Sign of the Times

by Susan Buchanan

  When she came to, she was wearing a hospital gown. Her father was holding her hand, tears streaming down his face.

  “Oh Dad, please no.”

  Her father looked at her sadly.

  “Was it Stuart?” she had to be sure.

  “I’m sorry darling,” her father’s voice broke.

  Maria fainted again. When she woke up, her thoughts were of the baby.

  “Is the baby OK?”

  “The baby’s fine. They put you here because you fell when you saw the car. When the police realised what you were saying and that you were pregnant, they weren’t taking any chances. Then they called me.”

  “I need to see him,” she said firmly. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I’m not sure if they’ve taken him to the mor…,” he couldn’t finish.

  “Dad, what happened?”

  “Stuart’s car collided with a lorry.”

  “Dad, it was wrecked.” Stifling a sob, she asked. “Did he die instantly?”

  Her father held her close and said, “Yes, he didn’t suffer.”

  Stuart was gone. Gone and now he would never see his baby, which was growing inside her.

  The next few weeks passed in a heartbeat. Her parents moved in with her. Maria barely remembered the funeral. Stuart’s parents had handled it. Her mother insisted she ate properly as she was still breastfeeding, and also had to think of Stuart’s baby inside her. That spurred her on.

  Chapter Forty Three

  “Push, Maria, push,” commanded the midwife. Maria clutched her mother’s hand, as a scream burst from her throat. As yet another contraction ripped through her she bore down again. Closing her eyes, she saw Stuart’s face, urging her on. Alternating between despair at Stuart not being there to witness this and joy at the imminent birth of her child, she gave one final push.

  “It’s a girl,” said the midwife.

  “Amy,” whispered Maria.

  “Would you like your mum to cut the cord?” the midwife asked her. Mother and daughter exchanged a glance and Maria’s mother took the scissors from the midwife.

  As Maria watched her mother sever the physical link between her and her baby, she fought back tears as she thought how proud Stuart would have been of the little bundle of perfection they had created.

  Swaddled in a towel, the midwife passed Amy to Maria. Out of such pain, comes such joy, she thought. She wasn’t thinking of the labour pain, but the pain of losing her soul mate. Compared to that, labour had been a breeze. Amy looked so like her father, same eyes, nose and chin and would serve as a constant reminder of Stuart.

  *

  Six months later, Maria’s father brought her a schedule for a house in Kings River.

  “Dad, what are you doing?”

  “The flat’s too small for you and it would mean you were closer to us.”

  “Dad, I can’t move there. That’s where Stuart chose.”

  “And that’s precisely why you should move there. It’s what Stuart wanted, for your family.”

  Maria looked down at her daughter, who was gurgling in her rocker.

  “I don’t know,” she faltered.

  “Maria. It’s got to be worth a look. It’s the same house.”

  “What?”

  “It came back on the market.”

  “Isn’t that too weird?” Maria asked.

  “I prefer to think of it as Fate. Can I make an appointment?”

  In two minds, his daughter relented.

  They went to see the house. Very little had changed since the photos Maria had seen previously. Her father had advised her not to mention how interested she might be in the house, as the owner might accept a lower offer to hasten the sale. Although she’d done OK from the insurance policy Stuart had put in place for them when they married, she would still need a small mortgage. The south side flat should fetch a decent price, but Kings River was a very sought after locale.

  The house was perfect. When the estate agent went downstairs to give them some privacy, Maria had cried on her father’s shoulder.

  “I think you should put an offer in,” her dad said.

  Through a haze of tears, she agreed.

  They’d lived here nearly three years now. Maria dedicated herself to her family. Every now and then, she ventured out with friends, but she wasn’t remotely interested in finding another partner. What were the chances of finding two soul mates in this life? She was the happiest she’d been in years. She loved her children intensely and often thought of her husband. She was grateful to have such a level-headed father and would have been lost without him.

  “I want chocolate buttons, Mummy,” David cried, as he skipped along on his way to school.

  “Fudge,” Amy said.

  “If you’re very good, you’ll get a treat when you come home.”

  “Want it now,” sulked Amy.

  “Me too,” cried David.

  “David, Amy, later. Understood?”

  Meekly they mumbled, “Sorry Mummy.”

  She might be overprotective, but she instilled discipline in her children. Would Stuart have done the same, she wondered. Sometimes she felt he would have been more lenient, but rather than be soft on them, as some sort of compensation for not having a father, Maria had chosen the opposite tack. She needed them to be tough for all the knocks life threw at them. They were allowed to watch one hour of television a day. Maria wanted to encourage creativity, to develop their imaginations. Rather than allow them to watch as much TV as they could stomach, they had to choose just one programme each. She spent a lot of time playing with them. Now her life was about her children and her work. Her events company had prospered greatly in the last few years. Fortunately the children hadn’t yet reached the stage of football practice, karate, ballet and piano lessons, so she was able to enjoy them whilst she was still the centre of their universe.

  Maria ensured the children had everything, settled them into school, kissed them goodbye and returned home, via McAndrew’s. The shop was an institution in the village. It first sold goods to the miners, when Kings River was in its infancy. Times had changed and both the railway line and the mines were long gone. The nearest train station was five miles away, although the village was on the main bus route. The shop sold everything the villagers could need at short notice. It served as shop, bakery, butcher and post office. It was much larger than the original store, opened in 1852. Although more expensive than the big supermarkets in town, the prices weren’t so inflated that they drove customers away. On the contrary, people had been coming here for years. Many people came to Kings River because they liked the idea of village life and had moved here away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Their children were also guaranteed to receive a good education. There were only fifty pupils at the tiny primary school and nine at the nursery. The four teachers, two classroom assistants and headmistress were a definite attraction. With the tranquillity of village life and removing themselves from the stresses of the city, people lived longer and the village was home to a burgeoning elderly population.

  Maria moved around the shop. Ian McAndrew, the great grandson of the founder, was busy with a customer, so Maria picked up a basket and trundled around the shop. Hedgehog bread for David, a few tins of soup, even she could cheat every so often. She added some tomatoes, lettuce, carrots and some goat’s cheese, as well as the kids’ chocolate.

  “Hi Maria. Just dropped off the little ones?” Ian asked.

  “Yes. Now for some peace and quiet.”

  “How’s business?” Ian asked.

  “Good, thanks.”

  Ian often wondered if it was hard for her, planning other people’s weddings, when her own husband had died so tragically. Being a small village, everyone knew about Maria’s circumstances before she moved in. It was a good thing too, as initially she had been very reserved, scarcely saying two words. Even with its small population, as soon as Maria was back on her feet, she’d received a request from a local woman to design
a special Christmas card. Some silver wedding invitation and response cards followed. After that, the requests poured in. It kept her busy, temporarily taking her mind off her widow status and allowed her to work from home, whilst her children were infants. When both children went to nursery, her father had felt it was time to branch out. She’d quickly enlisted her sister and best friend’s help.

  *

  Shopping unpacked, Maria sat down to write her To Do list. Highly organised, she was possibly one of the few people who stuck to their To Do list.

  Mon

  Send sample card to printer for McKillops

  Printers re cards for Hennesseys

  Arrange meeting for Wed 14th Lighthouse Inn

  Carriages re rehearsal dinner for Struthers’

  Renew employment insurance

  Meet with McKillops

  Maria decided that was enough to be going on with. After a few hours, she checked her watch and saw that soon she would have to collect the children. Although Maria worked from home, her mother looked after the children two afternoons a week. Today was one of Maria’s afternoons and so work was put on hold again.

  “Mummy!” Amy called, running towards her, face red with exertion. It was chilly today, even though it was summer. David had only started school two weeks ago. She couldn’t quite believe her little boy was nearly five. She wished Stuart could have seen him. It had been very emotional for her, although David had strutted about the place in his new red jersey, black trousers and polished black shoes oblivious.

  “Hi sweetie,” Maria crouched down and hugged her daughter.

  “I got a book, Mummy.”

  “You have a book?” Maria asked.

  “Yes. It has a gruffalo.”

  “A gruff-a-lo?” Maria emphasised the word.

  “Yes. Can we read it when we get home?” Amy asked.

  “After lunch. Let’s go and find David,” said Maria.

  They found him deep in conversation with a little girl.

  “What’s your name?” Maria asked, not recognising her.

  “Angelika,” the girl said with a trace of an accent.

  Ah, this must be the little Polish girl. She had heard that a family from Gdansk had moved into the village. The little girl was beautiful; pure white hair, big blue eyes, immense eyelashes and white, almost translucent skin, with that amazing bone structure that only Eastern Europeans seem to have.

  “Nice to meet you, Angelika,” Maria said. She already knew that Angelika’s family lived in the street behind theirs.

  “David, c’mon. Say bye to Angelika. You’ll see her this afternoon”

  “Bye,” said David, taking his mother’s hand, not taking his eyes off Angelika.

  “Want alphabet soup,” cried Amy, laying down her spoon, refusing to eat her homemade chicken soup.

  “Amy, eat up and you can have a treat,” Maria cajoled.

  David deposited back at school after lunch, Maria asked her daughter,

  “Amy, where’s your book?”

  “Here it is, Mummy,” Amy plopped her Dora the Explorer satchel down on her mother’s lap.

  “OK. Let’s see. The Gruffalo.”

  Amy snuggled into her mother, fingers playing with her hair, as her mother read. After the fifth reading, Maria had had enough.

  “OK, Amy, we can read it again tonight. Why don’t you go and play with your dolls?”

  “Don’t want to,” Amy pouted.

  Maria grimaced. She was like her brother in many ways. Unfortunately although she had Stuart’s temperament and could be very sweet, she’d learned from her brother how to remonstrate. Sighing, Maria said, “Go and get a puzzle.”

  Visibly cheered, Amy set off, dragging her bag with her. Maria didn’t have time to constantly be tidying, so she trained the children well. It wasn’t a big ask, but it helped. It never ceased to amaze her when she visited friends who had kids, whose houses were in complete chaos, with bits of trodden in cornflakes on their floors. Then there were the dirty bibs, wipes and nappies; the latter thankfully clean, strewn around. She simply couldn’t live like that.

  Amy returned with the puzzle, a huge smile on her face. She dumped all the pieces out of the box.

  “Igglepiggle!” she cried.

  “Yes, that’s Igglepiggle. Now, where’s the other piece?” Maria asked. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Amy pointed to a piece with blue in it. Maria shook her head, “No, that’s the sky.”

  Amy found another blue piece, which also had a red section, “Blankie,” Amy said.

  “That’s right. The red piece is his blankie.”

  She put the blue Igglepiggle and the half blue, half red piece together and smiled smugly at her mother.

  “Now, where’s Makka Pakka?” Maria asked.

  Amy found a flesh coloured piece of the tubby character, and soon finished the puzzle. She took it apart and started again. Whilst Amy was content to amuse herself, Maria jotted down items she needed to address. Their council tax needed sorting out. She also had to go to the dry cleaner’s in Kilburn, as she needed a suit for the wedding on Saturday.

  Maria sat back on her recliner, added a few more items to her list, then picking up her cordless phone, padded through to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

  “Sandra. Hi, it’s me. Any calls?” Maria listened as her assistant related a tale of woe about flower arrangements. She made notes as Sandra gave her a few bullet points and then added that Mr McKinstrie had left a message for her.

  Alasdair McKinstrie III from Houston, Texas had Scottish heritage and therefore wanted to marry in a Scottish castle. Money was no object. They’d pared the options down to Dalhousie Castle, near Edinburgh, handy for guests flying in from the States; Duns Castle, in the Borders, with its Gothic architecture and finally Edinburgh Castle. Maria didn’t know if they would prefer the status of the latter. Certainly its location and dominating presence over the city was impressive. It was world-famous and instantly recognisable, but from a romantic perspective, she preferred Dalhousie Castle, with its library, secret bar, restaurant in the barrel vaulted dungeon and period furnished bedrooms.

  Mr McKinstrie and Ms Geller intended visiting Scotland before choosing the venue, much to Maria’s relief. She had gleaned that Cynthia Geller was going to be hard to please. It would be easier to get the measure of her when she was here and hopefully provide her with everything she needed to have the perfect wedding.

  Maria completed her action items and made herself some tea. She glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall, a gift from her grandfather, hand-made in the Black Forest. It would soon be time for her to go and collect David. But first, she had to call the council tax office.

  Chapter Forty Four

  “Mummy, I want to go to Angelika’s house,” David said, as they walked home.

  “Not today, David. We haven’t met her mummy and daddy yet.”

  David took the huff and pet lip out, arms folded, tried to squirm away from his mother.

  “David, behave, or there will be no TV,” his mother admonished him.

  Reluctantly, David stopped his tantrum and reached his hand out to his mother. How wonderful it was to be a child, Maria thought, as they skipped home. Boys in particular had a fantastic capacity for forgetting slights, within five seconds of their happening. David had returned almost immediately to the sunny-natured little boy she loved.

  “Right, David. Uniform off. Your play clothes are on the bed. Ten minutes later, David waltzed into the room, “Mummy,” he complained, “we’re missing Dora.”

  Maria flicked on the programme. Amy inched her way towards the TV.

  “Amy, sit on the couch and watch,” said Maria. “You’re too close.”

  Drawing her mother daggers, as only three-year-old girls know how, Amy sat back, twirling her hair in her index finger.

  Good, thought Maria. I might be able to make that call to the States now.

  Maria ended the call to Alisdair McKinstrie to yells from the lounge, w
here Amy was standing over David, hitting him with a plastic spade.

  “Amy, stop that!” she dragged her daughter away. “Why did you do that?”

  Her daughter didn’t answer. “OK, naughty step for you.” Taking her daughter out to the hall, she sat her on the bottom step. Bringing herself down to Amy’s eye level, Maria told her why she was there and left. Five minutes later, ensuring her daughter apologised to her son, she left them to play again.

  When Maria returned from making chicken goujons, she found them putting Mouse Trap together. David’s tongue was hanging out slightly, whilst he concentrated, his sister wordlessly passing him the pieces. Maria promised them they could play it after dinner. As a result dinner was consumed pretty rapidly. Amy tried to be sly, mushing hers up and dropping it under the table, but Maria noticed and told her she had to clean it up and if she caught her doing it again, she was going straight to bed.

  “Mummy, I’m the green mouse. You moved the red one!” squeaked David.

  “David, don’t shout. Mummy made a mistake. Look, I’m putting Amy’s mouse back.”

  David was satisfied with this and twenty minutes later, it was Maria’s unsuspecting mouse that was on the receiving end of the cage falling from the top of the post. The children looked at each other in glee.

  “I won Mummy. I got your mouse,” said David.

  “Well done. Right, bath-time.” Amy ran away. David groaned.

  “David, pyjamas please.”

  A docile David complied, whilst Maria went looking for Amy. She always hid in the same place - the walk-in cupboard. Maria tried not to laugh. When would children understand that hide and seek meant just that. You hide, someone looks for you. You don’t reveal your hiding place when they get near, and you don’t hide in the same place. Within twenty seconds, Maria was in possession of a wriggling, squealing Amy.

  Maria loved when the children were freshly washed, hair still damp, smelling of baby shampoo. She dried Amy whilst David towelled himself, although Maria knew she’d still have to dry his back and ensure he was properly dry, particularly his fingers and toes. That boy must have been a seal in a previous life, she thought. He’d happily leave the house sopping wet. She towelled down her two children and then left them on the sofa with The Gruffalo for Amy and The Faraway Tree for David, whilst she went to fetch their milk. Handing them their chocolate milk, she sat down between them to read their stories.