up to going to an evening party by herself and there was no point asking Iain. She’d taken the shawl and card for Jenny, and a card for Jean and Frank. She’d take them some flowers on the actual day of their anniversary.
What a bonny lad Harry is, and so much hair!
She had felt quite tearful as she held him, missing the feel of her own babies. Unfocussed blue eyes stared up at her as she wished him a happy life, pressing carefully disinfected silver into his palm.
“This is for you, Jenny,” she said, passing over a prettily wrapped package.
“But you’ve already given me that beautiful shawl.”
Maggie took her hand. “Enjoy a few moments just for you. Harry’s important but don’t forget yourself. I’m not so old I don’t remember the aches and pains after giving birth – that may help.”
As Maggie walked away Jenny opened the package of bath oils and scented candles.
Ooh, bliss! What an excuse for some ‘me’ time.
Maggie quickly slipped into the routine perfected over many jumble sales and school events, ensuring there were drinks poured ready in plastic beakers for the children to help themselves, crisps were in endless supply and more jellies appeared on cue from the hall’s small kitchen. Just as important was keeping the tea urn topped up for the supervising adults.
“Doesn’t it all look lovely,” Sarah Hayes smiled at her. “A few lights and a bit of bunting and you could be in fairyland.”
They stood and watched the children dancing under the glitter ball.
“And no temper tantrums or little accidents yet either,” Maggie laughed.
“Will you be at the meeting on Wednesday?” Sarah asked her.
“Wednesday?” Maggie looked confused for a moment. “Oh yes, at the church, the flower committee. And it’s Parish Council this Thursday, isn’t it? Yes, I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything? Is it my turn for biscuits?”
Sarah patted her hand. “Maybe a notepad and pen would be useful, my dear. You young things have so many things to remember these days perhaps you should just jot down who’s doing what.”
“My goodness Sarah,” Maggie put her hand on her chest and half bowed, “thank you! It’s a long time since I’ve been called a ‘young thing’.”
“And so you are. I hope you’ll be joining in the dancing tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Maggie demurred.
“Oh, that’s a shame; you’re such a good dancer.” Sarah shook her head sadly. She knew how much Maggie used to enjoy dancing with Iain, but had also noticed he was rarely seen in the village these days.
All work and no play…
Maggie looked for Hilda. It was unusual to see Sarah without Hilda. Ah, there she was, over the far side of the hall by the buffet. Maggie watched as one of the children, Isabelle, whom she knew from the weekly dance classes she taught the younger children, took a cake over to Hilda and offered it with a smile. Hilda seemed to have all the time in the world for children and got on well with them.
It’s adults she doesn’t get on with, especially me.
There were too many coincidences for Maggie to be able to ignore the fact that Hilda avoided her whenever possible. Disapproval of her was always apparent but Maggie had no idea why.
She stayed for a couple of hours, chatting with all the friends she had made in the village over the years, then found Jean and Frank to say goodbye and thank them. They, too, tried to persuade her to join in the evening festivities but she remained non-committal. She knew her friends would welcome her and she wouldn’t lack for dance partners, but it felt like a foretaste of widowhood without Iain by her side at these functions.
*
Iain and Natasha were taking their time over breakfast in their hotel suite. They were leaning back against their pillows in a shaft of gentle morning sunshine, the Sunday papers scattered around them. They had spent two nights together here, and all day Saturday they had done silly touristy
What a bonny lad Harry is, and so much hair!
She had felt quite tearful as she held him, missing the feel of her own babies. Unfocussed blue eyes stared up at her as she wished him a happy life, pressing carefully disinfected silver into his palm.
“This is for you, Jenny,” she said, passing over a prettily wrapped package.
“But you’ve already given me that beautiful shawl.”
Maggie took her hand. “Enjoy a few moments just for you. Harry’s important but don’t forget yourself. I’m not so old I don’t remember the aches and pains after giving birth – that may help.”
As Maggie walked away Jenny opened the package of bath oils and scented candles.
Ooh, bliss! What an excuse for some ‘me’ time.
Maggie quickly slipped into the routine perfected over many jumble sales and school events, ensuring there were drinks poured ready in plastic beakers for the children to help themselves, crisps were in endless supply and more jellies appeared on cue from the hall’s small kitchen. Just as important was keeping the tea urn topped up for the supervising adults.
“Doesn’t it all look lovely,” Sarah Hayes smiled at her. “A few lights and a bit of bunting and you could be in fairyland.”
They stood and watched the children dancing under the glitter ball.
“And no temper tantrums or little accidents yet either,” Maggie laughed.
“Will you be at the meeting on Wednesday?” Sarah asked her.
“Wednesday?” Maggie looked confused for a moment. “Oh yes, at the church, the flower committee. And it’s Parish Council this Thursday, isn’t it? Yes, I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything? Is it my turn for biscuits?”
Sarah patted her hand. “Maybe a notepad and pen would be useful, my dear. You young things have so many things to remember these days perhaps you should just jot down who’s doing what.”
“My goodness Sarah,” Maggie put her hand on her chest and half bowed, “thank you! It’s a long time since I’ve been called a ‘young thing’.”
“And so you are. I hope you’ll be joining in the dancing tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Maggie demurred.
“Oh, that’s a shame; you’re such a good dancer.” Sarah shook her head sadly. She knew how much Maggie used to enjoy dancing with Iain, but had also noticed he was rarely seen in the village these days.
All work and no play…
Maggie looked for Hilda. It was unusual to see Sarah without Hilda. Ah, there she was, over the far side of the hall by the buffet. Maggie watched as one of the children, Isabelle, whom she knew from the weekly dance classes she taught the younger children, took a cake over to Hilda and offered it with a smile. Hilda seemed to have all the time in the world for children and got on well with them.
It’s adults she doesn’t get on with, especially me.
There were too many coincidences for Maggie to be able to ignore the fact that Hilda avoided her whenever possible. Disapproval of her was always apparent but Maggie had no idea why.
She stayed for a couple of hours, chatting with all the friends she had made in the village over the years, then found Jean and Frank to say goodbye and thank them. They, too, tried to persuade her to join in the evening festivities but she remained non-committal. She knew her friends would welcome her and she wouldn’t lack for dance partners, but it felt like a foretaste of widowhood without Iain by her side at these functions.
*
Iain and Natasha were taking their time over breakfast in their hotel suite. They were leaning back against their pillows in a shaft of gentle morning sunshine, the Sunday papers scattered around them. They had spent two nights together here, and all day Saturday they had done silly touristy
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