The Golden Thread

by Monica Carly

  ‘Maria! Sit down! You’ve got to sit still!’

  But Maria had other ideas. To her two-year-old mind there were far more engaging pursuits than listening to her elder sister running through the alphabet or reciting tables. What did she care whether A was for apple or B for bear? And numbers were a closed book to her.

  Claudia, proud of her accomplishments so far, felt a burning desire to share them but was constantly thwarted by a somewhat less than receptive audience. Her reading was well above average for her tender years, but what she really enjoyed was her number work. She could count up to a hundred without hesitation, recite her two and three times tables accurately and was in the process of mastering her four times table. At school her teacher commended her quickness to learn, noting her early promise. A future in teaching was already Claudia’s main goal in life. How frustrating, then, to find her younger sister so totally uninterested.

  Sometimes Maria would stay quiet for a few minutes, sucking her thumb and grasping her favourite doll against her chest. But soon she would start to move away from her cushion, grabbing one or two of her classmates as she went, staggering on wobbly legs to play one of her favourite imaginative games. If Claudia tried to restrain her forcibly, the blood-curdling screams that ensued would have Anita running in to reprimand Claudia for her treatment of her small sister.

  One day, foiled as usual by Maria’s unwillingness to concentrate on the important matter in hand, Claudia went to find her mother who was busy with one of her culinary projects in the kitchen.

  ‘She won’t listen, Mummy! It’s not fair. How can I practise being a teacher if Maria won’t let me teach her?’

  Anita tried to reason with Claudia, suggesting that her expectations of her small sister were perhaps a little too high.

  ‘What is it about teaching that attracts you so much?’ she asked. ‘You’re very young to have decided on a career already.’

  Claudia struggled to put into words why she was so sure this was what she wanted to do with her life. As they talked, Anita suddenly became aware of the smell of burning and at the same moment there was an urgent banging on the front door. An alarmed neighbour had come to report that flames could be seen leaping out of the top of the Hansoms’ chimney!

  Anita rushed into the lounge to find Maria, who had managed to push the fireguard aside, chuckling as she gleefully threw her classmates, one by one, onto the fire.

  ‘Eliminating the opposition seems a rather drastic method of achieving top-of-the-class status,’ remarked their father, when he was told of the escapade that evening. ‘I think Claudia will probably achieve it by fair means, without resorting to foul.’

  That day marked the end of Claudia’s teaching practice sessions. Instead, forced to confine her activities to lesson preparation until Maria grew a little older, she set about creating an arithmetic book to help her sister learn the rudiments of mathematics.

  Claudia loved school, quickly revealing an aptitude for number work which convinced her teachers that they had a talented pupil in their midst. She had learned to read early without any difficulty and shone in most subjects, picking up information quickly and assimilating facts without effort. For her age she seemed to know an amazing amount about the world she lived in. She could find most countries on the globe and knew their capital cities by heart. Historical projects were a source of particular delight, the ancient world proving to have an endless fascination for her. The longer ago the time in question, the more it awakened her interest.

  Maria was clearly cast in a rather different mould since it was the social aspect of school life that delighted her. Quickly making friends, she was popular with her classmates who were attracted by her sense of fun. Her reports of what she had done centred on who had sat next to her and what games had been played. Lessons scarcely featured in her accounts of her school day.

  One day Claudia decided to put her sister’s reading ability to the test.

  ‘Bring me your storybook of Goldilocks and the three bears. Let’s see if you can read it.’

  Maria, opening the book at the first page, started on an imaginative account of the whole story, remarkable in its detail but bearing no relation to the actual words on the page.

  ‘You’re not reading it!’ Claudia interrupted.

  ‘I am! I am!’

  ‘No you’re not. You’re just making it up.’ This sent Maria running to find her mother, wailing loudly that Claudia was being horrid to her.

  By the time Maria was in her second year at school the teachers were all too well aware that history was not repeating itself. Jane Singleton, Maria’s teacher, remembering Claudia from three years previously, remarked on this to her colleague, Betty Chalmers, who currently had Claudia in her class. ‘Maria’s a charming little girl – never really naughty – just mildly mischievous, but she shows no real interest in learning. I can’t help comparing her with Claudia at that age. She was hungry for knowledge and progressed by leaps and bounds!’

  ‘She still does! She’s a joy to teach,’ replied Betty. ‘That girl will go far. I’m pretty certain she’s university material.’

  Claudia’s weak point was in the area of imagination. It did not come easily to her to invent stories, with the result that her creative writing tended to be about things she had done, thinly disguised. Nor did she much enjoy reading fanciful tales. Where was the point of a story that could never have happened? By way of compensation, her grasp of grammatical correctness and her neat handwriting made her work a pleasure for her teachers to read.

  Maria’s writing, by contrast, flowed spontaneously as the inspiration came flooding in. Her spelling and punctuation may have been unconventional but her stories had strong imaginative appeal, captivating the reader with a narrative full of drama and unexpected twists and turns. By contrast, her mathematical ability was abysmal. She had no interest in trying to work something out in a logical way. Where was the fun in that?

  Anita encouraged Maria’s imaginative play, entering into it with childlike delight. They would build their own village in the lounge by laying down pencils on the carpet to mark out the streets and then placing little houses at various points in which their invented characters lived. Then, each taking a doll, they would walk them along the streets until they met, whereupon a lively exchange would take place, probably starting with the weather and then moving on to more personal family matters.

  Anita would be so caught up in their game that only a burning smell from the kitchen would remind her she had put a cake in the oven some time earlier. She may have had little formal education, but she could weave magical stories and invent games which she delighted in playing with her children. At bedtime she would read to them for hours, although once Claudia had mastered the art for herself, she preferred to read her own books.

  Their father rarely arrived home in time to say goodnight to his girls. Dr Hugh Hansom, university lecturer in physics, was a remote figure who stayed at his place of work for as many hours as he could without incurring the wrath of his wife. Deeply immersed in his world of scientific experiments, he could forget everything else and only come back to reality after frantic telephone calls from Anita who had had to throw one ruined dinner into the dustbin and start afresh. He could think of little to say to his girls when they were very young.

  Once Claudia’s scholastic abilities became clear, Hugh began to take pleasure in asking her about her latest projects and achievements. The older she grew, the more she enjoyed conversing with him, describing articulately the progress she had made in certain areas, and what she enjoyed most about her work. If she had any problems, which wasn’t often the case, he could usually shed light on what was puzzling her, to their mutual satisfaction.

  Hugh then tried the same approach with his younger daughter.

  ‘What have you learned at school today, Maria?’

  ‘Oh, the teachers didn’t bother with much today. They let us make up stories.’

  ‘S
o what was your story?’

  ‘Mine was about a deep, deep forest where a beautiful young girl with long fair hair went off to play – but she got hopelessly lost, and the more she tried to find her way out the more the tangled branches caught her and held her so that she struggled and struggled in vain! And then a handsome prince came riding by …’

  ‘How did he manage to ride in the forest if it was so thick with overhanging branches?’

  Maria stopped mid flow, looking nonplussed.

  ‘Now you’ve interrupted me, Daddy, and I can’t think where I was.’

  ‘You were in the middle of this deep, deep forest – or, at least, your beautiful young girl was.’

  But Maria had lost interest, realising her audience was not as captivated as the girls at school had been.

  Sunday lunch was the one time when the Hansoms sat down together as a family to enjoy the culinary delights Anita would set before them. After a typical menu such as succulent roast beef, light-as-a-feather Yorkshire Pudding and crisp roast potatoes, followed by apple pie, Hugh would lean back contentedly in his chair and beam at his family. He considered himself an extraordinarily lucky chap although it was an unfathomable mystery that an old stick-in-the-mud like him should be so blessed by the presence of a beautiful wife – but he was unfailingly grateful for it.

  ‘Thank you, my dear, for an excellent meal, as always. Now, girls, what are you going to do this afternoon?’

  ‘I’m going to help Mummy with the washing up,’ said Maria, quickly, believing that was the best way out of what might be a rather tricky conversation. Anyhow, it was always fun being in the kitchen with Anita.

  ‘And you, Claudia?’

  ‘Well, if Mummy doesn’t need me I thought I’d have a go at those maths problems I told you about.’

  ‘Well done,’ approved Hugh.

  ‘How boring!’ muttered Maria under her breath, almost spoiling the good impression she had just created. Anita frowned at her, urging her to carry some plates out to the kitchen.

  Despite their differences in temperament, the girls became close companions. Claudia was protective of her younger sister, shouldering a responsibility for Maria’s well-being which wasn’t always well received as Claudia could be dictatorial at times.

  ‘You must finish your homework before you start to play, Maria,’ she would say, day after day, with little effect.

  ‘Stop being so bossy, Claudia. Mummy, Claudia keeps being bossy. Tell her to leave me alone.’

  ‘She’s only trying to help you, darling. You really should get your homework done, like she says. Look, come and help me make some scones, and then get on with it after that. Would that be a good idea?’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  And Maria was off to the kitchen before Claudia could say anything else. But in the evening, before bed, Maria would come into Claudia’s room and chatter away, telling her all about her day at school and who had started being friends with whom, and what had been so funny that they had all giggled until they got into trouble. She took comfort from knowing that if she needed help she could always turn to Claudia and it was difficult to say how much of Maria’s maths homework was actually done by her. Claudia had become adept at faking Maria’s handwriting.

  ‘I do hope we don’t ever get separated,’ sighed Maria one evening, when Claudia had come to her rescue once more. Maria had lost her exercise book in which she had done her latest piece of homework and was about to get into dire trouble. Claudia had managed to find it lurking in the depths of her satchel, covered up by a number of magazines that Maria and her friends shared with each other. ‘I’m sure I couldn’t manage my life without you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll stay together through thick and thin. Though I do think you’re going to have to become a bit more responsible one of these days.’

  Maria pulled a face.

  But soon there would be changes. When Claudia was eleven she won a place at the local grammar school. Maria knew she had little hope of following her there – nor would she have wanted to do so – but she wondered how she would fare at school without Claudia’s support.

  She did have one gift that Claudia lacked – an ability to charm people. She was already discovering that this was her best method of extracting herself from potential trouble and achieving her own ends. Her ready smile meant she was always surrounded by a large number of girls who all wanted to be her friend. She was too young and innocent to understand that this talent could prove a two-edged sword.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Mummy! Mummy! Where are you?’ Claudia, now aged fifteen, had arrived home from school, aglow with news of her latest achievements, but the house was silent. Anita, who usually made a point of being at home to greet her children, was nowhere to be seen.

  Claudia finally found her mother in the bedroom, lying on the bed.

  ‘Are you all right, Mummy? What is it?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling … I just came over a bit faint … I thought I’d better lie down for a few minutes … I must have dropped off to sleep. I’m so sorry. How did you get on today?’

  ‘Fine – I got full marks in that maths test – but you are all right, aren’t you? I mean …. You’re not ill, or anything?’

  ‘No! Of course not! I’m fine – really I am. Be an angel and put the kettle on – I’d love a cup of tea. Then I’ll come downstairs. Oh, by the way, don’t say anything to your father … I don’t want him to get worried. There’s really nothing to worry about.’

  Claudia couldn’t help feeling disturbed. She tried to believe there was nothing wrong but her mother looked so pale. She would say something to Maria when she came back from having tea with one of her friends.

  Maria found the idea of their mother not being well very frightening. ‘Shouldn’t we tell the doctor? Or should we disobey Mummy and tell Daddy?’

  ‘Let’s see how she is,’ Claudia decided. ‘If she really is all right then I think we needn’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Maria agreed. ‘Perhaps it’s nothing – after all grown-ups do faint occasionally, don’t they?’

  The girls were used to helping around the house. Anita had brought them up to take a share in some of the basic chores, so it didn’t come as a particular surprise when they were asked to help with clearing the tea things away, or washing up. As far as they could tell Anita was back to normal, if perhaps a little tired.

  But two days later there was a loud crash in the kitchen followed by the sound of breaking crockery. Both girls rushed in to find Anita on the floor, a tea towel nearby and fragments of a broken plate scattered everywhere.

  Claudia rang Hugh’s work number and the secretary managed to get hold of him. He told Claudia to ring the emergency number for an ambulance and said he would come immediately.

  The diagnosis was cancer, and it was only a matter of time. Had she seen a doctor earlier, perhaps something could have been done but now the disease had spread too far. Three months later Anita lost her battle and died.

  Hugh, heartbroken and guilt-ridden, buried himself deeper in his work. He hired a housekeeper who coped competently, but the girls now lacked the emotional warmth their mother had always lavished on them. With Hugh still a rather distant figure, they turned to each other for comfort and support and the bond between them grew stronger than ever.

  When Claudia reached the sixth form at school she worked single-mindedly in order to achieve her goal of university entrance. Maria was aghast at how much effort was required, and swore she would leave school just as soon as she got the chance. There was only one aspect of Claudia’s sixth form life that appealed to her sister, and that was the school Hop. It was the custom of the school to make arrangements with a neighbouring boys’ grammar school for a dance one Saturday afternoon each term, in an attempt to broaden the horizons of girls who, being at a single-sex school, might not have opportunities to mix with boys.

  ‘Oh, Claudia! You are lucky! I
wish I could go! What are you going to wear?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m not going.’

  ‘Oh, you must! Why ever not? It’ll be such fun – just think! All those boys!’

  ‘I can’t waste my time on that! I’ve got lots of work to do over the weekend.’

  ‘Oh come on! You never do anything but work! Don’t you think you ought to get in a little practice at going to dances? After all, there must be fun things like that up at college. It can’t be all work, can it?’

  Claudia had to concede that Maria had a point. Perhaps she ought to give it a try. After all, the other girls were all getting excited about it and she didn’t want to be a total stick-in-the-mud when she got to university. Maria was happy to advise her on what she should wear.

  ‘Get something blue, Claudia – it’s your best colour. You look lovely in blue.’

  Claudia had no illusions. She knew Maria was far prettier than she was. As the years passed the differences between the two girls had become more marked. It wasn’t just the way their minds worked – it was also their physical appearance. Claudia had stopped growing at five feet, five inches, and begun to thicken, her waist not being as well defined as she could have wished. Her hair was dark and straight, her face, although not unattractive, was unremarkable, and she required fairly thick spectacles for daily use.

  Maria, a good five feet, eight inches in height, had shapely long legs that were the envy of her peers. With her light brown curls hanging below her shoulders, her striking facial features and her slim figure, she soon attracted the boys. Always laughing and bright, her friendliness made her popular with her classmates, who also admired her prowess on the sports field. Her teachers were less impressed since she skimped on the hours spent on her studies, but even they couldn’t help liking her.