HEARTBEAT RETURNS
Margaret had her daughterher darling Emilywithout so much as a mention of a father. To put it in her own words, she took a tumble before marriage.
Oh yes, there’d been a young man whod shown keen interest in Margaret. Charming, strikingly handsome, ever so politebut never once did he bring up marriage. Still, Margaret was all too happy to link arms with him and sashay past the little old ladieslike sunflowerswho sat gossiping by the front steps, craning their necks to watch every soul that passed.
This young man didn’t bother to find employment; he floated through life like a butterfly, without a care. Margaret fed him, cared for him, let him share her bed at night. Shed have laid herself out like a carpet for his feet, just to keep him by her side.
One day, out of the blue, he announced that being with Margaret was dreadfully tedious, that she didn’t cherish him as a woman ought. Moreover, he thought if she truly loved him, she could have at least taken him on a holiday by the sea.
Margaret wept for a week. She tore up every photograph of her unloved and burned them to ashes. She suffered alone for a month, desperately lonely, before fate put Victor in her path.
One morning, Margaret rushed to catch the bus to work, fretting as she waited at the stop. Out of nowhere, a black cab pulled up. The driver threw open the door and, with a smile, offered her a lift. Without hesitation, Margaret hopped in.
Along the drive, the cabbie struck up a conversation. Margaret took careful note: a man of middle age, well-groomed, fresh-shaven, every line of his suit pressed by a loving hand. It must be his mothers doing, she thought, noting the softness in his voice, the little acts of chivalry: opening doors, making sure she was comfortable.
He introduced himself as Victor, the very picture of all that her last suitor wasn’t. Margaret, against all her usual restraint, gladly shared her phone number. She wanted more of these encounters. That was the only occasion she ever had a free taxi ride.
They began to date. Victor showered Margaret with flowers, gifts, gentle affection.
One bright spring day, hand in hand, they wandered through woods carpeted with bluebells. Light-hearted, full of laughter, they gathered the wildflowers together. Margaret perched in the car with her little bunch. Victor placed his own, far grander bouquet in the back seat, carefully set aside. Margaret couldnt help but wonder, For his wife? But she dared not ask. What if he was married? After half a year, Margaret had grown so used to Victors manners that she chose sweet denial over confrontation.
Truth, though, is never far behind. Soon enough, Victors wife knocked at Margarets door. With her, she brought two toddlers.
There you are, love. See to them, will you? They adore their father!
Margaret, stunned, could only stammer, Im sorry. I had no idea Victor had a wife. I would never dream of destroying your family. I wont build a nest under another womans roof.
That very evening, she said goodbye to Victor and walked away for good.
Her next chapter unfolded with Davida whirlwind from the south, whose every entrance could be mistaken for a storm. She met David at a friends birthday celebration, and he wasted no time. If David wanted something, he swept it upMargaret included.
It was Davids big-heartedness, his generosity and boundless optimism that captivated her. Life with him was a carousel of events, all whirl and fun, never a dull moment. For a year, he held Margaret as though nothing else mattered. But then he returned to his native Cornwall. Perhaps he missed the sea air, perhaps an ill mother called him back.
Suddenly, Margaret felt utterly discarded. She decided heartache had had its fill of her. Ill live alone, she reasoned, and at least I wont have to cry anymore.
Just as she settled into her fate and the rhythm of solitude, Margaret discovered something stirring beneath her heart. Shock, panic, confusion: Who was to be the father? What would the future hold? How could she survive this without losing her mind?
A little girl was born. Margaret named her Emily. Emily became the centre of her universe. With her dark curls, her sparkling eyes, and her bewitching smile, she was all David. Oddly, that fact cheered Margaretperhaps because shed loved David more than shed loved anyone else. Looking into Emilys face, Margaret remembered laughter, sunshine, the days when life brimmed with hope.
Of course, sometimes the longing bit deep, and the sight of a friends wedding ring burned with envy. But raising Emily consumed every spare minute. There simply wasnt time left for tears.
When Emily turned seven, she started school. At her desk, she was seated next to a boy named William. Emily took an instant dislike to him. In turn, William called her a daft curlyhead. It was war from the outset. The teacher had to separate them, but even then, William and Emily managed to have scuffles during playtime.
One day, Margaret came to school, seeking the reason for the new scratches and bruises on Emily.
Feeling rather guilty, the teacher handed over Williams address, suggesting Margaret take the matter up with his parents.
Margaret didnt hesitate to defend her daughter. She marched straight to the given address.
A young man answered, wiping his hands on a tea towel thrown over his shoulder.
Can I help you? Please, come in. Let me make you a cup of coffee while I get our little rogue some supper, he said, bustling away to the kitchen.
Margaret slipped off her shoes and entered the tiny living room. It was clear a woman’s touch hadnt reached this place in agesclothes everywhere, clouds of dust, stale smoke thick in the air.
Well then she thought grimly.
Soon, her host returned with a tray and two mugs of rich, aromatic coffeethe scent would linger in Margarets mind forever.
To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from a lovely lady? he asked, with twinkle in his eye.
Im Emilys mother, Margaret began.
Ahh, right. I reckon my Will is rather taken with your daughter, he said, smiling.
And thats why my Emily keeps coming home scratched and battered? Margaret shot back.
Sorry, I dont follow? Williams father looked genuinely perplexed.
Look, Id really appreciate it if you talked to your son. Thank you for the coffee, she said, gathering herself to leave.
I will, not to worry, he assured her warmly.
Meanwhile, the little rascal sat quietly in the kitchen.
Margaret went home. That night sleep wouldnt come; she kept replaying her encounter with Williams fatherthere was a gentle domesticity about him that she found deeply moving. No flowers, no wine, but a proper cup of coffeenone of her old suitors had ever offered her that. She caught herself, in her haze of dreams, straightening and scrubbing his flat, bringing in flowers for the windowsill, smoothing the way for the little boy.
Morning came, and with it a lift in Margarets spirits. She asked Emily to try and be kind to William, to keep the peace at school.
Weeks slipped by.
At the school parents meeting, Margaret saw Williams father again, her hopes confirmed: Williams mother was gone. Otherwise, why was it only the father at parents night?
The realization gave Margaret a gentle boldness. Williams father offered to walk her and Emily home after the meetingDecember dusk had fallen early. Margaret instantly accepted.
My names Charles, he said as they set off.
Margaret. Pleased to meet you, she replied, her heart unexpectedly light.
It was clear Charles fancied Margaret. Soon, he proposed they spend Christmas together. Margaret, weary of waiting for fairy tale endings, saw nothing to lose.
How long do you blow on your tea before daring to sip again? Seven years of loneliness had left Margaret ready to risk her heart.
Later, Charles confessed: his wife had long since left him, running off with his best mate. Hed fought for his son and won.
Charles hadnt realised, until Margaret, how much he missed a womans gentle affection, how William responded to a mothers care. Before long, Charles declared his love for Margaret. He told her hed thought of her ever since their first meeting. He saw in her the kind wife and devoted mother his family needed.
Margaret and Emily moved in with Charlesafter asking for the childrens consent. Emily and William begrudgingly nodded.
Life began to spin at a new, dizzying pace. Charles, buoyant with happiness, worked miracles. The family purchased a spacious new flat. Margaret became the heart of the home, tending to the children.
Emily and William grew up in a house full of love, Margaret caring for them as though both were her own.
Charles doted on Emily, treating her and Margaret with the utmost tenderness.
And as the years passed, the unexpected happened: William and Emily fell in love and married.
Charles and Margaret offered their blessing at the wedding. The newlyweds chose Paris for their honeymoon. Margaret, seizing the moment, invited Charles to finally go on a seaside holiday together.
Charles wavered.
Margie, why not spend those pounds treating yourself to something nice?
Oh, Charlie, for once, cant we just be alone, together? Lets breathe a bit of freedom, just you and me, she insisted.
Charles relented, giving in to her infectious enthusiasm.
The couple spent a blissful week by the sea in a picturesque resort towna week of sunlit joy, with Charles bestowing flowers and honeyed words and endless devotion upon Margaret.
On the morning of their departure, Margaret and Charles walked down to the beach to say goodbye to the sea. Dawn had barely broken, and they were utterly alone. Charles drew Margaret close, kissed her gently, and, with a sadness in his voice, said,
Margie, I do love you so very much. More than anything
Ill just have a quick swim.
But Margaret would never see him again.
Charles drowned that morning. The sea was perfectly calm, but the lifeguards could not rescue him.
Margaret returned home alone, sunk in a hollow silence. The senselessness and cruelty of Charless loss upended her world. Why himwhy now, when he swam so well? Why was she widowed at fifty-five? Why hadnt she told him in that last moment that she loved him as fiercely as he loved her?
Had Charles been saying goodbye that morning? She hadnt understood. There remained so many questions, flung at a pitiless sky.
Margaret locked herself away in grief, cursing the sea. Colours drained from the worldshe no longer cared for anything. She could not even visit his grave. There was no grave to visit.
Her heart splintered into a thousand aches. She did not want to breathe. They say time heals all woundslies. Time muffles the pain, masks the bottomless longing for a beloved soul. You think the sorrow is settled, until some small memory breaks you open again.
Yet life, stubborn and steady, carried on. Margaret walked two small grandchildrenKatie and Maxhand in hand through the autumn park. It had become their ritual, a stop at the café for ice cream for the children and, for Margaret, a rich cup of that same fragrant coffee. The scent made her head swirl pleasantly. In those moments, Margaret felt Charles close, watching over his Margie still.
Years later, having endured grief unspeakable, Margaret could give thanks for the blessing of Charles. For the twenty-five years of golden happiness theyd shared, gratitude filled her heart.
Life ends, but love does not.
