Springtime at Hope Hall Read online

  “Aah. How did your parents react to that news?”

  “Badly. They stopped talking to me for ages.”

  “And the father?”

  “Nigel and I got married.”

  “Was he studying to be a doctor too?”

  “No, he’s a chemist. He works in the research labs of one of the big pharmaceutical companies. He loves it. That kind of work is right up his street.”

  “But your studies had to stop, I suppose, with Josh to look after?”

  “Yes, and honestly I didn’t mind. By that time I’d realized that medicine was more the choice of my parents than something that really interested me. And I loved Nigel, even though marriage had never been part of our plan until then. It just seemed the right thing to do when we knew Josh was on the way. And becoming a mother made me complete. That’s the only way I can describe the feeling that overwhelmed me the moment I first held Josh in my arms – and I’ve never stopped feeling that way.”

  “And the art assistant job? How did that happen?”

  “Well, with a little boy to entertain, I found myself really enjoying doing artwork with him – drawing, painting, making and building things. I’d have been a great presenter on Blue Peter, making something out of nothing – all those creations from washing-up bottles and papier mâché! And then, when Josh started at playgroup, I went along too as a helper, and found that I had endless ideas for things the children could try and enjoy. It was the woman who ran that playgroup who pointed me in the direction of a course at the local college here which would give me a qualification to become a teaching assistant. I thought I might end up working with infant or junior school children, but the only job that came up at the time when I started looking was for the senior school, and I have to say I love it.”

  “And your parents – did they ever come round?”

  “Very reluctantly. It took a couple of years, though. They didn’t come to our wedding, and they didn’t see Josh until he was six months old. Mum and I managed an occasional telephone call, but we both knew Dad would be furious if she blatantly disobeyed him to see me. It was Dad who was laying down the law about cutting ties with me because I was such a disappointment to the family. Thank goodness my brother was able to do his duty and become a lawyer!”

  “So were you eventually able to meet up with your mum?”

  “Yes. I was longing to see her, and she couldn’t wait to meet Josh. We both just burst into tears. We sat in my car with Josh in the back, and sobbed our hearts out. The problem then was how to bring Dad round.”

  “But you did it?”

  “In the end, it was Josh who did it. I didn’t want to go to the house – too many bad memories of huge arguments there – so I suggested that we meet at the park, where there was a playground for little children that Josh always loved. Mum was able to persuade Dad to come and join us, although I could tell Dad was really unhappy about the whole idea. He hardly spoke to me, just let Mum do the talking, but he was watching Josh all the time. Then, when Josh took a tumble, he leapt up and went over to help, and Josh just accepted him being there as if he’d known him all his life. Dad was charmed, and his fascination with Josh has never stopped since.”

  “And you? Did he soften towards you too?”

  “A bit, but for him the main issue was Nigel. Dad blamed him for taking up my time at uni when I should have been studying. He was totally dismissive of our marriage. He thought that I’d married beneath myself and was destined for a life of ruin and domestic drudgery. Dad refused to meet him from the very start, and became more and more entrenched in his views as time went on.”

  “Which I’m sure went down like a bomb with Nigel.”

  “He was furious. He is furious. He’s a brilliant, well-respected research scientist, and he’s achieved all that in spite of coming from a family where no one had ever wanted to go to university before. And his family are wonderful – a big, warm-hearted gaggle of relatives that accepted me just as I am from the moment I first met them.”

  “And how did things with your parents work out?”

  “Well, for some time I took Josh round to see them quite regularly. Dad adores Josh, but it created problems when he kept buying him expensive toys, mostly way beyond his age group. Naturally enough, Nigel really resented him doing that. He got more and more angry whenever Josh came back with an expensive bike, or a tablet or his own mobile phone so that Grandad could ring him directly without having to come through us.”

  Gary grunted disapproval. “That is not fair. I don’t blame your husband at all for being furious about that. You two are Josh’s parents. Those special gifts need to come from you, when you know Josh is ready for them, and when you are able to monitor their use as you see fit.”

  “Definitely. Nigel and I are in complete agreement about that. But Dad always seemed to find a way to give those things to Josh before I even knew they were coming. He just came out with them, and once Josh had seen them, it was impossible for me to take them away again. I asked him so many times not to do it any more, and eventually Nigel sent him a very firm letter telling him that future gifts could only be given when we had prior knowledge and had agreed that the gifts were appropriate.”

  “How did your dad take that?”

  “When Josh and I were at my parents’ house a few days later, Dad was out in the garden with him. It seems that he gave Josh a pep talk about what a wonderful and talented boy he was. Then he said that Nigel and I, his mum and dad, simply didn’t realize that he was so clever, and we were jealous that we couldn’t afford all the special presents that Grandad wanted to give him. Then he asked a four-year-old boy if he wanted to carry on getting presents from Grandad, or whether he wanted to do what his mum and dad suggested and have none.”

  Gary sighed with disbelief.

  “Well, you can imagine Nigel’s reaction when he heard about that! He got in the car and drove straight round to my parents’ home to meet them for the very first time. I had to stay with Josh, of course, so my heart was in my mouth as I thought about my husband and my father meeting at last. It all went so badly. Nigel was standing on the doorstep shouting at Dad, and my father was superior and insulting, which to Nigel was unforgivable. My mum was tearful and trying to come between them. It was all a complete disaster. In the end, Dad slammed the door shut and Nigel drove home. He stood in the living room, his face purple with anger, and told me that if my parents ever tried to have anything to do with his family again, he would leave me and take Josh with him.”

  A long breath whistled through Gary’s lips as he pulled back from an instinctive desire to put his arm around Claire’s shoulders as she sat beside him, distraught and near to tears.

  “And now?” he asked at last.

  “Now, I speak to Mum on the phone quite often, but I have to make sure Nigel doesn’t know, and she only ever rings when she’s certain Dad isn’t listening. Josh asks about his grandad all the time. He doesn’t understand why he can’t see him, and he gets really upset because of what my dad told him – that his mum and dad don’t realize how special he is, and it is only because we are unreasonable and jealous that he isn’t allowed to spend time with his grandad and have lovely presents from him.”

  “That must make it very difficult for you and Nigel.”

  “It’s driving a huge wedge between us really. He’s probably guessed that I still keep in touch with Mum, but he never asks. In our house, my family are a taboo subject, including my brother Dan, who has children of his own now, Josh’s cousins. Nigel has never met them either because of Dad’s attitude towards him from the start. But Dan’s my brother. I love him and have always kept in touch with him, in spite of Nigel’s attitude to my family. Apart from anything else, I want Josh to know his cousins as they’re growing up. Nigel will have nothing to do with any of them, though, and the atmosphere when he suspects we might have seen them is icy for days.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Nigel can’t understand why I feel
the need to bother with my family at all when his own are so straightforward and welcoming. He thinks they already provide all the love and company that Josh and I should ever want or need.”

  “But for you that’s not enough.”

  “I try to understand his point of view. I try not to feel resentful. Sometimes I can’t work out if I’m more disappointed in my father as a parent or in Nigel as a husband. Surely he can see how unhappy this has been making not just me, but Josh too?”

  “But your father was way out of line.”

  “Absolutely. This is all his fault – and I don’t want you to think that I don’t love Nigel, because I do. It’s just that there’s this gaping void inside me that should be filled by the unconditional love and support surely any of us should expect from our own parents. My mum and dad always wanted to control me, to live out their own aspirations through me, and in the end I couldn’t bear that burden. I disappointed them, but they have disappointed me too. It’s all become a dull ache of frustration and despair that I constantly feel. It colours everything.”

  Without thinking, Gary reached out to take Claire’s hand. She didn’t pull away. Perhaps she was so deeply engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice.

  A loud cheer from the Beavers in the hall suddenly broke the atmosphere. Their hands were instantly withdrawn, and Claire quickly rubbed her fingers across her cheeks to wipe away the tears that shone there. A man came across from the other side of the foyer to make himself a coffee, calling out to ask the parents he’d just been talking to whether any of them wanted him to bring them back a drink. Gary and Claire sat quietly together, not able to speak, but both feeling there was so much they wanted to say.

  Sometime later, the glass doors opened and the boys came pouring out.

  “Dad, we’ve got to buy our sweatshirts!” yelled Max, beckoning furiously at his father. “Bear’s got some ready for us. Can you bring the money?”

  Gary shot a wry smile at Claire. “Duty calls.”

  She nodded. “It never stops.”

  “You okay?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “See you next week?”

  “Definitely.”

  He pushed back his chair and picked up the boys’ jackets. “Bye then.”

  “Bye, Gary.”

  Seeing the deep wells of sadness in her eyes as she looked at him, his heart contracted with compassion. “Bye, Claire. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too.”

  And they both walked over to join their boys.

  Chapter 6

  Kath’s home phone was ringing as she put her key in the door.

  Hurrying to catch the call, she fumbled with her latchkey and bag, throwing both onto the carved box in the hallway as she reached for the phone.

  “Oh, Kath, I was just about to leave a message!”

  “Denise, how lovely to hear from you! I’ve been meaning to ring you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” retorted her old friend Denise with affectionate humour in her voice. “I know you’re a country bumpkin now and have probably got lots of jam to make and harvest festivals to organize.”

  Kath laughed, kicking her shoes off and taking the phone with her through to the living room, where she slumped down to stretch herself out along the length of the sofa.

  “And, of course, you’ll be fighting off all those gentlemen farmers!”

  “I don’t know any farmers—”

  “And you don’t know any gentlemen either. Country life sounds better and better.”

  “Believe me, Denise, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “But you’re happy, aren’t you?” asked Denise, her tone more serious now. “This move from London has worked out as you hoped it would?”

  “Well, I could have done without having to nurse Mum for all that time. It’s horrible to see someone you love suffer.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound trite.”

  “Of course you did, my lovely friend, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. How are things with you? Are you running that hospital yet?”

  “Have I taken over the job you were in line for, do you mean?”

  “Oh, that seems like a lifetime ago,” replied Kath. “I’m not sure I could manage anything as complicated as that these days.”

  “Well, your job now does sound very different from what you did here.”

  “And I welcome that. It’s a lovely place, Hope Hall. It’s got a good heart.”

  “Can a building have a heart?”

  “I have a feeling this one has. I often imagine it as an old-fashioned Victorian grandmother gathering waifs and strays into the folds of her skirt, where they’re safe and warm.”

  “That’s very poetic – and doesn’t sound like you at all. You’re definitely overdue a bit of R&R in the city. And that’s why I’m ringing. You are coming to the reunion on Friday, aren’t you? I don’t think you actually replied.”

  Kath hesitated. “Well, I’m not quite sure. There is an event on at the hall that night. I might need to be there.”

  “You need to be here, my darling Kath! You need to get yourself on a train and meet up with the gang. We miss you loads. Jan and Paul are going. Wendy’s coming down from York, and apparently the physio lot are all planning to come too.”

  “Oh, it would be lovely to see everyone again.” Kath realized in that moment that she really meant it.

  “Don’s coming, and Carrie – and Jack…”

  Jack. Just the sound of his name felt like an electric shock after all this time. Jack. The love of her life. The one who’d never asked her. The one she left behind.

  “Kath, are you still there?”

  “What’s Jack doing now?” Her question was as casual as she could make it.

  “He’s Consultant Paediatric Surgeon in Southampton.”

  “That’s great,” smiled Kath. “He deserves it. He was always destined to go far.”

  “He sent an email yesterday saying he was going to try to come and was asking who was likely to be there. I gave him the list, and included you on it.”

  “So he then wrote back saying he’d got a prior engagement, did he?”

  “Quite the opposite. He said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Oh,” was all Kath could think of to say.

  “And because you’re too polite to ask, Jack is still single.”

  “Married to his work, I expect.”

  “Or,” retorted Denise, “he’s never been able to combine the woman he loves with the right timing in both their lives. It sounds as if he’s a lot more settled now.”

  “You are an incurable matchmaker, dear Denise, but it won’t work in this case. Jack and I are a thing of the past, and that suits me fine. But yes, I will come. I’ll book the train ticket tonight and see you there. Gosh, it’s the day after tomorrow, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, so you only have one day to sort out a drop-dead gorgeous outfit that lets Jack know once and for all that you are absolutely fine without him!”

  Clucking with amused indignation, Kath said goodbye and then stared ahead thoughtfully for quite a while before she laid the phone down on the coffee table beside her.

  So, what was she going to wear? Would there be time tomorrow for her to nip out and wander around the department store to see if she could find something elegantly casual for the occasion? A little outfit with a bit of colour and style that someone who was a country bumpkin would never wear… And maybe Mark could fit her in for a last-minute colour and trim tomorrow afternoon? Picking up the phone again, she rang the hairdresser’s number and left an urgent message asking him to ring her as soon he could the following morning.

  ***

  Maggie checked the diary to see if she’d remembered everything. The next out-of-the-ordinary big event was just over two weeks away now. She was looking forward to the wedding of Esther and David, the young couple who had grown up together as part of the congregation at St Mark’s Church just acro
ss the road. It was there they would be getting married on the last Saturday afternoon of February, followed by the reception their friends and family were organizing for them at Hope Hall. The “bring and share” meal that was being planned for them was a wonderful idea, in theory. But it was down to Maggie, as Catering Manager at Hope Hall, to ensure that they didn’t end up with too many people and not enough for them to eat and drink. Under the original plan, no one had thought to ask those invited whether or not they were actually coming and, if so, exactly what they intended to bring. It would be all too easy to end up with multiple bowls of salad and no main dishes. Or every variety of crisp and not enough proper desserts. Or dozens of cans of beer and no soft drinks or anything suitable with which to toast the bride and groom.

  So when the couple and their parents had come along for the initial planning meeting some weeks earlier, Maggie worked with them to set up a link where guests could confirm their attendance and give a precise indication of what they were planning to bring. Because an open invitation had been given to everyone at the church, as well as a wide circle of family and friends, numbers had been largely guesswork. It soon became clear that so many people were likely to come that Maggie would have to approach the formidable Barbara Longstone, Chairwoman of the local Women’s Institute, who had a walk-in locked cupboard at Hope Hall in which the WI kept their supplies of tables and chairs, along with a whole range of crockery, cutlery and serving dishes. From past experience, Maggie didn’t relish the idea of going into battle with Mrs Longstone, who was known to push for a hard bargain when it came to fees for the WI equipment. Wonderfully, those worries were all swept away by the bride’s mother when she explained that dear Barbara was not only one of her oldest friends, but she was making the wedding cake too!

  There had been a terrifying moment the previous day when an ear-splitting scream rang out around the building, closely followed by a bellowing cry of “What’s the matter?” which unmistakably came from their cleaner, Shirley. Rushing out of the kitchen, Maggie saw that the person screaming was the bride-to-be’s sister, Rachel, who was standing outside the WI cupboard, feather duster in hand, her face the colour of chalk.