Past and Present - A Modern Day Romance of North & South

CHAPTER TWO - FALSE IMPRESSIONS

It was always going to be different. Margaret had prepared herself for that, but when she saw the house her father had rented for them she felt the first real rush of homesickness overwhelm her. Compared to the home they had so recently left, this new house was a hundred times less picturesque with its tired brick façade interposed with sash windows and paintwork that could have done with a little retouching here and there. What had probably begun life as a narrow patch of front garden with grass was now concreted over to park a car off the road. Inside it was compact despite the emptiness of the rooms, the blank whitewashed walls screaming out for colour, furniture, something to lift it from the sepulchral space it was into a home in which a family could live.

They had arrived ahead of the removal lorry and it had only been because of Margaret’s presence of mind that the kettle and several mugs, accompanied by a small Tupperware pot of coffee granules, had been saved from being put with everything else in the lorry. Her mother certainly needed something judging by the ashen look on her face as the reality of leaving Helstone finally hit home.

“It’ll be fine,” Margaret said wistfully as she busied herself with making the coffee, aware of her mother harbouring in the centre of the kitchen with troubled eyes, her gaze drifting dismally over the tired work units that seemed a shocking contrast to the cosy oak kitchen that they had had in Helstone. Meeting her mother’s eyes Margaret summoned a bright, optimistic smile in an effort to cheer her mother up. “Once we get our things in it will feel more like home. I’m certain of it.”

Her mother sighed. The lethargy that had accompanied her for much of the journey still remained. “Why couldn’t your father have found another job closer to home?” she bemoaned. “Oh, how I wish he had found another position nearer to Helstone.”

Margaret handed her mother one of the mugs steaming with coffee, noticing how close to tears Maria was. They glistened in the corners of her eyes, bespeaking of the turmoil that churned inside her. “It’ll be fine,” Margaret said, realising that she was repeating herself. It was as though she was reiterating some sort of mantra. It’ll be fine…It’ll be fine…Perhaps if she said it often enough her mother might start to believe it.

“Your father seems to be in his element. I don’t think he was sorry to leave Helstone at all.”

“He wants it to be a fresh start, that’s all,” Margaret replied. She sipped her coffee, leaning back against the countertop, glad that her father was elsewhere in the house and was not privy to their conversation. She knew how it would hurt him to hear the bitterness in her mother’s tone. Taking a deep breath, she continued on. “And it is. It’s exactly that, mum. New surroundings, new people.” She threw her mother another winning smile, desperately trying to lift the clouds that seemed to linger stubbornly above her mother’s head. “It wouldn’t be a fresh start otherwise.”

Maria stared at her daughter, thinking how alike her husband Margaret was and how so unlike her. “You sound like your father.”

Margaret shrugged. Perhaps she was more like him in some ways – certainly in this case she was. “Maybe,” she conceded. “Give it a chance, mum. If you do, you might end up thinking that Milton is actually a better place to live than Helstone.”

Her mother grimaced, her mouth twisting as though she had tasted something unpleasant, although she did not deign to comment on her Margaret’s prophecy.


***

Over those next few days Margaret took the opportunity of exploring her new surroundings and acquainting herself with Milton. The house they were renting was, as her father had intimated, only about ten minutes by foot into the centre of town where Margaret found a wealth of mainstream clothes shops, as well as a massive central library and numerous coffee shops. There were restaurants to suit every taste, as well as wine bars and pubs in almost every street she walked down. She even managed to find Blues, the wine bar just along the road from Adam Bell’s office, and lingered just outside its entrance, thinking again about the day she had sat in the car and seen the man who had managed to burrow into her thoughts and now refused to leave them. She didn’t go inside; she wasn’t bold enough for that but it was almost an exquisite torture to speculate about whether he was inside having a drink.

She wound her way back to the main High Street, seeing the main line station that took trains off in every direction. Close to it stood the grand Victorian structure of the MiltonHotel, which had doubtlessly sprung up at about the same time as the railway. The name of the hotel was immediately familiar to her. She remembered it from the set of house keys now in possession of her father. She wondered what the significance of the key ring was in relation to the place. There must be some sort of connection, otherwise why would its name be on their key ring?

As they were eating dinner that evening, Margaret mentioned the fact that she had seen the hotel to her parents and how impressive it had looked. Her father smiled across at her, nodding sagely.

“I should have said before, I suppose, but our landlord is actually the owner of the MiltonHotel. It was through Adam’s connection with him – he’s actually his accountant – that I found this house.”

“What’s the name of our landlord then?” Margaret’s asked.

“John – John Thornton,” her father replied. “A very pleasant man.”