March, 5th
Margaret:
Mr. West, or Adam, as my father calls him, arrived early this morning in his own car from Oxford. I hadn't seen Mr. West since I left for St. Anne's more than ten years ago, but he hasn't changed at all. His booming laughter, along with his snowy white beard and twinkling blue eyes almost make you see a red and white bonnet growing on his head. I've always associated Mr. West with Christmas and I'm pleasantly surprised to see the feeling remains.
Mr. West's presence in our home is like an early spring breeze. His good mood is contagious, his tales of his life in Majorca amusing, his nagging to my father lighthearted and humorous. I used to think the best word for Mr. West was "fun" but now I find it's "bonhomie".
He unpacks and takes my father out for a ride. I wouldn't think that a Friday morning in early March as being particularly propitious for a tour in Milton but our guest is undeterred. At around 11 AM I get a call from my father announcing they'll be having lunch in a museum's café, and not to expect them to be back before 4 PM.
Getting out without a plan is the wildest gallivanting my father has indulged in, perhaps, years.
John:
As I shave and prepare myself for the day, last week's curious interview comes to my mind. I don't feel particularly responsible for that woman's vicissitude, yet its nature is no different to what I perceive Margaret's to be, this is, the very reason why women are called the weaker sex. Because they might be morally and intellectually our equals, as skilled in leading, organizing and managing, but they only can be so as long as there are given rules abided by everyone. If there is another structure of power colliding, and I am thinking both of entitled businessmen and the often freakish ladder of power and influence of mechanical shops, then brute strength is going to solve the quandary every time. And where brute strength is concerned, there's no doubt about which is the stronger and which is the weaker sex.
"But Margaret Hale's physical strength is the very reason you're not crippled or dead", a dissident inner voice interrupts. I splash aftershave and grimace with the burning effect on my skin.
"That's true", I agree. "And in spite of what she said I know she regrets it".
I return to my previous line of thought. Stronger and weaker sexes. While I understand the logic of affirming one's own manhood and position of power by becoming a sexual predator, of any kind - it's pretty easy to see actually, I personally take it as proof of exactly the opposite case. No one needs to brag about what they have plenty. Sexually harassing inferior employees is an attitude in which I only find vice and weakness of character, qualities I personally try to avoid as much as possible.
What this Higgins woman said, that she was asking for a job on someone's suggestion and for the sake of her son, and what my teacher said last time we met, that Margaret was helping a jobless friend by looking after her son, suddenly align and in a flash I remember Higgins face at Mrs. Hale's funeral. Therefore, the Higgins' boy must be the scrawny kid Margaret helps in the afternoons, and it was probably Margaret's suggestion Higgins was following.
The echoes of a heated conversation I had with Margaret months ago come back my ears. She virtually accused me of being an accomplice to a system that denied opportunities to the people that needed them most, and I retorted that said system was what allowed Milton and such opportunities to exist in the first place. That alternate systems, or even the complete lack of a system and widespread anarchy, wouldn't create the oportunities but rather the opposite. I believed I'd won that one because she quit the discussion at once, but now I'm not so sure.
I have almost finished dressing. As I slid into my coat I decide I'll ask my secretary for Ms. Higgins references. If she wasn't a troublemaker I will give her a second chance. And maybe figure out how a single mother can fit in the production line without smashing said line or said mother. Let's see if, and how, the world according to Margaret Hale works.
And though I would never admit it aloud, I admire Bessy Higgins for toughing it out with a kid on her own. My regret for not being a father myself when I had the opportunity is not something I like to dwell on; my life only moves in one direction and it's forward but somehow I feel this is a small chance to come into terms with an old, little and neglected part of myself.
Bessy:
Something absolutely unbelievable happened this morning. I'm still not sure I didn't dream it all.
After a week since I went up to Mr. Thornton only to have my face cut by his scorn, he called, he himself in person, and asked if I still wanted the job. I showed up in Marlborough Mills 45 minutes later and had a meeting in his office, which is less fancy than I'd expected, with him and another person, a human resources manager I think. They said they want to comply with new regulations to apply for tax breaks employing single parents, and that they'd expect me to let them know how I was doing - if I'm gone they're not eligible for the tax breaks anymore.
The HR manager said they had some ideas for helping the school aged children of employees and wanted to hear suggestions. I don't know squat about why our government gives tax breaks for, but I'd give a big huzzah for this one!
Note: Am I guilty of making this Mr. Thornton too good to be true? I do think the original to be a little so where Nicholas Higgins is related.
Can you hear Mad Men's own Don Draper in Mr. Thornton's voice?
Philip Higgins would play the part of the Boucher children, but Bessy won't say "Mr. Thornton has a soft spot in his heart" because that'd sound like she has romantic thoughts, and yikes, no!