Summer's Out at Hope Hall Read online

  “But this conversation has helped you decide?”

  “You’re just being you, even now. In your usual direct and practical way, you saw what I couldn’t see myself.”

  She sighed.

  “Have I hurt you, Kath? Because that really wasn’t my intention.”

  “I know.”

  “And I am truly pleased to be back in touch with you again. Apart from anything else, we were always friends first and foremost. I’ve missed that friendship. I’ve missed you.”

  She nodded, unable to answer.

  “I think I’ll go home now,” she managed at last.

  “Don’t go. At least have a cup of tea with me before you leave.”

  She gathered up her pens and papers from the desk, and placed them in her leather bag. “I’ve quite a long journey ahead of me. Better to leave now.”

  “I love you, Kath,” he whispered, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I’ll always love you.”

  But not enough, she thought, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent and feel of him. Then she stepped back, picking up her bag as she started to walk away.

  “Drive carefully, Kath. Let me know when you’re home safely. And keep in touch. Let’s always be in touch…” His voice faded as she strode off without looking back.

  Later, as she drove home with the sun shooting blinding rays into the car, she found her eyes clouding with tears. She wasn’t crying for Jack, she told herself, because she’d already decided that she wouldn’t put her life on hold for him. And, in all honesty, the thought of Jack and Monica together was so logical and right that she simply wished them well.

  But Kath realized that as the two doctors were coming together to start a new chapter of love in their lives, a door was closing in hers. Later that year she would be fifty years old, and she felt no sense of celebration in that thought. Where had her life gone? What had she achieved? Who cared, anyway? Kath found herself overwhelmed by an aching loneliness; a longing for a companion, a friend, a partner – someone who simply wanted to laugh, love and live with her.

  And as the sun sank deeper in the sky, Kath reached into her bag, grabbing a paper tissue to scrape across her cheeks. The rays were really creating havoc with her mascara.

  “The numbers are creeping up, Maggie!” Shirley marched into the kitchen and spread out her A4 notebook on one of the surfaces. “We’ve just hit eighty tickets sold, and there’s still a fortnight to go until the first Saturday in June. I reckon a lot of people are more likely to book for something like a school reunion when they know lots of others have already decided to go.”

  Maggie looked at Shirley’s notes with interest. “Well, I’m planning a buffet catering for about a hundred, so let me know nearer the time if you think the final figure will be higher.”

  “It’s going to be so interesting to see how everyone’s changed. Thirty years! A lot’s happened to us all in that time.”

  “Did you meet your Mick at school?”

  “Yes. He was one of the ‘populars’ – you know, the good-looking ones that everyone fancied.”

  “And you got him!”

  “Actually,” retorted Shirley, “I allowed him to get me. I was pretty popular too!” She threw her head back, laughing so loudly that anyone in the foyer would have wondered where on earth the noise was coming from. “Anyway, Mags, I’m on my way home now. See you tomorrow!”

  That left Maggie on her own in the kitchen, clearing the dishwasher for the last time that day and setting out some of the items that would be needed for the next morning. The work required little concentration, which was just as well as her mind was still on the conversation she’d just had.

  Shirley had never asked if Maggie was a former pupil of Walsworth Road Comprehensive herself, and that was a good thing. In fact, she had been three years ahead of Shirley, and studying different subjects, so their paths had never crossed during her time at the school – but in any case, Maggie had no intention of being anywhere near Hope Hall on that reunion evening. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed her school days, or that she’d done badly in her studies. In fact, it had nothing to do with her performance or popularity at school and everything to do with the way she was feeling about herself right now.

  Glancing up towards the glass doors on the cupboards, she caught sight of her own reflection. She was huge. If only she were three inches taller no one would think her overweight at all, but at five foot three and tipping the scales at just over thirteen stone, she looked too short, too fat and – to her mind – just hideous.

  At school it had been very different. She was never ever slim, but in fact her stocky, solid frame was a positive benefit in the school hockey team, which she really enjoyed. Then there was the kitchen and waitressing work that kept her on her feet and busy most weekends, and a mum who slowly became more disabled with MS throughout her teenage years. It all meant that the young Maggie had looked much fitter then than totally out of condition and enormous, as she felt now.

  It was once she’d discovered her talent for cooking delicious cakes (which, looking back, was probably the main reason Dave had been so keen to marry her) and after the birth of their two children, Steph and Darren, that her willpower had slipped at the same rate as her waistline expanded. Well, she’d been content! She loved being a wife and mother, and had relished the ups and downs of family life. That wasn’t unusual for a woman, any woman. Of course, it was totally unfair that some irritating, skinny-ribbed women could eat a whole loaf of white bread smothered in butter and jam and not put on an ounce, while she just had to let the thought of a choux bun enter her head and she’d gained a pound or two!

  So, she wouldn’t be reminding anyone at the reunion how she used to be a sporty teenager at school, but had since grown into this unrecognizable, wobbly blob! And although as Hope Hall’s catering manager she was in charge of organizing all the food, drink and decorations for the event, she had put a note in the diary to say she had an unavoidable family event that evening, and had arranged for her assistant Liz, along with helper Jan, to hold the fort. And while they worked flat out all evening, she would be stretched out on the settee eating praline toffee ice cream and watching a Kevin Costner movie. Okay, so a lot of people thought he was old hat, but then so was she! Her divorce from Dave had left her feeling old, discarded and unlovable. So, if anyone had anything to say about her getting out a box of paper hankies to watch Kevin in The Last of the Mohicans, which was undoubtedly her favourite movie, they could just push off and mind their own business!

  With a heavy sigh, she looked around the kitchen to make sure everything was done, grabbed her coat from the hook on the wall and a chocolate bar from the display cabinet, then slammed the door behind her.

  Michael hadn’t come back to the Food Bank the following Monday afternoon, even though Sheelagh had been keeping an eye open for him in case he was staying out of sight behind one of the trees that lined the pavement in front of the hall. Concerned and slightly disappointed, she really hoped he would find the opportunity, or perhaps the courage, to return.

  Eventually, he did. A couple of weeks later she caught a fleeting glimpse of him hovering near the wall where she’d chatted to him on that first visit. Keeping her fingers crossed that he wouldn’t disappear before she got there, she hurriedly poured out two cups of tea, grabbed the bag of sandwiches, cake and biscuits that she had already prepared in case he came, and walked as quickly as she could in a way that she hoped would appear suitably casual and relaxed.

  “You do like yours with sugar, don’t you?” she smiled at him.

  He grunted, waiting for her to put the cardboard cup on the wall before he reached out to grab it. He immediately gulped down two or three mouthfuls of the hot liquid.

  “I’m glad to see you again, Michael. How have you been?”

  When he didn’t reply, she opened the plastic bag to show him the selection of food she’d brought for him. “You might like some of these with
your tea.”

  In one swift movement, he grasped the bag and drew behind the tree a little to inspect the contents. He immediately chose the sandwich, pulling the wrapper apart and biting into the BLT with great concentration.

  “I see the coat fitted,” she commented. “Were the other clothes any good?”

  He shrugged, but she got the message that they’d been okay.

  “And do you need anything in particular today? Other pieces of clothing? Shoes? Anything for where you live?”

  He seemed to be too busy eating to answer. Sheelagh waited for a while, shocked at how hungry he plainly was as he devoured the entire contents of the bag. When he’d finished, she held out the second cup of tea. “I put sugar in this one too. Help yourself!”

  He seemed calmer now, sipping the tea with less urgency.

  “Have you got somewhere to live, Michael?”

  He didn’t reply, but from his body language she got the impression that he did have somewhere that he regularly stayed.

  “Is it a safe place and okay for you to be there?”

  Another shrug of the shoulders suggested it was.

  “Warm enough?”

  He shrugged again, staring down into his teacup.

  “Can you tell me where it is?”

  He didn’t look up and said nothing, silently communicating a clear “no”.

  “Have you got any family nearby?”

  Nothing.

  Sheelagh left it a few minutes before trying again.

  “I was so impressed by how much you knew about the food industry when we were talking last time.”

  He looked straight towards her then, a new glimmer of interest in his eyes.

  “Have you worked in the food industry in the past?”

  He gave a derisive snort. “You could say that.”

  “What did you do?”

  A few seconds ticked by while he considered how he should answer. Eventually, he said, “I ran a shop.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting – and such a responsibility. Was it a family concern?”

  There was the faintest suggestion of a smile crossing his face, scornful and bitter. “A bit bigger than that.”

  “How big?”

  Suddenly he’d stepped towards her, his face inches from her, his breath acrid, his body tense with anger. “I was the manager of a huge supermarket retail outlet. Is that big enough for you?”

  Chapter 4

  She might have been expecting it, but it still hit her like a ton of bricks.

  The moment that large brown envelope dropped through the letterbox, Maggie knew exactly what it was. In some ways she had been looking forward to it coming – the official notification of the Decree Absolute that severed the final ties of her long marriage to Dave – but it surprised her how much the reality of seeing the statement in black and white knocked her sideways.

  Her reaction had little to do with Dave. In fact, she was so angry at all the hurt he’d dished out to her and the family in recent months, he felt almost irrelevant to her now as she struggled to even like him. What laid her low was not the loss of her husband, but the loss of her marriage. She had enjoyed being a married woman, a wife, a mother to a growing family. She enjoyed being a “Mrs”, and she’d lain awake for a couple of nights worrying about how she would fill in official forms in the future. Was she now a “Ms” – no longer a married woman, but definitely not a dainty, yet-to-be-wed “Miss”? The nearest term she could think of to describe how she felt was a widow, mourning the loss, not of the man, but of the marriage to which she had made a total commitment. And that did feel like a bereavement. It was sad and frightening and rather overwhelming to know that from now on her sentences could only begin with “I” rather than “we”. There was respectability in being a couple, as if she was grown up, wanted and acceptable in polite company. A divorced woman might sound racy, desperate or even a threat to other people’s marriages. She probably wouldn’t be invited anywhere from now on!

  But then, because of her marriage she had two wonderful children, Steph and Darren, both grown up of course, with homes of their own. In recent years, her relationship with Steph had become really close, especially when her daughter became a mum herself after Bobbie arrived nearly three years ago on Steph and Dale’s first wedding anniversary. So as Maggie sat on the stairs, staring stupidly at the Decree Absolute, she fumbled in her pocket for her mobile and rang Steph.

  As the phone was answered at the other end, all she could hear was Bobbie shrieking his head off in a toddler meltdown.

  “Don’t worry!” Maggie yelled over the din. “I’ll ring back.”

  “No, you won’t!” retorted Steph. “Dale’s here and he’s going to have breakfast with Bobbie before he leaves for work. Hang on. I’ll shut the door and I’ll be able to hear you then.”

  “The letter’s come from the solicitor, Steph.”

  “Your Absolute? Well, congratulations, Mum! You’re a free woman.”

  When Maggie didn’t answer, Steph’s voice was firm and commanding, as if she were talking to Bobbie. “Now, you listen to me! That man left you to go off with air-brained Mandy and her children, and he’s about to become a father again at the age of fifty-one. He is no longer the dad I grew up with or the husband you loved, is he?”

  “No.”

  “And if he came knocking on your door this morning begging for you to take him back, what would you say?”

  “Well, he’s not going to do that, is he? But the answer would probably be no.”

  “Do you respect him as he is now?”

  “No.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Maggie sighed. “Old habits die hard, don’t they, Steph? I’ve known that man since we were teenagers. He was my first and only love.”

  “Well, he won’t be your last.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! I’m forty-seven. Who’s going to want me?”

  “I think you’d be surprised.”

  “I know you’re trying to be kind, sweetheart, but my relationship days are over.”

  “Why? You’re the kindest, most hard-working, capable person I know. You always put others before yourself. That’s why we love you so much.”

  Maggie plainly didn’t think those comments merited an answer. Finally, she said, “I’m no good at change, Steph.”

  “You’re scared, and that’s hardly surprising. This is a huge upheaval for you.”

  “Packing up our home… It’s really hard.”

  “But just think. Now the divorce is done and dusted, your financial settlement will come through. Has the solicitor confirmed an exchange date on the house yet?”

  “They rang me yesterday. Apparently, contracts on this house and my new flat will be exchanged any day now, and completion can happen very quickly after that.”

  “Then you and I had better get cracking with the final boxes that need to be packed. And we’ll need to go shopping to get you some lovely new things for that fantastic kitchen of yours.”

  Maggie smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Tell you what. Dale and I will come round this evening and get all the stuff down from the attic. We’ll bring fish and chips.”

  “And I’ll make a carrot cake for Dale. I know how he’ll like that.”

  Saying their goodbyes, Maggie switched off the phone with a smile on her face. “I’m single, I have a great job, a lovely family – and a cake to bake!” she shouted, enjoying how her voice echoed up the stairs and round the house where, in every room, there were boxes packed and ready to go. Whatever would the neighbours think?

  Using her hip to push open the heavy old school door to the office, Shirley carefully balanced the two full coffee cups she was carrying until she was able to put them down on the desk. Ray’s face was a picture of concentration as he stared at his computer screen, trying to make sense of a complicated spreadsheet showing all the bookings and facility requirements for event
s at the hall over the coming months.

  “Can’t all that wait until this afternoon?” suggested Shirley, pushing his cup towards him. “Kath will be back then, and she’ll be able to give you the answers you need in no time.”

  “Whatever happened to just having a diary where everything’s written down so you can find what you need straight away and understand it when you do?” Ray grumbled as he took a sip of coffee.

  “It’s progress, Ray. Technology rules!”

  “Not for me it doesn’t.”

  “Have you got time for us to have a chat about the final arrangements for the reunion now? It’s only just over a week away, and I’d like to make sure we’ve got the parking planned and the hall laid out properly.”

  “Whatever you think is fine by me,” grunted Ray, turning his attention back to the screen. “This is your event and I trust you. You say what you want, and I’ll just put in place whatever you need.”

  Shirley eyed him thoughtfully for a while as she drank her coffee. Since the loss of his beloved wife Sara just a matter of weeks ago, Ray had allowed himself very little time to grieve, and had thrown himself back into his work as caretaker of Hope Hall with determination. Shirley had originally been taken on to lend a hand with the cleaning and general maintenance work at the hall while Ray was nursing Sara, but she soon became much more than just a work colleague to the couple, popping in most days to visit Sara at home, running the vacuum cleaner over the carpets and keeping things tidy, as well as making sure there was always a home-cooked meal in the fridge that might tempt Ray to eat.

  As he finally gave a groan of frustration and pushed the keyboard away, Shirley reached out to cover his hand. “How are you doing, Ray?”

  “Fine.”

  “Are you sleeping?”

  He shrugged. “On and off.”

  “Did you have breakfast this morning?”

  “You’re nagging, Shirley. Don’t!”

  “I’m worried about you, and you snapping at me won’t stop that.”

  His shoulders sagged. “The mornings are the worst. I always took her a cup of tea in bed. Did that every day for thirty-two years. Mornings never feel right now.”