by Pam Rhodes
So that was that. The lovely man with his friendly conversation, gentle care, and wide knowledge on everything from world geography to the flavour of pizza teenagers enjoyed most – that old new friend had left her life. And this time it was for good.
Kath turned into the car park of the Swan Hotel at exactly five to seven. She felt uncharacteristically nervous. This was ridiculous, she told herself. In her previous role, at various times over the years she’d had regular meetings with senior directors of the NHS, hospital board members, the leader of the local council and even groups of MPs. She hadn’t flinched then when she’d had to speak to large groups of people or answer searching questions from the press. So why did she feel like a teenager on a first date as she thought about the company she would be facing over the next couple of hours?
“There you are!” Trevor stood up to greet her as she entered the hotel lobby. “I’m the first one here. Celia and Richard are running a little late, but they’re on their way.”
“How did your business meeting go?”
He gave a wry grin. “I’m always glad Celia is on my side of any negotiation. She’s so on the ball and frighteningly intelligent.”
Kath smiled as she touched his arm. “But she obviously values you and your vast accountancy experience very highly. You have no reason to feel daunted, Trevor.”
“How about you?” he asked quietly. “You haven’t really met her properly yet, have you? Richard’s such a good influence on her, of course, but then he’s always been a thoroughly nice fellow.”
“Trevor, I’m so sorry we’re late!” Celia swooped through the door and dropped an air kiss on each of Trevor’s cheeks. “And Kath, how nice of you to come! Richard’s just parking the car. Shall we go straight through?”
Celia marched off, arm in arm with Trevor, and Kath hesitated before realizing she was supposed to follow along behind.
“Wait for me!”
She turned to see Richard approaching, the warmest of smiles on his face as he joined her.
“You look really lovely. I’m so glad you were able to come tonight.”
She couldn’t help smiling back at him.
They were shown into a beautiful conservatory with lush green and flowering plants, which either grew up in huge ceramic pots or tumbled down the walls and windows, adding an exotic touch to the elegant room. Their table looked out over rolling fields that during the evening gradually faded to darkness as the setting sun painted the sky a rich red on its journey towards the horizon. They ate exquisite food served with charm and refinement by waiters who barely made their presence felt.
If Kath was worried that conversation would be difficult, she was pleasantly surprised. Each of them touched on their work at some point during the evening, but generally they chatted about local people, national news, wine they loved, food they avoided, occasions that had moved them to tears and stories that made them laugh. She’d worried that her opinions wouldn’t be of any interest at all in such hallowed company, but in fact it was quite the opposite. Her view was often sought, and her answers were either received with great interest or considered very entertaining. Curious to get a glimpse of the relationship between Richard and Celia, Kath found it rather interesting that they often corrected each other and even bickered in a good-natured way. They were loving towards one another, but not in the obvious way lovers often were. Kath sensed that a very comfortable friendship was the strong core at the heart of what this couple shared.
As the waiter refilled her coffee cup, Kath caught sight of her wristwatch. It was gone eleven!
“You’re right, Kath.” Celia was removing her serviette from her lap as she spoke. ‘’It’s time to draw this lovely evening to a close as we all have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”
That prompted everyone to push back their seats and stand up as Trevor signalled to the waiter for the bill.
“That’s all taken care of,” said Celia. “Apex Finance has been glad to have you as its guests this evening.”
“That’s extremely kind,” Kath started to say, but Celia was already heading for the door. Kath followed her as Richard and Trevor exchanged farewells, then Celia unexpectedly turned to scrutinize Kath, her expression one of friendly curiosity.
“I’m beginning to see why my cousin is so smitten with you.”
Kath’s face clouded with confusion. “Your cousin?”
Celia stared at her for a second before bursting out laughing. “You didn’t know that Richard and I were related?”
“No,” Kath stuttered in reply. “I assumed you were a couple.”
“We were just a couple of kids whose mothers happened to be sisters, and who grew up as if we were one big family. He’s six years older than me, so I’ve thought of him as my big brother for as long as I can remember – you know: bossy, thinks he knows best, that sort of thing. But we’ve always got along really well, and any issue about the age gap between us has disappeared completely over the years. Richard cares about me, unlike Douglas who is younger, less intelligent, more irritating and generally a waste of space as far as I’m concerned.”
“Oh…” said Kath, unable to think of another word to say.
Celia winked at her. “I have a feeling this snippet of news is going to make Richard’s day. À bientôt, dear Kath!”
And in a cloud of expensive perfume, Celia smiled to herself as she made her way out of the restaurant, leaving Kath rooted to the spot, looking totally bemused.
Maggie loved having a day off in the week. She usually pottered around the flat doing a bit of cleaning, catching up on the washing and ironing, and always phoning Steph for a nice long chat.
“What’s happening, Mum?” Steph asked. “A couple of weeks ago you were like a seagull with a chip. You always had a smile on your face, and I was thinking that whatever you were taking, I wanted some too. Spill the beans! What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing much.”
“Is it Dad? Darren told me he’d asked if he could come home. You didn’t fall for that, did you?”
Maggie sighed. “I did think about it, but too much has happened. I wrote to him in the end. I told him he had to get on with the life he’s chosen.”
“Quite right too!”
“It was hard, though, to hear that he’s unhappy. If he’s not happy after all this, what was it all about?”
“And you? I was beginning to think you were feeling really good about life lately. I don’t sense that in you now.”
Maggie sighed again. “I’ll get there. In the meantime I’ve got a lot to do. I’m planning to get cracking on that garden shed of mine today.”
“Oh, what a job that will be. It was filthy dirty when you got there. I don’t think it’s ever been properly cleaned. Watch out for the creepy-crawlies. I reckon there’s a colony of them living in that hut!”
“Oh, I’m not squeamish,” Maggie laughed. “But I’m planning to wear my overalls, wellie boots and old sun hat just in case.”
“Ring me later to let me know you got out in one piece! Bye.”
An hour later, hot, bothered and covered in cobwebs and dirt, Maggie began to wonder why she’d ever started the job. She was on her knees scrubbing the floor when she heard the click of her garden gate and became aware of a shadow blocking out the light of the shed window.
“Just a minute, I’m on my way out!” she yelled, backing out from the shed on all fours, bottom first.
“Hello, Megs.”
She immediately knew who was standing there. He was here. And he shouldn’t be. She had made it abundantly clear she didn’t want to see him. If he’d come anyway, he deserved what he got. Let him see her in all her awful glory! He’d get the message and run away as fast as he possibly could.
He reached down to help her up.
I hope he likes rubber gloves, she thought glumly as she took him up on the offer. She finally straightened up, ready to stare defiantly at him, but then she looked at him properly. She wasn’t the only one who had ch
anged a lot since they last met. His hair was greying at the temples and so thin on top that it barely covered his head. He had always been quite stocky and strong, but now his waistline had relaxed and his silhouette was more rounded. He no longer looked like someone strong and muscular; more like comfortable and cuddly. His face was broader too, with lines across his forehead and around his eyes and mouth that spoke of a lifetime of experience and laughter. But those eyes of his, the ones she remembered so well from all those years ago, were filled with warmth as they smiled down at her with an expression she really couldn’t quite fathom.
“Megs,” he said, holding his arms out towards her, “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to come, but I honestly couldn’t stay away. And look at you! You’re magnificent! Every bit as wonderful and lovely as you ever were.”
Her throat choked. Her heart was pounding and her resolve melted away as she looked at him. Then she walked straight into his arms and felt them tighten around her as he held her close. And her last thought as she sank into the comfort of his embrace was that she had come home.
Chapter 14
The sun shone on Centenary Day as the congregation gathered inside St Mark’s Church, which was gloriously decked out with garlands of flowers. The front four rows of pews were reserved for local elderly residents, including members of the Grown-ups’ Lunch Club, who were all spruced up for the occasion. Betty, Flora, Doris and Ida were in the second row, with the gentlemen sitting in the pew behind them.
At eleven o’clock sharp, Rector James Barnard led visiting clergy and the St Mark’s Choir as they processed into the church, followed by local dignitaries, including the town mayor, the chairman of the council, two councillors and their wives, and the high sheriff of the county. Once they had been shown to their places in sections of extra seating positioned in front of the choir stalls, James welcomed everyone to the special service of commemoration for a hundred years of Hope Hall, then introduced the first hymn, “O God Our Help in Ages Past”.
It was an occasion that touched the emotions in so many ways. Children from Broad Street Upper School filed into the church to present a short pageant explaining the devastation of the town community after so many young men were killed during the First World War. Dressed in costumes of the time (expertly prepared by members of the local Women’s Institute), they acted out how plans had been drawn up to erect a memorial hall so that the sacrifices made during the Great War would never be forgotten. One serious-looking lad, complete with bowler hat and a neat black moustache, played the leading role of Sir Reginald Ainsworth, who had donated the land on which Hope Hall was built. Sir Reginald also contributed half the cost of the project, with the local community joining together to raise the other half. After that, the children had everyone singing along as they worked their way through a selection of songs that had been popular in 1920. The older generation in the front pews needed no encouragement to join in, with Percy’s voice booming above the rest as he sang in a different key from everyone else in the church.
The service continued with short reminiscences from people who had used Hope Hall down the years, two stunning anthems from the newly reformed St Mark’s Choir, and prayers that were led by three of the oldest members of the local community, including Mrs Alice Mendrake, aged ninety-seven, whose voice rang with emotion as she prayed first for the people in the town a hundred years ago who had lost their sons in the Great War and ended with a heartfelt plea that war should never again be allowed to take the life of another mother’s son.
After that came two minutes of silence, and as everyone bowed their heads in reflection and prayer, Ida felt the gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder. Percy was sitting behind her. She nodded her head in total understanding.
That part of the day’s events finally drew to a close, and James led their VIP guests and the whole congregation across the road, where they gathered in and around Hope Hall, finding seats and standing room in the school playground and inside the foyer to watch the foundation stone ceremony.
It was Kath who welcomed everyone, quickly explaining the importance of Hope Hall as a major hub of community life in the town.
“We’ve just been reminded about the generous and philanthropic contribution made by Sir Reginald Ainsworth, who enabled the building of Hope Hall. So we are honoured today to have a member of the Ainsworth family with us to unveil our new centenary plaque. She is Sir Reginald’s great-granddaughter. Please welcome Miss Celia Ainsworth!”
Celia strode up to the mike, immediately and confidently capturing the attention of the audience.
“Ainsworth’s Mill has been processing grain in this area for a century and a half. Many people from this town were employed there before the Great War, and during those terrible years between 1914 and 1918 when the men were at the front, the wives and mothers from our local families stepped in to continue the work that was so badly needed to feed a nation at war. So many of those women became widows over the years. Others found that their husbands and sons were terribly changed by their experience in the trenches.
“But this is a community that knows about caring for each other and working together. My great-grandfather, Reginald, had always known that from the support, commitment and loyalty he had seen again and again in his workforce at the mill. Because of that, and especially because of his Christian faith, which charged him with the divine duty of doing all he could to love his neighbours and show practical care to others, he made the decision to create Hope Hall. It was to be a memorial to the dead, but more importantly it was also to be a beacon of hope for the living. He wanted Hope Hall to be a community resource that would welcome all for shelter, enterprise, instruction, learning, entertainment and good company.
“And if Reginald could be here with us today, a hundred years on, I know he would smile with great satisfaction and pride. Hope Hall is everything he built it to be. It is at the heart of this town every bit as much today as it was during those early years. This place is a treasure, and I feel very privileged to be here to represent the Ainsworth family on this special day. May Hope Hall go from strength to strength in all the years to come!”
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd before they burst into enthusiastic applause. Kath was also clapping as she took the microphone from Celia in order to hand over to historian Michael Sayward. He started with a brief but fascinating summary of how the hall had developed its role down the decades, mentioning clubs and events that echoed with fond memories for many in the gathered crowd.
Then Michael turned to look at the site of the original foundation stone, which had been laid exactly a hundred years ago that day. He explained that, in preparation for their own celebration, the old stone had been carefully removed a few weeks earlier so it could be cleaned and renovated.
“As we removed the stone, you can imagine our delight when we came across a collection of papers, letters and photographs that had been placed here in 1920 in the hope that they would one day be discovered by a future generation. Copies of those papers and letters are on display in the foyer so you can see them for yourselves. We will be replacing the originals behind the old foundation stone as we re-lay it today. In addition, though, we will be positioning our new centenary plaque on the wall, behind which we will enclose our own time capsule of documents, photographs and letters from all generations within our town today. Again, you can see copies of those items and documents in the foyer – drawings and thoughts from our schoolchildren, local town plans, newspaper articles and a memory stick containing a video that tells the story of Hope Hall and our town over the past century.
“Most moving of all the discoveries we made among those papers behind the foundation stone were two letters from the family of Leonard Carmichael, who was the senior builder on the Hope Hall project. I’m going to ask Derek Jessop, the great-great-grandson of Leonard Carmichael, to read out the first letter for us.”
Derek stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat before starting to rea
d. Even though many in the audience had seen a copy of the letter in the centenary display at Hope Hall, the impact of Derek’s reading of his great-great-grandfather’s words echoed down the years with heartrending poignancy. Eyes misted over, and couples reached for each other’s hands as the words of Leonard’s letter rang out through the silence.
Mrs Carmichael and I would like these letters to be placed in the wall of our memorial hall. Our eldest son Gerald Carmichael was conscripted into the army in 1916. He was twenty-two years old. Three weeks before he left, he married his sweetheart, Edith. They had been engaged for a year and could wait no longer.
Edith wrote to him often and treasured every one of his replies. I enclose his last letter, written in the trenches at Passchendaele in October 1917, in what they called the Third Battle of Ypres.
Edith heard no news at all of Gerry for many months. Then just before Christmas she received this letter and a photograph of herself, which had been forwarded to her by the Soldiers’ Christian Association. It read, “Dear Madam, I am sending you this letter and photo found in a wood here in the battlefield. I am very sorry to say that I could not find the owner of the photo. I cannot say if he has been wounded or killed.” That photo was the one Gerry loved best of Edith, taken on their wedding day. He must have carried it with him right to the end.
I am the chief builder of this new memorial hall. This will be a labour of love because it is dedicated to the memory of our boys who didn’t come back; to my boy who didn’t come back. I have no idea if anyone in the future will discover the box we are burying today in the foundations of this new building. If they do, I hope they will get some measure of the pain, fear and despair we parents feel as we lose our sons. There wasn’t even a body to bring home to his mother so she could bury our beloved boy.