Falling Angel

Albert Waterhouse

Don’t know that I’ll tell anyone, not even Trudy, but I escorted Kitty Coleman home the other night. I was coming back from nets on the heath with Richard Coleman when I remembered that Trudy wanted me to leave a message with the vicar at St. Anne‘s-a trifle about altar flowers or some such thing. I try not to attend to that sort of detail-best left to Trudy. But I told Richard I’d catch him up at the Bull and Last and ran off like a good errand boy.

Afterward I was heading toward the pub when I looked up Swain’s Lane and saw Kitty Coleman, walking along slowly with her head bowed, kicking at her skirts. I thought her a peculiar sight, given it was twilight and she was alone and didn’t seem to be walking anywhere in particular.

“Evening, Mrs. Coleman,” I said, raising my cap. “Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it? Last spurt of summer, looks like we’re having.” My choice of words made me blush. I don’t know what it is about Kitty Coleman-she inspires me to say things I shouldn’t.

She didn’t seem to notice, though-she just stared at me like I was a ghost. I was taken aback by her appearance. Richard had mentioned she’d been ill and was not looking her finest. But it was more than that. Her looks were plainly gone, I am sorry to say.

“Are you on your way somewhere?”

Kitty Coleman hesitated. “I have been… I wanted to climb the hill but couldn’t.”

“It is steep, that hill up to the cemetery. And if you haven’t been well it must seem like a mountain. Would you like me to take you to your husband? I was just going to meet him at the pub.”

“I don’t want to see Richard,” Kitty Coleman said quickly.

I didn’t know what to make of that, but I couldn’t leave her there on her own-she seemed so ill and childlike. “Shall I see you home, then?”

I held out my arm, feeling a little silly and wondering what Trudy would say if she could see us. I know she doesn’t think much of Kitty Coleman. Luckily Trudy was safely tucked away at home with our girls. Maude was there, too, staying the night.

After a moment Kitty Coleman took my arm. The quickest way to her house was straight past the Bull and Last, but I didn’t go that way. It would have felt strange to parade past the pub and have Richard Coleman look out and see me with his wife on my arm when I was meant to be at the vicar’s. I could have explained it, but it still didn’t look right. So I took the back way, which she didn’t remark upon. I tried to make conversation en route, but she didn’t say much, just “Yes” and “Thank you” when thanks weren’t even called for.

Never mind. I saw her home, feeling a little foolish but a little proud too-her face may not be so pretty now but she still carries herself well and wore a nice gray dress, even if it was a bit rumpled. A couple of passersby stared at us and I couldn’t help but hold myself a little straighter.

“Will you be all right, then, Mrs. Coleman?” I asked when we got to her door.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“You look after yourself, now. Tuck yourself up with a Horlicks and get an early night.”

She nodded and slipped inside. It was only when I was heading back to the pub that I realized she hadn’t said my name at all. I began to wonder if she’d even recognized me.

At the Bull and Last, Richard teased me for spending so long at the vicar’s. I just nodded and ordered another pint.