The Golden Thread

by Monica Carly

  Then came the day when she knew she could not go through with it. That evening, when her father was at home, she went to speak to him.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about teaching, for the time being, anyway. I’m going to have a complete break for a few months, well, until the next school year is coming up. By then I will know if it’s still what I want to do.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand! Why on earth have you changed your mind?’

  ‘I’ve been doing some thinking. It’s just that–’

  ‘Is this anything to do with Maria? You haven’t seemed the same since you got home and found she’d gone.’

  Claudia hesitated. She longed to confide in her father, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. How could she tell him what she now proposed to do? Before she could say anything further Hugh spoke.

  ‘I know you miss your sister terribly. You two were always so close. Especially after darling Mummy died. If only she were still with us! She would have known what to say to you now. I’ve been a useless father, I know.’

  He looked so thoroughly wretched, Claudia’s heart went out to him.

  ‘Look, Dad, it’s only for a year. I just want a break, to think things through.’ His bewildered look told her she would have to say more. The bombshell would have to be dropped. She stumbled on, ‘I have to tell you it was a dreadful shock when I found out about Maria and Stefano – that they’d married, and gone to Italy. You see, Dad, Stefano had proposed to me! You may well look stunned, but, I assure you, he did. That evening he came to Oxford for the ball … he proposed to me … I know it probably sounds absurd to you … but I’m telling you the truth … he did ask me to marry him.’

  Hugh stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

  ‘And I accepted … and now … and now I just can’t carry on as if nothing has happened. I’ve made plans, and I want you to accept what I say. Please, Dad – you must do as I ask.’

  ‘Oh, Claudia … I had know idea … Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I couldn’t … I’m sorry … It just all hurt too much. But now I know what I must do to get over it all.’

  So she told him that instead of starting to teach she wanted to go away. She insisted that it was the only way she could find the inner resources to pick up her life again. During that time there were to be conditions which he must promise to respect. She would make a telephone call once a month, to assure him that she was well, provided that he made no attempt to trace her. Once the time was up she would return, and start her career. She felt fairly certain she would still want to teach, and by then she would have achieved the frame of mind to do it.

  Hugh found her plans bewildering and deeply worrying. He had thought she was looking pale and unhappy … in fact, hadn’t looked herself for some weeks. But he couldn’t see how such a plan would result in the healing process she needed.

  ‘How will you live? What will you do for money? Why must you go away, when I would do all I could to try and help you here? I know I’ve always been rather involved in my work – but now I know you need support, I really would do what I could. I can’t bear to think of you in some unknown place, away from everyone you know. Without me, or Maria.’

  ‘But that’s the whole point. It’s only by being among total strangers that I will be able to get back on my feet again. I need my own space so that I can come to terms with the past and start trying to face the future. I can’t cope with seeing your concern because I’m looking pale, nor can I take on the responsibility of a classroom full of lively children. I’ve got to have some time to think so that I can work things out. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I implore you, Dad, please trust me and accept that this is the only way. Please, please let me do it my way.’

  The tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks. Hugh took her hand.

  ‘If that’s what you’re sure you want, then I must abide by your wishes. You have my promise that I will observe your conditions. But in return you must grant me one thing. I want to put some money into your Post Office Account so that you can take the account book to any post office anywhere in the country and draw money out should you need it.’ Seeing she was about to object he went on, ‘No, don’t deny me this. I shall write you a cheque straight away, and you must promise to pay it in. You don’t have to use the money, if you don’t need it, but I shall sleep a lot easier at night if I know you have this facility at your disposal.’

  Claudia, realising it would be better to give in on this point, agreed. As she turned to go her father asked, ‘When will you be going?’

  ‘Very soon. But I won’t tell you exactly when. One day you will come back from work and I shan’t be here. I’d rather do it that way. I don’t want any emotional goodbyes.’

  Hugh wondered what ‘very soon’ might mean but did not have to wait long before finding out. The very next day he came back to an empty house.

  Chapter 15

  Claudia roused herself from her reveries, vexed that she had allowed her mind to drift back over the past. When she had been working there was always so much to concentrate on that she could keep her thoughts firmly under control. With leisure time on her hands it wasn’t proving so easy. Surely the past was buried now? Why should these memories come back, nearly forty years after the events, to haunt her once again? Annoyed with herself she got up to make some coffee.

  No sooner had she picked up the newspaper to do the crossword than her mind was off again. In those early years, when she had started teaching, letters had arrived, addressed in Maria’s embellished handwriting. She had torn them up and tossed them into the waste bin.

  Earlier, during her time in the wilderness, Claudia would contact her father at intervals, as she had promised. Then he would try and pass on information.

  ‘I hear Maria and Stefano have come back to England now, and have settled in Wimbledon,’ he said on one occasion.

  ‘Stop it, Dad. I don’t want to hear about them.’

  But he didn’t stop.

  ‘I hear there’s a child.’ Claudia had banged the phone down.

  Another time he told her of the letters Maria had written to him, in which she had implored him to try and heal the rift. She had said how much she missed her sister. He quoted: ‘Whatever I have done, I’m willing to ask for her forgiveness – although I don’t really understand why she is so against me. I knew Claudia was fond of Stefano, but I didn’t think she’d ever want to marry him. He doesn’t think so, either. And he swears he never offered marriage to her.’

  All Claudia’s emotions had risen to the surface, jangling until she could bear it no longer.

  ‘You know nothing, Dad. You never did understand Maria. You never saw through the stories she made up. You never realised how she rewrote history to suit her purposes. Nor, for that matter, did you ever understand me! Because I sat there calmly hour after hour with my books, enjoying working out maths problems, everyone assumed I was a simply a factual person. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone that I might feel deeply, and suffer pain like anyone else. Well, I have to tell you that I have known the deepest, most unbearable pain a woman can ever know, and I shall never be able to forgive Maria … never!’

  ‘Look, Claudia, I am truly sorry. I wish you had been able to tell me. I didn’t realise just how deep all this went. But isn’t it time now to let these things lie where they are – in the past? What is the point of dwelling on old wounds, and as a result losing out on a family relationship that was once so good? Can’t you let bygones be bygones?’

  ‘That’s the whole point! They have not gone! What happened has left a permanent mark on my life and changed the whole course of events for me. What I am now, I shall be in forty years time. Apart from my career, I have nothing to look forward to.’

  ‘How can you be so sure of that? You can’t possibly know what lies ahead! You could well meet someone far more suitable for you than Stefano would have been. You must open your heart, Claudia. You seem to hav
e battened everything down as though no more opportunities could possibly be waiting for you.’

  Claudia’s voice was low, strained, and held under control only with a supreme effort.

  ‘I told you it wasn’t possible for you to understand. How can you have any concept of what it would do to me if I did allow myself the luxury of feeling emotion? I wouldn’t be able to bear the consequences. Please, Dad, if you want to help me, never speak of any of this again. Allow me to decide how I must live to make my life, if not happy, at least endurable. And the only way I can do that is to cut Maria, and all she represents, out completely.’

  Her father had reluctantly agreed. It meant that she did not have a great deal of communication with him. He tried to show an interest as her teaching career progressed. He rejoiced with her when she achieved the headship at Kingdown Primary School. He came to believe that she had found a level of contentment. They never had a heart-to-heart again. By the time she retired, he had died.

  A sudden noise disturbed Claudia’s train of thought. She realised someone was banging on the door. Composing her features into her usual fixed look that revealed nothing, she opened the door.

  A woman, unknown to Claudia, stood there.

  ‘Yes? What do you want?’

  Claudia’s eyes took in the woman, probably late thirties, tall and athletic in appearance, with dark hair and blue eyes that held a hint of something familiar. The woman, unfazed by the brusque, unfriendly greeting, looked straight at Claudia.

  ‘You’re Miss Hansom, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Fran,’ she replied, ‘and I’d like to talk to you. May I come in?’

  Chapter 16

  The village post office is often the hub of a small community’s life, its importance going far beyond the necessary business of posting letters. It can be central to the lives of those who attend every Tuesday to draw their pension money, providing a meeting point for old friends and a place to exchange local news.

  Opposite the village green in Swanton was just such an establishment, seen by the local people as vital to their well being, their lives overseen in the kindliest manner by the two caring owners, Percy and Barbie Piper. Both were trained in post office duties, but it was Barbie who usually sat behind the counter, while Percy looked after the rest of the shop, dealing with the newspapers and making sure he stocked the kind of toffees to which the rector was particularly partial.

  It was Barbie who had realised, one Tuesday, that old Mrs Casey had failed to show up to collect her pension. Percy, temporarily abandoning his duties, had gone round to her cottage to investigate, but his bangs on the door and his shouts through the letterbox went unanswered. Fortunately he knew, from past experience, where the spare key lay hidden. He it was who called the ambulance, and in the nick of time – for had Mrs Casey lain there much longer she would probably have died. Now that she was getting rather muddled there were times when she forgot her insulin injection, and the result was a hypoglycaemic coma. Fortunately, on this occasion she was restored to life, and her gratitude to the watchful eyes of the Post Office team was unbounded.

  Percy, an only child, had known no other life than the small shop with its post office. It had belonged to his parents when he was growing up, and he went into the business as soon as he left school. He had looked forward to doing this for as long as he could remember. From time to time he had tried to consider other types of employment, but there was nothing that really appealed to him. All he wanted to do was take his place beside his father.

  He actively enjoyed the daily routines, never minding getting up early to mark up the newspapers. Never one for socialising, he found the daily contact with people in the shop sufficiently satisfying. When his parents reached retirement age he took over as if it was the most natural thing in the world. By then he was thirty, but somehow he had not got around to doing any courting. Needing to find someone to help him in the shop he put up a notice in the window: ‘Wanted – lady assistant. Knowledge of post office duties an advantage but not essential.’

  It so happened that a new family had come to live on the outskirts of Swanton, where a small farm had become vacant. The father, Sam Murdoch, came into the post office, and seeing the notice, had a word with Percy. It seemed he had a daughter, Barbara, who was a bookkeeper in a nearby town, but didn’t like the job there very much. She was on holiday with a few friends at present, but he would mention it to her when she came back and see if she liked the idea. Percy remarked that the wages probably couldn’t match what she’d been earning in the town, but that didn’t seem to put the girl off. She arrived a few days later, and was keen to start. They agreed on a trial period.

  Barbara quickly learned all that was necessary for running the post office, taking to the work with obvious enjoyment.

  ‘What do you think, then, Miss Murdoch?’ Percy enquired a week or two later. ‘Do you think you’d like to work here?’

  ‘Oh, yes please, Mr Piper. I love it. I do hope you’ll think I’m good enough for the job.’

  It wasn’t only the job Percy thought she was good enough for. He suddenly found he was looking forward to her arrival each morning, and was sorry when the time came to shut up shop at the end of the day. Hesitantly, one day, he asked her to accompany him to the village barn dance. She accepted immediately. Things went on from there, and when, a little later, he asked if she would ‘join the firm’, as he put it, she did not hesitate at that either.

  Proudly Percy watched his new wife busily fulfilling her role in the shop. How well she carried out all her duties, with her neat handwriting and tidy way of working. Her papers were organised and her money always added up at the end of the day. But what Percy enjoyed most was her interaction with their customers. She always had a cheery word for everyone, and as she became familiar with their circumstances she would add some little personal comment.

  ‘How’s that cat of yours now, Mrs Stokes? Back on her food is she?’

  And Mrs Stokes would go into a long account of the pet’s recovery, with Barbie making all the right noises at intervals, as though she had nothing else to do that day.

  ‘Oh, isn’t that good! You must be so pleased! Nothing like a cat for company, I always say.’

  Mrs Stokes would find many reasons to come back, even if was only for a couple of stamps or a tube of pastilles, so Percy thought the chatter was probably good for business, but he didn’t mind anyway. He liked seeing their mainly elderly clientele enter the shop as if it was a home from home, and he’d watch them brighten up when Barbie showed an interest in them.

  The years rolled by with neither of them really noticing. Ten or more had gone since Percy had brought his new bride into the shop, and they both still loved their life – but something was missing. Percy, now in his forties, and Barbie in her late thirties, had not produced any offspring.

  One evening, as they walked arm-in-arm down the country lanes and beside the river, Percy, without any premeditated thought, raised the subject.

  ‘Pity there’s no little Piper to follow us into the shop, don’t you think?’

  This thought had been gradually growing in Barbie’s mind for some time. However hard she tried to push it away, it had kept returning unbidden.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not meant to be, Percy dear. If it’s not to be for us, then we have to accept it. Some things aren’t meant, I always say.’

  ‘Seems a pity, though.’ He hesitated. ‘Perhaps we should have some tests, see if there’s anything wrong – what do you think?’

  So they approached good old Dr Flint, and underwent various tests. It became apparent that a rheumatic illness that Percy had had in his childhood had rendered him infertile.

  ‘Oh, Barbie, I’m so sorry. What a disappointment. I had no idea.’

  ‘It’s all right, Percy. Not your fault at all. Just one of those things. Can’t be helped.’

  Despite the cheerful face they both put on the
situation the issue nevertheless remained a sadness in their lives. Percy did some more thinking.

  ‘I was wondering,’ he said one day, over supper, ‘what would you think about adopting a child?’

  Barbie hadn’t thought about it at all. The suggestion took her by surprise.

  ‘Adopt a baby? Us adopt a baby? Oh, Percy, I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think. I mean, it wouldn’t be the same, would it?’

  But the idea gradually took root in her mind, and she began to picture herself with a baby in her arms. She saw the two of them pushing the pram out on a Sunday afternoon. She saw herself bathing the little one and putting her to bed. The more she thought about it the more she realised it would bring something special into their lives. For some inexplicable reason, every time she thought about it, she saw a baby girl.

  Still without giving Percy a positive answer, Barbie raised a number of issues, asking questions that taxed Percy’s ingenuity to the full, but somehow he always managed to produce an answer that satisfied his wife. At least, it did for a time, until the next question had taken shape in her mind.

  ‘We don’t know anything about adopting, do we?’

  ‘No, but Dr Flint does, that’s for sure. We can ask him how to go about it.’

  ‘Can we afford a baby? It costs a lot of money to bring up a child.’

  ‘We’ll manage, Barbie dear. The shop’s not doing badly – and I have the small sum my father left me.’

  ‘Well, suppose we did go ahead and adopt – how would we manage in the shop? I mean, I’ll be pretty busy looking after a little one – so who would do the post office counter?’

  ‘I’ll do it. After all I did before you came on the scene. Then we’d have to get some help in the shop. I reckon we’d find one or two mums who’d like some part-time work – maybe share the duties and their children between them. And I’d be there to show them the ropes, or help out if they got into difficulties. What do you think?’