by Pam Rhodes
Hi Maggie
I hope you’re okay. Darren tells me your new flat is great. I’m pleased that you are now happy and settled. I’d like to say I’m happy and settled too, but that wouldn’t be quite true. We found a house Mandy really likes, but we’re a bit short of what we need to buy it, even after I put in all the money I got from my share of our house sale. But I’m applying for an extra loan now, so fingers crossed that goes through. The repayments will be crippling, especially with a big mortgage to cover for the next twenty years. I’d forgotten how much mortgages cost every month, especially as you and I had finished paying ours off – a couple of years ago, wasn’t it? You always dealt with our bills, so I can’t quite remember when we were finally mortgage free.
I’m trying to get a few delivery jobs in the evenings to boost our income a bit, but I just find I’m tired all the time. The kids are really noisy, so it’s difficult to sleep whenever I can find an hour during the day. They seem to be constantly arguing too. I don’t remember Steph and Darren being like that. Were they? And, of course, there’s a new baby now. Aurora is really sweet. I think she looks a bit like Steph when she was little, although Mandy didn’t like it when I said so. I know how you like babies, so I’ll send over a picture so that you can see what you think. Mandy’s still feeling exhausted from the birth. She says it always takes her months before she feels anywhere near normal again. She needs a lot of support and rest right now.
I probably shouldn’t say this, but I do miss you, Mags. In spite of everything, we were always good friends, weren’t we? I could do with a chat with my good friend now. Anyway, I’d love to see your new flat. Well, more than that, I’d love to see you. Perhaps I could pop over for a cuppa one day soon. What do you think?
That’s all I need to say really. Hope you’re well.
Keep smiling; it confuses your enemies!
Dave xxxx
It wasn’t until she’d finished reading that Maggie realized she had been holding her breath from the start. So young love wasn’t quite so exciting after all! Of course, Dave wasn’t prepared for the noisy messiness of life with young children, not to mention the constant demands of a new baby. That was because, when their children were growing up, she had loved being a mum so much that she had happily coped with all the work, washing, refereeing and total exhaustion of bringing up a family. Dave had gone off to work all day, and when he came home in the evening the kids were in bed, dinner was on the table and the TV remote control was right next to his reclining armchair. No wonder this had all come as a huge shock to him.
And now he wanted to come and see her because he needed a chat with a good friend! Well, it didn’t feel as if he’d been much of a friend to her lately. And even if there was just a remnant of affection for this man with whom she had shared so much over the years, the pain of their break-up was still too raw. She’d managed to get this far, and was now feeling quite settled in her lovely new home – but her confidence was fragile. She couldn’t run the risk of seeing him again just yet. And most of all, she couldn’t bear listening to him moan about how unhappy he was with the woman he had chosen over their own family.
No, she had nothing to say to him in reply to this email. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pressed the Delete button. Then she stopped for a moment as it crossed her mind that within twelve hours she had deleted two messages that had both been sent to her by men. She definitely wanted to be rid of this message, but what about the other? She hadn’t even opened Phil’s email to see what it said. Perhaps that was the very least she should do before she condemned it to Trash for ever? She quickly retrieved the email and started to read:
Dear Megs
I had been hoping I might hear from you again after my last message, but now several days have passed I realize that I omitted to tell you one very important thing that perhaps you need to know before you decide whether you should answer or not.
I mentioned my children and my wife Sandra. What I didn’t say is that Sandra and I are no longer together. We parted very amicably nearly two years ago, after the children had left home. There’s an old saying about marrying in haste, regretting at leisure. When I met Sandra, I was working overseas most of the time, so we hardly had the chance to see each other. It all felt very dramatic and exciting when we decided to get married. But then, as time went on, we both looked back to realize, too late unfortunately, that we actually had very little in common. I have nothing but admiration for Sandra, who is a lovely person and a wonderful mother. That said, it became very clear over the years that we had totally different personalities and interests, which meant that we shared very little, apart from the children. I liked travelling, DIY, gardening and playing a bit of sport every now and then. She was a home bird, very close to her sister and not wanting to go away even for summer holidays with the children. And she never enjoyed going out in the evenings because it would mean missing an episode of her favourite soaps!
It wasn’t that we were unhappy. We were just two people living parallel lives that never really touched. It was actually quite lonely for us both – and finally, when the children were safely on their way, we employed one solicitor between us, told him how we wanted to divide things so that we could each get on with our own lives, then we organized our parting of the ways by helping each other however we could. The fact is that neither of us wanted our marriage to fail. It was the very last thing we intended when we got hitched, but having made our joint decision to part, we’re both so much happier these days. We keep in touch about the family. We’re friends. We were saying only the other day that neither of us has ever broken our promise to love each other until “death do us part”. We will always love each other, but not in the way married couples should. We’re both just getting on with our own lives, and feeling much better for it. The kids are okay about it too. Our daughter said we should have separated long ago!
Anyway, that’s probably far too much information and I may have scared the living daylights out of you, but I want to be honest. It’s only fair.
Forgive me for mentioning this if it’s inappropriate, but Joe said that you’d been through a divorce in recent times. I can only guess how much upheaval and emotional challenge that has meant for you lately.
In view of that, the very last thing you may need is a long-lost acquaintance taking up any of your precious time when you have enough to think about already. However, if a bit of entertaining email banter with an old friend every now and then might find a place in whatever shape your life has now taken on, I’d love to hear from you.
And if you prefer not to reply, I’ll understand completely. I wish you well always.
Yours
Phil
Maggie stared at the screen, her thoughts in a jumble. Then she clicked Reply and started to type.
Chapter 11
“Good morning, Kath.”
To Kath’s surprise, it was Richard Carlisle who had popped his head around her door.
“Hello. What brings you to Hope Hall?”
“Trevor’s prepared a report I need to see, and I decided to collect it myself as I was passing. How are you?”
Her expression was wry as she looked at the stacks of boxes and papers of various shapes and sizes lying over and around her desk. “The centenary event is making me slightly cross-eyed, but I’m getting there. There are so many different groups involved, each of which needs this bit of paperwork or that set of posters, and they all have their own ever-changing list of requirements. I guess my desk will have to look like this for the next few weeks, but I have to admit, I find it hard to work properly when there’s clutter all over the place.”
“I’m just the same,” he agreed, pulling up a chair on the other side of her desk. “It’s a necessary evil of being involved in a complex business, but it does drive me crackers!”
“At least I go home to an apartment that has the right sort of clutter; you know, mostly tidy but homely too.”
He grimaced. “I live with a teenag
er. Need I say more?”
“How is William? Is he back from Portsmouth now?”
“He is. He took two nautical navigation courses while he was there and passed them both with flying colours. He’s going to need longer sleeves on his Sea Cadet uniform if he gets many more!”
“Well, I gather from Muriel Baker that the asbestos repairs on the Sea Cadet hut are going well, and that the corps may be moving back to their own premises again in a few weeks’ time.”
“Yes, that’s good news. I do think their stay at Hope Hall has worked out really well for them, though. They’ll be quite sad to say goodbye.”
“And we feel exactly the same way. It’s been a pleasure having them here. And did you know that they’ve offered to take part in the centenary service, providing a guard of honour at the church? We’re absolutely delighted to accept.”
“Speaking of offers that might be good to accept, could you spare an hour or so this morning? It just so happens that the engineer who is most knowledgeable about the disability modifications for the new minibus is going to be at the dealership in Portsmouth this morning, with a vehicle just like the one you’ll be having. Is there any chance you could come down with me to take a look? Make sure it’s suitable?”
Kath’s mind raced through her programme for the morning. “I’ve got a quick meeting here in ten minutes, and a couple of phone calls I really ought to make, but if you could give me half an hour or so, that would be lovely.”
“I’ll need some time with Trevor to talk over the report, so that should be perfect timing.”
“Should Trevor come too?”
“Yes, that would be helpful, if he’s able to. I’ll ask him.”
But forty minutes later when Richard came back into Kath’s office, he was alone.
“Trevor can’t join us. Something about ‘she who must be obeyed’! Apparently, Mary has a chiropractic appointment and needs him to drive her home after her treatment. So you’re lumbered with just me, I’m afraid.”
Kath laughed. “Lead on, then!”
Richard’s Range Rover made short work of the drive to the centre of Portsmouth, where he turned into a large garage complex belonging to a well-known international car manufacturer. Standing in the middle of the forecourt was a sparkling new minibus that quite simply took Kath’s breath away. Within minutes, Richard was introducing her to Adrian Morgan, the engineer, who was able to answer all her questions with enthusiastic explanations about the range of modifications and additions that could be made to create a minibus especially for Hope Hall. The new vehicle would be capable of catering for a wide range of passenger disabilities and physical limitations.
Kath was thrilled. “This will make such a difference to the service we can provide. I can’t tell you how much the gift of this minibus means to us.”
“Well,” beamed the engineer, “we’ll get cracking on it, then. And Richard, if you could ask Celia to confirm the image and wording needed on the side of the bus, I can organize that too.”
“That’s something we can talk about over lunch if you’ve got time, Kath?”
Perhaps it was her excitement over the minibus, or maybe it was just that breakfast had been a long time ago, but Kath realized she was actually quite hungry. And so it was that the two of them found themselves in a quaint little pub in Old Portsmouth, looking out across the busy harbour as huge plates of fish, chips and mushy peas were placed before them. Conversation flowed easily between them, as it had during their previous meal together.
One minute they were talking as two business executives, discussing the issues and challenges they faced in their different areas of work, and the next they were laughing about a shared joke that amused them both. Somehow, they got on to recalling the first record they had each bought and sharing stories from their schooldays. They discussed books they had loved and stories that moved and inspired them. Like old friends, they chatted away so comfortably that it surprised them both to find that nearly two hours had passed and they were still there.
Their conversation continued as they travelled back to Hope Hall together, where Richard drew up by the main entrance to drop Kath back at the office. He got out of the car to come around and open her door, by which time she was already standing on the pavement.
“Thank you for today,” he said with real warmth in his eyes as he gazed at her.
“It’s been an unexpected pleasure,” she said, smiling in return.
He stretched out to take her hand, which he brought to his lips to plant the softest of kisses on it. “You, Kath Sutton, are a very, very special lady.” And with a slight farewell nod, he got back in the car, giving a cheery wave as he drove off.
And you, Richard Carlisle, are Celia Ainsworth’s partner. I need to remember that. And so do you.
There was a great air of excitement about Michael Sayward when he called in at Hope Hall the following day.
“I think I’ve traced the family of Leonard Carmichael – you know, the chief builder of Hope Hall who left that really moving set of letters behind our original foundation stone when it was laid?”
“Really?” asked Kath, catching his enthusiasm. “Tell me more!”
“Well, it’s taken quite a while to dig out what we needed to know, but it’s been so worthwhile. Do you remember that the last letter Gerry Carmichael wrote to his wife mentioned they had a son? Well, the baby’s name was Walter, and his mother Edith never married again, so he was the only child she ever had. He was born in January 1917, and his father Gerry died on the battlefield at Passchendaele in August of the same year. So although he knew Edith was pregnant, he never actually met Walter.
“Years later in 1939, when Walter was twenty-two, he got married to Florence, a girl who apparently lived almost next door to his mum. But then, within a year of them tying the knot, Walter was sent over to France with thousands of British troops in the early months of 1940. Fortunately, he got through the war relatively unscathed, and when he came home in 1945, he went back to his old job in his grandfather’s business, Carmichael Builders.
“I’ve managed to find some records for Walter and Flo. They had two children, although sadly I came across an article on the front page of the local paper in 1963 saying that their son, David, was killed in a motorbike accident just outside town. He was only seventeen. Their older daughter, Joyce, was born during the war years after her father Walter came home for leave in 1941. And do you remember there were a few local family names mentioned on the back of that group photograph we found behind the foundation stone? Well, one of those families was the Jessops, and Joyce ended up marrying Ken Jessop. She’s a widow now, seventy-nine years old, but she and Ken had four children, seven grandchildren and even a couple of great-grandchildren – and all of them grew up in this town.”
“Oh, my goodness! Do we know where she lives now? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she were able to come along on Centenary Day?”
“She is still at the same house they moved into on the day they were married. And I know that because one of their sons, Derek, sings in the same choir as me.”
“You sing in a choir? Michael, you’re a dark horse! I never knew that.”
He chuckled. “Why would you? It’s an all-male barbershop choir. We have waxed moustaches and wear striped jackets and boaters for our performances.”
“Well I never!” laughed Kath. “That sounds great. We’ll have to book you to perform at Hope Hall.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t hold your breath. We’re not that good – more enthusiastic than skilled, I would say. It’s good fun, though.”
“So could you have a word with Derek? Maybe he should be the one to break the news to his mother about what we found behind the stone?”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll give him a ring tonight.”
It was the third Friday in the month of July – time for Hope Hall to host another of its popular monthly dance nights. Once again, Friction was the band booked to play, which more or less guaranteed a full
house with a queue of people waiting in line the moment the doors opened at seven thirty.
On this particular evening, drummer Nigel eased his battered old van into the playground earlier than usual. Once the van was parked, guitarists Jake and Graham opened the passenger door and jumped out to start unpacking their equipment from the back. They loaded it on to a huge trolley that they then pushed through the building to where it was needed on stage.
Minutes later, Andy’s smaller car arrived, and he immediately started unloading his keyboard before helping the others carry it into the hall, along with several other large items of gear. Once inside, they set to work laying out their array of amplifiers, sound boxes and pedals that controlled the exact tone and balance the band wanted to create. Having been involved in the music business for some time, Andy was acknowledged as their sound expert. From his position at the keyboard, he was able to plan and monitor all the sound and mixing requirements from the boards and controllers he kept close at hand.
Andy liked nothing more than setting up for a gig, making sure everything was wired up correctly, with mikes working, sound levels balanced to perfection and special effects programmed in so that they could be introduced at exactly the right dramatic moments throughout their programme of songs. There was only one area of frustration for Andy, and that was the fact that Carlos had worked out how to override Andy’s control of the bank of foot pedals, which the lead singer insisted lay on the stage floor right in front of him. This meant that if the singer wanted his voice to boom out louder than the others, or if he wanted to create an echo or reverb to call attention to his voice, he could do so – regardless of its effect on the overall sound or on the needs of the other individual band members.