Margarets Grand Entrance
Mary! This isnt stew, its some kind of strange salad! Darling, youre a brilliant solicitor, so stick to that! Step away from the kitchen and leave it to those of us less rich in the head.
Maggie, I am not a woman! Mary was nearly in tears, utterly fed up.
Why did she always struggle, even with the simplest dishes? Attempting anything more complicated never even crossed her mind. In their family, roles were fixed generations ago.
Veronica: the homemaker. Mary: the brain. And Samantha: the wild one, the person who could make any cog in lifes machine spin exactly how she wanted. Which is precisely why, at every family gathering, it was Veronica who did the cooking, while Mary and Sam managed everything elsetidying, groceries, entertaining the children. The latter task belonged entirely to Sam. Only she could organise the Smythe Gang so that Veronicas house, and the garden where the family congregated, didnt end up looking like it needed significant structural repairs (again). The Smythes doted on their brood endlessly, spoilt them to the moon and back, but strove for strict discipline (with very little success).
All seven of Margarets grandchildrenwhom she adored with the helplessness of a besotted puppyresembled their youngest aunt, Samantha. Never mind that Sam was now a mother herself to two of the hellions currently tearing around the garden, battling out whether they were cowboys or a very small native tribe from somewhere remote; she was still, at heart, another child. There Sam sat, plucking through the plums Margaret planned to turn into yet another batch of compote, seriously considering joining the bedlam. Only the stern eye of Veronica held her back. Veronica, slashing tomatoes for the latest salad, muttered under her breath with absolutely zero ambiguity:
Youre no woman, youre a rascal! Sammy, when on earth will you settle down? Look at Marya proper woman! Solid. Me, well, I manage. But you? Forever the wild hare! Dashing about on your precious motorbike, telling everyone how wonderful life is. Sam, kids grow up! How will they look at their mother? Theyre six now, but in a couple of years? Theyll be mortified!
Oh, Veronica, stop dramatizing! Mary peeked into the pot, inspected her questionable stew for the fifteenth time, and decided to just put the lid on it and call it done. Theyve plenty to be proud of. Whose mum can assemble and disassemble a motorbike? Can you? I cant even make soup! Doesnt that make me worthy of pride?
Certainly. You may be hopeless at soup, but youre brilliant in the courtroom.
Exactly! Which means what?
That everyone should stick to what theyre good at.
Well said! Margaret, whod missed half the exchange, sailed onto the veranda. The women gasped, and the children, realising their mothers had stopped bickering, froze mid-game and gawked at their grandmother, stepping forth in all her glory.
Oh wow! Sams twins clicked their tongues in aweso perfectly synchronised they produced a single, resounding snap that startled Margaret herself.
Well, thats the effect achieved!
She spun slowly, displaying her new dress and her stilettos, reserved only for serious occasions. Today certainly qualified.
Ladies, opinions? Is it socially acceptable for a lady of… a certain age, to show up to meet a chap who last saw her about, ooh, forty years ago dressed like this?
Maggie, you look stunning! Hell be knocked dead!
Dead? Please, lets not, I dont fancy dealing with a corpse. I simply want to understand why this man needs me after all these years. What use could I be to him?
Gran, piped up Veronicas eldest, fifteen-year-old Natalie, flopping onto the step next to Sam and munching through half a plum, maybe he needs you… in the way a man needs a woman?
The laughter that followed was so explosive that the cats napping on the sun-warmed porch rails bolted, and that nervous terrier thing Veronica had acquired the year before howled its outrage and legged it under the table.
Natalie, youll be the death of me, Veronica wiped away tears of laughter and went inside for a mop, leaving Mary to comfort the mortified pooch.
So, Maggie, what really happened with you two? She hushed the kids, who cottoned on that adults were having Grown Up Talk and retreated to the far corners of the garden.
Oh, Mary! We had a romance, Margaret declared, giving romance such breathy emphasis that Natalie, halfway to chasing her younger siblings, collapsed back onto the step in melodramatic agony. Sam nearly fell off the porch with laughter.
Natalie, youre far too young to be interested in such things!
Really? Whens the right age, then? How old were you, Maggie?
Sixteen! Maggie spread her arms, catching Veronicas look. What? Dont judge! I was young, foolish and hopelessly inexperienced! Natalies like youclever and beautiful! But she should know about the perils of romance and the aftermath for ones soul. Dont you agree?
Oh, just tell the story already! Sam, still giggling, waved her on. No ones going to move Natalie now. Might as well educate her.
Natalie, grateful, settled in, fixing her green eyesso similar to Margarets it was uncannyon her grandmother. Staunch family friends all noted this resemblance, because, technically, only Sams daughters shared blood with their step-grandmother. Margaret had entered the Smythe sisters lives after their mother died and their father, lost in grief, was left adrift. The entire world had collapsed with his wife, and he couldnt see a way forward.
Veronica, only eight, acted as carer to her little sisters. Any request to their father got the same answer: Ask your mother, darling. Shed know. Those words terrified her. She stopped asking, and just got on with it. Caring for Mary, all rightMary was sensible at five. But two-year-old Sam? A human tornado.
Their grandmother tried to help, but two months in, she threw her hands up. Sorry, son-in-law. I cant cope! The girls are a handful. Ill take Veronica, if you like, but the younger twowell, you manage.
Veronica was petrified. Even Sam, screwdriver in hand, burst into wails and clung to her. Dont cry! Ill just hide! Granny wont find me!
But there was no needher grandmother simply left. Their father mumbled, nodded, and went back to his broken world, certain at least someone was keeping an eye on things.
A few months later came Margaret. Sam was unwell, and Veronica, terrified, begged her father to call a doctor. His reply was distracted and distant. But Veronica, having lived with fear as her constant companion since her mothers death, summoned the courage she never had before. Dad! This is urgent! Sams dying!
Whatever it waspanic in her voice, the sheer terrorthe father called the doctor. Enter Margaret, a locum paediatrician, exhausted from covering a colleagues shift, muttering about the uselessness of the council who had dug up half the street, her cats going unfed, her chicken probably having turned completely mad while defrosting.
Smythes? she asked the gathering of chatty old ladies out front. They poured out everything: the whole family story, latest dramas, the lot.
Right. Ta.
With that, Margaret swept up to the flatbringing with her the authority, warmth, and thunder every lost child dreams of. Five minutes in, she realised Sam needed hospital, called an ambulance, and gave Mr Smythe such a dressing down that he tried to defend himself, failed, and just shouted, too.
What do you want from me?!
Be a father, for heavens sake! Do you care nothing for them? The mothers gone, so the father can be absent as well? Shame on you!
Margaret was an unstoppable force and soon, Veronica felt she could finally be a child againshe didnt have to hold up the sky alone. When Margaret announced shed never be their mother (that job belonged to only one person, who was much loved and lost), but shed be their friendVeronica decided theyd struck gold.
Mary, on the other hand, felt nothing of the kind. Shed been closest to her mother; she dug her heels in, putting her hands over her ears and humming loudly whenever her sisters tried to reason.
Stop it! I want only Mum!
Veronica, trying everything to keep the peace, finally snapped herself.
Mary! I dont know what to do with you! Mum isnt coming backdo you get it? I wish she would, but she wont. I cant be your mum! I cant do it!
Margaret found them sobbing in opposite corners. She herded them together, ignoring Marys protests, and rocked them while murmuring, Dont cry, loves. Youve no mum now, its true. But Im here. I cant be your mother, but I can be your friend. No one will hurt you while Im around.
That was the turning point. While it took years to truly bond, over time, Margaretunable to have children herselfbecame, in all but name, a mother to the Smythe girls.
Their father died barely a year after remarrying, stepping off a pavement into traffic while distracted. Margaret, hearing the news, bolted from her surgery without a coat, sprinting to the school to collect the girls before anyone else could tell them. Once home, she sat them down.
Girls, youre not alone. Im here. Ill never leave you. Ever. No matter what.
And that was thatthey were family. Margaret had even begun adoption proceedings before their fathers death, so no one objected when she became their legal guardian. She left the NHS for two private clinics, where the pay at least nearly covered the bills, and set about knocking some sense into her little sparrows.
These sparrows were lively, characterful, and full of plansand Margaret indulged them all.
A stage actress, Mary? Bit of a surprise! You know its not that simple. Lets ring someone. Two days later, Mary was auditioning at the local theatreturns out doctors have connections. After two years, Mary decided fame wasnt for her, much to Margarets relief.
Samantha! If youre going to break your neck, do it properly! She bought Sam a full kit of protective gear and a sensible motorcycle, selling her beloved family cottage to manage it. Better safe than sorry. She even found a stunt performer willing to give Sam lessons, understanding the panic of a parent dealing with dangerous dreams.
Eventually, the rest of the cottage money bought Sam her first workshop. Asked by friends how she could bear such unorthodox choices, Margaret just shrugged. Who says whats standard? Its a profession, shes happy, shes earningwhat else matters?
Veronica was the only one who never gave Margaret trouble: mature, reliable, the child who had shouldered more than her share. Sometimes, Margaret would hug her and whisper, Breathe, darling. Im here. Veronica, for just a moment, felt herself become the little girl she was meant to be again.
Margaret did her bestshe truly did. And looking back, she knew she had nothing to regret. Shed raised them all: families, children, life itselfcould you ask for more?
Life ambled gently on, full of worry and warmth, until, three days ago, an unfamiliar voice called her name. Shocked, Margaret dropped her beloved mug of tea, shooed a flustered Natalie away, and attempted to collapse gracefully into her armchair… only to miss and end up on the floor, staring at the ceiling as her granddaughter peppered her with worried questions.
Natalie, ring your motherimmediately! I need psychological and emotional support!
Veronica arrived in a flash, still breathless from speeding through every speed camera in Kent, trying to reach her sisters.
Maggie, whats happened?
I think Ive lost my mind!
Nothing new there! Veronica peeled off her jacket, just in time to see Sam breezing in, helmet under one arm.
Look at yourself! Always telling me off about sleep, but youre the one up to nonsense!
Oi! Sam delicately placed her helmet on the cats bed, earning a disgusted glare from the feline. Margaret, check out this masterpiece! Isnt it stunning?
Extraordinary! What is it meant to be?
Dragon!
Absolutely you, Margaret said, finally looking away from the ceiling. Girls, may I go on a date?
A what now?
Natalie fled to the kitchen, stifling giggles and putting on the kettle. So much for homeworkshe was top of the class anyway.
A debate raged for days. The following weekend, with the family packed into Veronicas spacious home, Margaret suffered all their questions.
What can I tell you? He was my first love! Goodness, he was gorgeous! That hair, that height And a voice that melted me even before hed finished saying Hello!
Gran, did you love him?
Dearly! I lovedand I suffered.
But why suffer?
Because, darling, my love was not unrequited, but a source of many woes. I lost myself utterly to it! Oh, listen to mewhat poetry!
Tell us, please, Gran!
Oh, child, such things should be sung by minstrels! Since Im all out of song, youll have to put up with my tragic prose.
Sam snorted, dragging over a bowl of plums. Less drama, more realism!
Dont be rude, child. Or youll get a hand gesture that will confuse historians for centuries. Now. Listen. My first love didnt end at the altar. How could it? I was sixteen, he was seventeen, and the siren who whisked him away was only eighteen!
She was older? Natalie bit her tongue seeing Sams warning look.
Now Id say the age gap was nothing, but thenit was a chasm! She was a university student, neighbour, family friend. And let this be your first lesson, Natalie: never tell your friend how wonderful your boyfriend is. Jealousy is a sly, creeping thing. At first, you hardly notice it, but soon enough, its everywhere and hard to get rid of. Thats what happened to me. I learnt of their courtship once I was already completely besotted, so I said nothing, suffered, and feared confessing.
Did you write to him, Grandma?
Yes. And in my first letter I admitted that I loved him.
Hooray! Natalie swung her legs in delight.
Sam, seeing Margarets pained look, sensed trouble.
And then? whispered Natalie, knuckles white with suspense.
Well in my second letter I told him no.
But why, Gran?
Because, my dear, all I had to offer was love. Eventually, a man wants more.
Like what?
Children, sweetheart. His own future. And I couldnt give him that. Thats no foundation for lovethinking only about yourself. Second lesson, Natalie: one day youll meet someone who cares about your dreams as much as their ownhold onto that person. Thats love.
Natalie somberly rolled a plum between her palms, then look up to see tears streaming down Margarets cheeks. She dashed across, hugged her, and pressed kisses into her grandmothers face. No more tears, Gran! Youll ruin your makeup, and no amount of foundation will fix the damage!
Quite right, Margaret replied, wiping her face and heading off for a rest. I must look fresh as evertonight is my grand entrance!
The sisters watched her leave in silence. What was there to say? Margaret always taught themonce a page is turned, you dont look back. You read on, even knowing the ending wont surprise you.
Sam finished with the plums. Veronica tidied the kitchen. Mary drifted off to sleep in the hammock, vaguely worried by the sudden quietshed regret that feeling later.
A couple of hours later, a snazzy little car pulled up. Out stepped a well-dressed elderly man in a stylish cap. He checked his address, knocked on the gate.
Good evening! Is this where MargaretMiss Margaret Smythelives?
Veronica, always calm, raised her eyebrows but let him in. After all, Margarets date wasnt for a whileperhaps he needed help, or the grandchildren were ill? But when he introduced himself, Veronica nearly burst out laughing. It was, of course, the prince from Margarets story.
Werent you meeting her in town?
Yes, but I finished early and couldnt wait any longer.
Ill let her know.
Marching towards the verandah, Veronica stopped dead in her tracks.
There, in full regalia, stood Margaretand everyone in the house was struck mute by the sight.
She looked magnificenther makeup, courtesy of the twins and their new permanent markers, made her eyes enormous. Natalie fetched a cloth, dogs howled, and the cats retreated in terror.
As for her hair, the younger grandchildren had created a literal tower while Margaret napped, bedecked with clips and flowers in a style that could have won international awards for madcap hairdressing.
Margaret! gasped Veronica, helpless with laughter. You lookwellextraordinary!
Her giggles turned to howls when the visitor, stunned, wobbled on one foot, finally remembered to plant the other one, whipped off his capand his bald patch shone in the evening sun. Now Veronica was lying helpless on the path, sisters echoing her mirth.
WhaWheres your famous hair?!
Totally lost, the gentleman looked around, then started to laugh himself.
Ah yes, I was once curly, charming, and a menace! Those days are long gone. Maggie, darling, Im happy to see you.
Margaretwith Natalie admiring her in horrorbolted into the house, and a chorus of strangled yelps and laughter echoed through the garden. Sam leapt up, yelling, First to the loo! and slammed the bathroom door.
When all had calmed, Margaretafter scrubbing off most of her improvementsjoined everyone on the verandah, and the long evening signalled the start of their next family saga.
Another page in the book: turned.
The Smythe sisters all had the same thoughteven the best people could appear in unexpected forms. If this manthe legendary love of Margarets youthcould show up, not flee at the familys madness, and join in the laughter, maybe he really was special enough for the woman whod become their star.
Time would tell. The only thing to do was give it, graciously, to those who asked.
And in the gentle, hushed hubbub of teacups, Veronica hugged Margaret and whispered,
Go on, then. Dont be afraid. Were here. Be bold!”
