You’re not my mother! Leave my dad and me alone! Get out!
Every girl who ever wanted to share a bed, a loaf of bread and a foldout sofa with me had heard that. Little Cressida would hiss, hurl plush rabbits, and sometimes even sharp bits of plastic the moment any wouldbe stepmother crossed the threshold of our cramped panelbuilt flat. Take her to a therapist, the last woman to try warned, or shell grow into another nightmare, spitting foam at everyone. She said that as Cressida smashed a dove statue on the wall that a guest had given us.
Sorry, I didnt think shed throw it, I said, sweeping the trembling birds head and tail into a dustpan. I told you she cant recover from her mothers death
Listen, I lost my dog recently, but Im not screaming like a lunatic or flinging things!
Your dog? Youre comparing losing a mother to a dog?
I loved her. Stop treating us like a bunch of freaks.
Cressida sniffed the air, as if catching something foul, twisted the key hard, then the other way. She slammed the door so loudly that the bulbs on the fourth floor flickered on in sync with the bang.
Darling, why are you doing this? Its been almost four years, and you know I cant cope on my own, I knelt before my daughter.
Dont worry, Ill help you. That aunt of yours isnt needed shes bad, all of them are bad, Cressida whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck.
Each day I retreated further into myself. The October wind seemed to follow me all year long, until one day a woman named Eve warmed my heart. She didnt just warm my heart she also drenched my trousers with half a latte in the underground. After that she stepped on my foot three times and even shot an umbrella at my eye. All this happened after wed already exchanged a thousand apologies.
Just in case, Eve said, pulling out a second pack of wet wipes, you never know if youll break your nose or sit on something painted.
Does this happen often to you? she asked.
Occasionally, I replied without thinking.
After that first underground coffee, I invited Eve for a second, then a third. She turned out to be a walking magnet for mishaps: a bus door would pinch her fingers, a neighbours cat would claw half her face, and she seemed to win Olympic gold for illegal streetcrossings. She never seemed to notice any of it, and she never held a grudge or got angry. That was why I fell for her hard, like a seventhgrader with a crush.
Listen, when we get home, ignore her snark. Shes actually nice. I just dont know how to reach her. And all the women Im at fault, but
Calm down, take a deep breath, Eve soothed, rubbing my hand as we reached the lift. We dont have to go to yours. Lets meet here, on the street.
The street? I asked, surprised.
Yes, you said she gets nervous at home, so why not meet outside? Besides, my boots smell of cats, she admitted shyly. My neighbour asked me to watch her Maine Coon, and it doesnt like me.
Dont worry. Ill bring her over, I said, tapping my intercom key. The door buzzed open and I stepped inside.
Eve was scrolling aimlessly online when, from behind, a voice called out, Is this your wallet?
Startled, Eve turned and saw a small girl, about seven or eight, holding her wallet stuffed with cash, cards and a prescription. Thanks, I almost lost it, Eve smiled.
You should be more careful, the girl tutted.
Agreed. Why are you alone?
Im not. My granddad and Oleg are with me, she pointed to an elderly man tinkering under the bonnet of a black foreign car, while a boy about her age held a toolbox.
Suddenly a parcel flew from a nearby postbox and landed on Eves shoulder.
Oh, a flying rat pooped on you, the girl giggled.
Just a little lifehappens thing, Eve laughed, pulling out another pack of wipes. And no, its not a rat. Its a pigeon.
My granddad says theyre rats, the girl muttered.
Pigeons delivering letters to angels, right? They were the postmen of old, now they just head for the sky, Eve explained, so convincingly that a few pigeons above seemed to perk up.
The girl wrapped her head in a scarf. What if they deliver to ordinary people instead of angels?
Why not? Just give the right postcode.
Before she could finish, the buildings door buzzed and I burst out.
There you are! I thought youd been kidnapped. I lifted the girl into my arms.
Granddad called, you didnt pick up. Did you see the note?
I did. Meet Eve, this is my new friend, I introduced. And thats Cressida, I added, nodding toward the girl.
Cressidas expression hardened, her eyes flashing at Eve.
The next half hour was a disaster of awkward silences and strained conversation.
Sorry, I said as we left, see you later.
Its fine, Eve whispered, barely audible.
A week later I passed the block and spied Cressida perched behind a bench.
Hey, what are you doing?
Catching pigeons, she replied, eyes fixed on a grey bird pecking at mouldy bread. She turned to Eve with a sigh.
How do you plan to catch it? Eve asked, ignoring the hostile stare.
With my hands.
Youll catch very little that way. Use a net.
Where do I get one? Cressida asked, looking foolish.
I can bring one.
What? You?
Yes, why not? Wait here, feed it, Ill be back from the Childrens Centre.
Before Eve could answer, she sprinted to the bus stop. Forty minutes later she returned with a huge net and a sack of sunflower seeds.
Better to use a big bait from the start, Eve said, sprinkling half the seeds on the pavement. Cressida nodded silently.
Within five minutes a grey, cooing cloud covered the sky. Pigeons descended noisily, clustering on the asphalt.
Your turn, Eve handed the net.
Cressida sprang from behind the bench, flinging the net over the flock, which scattered in all directions.
Ive got one! Ive got one!
Great, now the letter! Eve plucked a pigeon from the net.
I havent written it yet
What now? What do we do with it? Eve stared at Cressida, who stared back, while the pigeon hovered in a 340degree view.
What are you two doing? The whole pavement is a mess, growled the caretaker, her voice like a kettle about to boil.
Lets go home, Eve urged the girl toward the lift. Is dad there?
Yes.
Do we need to announce we came?
No need, Eve smiled, seeing the sadness in the childs eyes. Were here for something else. Write the letter, Ill wait on the stairs.
Cressida smiled and went back inside. Five minutes later she emerged with a bundle of thread in her hands.
Shh Eve put a finger to her lips, pointing at the pigeon perched on the windowsill. Cressidas eyes glittered with excitement.
Eve offered the bird a handful of seeds; it pecked cautiously, then more confidently. When the bird finally relaxed, Eve tried to catch it, but it was quicker. It swooped straight at her, flapping wildly, claws raking her face. I heard the scream as the pigeon battered her eyes, and neighbours began to peek out, laughter and curses spilling onto the stairwell.
For ten minutes Eve wiped herself and half the landing with the wet wipes. The pigeon finally escaped through the window, never trusting people again. Cressida disappeared behind a flat door and returned with a bucket of water and a mop.
This will be faster, she said, slapping the floor. The air smelled of damp stone.
Cressida, where are you going? my voice echoed from the doorway, bewildered at the sight of my daughter and Eve scrubbing the stairwell. Whats happening?
Dont ask any more questions, Eve winked.
Yeah, dad, you dont need to know everything, Cressida muttered.
Alright, I get it, I shut the door.
You know, I wondered why were catching these pigeons. There are proper lofts where professional carrier birds live, not freelance ruffians, Eve said once the cleaning was done.
Seriously? Why didnt you tell me before?
I just forgot. Its been ages since I sent a letter to the sky.
Can we visit them? Please! Cressida bounced with excitement.
We can, but only tomorrow. Ill pick you up after work.
Yay! she squealed.
That evening I called Eve and explained everything.
Do you think its a good idea? When she grows up and finds out, she might hold a grudge for the deception.
If Id been told the truth from the start, Id probably have gone mad.
Youre right. Will you be there tomorrow without me?
Yes, I think well manage. Shes clever; Ill chat with her.
Thanks.
The next day Eve collected Cressida, and we took a black cab to the pigeon loft.
Wow, theyre so white and beautiful, Cressida cooed, eyeing the birds. Can I pick any? Will it definitely deliver the letter to the right person? Does it have a GPS? I need it to reach my mum, please.
The key is the correct postcode, Eve reminded.
I wrote our home address; its duplicated, right? And I added whos writing so the angels wont mix it up, Cressida said solemnly.
Thanks, Eve handed the keeper a few pounds, and the keeper tied the letter to a pigeons leg before releasing it skyward.
Dont feel sorry for me, the man muttered, wiping a tear from his sleeve as he closed the cage.
Thank you, Eve, Cressida hugged the woman, who simply patted the girls head.
Two days later I called.
Cressida says she got a reply from the sky, and its about you. Want to read it?
Ill be there soon.
The news shook Eve so much she left work early, and in her haste she accidentally deleted the project shed been working on all day.
She rushed up to my flat and rang the bell. I opened the door.
Cressidas out playing with the neighbours boy. She left a note on the table, probably too shy to hand it to you herself.
Eve entered the room, unfolded a crumpled piece of paper written in childlike scrawl, full of errors:
Thank you, mum, for the letter. I miss you a lot and love you. Every day I think of you with dad. I saw Eve, shes nice. Shes not your mum, but you could be friends. Id like that. Your mum.
Eve swallowed hard, her throat tightening, as the ink began to bleed from her tears.
Looks like she understood, I said, coming from behind and pulling her into an embrace.
She nodded, still unable to hold back the sobs.
I always thought I should find her a mother, but she just needed a friend, because she already has a mum.
I never wanted to claim more than that, she whispered, then glanced out the window at a pigeon perched on the sill, staring straight at us. It seemed to be listening, ready to fly up and tell the angels what had happened.
