The Unconventional Angel

About the author

Award winning author, Nicola May lives in Ascot in Berkshire. Her hobbies include watching films that involve a lot of swooning, crabbing in South Devon, eating flapjacks and enjoying a flutter on the horses.

Also by Nicola May

Working it Out

Star Fish

Better Together

The School Gates

The Bow Wow Club

First published in Great Britain
by Nowell Publishing 2013
Copyright © Nicola May 2013
Nicola May has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Acts 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously.

For Philip

You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience.

You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience.

Teilhard de Chardin

Prologue

‘So you decide today of all days to tell me you are shagging that moth-eaten bag of fleas of a secretary of yours? How bloody clichéd.’

‘I couldn’t keep it in any longer.’

‘Well, that’s obvious!’

‘The guilt was tearing me apart.’

‘Oh, how my heart bleeds for you, Darren. I’m so pleased you have relieved yourself of that terrible burden – thanks for that.’

‘It just… well, it just sort of happened.’

‘How long has it been going on?’ Evie’s voice had taken on an animalistic growl. ‘In fact, don’t even answer that, I don’t actually care.’ She stormed towards the kitchen door and let out a tumultuous sneeze.

‘Bless you.’

Evie swung around. ‘Don’t you fucking bless me, you conniving little shit.’ She put on an affected voice. ‘Oh, Evie, I really must stay over here, there, everywhere. Accounts to sort, juniors to fire. NO, Darren. Staff to UNDRESS more like!’ Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. ‘Just fuck off, pack a bag and fuck off.’

Darren reappeared in the kitchen in what seemed like seconds with a large black suitcase on wheels.

‘Oh, you’d already packed – silly me. As if you really would have thrown this one on me the day before Christmas Eve with no place to go. Not Darren Connors. He would always make sure number one was all right.’

Darren sighed and ran his hands through his blond floppy fringe.

‘Evie, shit happens. There wasn’t a day we weren’t arguing lately. I think if we’re honest, we both knew we were on borrowed time. ‘

Evie blew her nose loudly. ‘But I never thought you’d be unfaithful,’ she whispered, suddenly feeling too full of cold and too upset to fight.

‘Oh, Evie.’ Darren went to put his hand on her shoulder.

‘Don’t Evie me. Just go, Darren. I mean, what else is there to say, really?’

The lanky cleanshaven blond guy shrugged, picked his mail up from the side and shoved it in his pocket.

‘So where are you going to live? ’Cos you’re sure as hell not coming back here.’ Evie sniffed loudly. ‘Actually, don’t answer that either. I really don’t want to know.’

Darren guiltily bit his lip.

‘How do you think I am going to be able to afford this place on my own?’ Evie’s voice had gone up an octave. ‘I have just lost my bloody job – or had that slipped your tiny mind?’

‘I’m sorry, Evie, I know the timing’s not great, but you always fall on your feet – and anyway, I’m not your bloody meal ticket.’

Evie gasped, then remained open-mouthed as her boyfriend of two years carried on briskly, ‘Look, I’ve left a month’s rent in the pot, thought that’ll give you time to sort yourself out. Get a lodger in maybe? I’ll come and fetch the rest of my bits after Christmas.’

Overwhelmed with emotion, Evie’s face contorted and she threw a massive fake smile. ‘How very thoughtful of you, dear.’ Then, gritting her teeth in anger, ‘I hope Santa falls down the chimney and squashes you both to death.’

With that, she watched the man, formerly known as her lover, drag his cheating carcass and bulging case down the front path – and out of her life forever.

Chapter One

‘Yes, I did say sherry.’ Evie looked at the young barman in front of her and added impatiently. ‘Blue bottle Bristol Cream if you’ve got it. With ice, yes, thanks.’

She raised her hand as she saw Bea approaching through the Christmas revellers. From the outside looking in, they were a strange pair. Bea, five foot ten, with gangly limbs and long dark shiny hair, and Evie, five foot four, with her blonde curls and curvy hour-glass figure.

They had become thick as thieves at a previous employ – mainly due to Evie nervously covering up Bea’s scandalous relationship with the CEO of a rival company. Which (as most affairs do) ended in a sea of tears.

‘You look like shit, Evie.’

Evie’s blonde curls were more unruly than usual and her nose was red from blowing it.

‘And good evening to you too, dear friend.’ Evie managed a smile. ‘It’s this bloody cold. I need medicine.’

‘Lucky they’ve got it here then.’ Bea pointed to the sweet brown syrup sloshing around in her friend’s glass.

‘Anyone would think I was a freak, liking sherry.’

‘Or maybe eighty-five.’ Bea winked at the barman, who gave her a wry smile. She had always had a penchant for men much younger than herself. And Evie only wished she could have half the man-eating qualities as her friend.

They both laughed.

‘Well, at least
you’re
smiling,’ Evie said to her friend.

‘I can’t believe the dick, to be honest.’

‘Tell me about it, Bea. But the sad thing is, I wasn’t surprised really.’

‘Yeah, I know. It hasn’t been a bed of roses, but I did think you’d work it through. How are you feeling after sleeping on it, anyway?’

‘Hmm. Well, I cried when he told me last night, but I haven’t cried since. If I’m true to myself I think I lost that loving feeling weeks ago. We were rarely having sex, and when we did I could tell his mind was elsewhere. I guess I didn’t want to face the fact that I had another failed relationship on my hands.’

‘Oh, Evie.’

‘And I’ve literally got no money. Well, apart from a month’s pay and the money Darren the Dickhead left for me for rent. Most of which I intend to spend over Christmas to drown my sorrows.’

‘I’m here for you, you know that.’

‘I could always sell my camera.’

‘You, my friend, are so
not
doing that. You know how much you love your photography – it keeps you sane. And there is work out there. In fact, I’m going to make sure we get you a new job
and
a new knob before January’s out.’

Evie nearly spat her sherry out. ‘What are you like? That is hilarious. But look at me: thirty-two and single on Christmas Eve. Unemployed and living in rented accommodation I can’t afford. I mean, it can’t get much worse, can it?’

‘Oh, I’m sure it could.’ A deep voice broke in between them.

‘Sorry?’ Bea made a questioning face at the stranger now in front of them.

‘It could get worse if you wanted it to.’

The interloper was around six foot, in his early forties, had blue eyes with crinkly lines around them, a wide-mouthed smile, cropped dark hair and a small heart-shaped birthmark on his cheek. He noticed Evie staring at it.

‘It has been more of a talking point rather than an avoidance point with the ladies, I’ve found.’ His crinkly eyes were endearing and Evie felt herself turn as red as the Christmas lights flashing behind the bar.

‘I… er…’

He laughed. ‘I’m Greg and I’m slightly drunk, hence the bold interruption.’

‘I’m Evie, also slightly drunk, and this is Bea, soon to be as drunk as the both of us. And what did you mean about it could get worse? I’ve just been jilted. I need my mood lightening, thanks.’

‘Well, it could get worse because rather than be sat in a cosy house with plentiful alcohol and your roast turkey tomorrow, you could come and help me at the homeless shelter I manage. We’re a man down.’

‘And what makes you think that I’m such a saddo that I wouldn’t have plans on Christmas Day?’

‘These big flappy ears of mine, which couldn’t help hearing about your tale of woe, that’s what. But I’m not completely heartless: I am truly sorry to hear about your predicament.’ He placed his hand on Evie’s shoulder gently.

‘Well unfortunately for you,’ she said, ‘I do have plans actually.’

Bea took in Greg’s handsome features and calm demeanour. He would be a perfect distraction for her pretty friend. And actually, she could tell already that Evie was quite taken with him.

‘You don’t any more, Evie. There’s no room at my dining table from this very minute. My… er… Auntie Flo’s turkey has just escaped from the kitchen. She and Uncle Pete are having to come to me now.’

‘Great!’ Evie and Greg uttered in unison, with totally different connotations.

Evie downed her sherry and slammed her glass on to the bar. ‘OK. OK. I’ll do it.’ She turned her head to the side and smiled up at the handsome stranger.

‘You will?’ Greg was buoyant.

‘I’ve always thought about giving up my time on Christmas Day to help others less fortunate than myself.’

‘Have you?’ Bea screwed up her face.

‘Yes, I have as a matter of fact, Beatrice Stewart. I just have always been too selfish to go through with it.’

‘Well, that’s marvellous, then.’ Greg drained his glass. ‘You can feel good about yourself too – and you need that sort of uplift at this moment, for sure.’

‘Just tell me where and when I need to be. But wherever it is, I’m bringing a bottle of sherry.’

Chapter Two

‘Are you any good at stuffing?’

‘Obviously not good enough or my boyfriend Darren wouldn’t have run off with his secretary.’

Greg put his hands on his hips. His comic apron with a corkscrew hanging out from his crotch’s position couldn’t help but make Evie smile.

‘I’m not saying sorry, because positive thoughts create positive happenings.’

‘My boyfriend, or should I say ex-boyfriend, has just walked out on me. If you expect me to be a jovial Mrs Santa bloody Claus then you’re barking down the wrong chimney, mister.’

‘You’re very beautiful when you’re angry.’ Greg laughed and placed a Christmas hat on her head.

Evie smirked and pulled her blonde curls out from under it.

‘That’s better. Now come on, Goldilocks, let’s get these tables laid. We have many homeless bears to feed.’

***

By midday the other volunteers had all sprung into action and the Church Hall was full of Christmas Day hope. Paperchains hung from the ceiling, and children from a local primary school had created a huge sparkly mural which hung behind the food station. A huge Christmas tree in the corner was laden with donated tinsel and baubles, and a mass of presents awaited the homeless folks of East London. A hairdressing bay had been set up and even a chiropodist was giving his time up for the day. Evie was deeply touched by how many people were kind enough to give up their own special day to help others.

The buzz of the community spirit was overwhelming and it actually made her realise what a shallow existence she had been living with Darren. If she could have felt half the love she could feel around her now, she would without fail have been happy.

‘I can’t believe just how kind everyone is.’ Evie placed the final gift out of the huge box that Greg had handed her. ‘It’s embarrassing to admit that I have never done anything so charitable in my whole life. To tell the truth, I don’t even really like Christmas Day. All that fake joviality, usually ending in a hungover row about what to watch on television. I should have done this before.’

‘Hmm. You might not ever want to do it again once we get to the end of the day.’ Greg raised his eyebrows.

Evie looked him up and down. She usually liked men in their thirties, but at forty-two he was very handsome and she loved the little heart-shaped birthmark on his right cheek. She had a secret urge to kiss it.

She looked up at him and then quite spontaneously and naturally did so!

‘Happy Christmas, Greg, and thank you so much.’

Greg put his hand to his cheek. ‘Aw, that was nice, but thank you for what exactly?’

‘Stopping me from moping about all day in complete misery. Aitchoo!’

‘Bless you.’ He took his hand away from his cheek and placed it gently under her chin.

‘A pleasure,’ he said. ‘Right – let’s make it a magical day for everyone, eh?’

‘Yes, let’s.’ Evie smiled. ‘Do you mind if I take some photos of the day?’

‘No, of course not. That’d be great. In fact, if you don’t mind we could use them for the website. Make it look fun, and it’ll stop me from trawling bars to find last-minute waif and stray volunteers.’

‘Oi!’

‘Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course. I’m convinced it’s the way forward.’ He winked and went off to unlock the front door.

***

By 6 p.m. Evie’s feet were killing her. She had never worked so hard in her life. Serving food, playing games, dishing out presents, chatting to everyone. She had had a misapprehension that homeless people might all be alcoholics or drug addicts – and to be honest had been slightly afraid. But so many of them had the saddest tales to tell and were genuinely lovely people. If you didn’t have support of family and friends, she had learned how easy it was to fall into dire straits.

She was delighted at just how many poignant photos she had managed to take of the day, and couldn’t wait to get home and pick out the best ones for the website.

Greg noticed her sit down quietly in the corner, take off her shoes and rub her feet.

‘Hey. How’s it going? I told you it would be hard work.’

‘You weren’t wrong, but I’ve loved it.’

‘Good. Now head off if you like. The night shift will come on at eight but it’s fine – we’ve got plenty of helpers if you really are knackered.’

‘No bloody way! I’ll be here until at least eight then, mister.’

‘That’s the spirit, Evie. I might even allow you a quick sherry.’

Evie took a deep breath. This would be the perfect time to be bold and ask what she had been planning to ask for most of the day. Greg seemed such a good man, a million miles away from Duplicitous Darren. And he was really rather sexy too. He had smelled so delicious when she had kissed his cheek and she could just imagine how dreamy it would be to kiss those beautiful full lips of his. Even when he touched her shoulder she had felt a little spark of electricity.

If truth be told, she had wanted to split up with Darren months ago but because her job was insecure she had stupidly held on. And for what? Darren just wasn’t worth it. She had simply been wasting time and she was determined not to miss her chance here. Too often in life she had held back and not said or done what she had thought was right at that moment in time.

Oh, to be more like Bea with her
Only regret the things you don’t do
mantra. So it was with the thought of Bea’s words of a new knob that she boldly sprang into action.

‘So… um… Greg, what time are you here until then? I wondered if

you…’

Just then, a petite elfin-featured girl, who must have been no older than twenty-five, ran full pelt at Greg and wrapped her legs around him.

‘You made it.’ He swung her around. ‘Happy Christmas, Shell.’

‘Happy Christmas! The journey was a breeze actually.’

‘Folks OK?’

‘Good as gold, I have presents in the car for you from them.’

Evie felt her heart sink. She has known this man for only a few hours, but already could already feel his warmth and kindness. She had even felt that there could be a connection between them.

‘Evie, Michelle, Michelle, Evie.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Evie.’ The girl jumped down and shook her hand lightly. ‘Saint Greg here said he had managed to rope another unsuspecting helper in. I’m on the night-shift, for my sins.’

Evie smiled. You couldn’t help but like this bubbly girl too, with her joy and effervescence of life. She could see why Greg was with her. Suddenly, without warning, tears pricked her eyes. ‘Right, best get clearing up that wrapping paper,’ she said chokily and shot off to the other end of the hall and through the door there.

An ambulance whizzed by, blue lights a-flashing as she sat on the steps of the church hall, and she felt sad for the poor person in trouble today of all days. She took deep breaths to compose herself, then shivered as the December evening air engulfed her coatless body.

Tears began to run down her cheeks. ‘What a bloody mess,’ she said out loud.

‘Here.’ A heavy, slightly musky-smelling coat was put over her shoulders as a man joined her on the steps and lit an equally musky-smelling pipe. ‘There is a solution to everything in this life apart from death, you know.’

Evie reached for a tissue in her apron and blew her nose loudly. She couldn’t speak for tears, so without looking up she nodded as the man continued.

‘So, let me guess: the big drama is that the tall man with the Santa hat and the heart-shaped birthmark is in love with someone other than you – correct?’ Evie could detect a posh accent. ‘I’m Yves by the way, Yves with a Y.’

‘Evie – Evie with an E.’ She wiped her eyes and turned to face her step companion.

‘Ah, she speaks with humour, as well as weeps.’

‘Yves and Evie. Ha! That’s quite a coincidence.’

‘Nothing in this world is a coincidence, Evie with an E, eh? Hmmm. My mum was French, my birthday was yesterday, my dad had a sense of humour – go figure.’

‘That’s brilliant. I recognise you now – I dished up your carrots earlier.’

‘And you did it so finely too.
That woman with the blonde wig
, I thought to myself.
She sure knows how to dish up veg
.

Evie couldn’t help but smile. ‘You cheeky bastard. And as for your wig insinuation, no one in their right mind would want to pay good money for this unruly mop.’

‘That’s better. The frown has been turned upside down.’

‘Aw, I like that!’

‘And your curls make you who you are, so stop all that vocal self-harming right this minute. I suppose you don’t like your curves either?’ Yves went on. ‘Want to look like the skinny kid that had her arms wrapped around Greg, I bet?’

Evie loving his frankness, nodded.

‘Well, embrace those curves too, honey, as I say they just make more of you to love.’

‘You must think me such a trivial bitch. My problems are nothing compared to yours.’

‘And there I expect you are very wrong, lady. Go on, tell me why you are sad? I’m a good listener and I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.’

Evie noticed Yves’s green eyes. They still had a wonderful sparkle despite him living on the street. He had a full beard that was actually not too badly kept, and his skin was remarkably clear and not as weather-beaten compared to other people’s were that she had spoken to today. His jumper and jeans were worn but clean, and he actually smelled quite fresh. His right boot was tied round with string to keep the sole on and he wore a silver earring in the shape of a dove in his right ear.

As if he could read her mind, he took her hand gently. She could feel his rough palm. ‘I stayed in a hostel last night,’ he told her. ‘Washed, brushed up, and one of the helpers gave me a new pair of undies and a squirt of his aftershave. I mean, I didn’t know who I might meet today, did I?’ His teeth were slightly stained, from his pipe-smoking, she assumed.

‘You don’t look old enough to be smoking a pipe,’ she commented.

‘All these preconceptions the real world conforms to. Age is purely a number, it shouldn’t be a label for anything.’ He scratched his beard. ‘I suck on the pipe more out of habit than anything. It’s quite enjoyable. If I score baccy it’s a bonus – wanna try?’

‘No, you’re all right, thanks. So what about you? I’m interested to hear your story.’

‘I asked you first. Come on, humour me a little, Evie. I mean, my entertainment tonight isn’t going to involve catching up on the soaps or a
Gavin & Stacey
Christmas special, now is it?’

‘I so feel for you.’

‘Don’t. Now speak.’

Evie pulled her knees in under the old grey overcoat. ‘Well, I really like Greg, but he’s not the reason for my tears.’

‘Go on.’

‘Are you sure you want my tales of woe?’

‘Evie, talk!’

‘OK. OK. My boyfriend dumped me two days ago. He’s fucking his secretary. I lost my job two weeks ago. I’m thirty-two and have a body clock ticking as loudly as Big Ben and I can’t afford to stay in my rented house unless I get a lodger. And I really don’t fancy sharing with a stranger.’ She was on a roll now. ‘I knew things weren’t right with me and Darren. He was pretty selfish, a real mummy’s boy, never did any chores. Always knew his parents would bail him out. He had the sex drive of an amoeba anyway, so in fact good bloody riddance to him, I say. Aitchoo!’

‘Bless you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And as for Greg, well, I met him two nights ago in a pub in Chelsea and he randomly asked if I would help here today. He’s the first man who’s shown me an inch of kindness for a while and he is rather hot.’

Yves sucked on his pipe and shivered slightly.

‘Do you want your coat back?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m used to the cold.’

A couple walked by hand in hand, laughing, then stopped and kissed right in front of them.

‘Happy Christmas!’ they both shouted back in unison as they ran towards a black cab.

‘So, out of all those things you said that were making you sad, which one of them doesn’t have a solution?’

Evie looked up to the starry sky in thought.

‘There’s going to be a frost,’ she noted.

‘Evie, I asked you a question.’

‘Well, none of them, I suppose. In time I will get a job and a house. I need a man to get a baby, and that’s what I always struggle with. Finding a decent man. I’ve got a worse track record than Elizabeth Taylor, as a matter of fact.’

‘See, it’s not so bad – and who says you need a man to get a baby these days?’

‘True.’

‘And wouldn’t you rather have had the colourful life that Elizabeth Taylor led, than be someone for example who stayed in a loveless marriage for the security of it?’

‘Well, if you put it like that . . . I can’t believe I’m being so candid but if I’m totally honest, I am materialistic. I don’t like not having money or love in my life for that matter. I don’t want to have to scrape to buy a lipstick or treat a magazine as a luxury item. I’m too old to be living like a student again.’