Life had its steady rhythm: raising her son, building a home, standing by the man she loved. Among all the lads in the village, it was Michael who had captured Margarets heart. When he returned from his service, they married. Soon after, their son, Thomas, was born. As the boy grew, Margaret began to dream of a daughter.
Once we finish the house, Michael, well have a little girl, she often said. Then well have a proper homea family idyll.
Michael would only smile and nod. He would have gladly fathered another child the very next day. Often, he would hoist Thomas onto his shoulders and stride proudly through the village, greeting every neighbour.
But then winter came. Snow buried the roads, and the wind howled. Margaret peered through the window, waiting for her husbands return. Yet Michael never came home. A tragic accident at work had taken him.
Time heals all wounds, the neighbours and friends told her. Youre not the only one. Cry it out, and before you know it, years will pass, and youll find someone else.
Margaret listened in silence, but the tears refused to come, and that only made the pain worse. A year slipped by. The uneasy nineties squeezed even the strongest families. Wages in the village went unpaid for months. Only those with livestock and a willingness for hard labour fared well.
Margaret soon felt the full weight of those times. Thomas started school and needed clothes, shoes, and food. That meant planting the entire garden so shed have something to sell at the market come autumn.
She toiled in the garden until dusk, her hands growing rough, her smile fading, her soul hardening.
Take the bucket, you little rascal! shed snap when Thomas tried to sneak off to his friends. Think you can run off? Have you even done your lessons?
Thomas would silently pick up the bucket, but in his mind, he remembered how things used to be with his fatherwhen his mother was kind and cheerful.
At night, Margaret would weep, berating herself for snapping at him. Yet by morning, shed be stern and sullen again.
One Saturday, her friendsFiona and Lucydropped by. Once, shed had no need for friends, for Michael had filled every need for companionship. But now, these merry divorcees often visited, laughing and claiming theyd come for tea. Though tea was hardly the reason.
The morning began as usual. Margaret rose without glancing in the mirror. She knew her face would be drawn. She fed the pig, scattered grain for the chickens, stacked the dirty dishes in the basin, and ordered Thomas to wash up and hurry to school.
She wasnt expecting anyone that evening, yet she knew one of her regular visitors might drop in. She was indifferent to such promisesif they came, fine; if not, the invitation wouldnt be repeated. Men usually understood quickly. Theyd see the boy, exchange a few words, and leave, muttering about a woman with baggage.
Honestly, Margaret, youll drive them all away, Fiona would laugh. Youre too hard to please. Maybe its your bed thats the problem? Need a new sofa?
Oh, yes, Ill rush out and buy a sofa, Margaret sighed. With what money? If you fancy it, take it yourself.
Alright, dont get cross. Lets just set the table. Weve got a guest to entertain.
Fiona sometimes irritated her, but Margaret would silently place pickled cucumbers on the table. Catching sight of her wedding photo, shed sigh heavily.
Forgive me, Michael. Its hard without you.
Theyre all the same, Fiona would say, as if reading her thoughts. Come on, Margaret, drink to us! Were the best!
The next morning, Margaret cleared the remnants of the evening and went to work.
Nina, her late husbands aunt, came to see her.
What are you doing with yourself, Margaret? she said. Youre not the same since Michael. And these friends of yourstheyre only holding you back.
Whats this, Nina? Come to lecture me? Think Im some sort of failure? Ive got a house, a farm, my sons in schoolI check his lessons and Margaret suddenly fell silent, remembering she hadnt looked at Thomass homework or schoolbook in over a week. Just days ago, his teacher had asked to speak with her.
Margaret didnt know what to say, so she began stacking dirty dishes in the basin.
You used to be so different, Nina continued. Lovely, hardworking, kind Give up these foolish gatherings.
Im not out gallivanting, Margaret protested. I just talk with friends sometimesto take my mind off things. Dont I have the right to rest after work?
Of course you do, Nina nodded with a sigh.
Then dont lecture me. And honestly, dear aunt, keep your nose out of my business. The doors open. Margaret turned back to the kitchen table.
Nina tightened her shawl and quietly left.
Margaret exhaled, her face darkening as if in pain. She felt wretched, heavy, and something tugged at her to follow. She rushed out and caught Nina on the porch.
Wait, Nina, take some carrots. Ive got so many this year.
No need, child, Nina waved, already stepping off the porch.
Please, I mean it, Margaret insisted.
Nina knew life too well. Her years had taught her to sense others pain. She understood this was Margarets silent apology. Though no words were spoken, her voice and eyes begged forgiveness. Nina stopped.
Heres a bag, Margaret said, generously scooping carrots. Can you manage, or shall I help?
Ill manage, Margaret, Nina replied, thanking her, then walked home. Her heart ached for the turmoil in Margarets soul.
That Friday evening, Margaret packed onions and carrots to take to the market.
At least Ill have a few shillings, she thought as she tied the sacks. Havent seen a proper wage in ages.
Where are you off to with all that? nosy neighbour Betty asked, peering into the bags.
Market. Selling vegetables, Margaret replied.
She barely managed to haul the heavy sacks to the bus stop, where old George and Granny May were already waiting. But the bus never came.
This is a fine mess, Granny May sighed.
George cursed the bus and the whole transport system. Finally realising it wouldnt arrive, the pair headed home, deciding to try another day.
Margaret stayed. She couldnt bear dragging the sacks back, so she decided to hitch a ride.
First, a Morris passed, then a Land Rover, but both were full. Finally, a Ford appeared. Margaret squinted, trying to see if there was space, but the driver stopped before she even raised her hand.
A man, slightly older than her, unfamiliarshe guessed he was from the nearby town. He glanced at her, then at her sacks.
Bus broke down today. Im heading into townneed a lift?
If you dont mind, Margaret sighed.
He grinned. Got out, and though lean and not tall, he lifted the heavy sack as if it weighed nothing.
Might you take me straight to the market? she asked.
Might do.
Ill pay, she said.
During the ride, Margaret took out a compact and touched up her lips. The rearview mirror let her watch the driver.
Im Margaret, she finally broke the silence.
James Whitmore.
A full name already? Are you some big boss, then?
Oh yes, director of factories and owner of steamships, he joked. Truth is, Im a foreman at a construction site.
James drove her to the market and even helped carry the sacks. He only took half the fare.
Pay the rest tonight. Ill be driving back the same way, he said.
Generous, arent you? Margaret smiled. Lucky me.
That evening, James drove her home.
Come in, at least for tea, James Whitmore.
Drop the surname. Just James, he quipped.
Margaret quickly set the table. Thomas peeked into the kitchen.
Stop lurking! Go to your room. Done your lessons?
Nearly, the boy mumbled.
Then finish them! she ordered sharply.
James, sitting by the stove, crossed his legs and smiled at the boy.
Lets get acquainted. Im James Whitmore. And you?
Tom.
Proper name Thomas?
The boy nodded.
How are the lessons? Tough?
Cant get maths, Thomas admitted.
Lets have a look. James gestured for his schoolbook.
Half an hour later, Thomas, pleased with the help, went to bed.
Clear this, James said calmly, pointing at the table. Just tea for me.
Well, if youre driving, then just tea, Margaret agreed.
Even if I werentjust tea. Or lemonade, squash, juicethats all.
Margaret eyed him suspiciously but silently poured hot water into a cup, added tea leaves, and set out a plate of potatoes.
Time I was off, James said, rising. He hesitated, then added, Ive taken a liking to you, Margaret. Mind if I drop by Friday?
She gave a faint smileshed expected this.
Drop by, then.
Im not married, he said, though she hadnt asked.
Youll forget by next week, she thought, not expecting more.
Yet when Fiona and Lucy visited after work, Margaret sent them away early. Her mind buzzed: What if he really comes?
This isnt fair, Margaret, Fiona huffed. Come to the pictures with us!
Am I some flighty girl, running off to the cinema?
Who said anything about flighty? Were just seeing a film!
No, girls, go without me. Ive tidying to do.
She never got to tidy. James arrived earlier than expected. He stepped into the yard, and Margaret led him inside. Traces of the evenings gathering still littered the table, but he pretended not to notice.
Ill warm the soupits gone cold, she explained.
James chatted with Thomas, helped with maths, explained horsepower in cars. When the boy went to bed, Margaret was light-headed, eager to talk and jest.
James stood, placed his hands on her shoulders, and made her rise. Then he pulled her close. She gasped, breath catching.
Ill stay till morning, he simply said.
Whos stopping you? She pulled back, inhaling deeply. She knew hed staywords were unnecessary.
At dawn, as Margaret scrambled eggs, James took the buckets to fetch water.
Need any for the washhouse? he asked.
Fetch some, she said indifferently, though she never asked for help, doubting such gestures lasted.
After breakfast, sipping tea, James said quietly,
Margaret, if you want this, those drinks from last nightthey cant be here.
She froze, spoon in hand.
Is that a condition? she asked, more surprised than angry.
Call it that. I cant stand the smell. And Im decentyouve seen that.
He smiled.
Well then, shall I come tonight? For the washhouse?
She wanted to snap, to scold him, even shove him out. Yet something stopped her. Unexpectedly, she wanted to agree.
Come, she said simply.
By evening, Fiona stopped by.
They say you poured it all out, Margaret. True?
True, Fiona. Gone.
Have you lost your mind? Wasting good stuff like that!
Good stuff? It was pure trouble. Go on, FionaIve no time for you now.
Margaret mopped the floors, changed the beddingfreshly laundered and air-dried. Soup waited on the stove, but she wanted to cook something finer. Pies would take too long, so she made pancakes instead. Thomas sneaked them from the table, washing them down with squash.
Time passed. Margaret even managed a trip to the washhouse before dark. Yet James never appeared.
A promise is a comfort to a fool, she sighed bitterly. Fool that I am. I know theyre all the sameexcept my Michael. Maybe it was pointless, pouring it all out?
She smiled at the thought. Glancing around the bright kitchen, fragrant with fresh food, she felt an unexpected calm.
No, not pointless, she said firmly. Enough is enough.
She turned to her son.
Dont wait, Tom. Uncle James isnt coming. Lets check your schoolworkyouve been slacking.
Thenthe sound of an engine. James stood in the doorway with a small travel bag. He pulled out sausages, tinned food, biscuits, butter.
A mate at the depot gave me thesehelps now and then, he explained. For you and Thomas.
Margaret sat at the table, chin propped on her hand, watching him.
Thats rare these days. Havent seen such things in ages.
I know. Thats why I brought them. Take it.
Casually, as if hed just come home from work, she asked,
Eating first, or the washhouse?
Washhouse first, he said.
Outside, it was dark. Setting the table, Margaret felt something long forgottenthe warmth and comfort shed once known with her husband. Smiling, she glanced at Jamess jacket hanging by the door.
If hes come today, hell stay. I want him to stay, she thought with uncharacteristic certainty.
The autumn day was gloomy, but the evening grew warm and quiet.
Nina sat by her gate, watching the road. Her face lit up when she saw the car that had appeared at Margarets for the second month running.
Well, good. Let them be. Theyre young yetmight even have a child, she murmured. Margarets like her old self againsmiling, gentle. Let her find joy. Life always moves forward. The important thing is to live.
