese because you owe me that at least.’ He winked at her, and she laughed.
