The Beauty Underneath

Chapter Fourteen: The Housekeeper's Story

This wasn’t the first time I’ve been inside Josephine’s apartment. The first time was when I first met Winston, that night I discovered the passageway in the mirror. I was panicking that time, so I didn’t get to see the surroundings.

However, this time, I took the time to look at my surroundings. There were no pictures that normally hang on the wall. There was a fifty-inch flat screen TV, though. There were stacks of CDs and DVDs lying beside that. There was also a large armchair, a red loveseat and a pink couch.

Josephine sat down on the armchair and I plopped down on the loveseat. She smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you like something to eat? It’s almost dinnertime, you must be hungry.”

“No, I’m not,” I replied, which was weird because at times like this, I’m getting hungry. “Wait! How about Simon and Gina? They might get home—”

“I’ve already prepared dinner for them,” she said dismissively. “Are you really sure you want to know about Winston’s… situation? You might not believe it and you’d call me crazy.”

Deep inside, I know I would surely call her crazy. Though she hasn’t told me his situation yet, I have a feeling that it would be unbelievable. Nonetheless, I nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I want to know. Please, I need to know.”

Josephine sighed. “Okay,” she said. “You know that Winston’s mother is my friend, right? We were childhood friends. My mother worked for their family too. That’s how we met. Her name was Rachel Andrews. Ever since we were kids, she loves to play the piano. It’s her dream to be in New York, play in some theatre. She also sings pretty well. Mr. Andrews taught her.”

Now I know where Winston got his talents. “No wonder Winston is so good. It’s in his blood.”

The housekeeper nodded. “We were about eighteen, I think, when she left home so she could pursue her dreams. Mr. Andrews supported her, but not Mrs. Andrews. She was against her dreams of playing music. She said it’s a hobby, not a job. But she could not do anything. Rachel didn’t listen to her and she left. We never heard of her for so many years, we thought she was dead. And then Mr. Andrews died. His wife was devastated, of course, and tried to reach Rachel so that she would know her father died. But she was not found.”

“Where was she?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Years passed and then Rachel came back, with a child. Mrs. Andrews was happy that her daughter returned but she was furious that she got herself with a child. But their family is rich; they could do something about that. Mrs. Andrews tried asking her where she has been, but Rachel doesn’t want to say. Her mother, fearing she would leave again if she makes her angry, decided not to ask her anymore. But Rachel told me. Ah yes, she told me her story.”

Josephine stood up from her seat and then went over to a table with a drawer. She opened the drawer and took something from inside it. She walked back to the armchair and handed me the portrait. It was a picture of a girl with black hair and startling blue eyes. She exactly looked like Winston, minus the mask.

“That’s Rachel, by the way.”

“She’s… she’s beautiful.”

Josephine nodded. “That’s why lots of guys tried to ask her out when she was in New York. She worked in this diner, trying to save up for her career.”

“But I thought their family was rich?”

“She doesn’t want it. Rachel was a prideful girl, Erin. She wants to rise to her feet on her own, not with anyone’s help – not even in her family. Anyway, she met this certain guy. She never told me his name, and she fell in love with him. She thought the man loved her too but all he ever wants to do is to get inside her pants,” Josephine said spitefully. “He got her pregnant and when he learned, he ran away like a coward, leaving Rachel all alone. Rachel wanted to go back to her parents, but she doesn’t have any money anymore. The diner where she worked… It closed. It got bankrupt, you see. Rachel was left in her dirty apartment. Then she asked this woman for some money to spend for food. The woman helped her and gave her money that would last for a month, but she had to pay her back someday.”