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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - WHERE DREAMS LIE SCATTERED

When she got home Margaret found her mother sitting at the kitchen table scanning a cookery book, a notepad and biro lying at its side in readiness for note-taking and the radio playing in the background. It was only a small room, about half the size of the kitchen they’d had in Helstone where the rustic charm of the low-slung black beams and expansive fireplace had made it a pleasure to be in. The kitchen Margaret stood in now was devoid of any such touches. In comparison it was a box – as featureless in terms of architecture as every other room in the house, entirely dependent upon homely touches to make it feel like a room you wished to spend any length of time in. The strains of Radio 4 created a constant stream of conversation from early morning and throughout the day whenever her mother was in this particular room just as it had in Helstone, the unrelenting babble of voices become so familiar over the years that they were almost like old friends.

As she heard her footsteps her mother’s eyes rose from the book she was studying to settle expectantly upon Margaret as she moved forward to lean casually against the back of the opposite chair.

“How was your day?” her mother asked.

“Busy,” Margaret replied, wondering how to break the news of Henry’s re-emergence, realising that she had no choice but to do so. After all, the consequences of Henry phoning her parents to announce his arrival in Milton and the revelation that he’d already run into her and she’d remained silent about it were too unwelcome to think about. Her mother would, for one, probably never forgive her.

“Is John’s brother-in-law any better?”

“He seems to be.”

“That must be a relief to everyone.”

Margaret inclined her head, but refrained from going into detail. She knew very well that her mother was merely being polite, the extent of her interest in John or any of his family strictly limited. The very fact that Margaret was actually seeing John socially, outside the normal scope of working hours, had been received with distinct tepidness and silent disapproval. Only the sanction of her father had prevented her mother from voicing her true – and unfavourable - opinion, although it hadn’t stopped her from casting some very doubtful looks in Margaret’s direction whenever John was mentioned in conversation either by Margaret or her father.

“By the way, I thought you might like to know,” Margaret blurted out. “I’ve just seen Henry in the town.”

Her mother looked instantly and befittingly thrilled, her eyes growing suddenly alight with happiness. Ironically, it was probably the most animated Margaret had seen her mother since they’d moved to Milton. “Oh Margaret! That’s wonderful! How is he? He must still think a lot of you to come all this way to see you.”

Her mother, of course, had grasped – probably quite wilfully – the wrong end of the stick. “Our seeing each other wasn’t planned, mum. Far from it,” Margaret replied tightly, seeking to put her mother straight as quickly as she could. “I just ran into him by chance in the street.”

“But what’s he doing in Milton? Hasn’t he come to see you?”

“Of course he hasn’t come to see me! Why would he?” Margaret responded. “We haven’t seen each other for eight months.”

Her mother seemed undeterred. “Some people can be separated for years before they find each other again. It happens, Margaret.”

Margaret could almost hear the jubilant peeling of bells from Helstone’s parish church and see confetti showering the air like petals. Her first instinct was to run from the thought as fast as she could, even though there had undoubtedly been a time when she would have leapt at the chance to marry Henry.