Springtime at Hope Hall

by Pam Rhodes

  “Great Scott of the Antarctic!” he announced, taking off his hat in salute to all the people he saw gathered in the foyer. “It’s a party. How charming.”

  “Come on, Gerald,” said Ellie as she took his arm to guide him over towards where Kath was waiting to greet them. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Gerald, welcome to Hope Hall,” smiled Kath. “Have you been here before?”

  Gerald looked about him with an expression that conveyed both delight and confusion. “I don’t know. I might have. Phyllis would know. I’ll ask Phyllis.”

  “Phyllis isn’t here today, Gerald,” Ellie gently explained. “Do you remember that she’s not at all well now, so she’s getting a bit of rest over at Forest View Nursing Home? We went there this morning. You took her some daffodils. She was very pleased. Do you remember?”

  His eyes clouded over for a moment before he smiled broadly. “No, I don’t. I might later. Is that tea I see? Am I allowed a cup?”

  “You certainly are. Let me take you over to your table. You know Judith and George Merrill from the church, don’t you? They’ve kept a seat for you, and here’s your cup of tea now.”

  Once Gerald was settled, Ellie made her way across to where Kath was chatting to another group sitting at a nearby table. Kath looked up with a smile, but noticed immediately that Ellie’s expression was unusually sombre.

  “Can I have a quiet word with you, Kath? Something happened this morning that James thought you should know about.”

  Immediately, Kath led the way out of the hall and back towards her office.

  The clock ticked round towards two o’clock. The plates were cleared away, teas, coffees and after-dinner mints were on the tables, and washing-up was in full swing. That was the job Shirley always liked to supervise, and Maggie smiled to herself as she heard the cleaning lady’s shrill voice shouting out commands to a flustered Kevin, who was obviously trying his very best.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and Kath walked in, her expression sad.

  “Maggie, Liz, Shirley, can you come here a moment, please?”

  Wondering what awful mistake they must have made, the three women gathered round her.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Sara passed away this morning.”

  “Oh, no!” Shirley’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and she pulled a hankie out of her sleeve to stem the flow. “She’s been so brave,” she managed to say. “So has Ray.”

  “Apparently Ray has their son and his wife there, and I know they’ll be taking care of him and all the arrangements too. I’ve got a card here that I thought each of us could sign straight away, just to let him know we’re thinking of him.”

  “I can drop it in on my way home,” said Maggie.

  “Thanks, Mags. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I know all of you were very fond of Sara. And we all love Ray, of course.”

  The group nodded in agreement as they gathered to sign the card. It felt as if a light had gone out around them.

  “Hello,” smiled Claire. “I was just wondering whether to make a coffee for you too.”

  Gary’s face lit up when he saw her. “We’re running late tonight. Toby and Max got incredibly excited at the idea of coming to Beavers, and when they’re excited, it’s impossible to communicate with them. Is it just me? Am I a terrible parent?”

  “Oh,” sighed Claire, “I seem to be surrounded by people who can’t communicate properly at the moment.”

  Gary eyed her with curiosity as he held his coffee cup under the steaming spout of the machine. “Tough week?”

  “You could say that.”

  “You go and grab our table and I’ll bring these over.”

  Once he’d sat down and taken a gulp of his coffee, Gary watched Claire as she circled the spoon absent-mindedly in her cup.

  “You’re going to wear out the bottom of that cup.”

  She noticed then, and smiled a little.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t.”

  Gary said nothing as he picked up his coffee.

  “We had a row. Nigel was furious because my mum left a card under my windscreen wiper with twenty pounds in it for that computer game a lot of the boys here have got. You know – the one that helps them prepare for their French speaking badge?”

  “I don’t think that’s been mentioned to my two yet.”

  “Well, it’s just a silly little computer game really, but it’s a good way for kids of this age to learn a bit of colloquial French. Josh tried it at his friend’s house the other evening and loved it.”

  “And your mother knew that?”

  “Yes, Josh ended up telling her about it. I didn’t think she’d remember really, but I should have known better.”

  “Are you still seeing her then?”

  “Not as much as before, but I missed our time together, and I am so angry with Nigel for thinking he has the right to come between us like that. I feel awkward about going to the house, because he’s strictly forbidden that, but Mum and I sometimes meet up at the supermarket, so we can have a cuppa and a snack after we’ve each done our shopping.”

  “And Nigel doesn’t know about that?”

  “Well, he didn’t – but then I stupidly left Mum’s envelope with the money in it for Josh’s computer game on the kitchen table. I can’t believe I did that.”

  “And Nigel found it?”

  “He went ballistic. He was furious about the money; furious that my mum was impertinent enough to disobey his orders not to buy gifts for Josh without his permission; furious that I’d accepted it; furious that I’d met my mum at all. I told him Josh and I had just bumped into Mum by accident—”

  “Which wasn’t true.”

  “No, and I hate telling lies, but he was so angry I didn’t dare tell him the truth. He’s suspected for a while that I do still see Mum, and that sometimes Josh comes as well, but this is the first time he’s had real proof. He knew I was lying, of course, because I’m terrible at it. That only made the whole thing worse.”

  “So how are things now?”

  “The atmosphere is unbearable. Even Josh has noticed, and I can see it’s upsetting him. Nigel only speaks to me when he can’t avoid it. If I walk into a room, he walks out. He’s been working extra hours, which he never normally does. Then he comes home late, saying he’s already eaten and not touching the dinner I’ve prepared. It’s just awful.”

  “Will this blow over, do you think?”

  “You know, I’m really not sure. It’s certainly not getting any better so far. Nigel is completely adamant that his attitude to my parents is right. I know Dad behaved badly, but my mum just loves us all. It breaks my heart that my family are blocked out like this.”

  He realized that she was crying, trying not to let him or anyone else see. Under the table, he stretched out to put a comforting hand on her arm. She didn’t move it away. She didn’t seem to notice it was there.

  “And the thing is, he’s not the only one who’s angry. I’m angry too – and more than that, I’m disappointed. I thought better of him. The man I married was kinder than that, and I thought he understood the importance of family – not just his, but mine too.”

  “Claire, I’m so sorry.”

  As if suddenly aware that she might be making a spectacle of herself in front of others in the room, and perhaps even him, she made an effort to pull herself together.

  “Don’t be,” she replied. “We all have our ups and downs. Marriage is like that, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She looked across at him. “Yours too?”

  “Karen and I had words this week as well.”

  “Anything to worry about?”

  “Well, to be fair, I think it’s more my fault than hers. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I just can’t help it. I’m working on a really big contract at the moment for a company that could give me a lot of business in the future
. They went out on a limb to choose a sole trader like me, and they’re really putting the pressure on.”

  “And how’s it going?”

  “I can do the work easily – and it’s what I love to do. I know I’m good at it. But getting it done is quite another thing altogether. The box room I work in barely has space for my drawing board, and everything is so cramped. I need a table top to keep all my drawings in constant view, but if I leave anything on the dining room table, not only is it all the way downstairs, but the twins will have scribbled over it in indelible pen before I know it.”

  “So how do you manage?”

  “Well, that’s the trouble. I don’t feel I am managing very well right now. I’m not good at doing two things at once. The fact is I’m a house husband now. I’m not complaining about that, because that is what Karen and I agreed, for the simple reason that she earns so much more than me. But I’m just not capable of running the house, organizing everything the twins need, and keeping my job going all at the same time. I end up doing nothing very well.”

  “And are your work clients picking up on that?”

  “They seem to choose to ring me when it’s bedlam at my end, with the kids running riot. That can hardly give them confidence, can it, when half the time I can’t even hear what they’re saying because there’s so much din in the background?”

  “Surely Karen understands that?”

  “Yes, she does, but there’s not a lot she can do about it. She works such long days. She’s always worn out when she gets home. I can’t blame her for just wanting to spend a bit of time with the boys, have a meal ready for her, and collapse in a heap.”

  “In an ideal world, yes, but kids have a habit of getting in the way of that.”

  “The boys constantly play up for me, but when Mum comes home, they’re little angels.”

  Claire smiled. “I don’t think that means you’re doing something wrong. It’s just that they miss her, and want nothing more than her company when she’s back with them again.”

  “Well, I feel a bit like that about her too. I miss her. I’d like to have some quality time with her, like we used to – but she’s always too busy, too late, too harassed, too exhausted…”

  “And can the two of you talk about it?”

  “Yes, we have talked – and yes, she gets the point, but that’s just the way our life is.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I think that what I really miss is going to work, sharing ideas with colleagues, and feeling that what I do is respected and valued.”

  “Is she interested in your work?”

  “She used to be. Not much time for that now.”

  “And are you interested in what she does at work?”

  “I don’t really understand it. She’s an IT genius; that’s all I know. She’s really clever. Perhaps that’s the problem. I’m not as clever as she is. She’s a talented, sought after, inspirational and admired superwoman, who is a supermum too. I’m just an ordinary fella who sometimes feels very inadequate and in her shadow.”

  “Have you told her that’s how you feel?”

  “In a roundabout way. She says I’m imagining things.”

  “Could she be right?”

  “Perhaps,” he sighed.

  They barely noticed the two women who were making their way over to the coffee machine at that moment.

  “Hello!” said one of them in Gary’s direction. “I know you from school, don’t I? Aren’t you the twins’ dad?”

  Gary smiled. “That’s right. I’m Gary.”

  “Nice to meet you,” replied the woman, beaming with friendliness. “And is this your wife? I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Oh no,” spluttered Claire. “I’m Josh’s mum. We’ve just met here because our boys are all Beavers.”

  “Ours too,” commented the woman. “Well, we must go. We’re off to the Fat Club.”

  Gary looked surprised.

  “The Slimming Club, to give it its official title! It’s on at the same time as Beavers, but over in the school hall. See you both later then. Bye!”

  Alison and Sally waited until they’d walked out of sight before they turned to each other and giggled.

  “Well, we can all see what’s going on there.”

  “Did he have his hand on her knee?”

  “I’m not sure, but they were certainly very close.”

  “Perhaps they’re old friends?”

  “Perhaps they’re more than friends…”

  And with a peel of laughter, they hurried towards the school hall.

  Chapter 9

  They arrived early. Long before the Beetles and Puds event was due to start at two, the competitors came pouring through the door. The ladies formed chatty queues as they disappeared off to “powder their noses” while the gentlemen had been given orders to bag the best tables and organize drinks and snacks from the bar.

  “Coo-ee! We’re over here.” Shirley’s voice jangled every window in Hope Hall as she called across to her sister, who was just walking in. Barbara Lucas was an elegant woman, well known for her many years of running a dance school in the town. Alongside her was Della, the next generation of teachers in this dance-devoted family, who acknowledged the greetings of many of her pupils as she glided gracefully into her place beside her Uncle Mick.

  “Do you think that’s Shirley’s husband?” hissed Betty, narrowing her eyes to get a better look at the stocky, muscular man sitting next to the popular cleaning lady. “Past his best now, I suppose, but he must have been quite a hunk. He’s a dead ringer for Rock Hudson.”

  “He wouldn’t have done you much good then,” retorted Ida haughtily. “Didn’t he bat for the other side?”

  “I saw every one of his films. I thought he was dreamy,” sighed Doris. “Oh look, here’s Flora. Our winning team is complete.”

  “There they are,” snorted Percy from a couple of tables away. “The Merry Widows! I knew they wouldn’t miss an occasion like this.”

  “Oh yes, I see them,” smiled Connie, waving to get their attention. “Shall we go across and say hello?”

  Percy gave her a withering look. “And give away our tactics? Sit down, woman! Robert and John are just coming in now. We have a victory to plan.”

  On the other side of the hall was the table booked by the playgroup. It had been generally agreed by both the staff and the parents whose children attended regularly that their team would be best represented by the playgroup leader and her deputy – and their husbands, of course, to give the team a good balance. Jen and Carol were staring in the direction of the bar, where their husbands were waiting to buy drinks. This was the first time Rob and Phil had actually seen each other since the day of the “car incident”. In fact, the two men, old friends who usually spoke once a week, had not rung each other at all in the weeks since it happened.

  “I think Phil’s embarrassed,” said Carol, anxiously peering across towards her husband.

  “Well, nothing will be said unless Phil brings it up,” replied Jen. “Rob’s pretty disgusted with him, though – hiding all that money away without telling you, and then pleading poverty even though you desperately needed a reliable car.”

  “Phil just loves his old bikes. He says that the one he’s working on is such a classic that it will be worth a fortune when he’s done it up.”

  Jen turned to her sharply. “And you fell for that, did you? He won’t ever sell it. You know he won’t.”

  Carol sighed. “Well, I guess he will find it difficult to part with.”

  “Honestly, Carol, if he were my husband, I’d find it difficult not to part with him. He only ever thinks of himself, but he’s got a fantastic wife and a gorgeous little boy. It’s about time that man grew up and got his priorities right.”

  “Don’t say anything, Jen, please! Let’s just have a nice time together so we can get our friendship back to normal.”

  “Your Phil thinks it’s all forgiven and forgotten,” huffed Jen. “You shouldn’t
let him get away with it, Carol. You’re too soft on him.”

  “Please, Jen, don’t!”

  Thumping back into her seat with frustration, Jen was beginning to wish she hadn’t come.

  At that moment, the St Mark’s Church team entered the hall, greeting many friends and parishioners on the way. Ellie stopped several times to chat with and sometimes hug people she knew, as the group headed for their table. Her husband James cut a more formal figure, a priest who never forgot the grace and decorum of his calling. Eventually they sat down along with their other two team members, Gregory Palmer and his wife Fiona.

  The new musical director of St Mark’s was now familiar to most people in the church community. His remarkable transformation of the choir from a gaggle of well-intentioned amateurs to a choral group of high musical acumen was still causing ripples in local church circles. Some were admiring and proud of his success as the reputation of the St Mark’s Choral Choir spread. Others dismissed him as high-handed, uncaring and even – dare it be said? – unchristian! But Gregory had no time for gossip and ill-informed opinion. He was simply employed to create a highly competent choir who could sing their praise to God with the skill and commitment that the almighty Father deserved. He was on a mission – and it obviously had God’s blessing because the results had proved beyond doubt that the end justified the means. He had pruned out the dead wood, and now St Mark’s had a glorious choir in which to take huge pride. Yes, he was proud of his achievement. There simply was no one else who could have knocked the music of St Mark’s into shape, from the frankly laughable to the obviously superb.

  “James, do you see Pauline Owen over there?” said Ellie, acknowledging Pauline’s wave. “Gregory, you probably know the group on that table. They all used to be in our choir.”

  Gregory didn’t move a muscle except for his eyes, which darted across to focus sharply on the group in question. Yes, he recognized Pauline Owen, the choir member he sacked because she only ever sang a semi-tone above everyone else. And Sophia, the dreadful woman with a plummy operatic voice who, if she ever had training, must have gone to someone who taught football, or cooking for beginners, rather than anything to do with music and vocal techniques. And there was Keith Turner, the traitor! He had been granted a place in the newly formed choir, and had come along to most of the rehearsals, but his presence on that table meant that, in spite of the beautiful tone of his tenor voice, he was of no further interest to Gregory. Keith was undisciplined. He talked too much and listened too little. He also kept the worst kind of company.