Virtues of Saints & Angels   

Chapter 7 – Bow

Beth pushed open the front door of her apartment and dropped her bag and coat on the couch as she walked through to the kitchen.  Flicking the kettle on to make a cup of tea she put the containers of leftover food that Angel had made her take home. She felt bad taking the food from her when she had a kitchen stacked with everything required, but she did not want anyone to know just how she did live.

She had to admit her stepmother, Amanda, covered everything when it came to her necessities.  Accounts had been set up at Harrods and the local grocery store, which covered just about everything that she required.  All the bills for the apartment were settled without her even seeing them.  For anything else she needed only to ask Amanda or Andrew, Amanda’s able and completely insidious assistant. If her request was deemed acceptable the money would be forwarded to her. 


When she had told Amanda she wanted to get her degree at St Martins College in Graphic Arts her response was anything but supportive.


“What on earth do you want to do that for?” she had asked, looking down her nose at Beth as she sat across from her in the drawing room at the family home.  With only months to go at school Beth had made the decision to do what her father had done when he finished school, earn a degree in Graphic Art and then work her way up through the publishing company so she knew exactly how Saints was run.  The reaction from Amanda was typical of the woman she had come to know since her father had died.


“You think you’re capable of running Saints?  Oh Elizabeth, you silly girl, you don’t need to worry about that.  I’ve got it all under control; you just concentrate on finding yourself a suitable man.  I’ll start looking around our circles to see who’s available and more importantly who is acceptable.”


But Beth had squared her shoulders as she prepared to battle Amanda again for what was rightfully hers.  Finally Amanda agreed to her attending college provided that she would continue to live at home.  Beth argued that she had planned on getting a flat in Central London where it was easier to travel to and from college.  This increased the argument again until Beth agreed that she would live in one of the many apartments that the company owned throughout London.  The only other condition was that everything to do with her daily living expenses was to be handled by Amanda who did not consider Beth sensible enough to handle money. 


Even though she had not said anything, Beth knew it was to keep control on her.  But Beth had some plans of her own.  When she had moved to the apartment, a huge three bedroom penthouse in Camden Town, Beth had searched until she had found herself a part time job at a local café.  The money she earned was not much but it was hers, money she could do with as she pleased and not have to justify anything to Amanda. 


Of course Amanda knew about the job within days and thought it was amusing that Beth had taken a job as a “common serving girl”.  Much to Amanda’s horror, Beth was not only proud of what she did but she happily told anyone where she worked.  Amanda had told friends that she had insisted that Beth do it so she appreciated everything she had.  Beth had learnt over the last five years not to step on Amanda’s stage when she blowing her own trumpet to her circles of friends.


As she thought about her stepmother Beth carried her cup of tea and a plate of Angel’s biscuits back to the spare bedroom, which she had converted into her workroom.  She turned on the light that hung over a huge work table covered with papers and samples for all her assignments.  She sipped on her tea and went through the list stuck to the wall, which listed her assignments, and their due dates.  Leafing through the papers on the table she found the one she needed to work on and she sat back to study the structure of the assignment.


As she placed the empty cup and the half empty plate on the bench beside her she glanced at the photo of her father and herself that she had put there when she had first moved into the apartment.  It felt like a hundred years ago when the picture had been taken at her tenth birthday party at their country estate in Lincoln.  The day had been a happy one filled with cake, presents tied up with bows, laughter and fun that only a child could have who knew nothing of what was going to happen.

 

“Well Dad, I better finish this otherwise or I’ll never finish college and that means I won’t be able to run Saints for you,” she told the photo as she settled herself into the work in front of her.

 

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