The Unconventional Angel Read Free

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