Chapter 6

For Margaret, the news that Martin, her son, could marry the daughter of a hairdresser was completely unsettling. It was more than unsettling, it was infuriating and humiliating. She had been wanting grandchildren; it was what one did at this time of life, or so it seemed, but she could never accept Martin's choice of a wife. Did he not understand the importance of good breeding? How could she admit that her son was married to her hairdresser's daughter? Her friends would be sympathetic enough to her face, but she would be the topic of gossip for months afterward, years even. Given her state of mind, Margaret was uncharacteristically quiet when she met the girls for 'tea' that afternoon, so much so that Carlotta pulled her aside as they were leaving to ask if she was unwell. Margaret looked at her puzzled, "No, I'm fine."

"It's just that you seemed distant this evening, lost in thought."

"It's just that I received some news of an old acquaintance, no one you know, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm fine. Don't worry yourself, my dear."

When Christopher came home to dress for dinner that evening, she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through some magazines. She really wasn't in the mood for the usual banter and gossip that their evenings at the club provided and she considered staying home, pleading a sick headache.

"I told Geoff that we'd meet him and Carly at half seven this evening. I want to get back home early for the tournament broadcast at ten. You'd best get dressed. We haven't much time."

"Drat, why did I tell Carly that I had news of an old friend. She's sure to mention it to Christopher if I don't show up, and then he won't leave it be until I tell him." She sighed as she thought of the complications that could result if she told Christopher about Martin's family. He would be furious and might even want to confront him about it. He would be even more humiliated than she herself felt at the moment. No, that wasn't right. Christopher was rarely humiliated. More likely he would be disgusted; he always said Martin had no good sense. Better that she keep this news to herself, better he never know. Even so, she needed to discuss his plans for his share of the farm when either he or Joan died. She was sure that the property had increased in value over the past forty years and they could always use a financial cushion.

The evening with their friends passed convivially enough, as these evenings usually did. She was certain that no one realized that she was distressed. God knew she had enough practice putting on a gracious face in all her years acting as hostess for all the socialising required to keep up their standing in London society.

The opportunity to discuss the farm with Christopher came up just a few nights later. Peter Symington, a friend of Sylvia's husband Morgan, was visiting with his wife Margery. They had just spent a few weeks visiting their son in Cornwall, where he was working as a general practitioner in a small coastal village. They were extolling the beauty of the countryside, and during the course of the conversation, they disclosed that they had made an offer on a home just up the coast from their son. Margaret thought this the perfect opportunity to mention that Christopher also had property in Cornwall. "Well, yes, I did" Christopher quickly added, "My uncle left his farm to me and my sister, but I had no interest in farming, and she and her husband were keen on the life, so I told her she could have it."

"Too bad. Property values in Cornwall are skyrocketing these days. It would have been a good investment."Peter commented.

"Perhaps, but back then, it was small potatoes for a surgeon like me, and I didn't want the bother of keeping it up."

Margaret had been puzzled about Christopher's response, certain that his "gift" to Joan was not legally binding. Later that evening Margaret asked him about it, "What did you mean tonight when you told Peter that you gave the farm to Joan?"

"Just what I said. We had no need of the farm. Can you imagine spending time on the farm? And it's not as though we ever wanted extended holidays in Cornwall. We haven't been there in years, and never spent any time there. Why would we want to be burdened with it?" He walked over to his chair and sat down, looking for the television remote on a side table.

Margaret followed him and sat down opposite him, "But you never actually transferred your share. It's still legally ours. We could sell our half if we needed the funds."

"No. I signed the property over to Joanie a few years ago."

"You did what?" Aghast, she threw up her hands as she jerked forward in her chair.

Chris looked at her in irritation, "Joanie was putting her affairs in order, trying to set up a bed and breakfast or some such and was having trouble getting a loan to make the necessary improvements. When Uncle Dick first gave it to us, I had told her and Phil that they could have the farm . Removing my name from the deed seemed a simple solution ... and removed us from any risk of liability … should have done it years ago."

"Damn, where is the remote?" He stood up, searching for the remote under the cushions of his chair where it frequently fell.

"Couldn't you have just sold your share?"

"No! It was complicated." Having retrieved the remote, he sat back down and huffed, leaning over to try to explain it in simple terms that she would understand, "I looked into it, talked with my solicitor. There was some sort of legality; seems that I essentially forfeited my share by showing no interest in the farm, never visiting, never paying taxes on the property. Any proceeds we might have received from the sale would be reduced significantly by the legal fees to contest her ownership. It wasn't worth the hassle."

Margaret shook her head in disbelief, "I don't understand."

"As I said, it was complicated. Really Mags, don't worry your little head about it. The farm is Joan's. We don't need the money."

"But what will she do with it after she is gone? She has no children." Margaret wasn't ready to drop the subject. Half of the farm was rightfully theirs. If what Christopher had just told her was true, then it would end up in the possession of Martin and the children of his working class wife.

"It's none of our concern. Let it go." He flipped the television on and began to search for the golf tournament he had recorded earlier in the day, essentially dismissing Margaret.

She hated when he treated her as a child, talking in a condescending tone and releasing her and her concerns with a wave of his hand. She was seething with indignation and she glared at him, but his attention had shifted to his beloved golf and he didn't even notice as she stomped from the room.

xxXxx

Despite her angst about her son's choice of a wife, she managed to suppress her feelings during most of the holidays. She had more than enough on her mind with organizing their community's annual fund-raising gala. It was hard work and consumed her every waking minute for weeks, but it was worth all that effort. The gala was an enormous success, reaping the largest donation for the children's home in recent memory. The local press outdid themselves covering the event. As she opened the society page of the local newspaper, she was pleased to see her role highlighted with several pictures identifying her as the chairwoman of the year's event. One of the captions referred to her as 'the elegant and beautiful Margaret Ellingham, chairwoman of this year's gala'. What more could a woman ask for than to be acknowledged as elegant and beautiful. She smiled with satisfaction as she pored over every review. She knew she deserved all the accolades. She had worked tirelessly to make it a success, and she knew that she was one of the most beautiful women there. True, hers was a mature beauty, but the care she had taken all her life gave her very few fine lines to mar her otherwise flawless complexion. Even Christopher had made the comment that she was the most elegant of all their friends. "Good genes will always rise to the occasion," she thought, "along with the help of a skilled beautician."

During the days leading up to the holiday charity gala, in the rare moment when she allowed herself to think of Martin, she grew to accept his poor choice for a wife. After all, she would never be required to meet his family; they hadn't spoken in over twelve years, why would they make contact now? But the thought that she would never be able to pull out pictures of her own grandchildren did make her angry. How could Martin do that to her? Hadn't her mother promised her that if she went to the right school, made friends with the right people, followed all the rules and married well that her life would be happy and complete? Where did it all go wrong? The recognition she had received for her part in the gala's success provided some vindication. What did she need of grandchildren to prove her worth when she herself was so warmly valued?

The rest of the holidays were full of parties, brunches and dinners, and musical evenings. She and Christopher hosted a New Year's celebration in their home each year; and, after the children's home gala, she was busy planning that party. There was little time to think of Martin with his low-born wife and family. It was only when her friends left for England to visit with their families or when Sylvia brought her four grandchildren to the club's holiday party for pictures with Santa that she was reminded of what was never to be. Visits to Miriam's salon were a painful reminder as well. If Miriam had been less skilled, she would have looked for a new stylist, but Margaret took great pride in her appearance and she needed Miriam's skill to be at her best. Thus, it was that she was in Miriam's salon early New Year's Eve afternoon.

The club had decided to go with a Great Gatsby theme to ring in the New Year and Margaret had found an antique white and gold art-deco hair band studded with diamonds that she was hoping to incorporate into her hair for the festivities. Miriam took one look at the accessory and gushed enthusiastically. "That will look fabulous against your dark hair Margaret." She held it up against Margaret's forehead, and then played a bit with her hair, twirling it this way and that. Margaret watched in awe as she showed her what she had in mind. "What do you think?"

It was perfect; she was sure that she would be "the belle of the ball" once again. No, she couldn't give up Miriam's skills despite the constant reminder of how far her son had fallen. She looked back at Miriam excitedly, "I love it. It's just what I was hoping for."

"Good. Let's get started." Miriam took the head wrap and returned it to Margaret to hold until she needed it. It was obviously an expensive piece of jewellery and she didn't want to leave it out where it could disappear. She trusted the other stylists completely, but any one of their customers could be tempted. No need to risk that. As was her inclination she talked while working on Margaret's hair. She had talked with each of her children and grandchildren over the holidays and had news of all of them.

Margaret let her mind wander over the last few details that needed to be finalised before the party preparations would be complete whilst Miriam chattered away about how her son and his family had visited with Louisa and her family in Cornwall for Christmas and Boxing Day. Their celebrations had been interrupted by a gruesome murder up in the midlands requiring Alan to rush off, but the girls stayed on in Cornwall with Louisa and Martin for the annual village holiday fete.

Margaret supposed that Martin had to endure spending his holidays every year with this policeman and his brood. Well he deserved every excruciating minute; that's what happened when you married into this kind of family. Hadn't Miriam's husband, Louisa's father, been a fisherman? Common, that's what they were.

Once again Miriam pulled out photographs that Louisa had sent. There was a group photo and Margaret held onto it, pretending to scan all the faces carefully whilst she actually focused on Martin. He stood in the back, holding James in one arm with his other arm wrapped around his wife, who was obviously pregnant. James had laid his head against Martin's shoulder, and his wife had circled her arm around Martin's chest in a light embrace and was loosely holding James' foot. Her brother was standing next to her and his wife was seated in front next to Ruth and Joan and the two girls. One of the girls was holding a fat calico cat on her lap.

Martin looked content with the hint of a small smile on his face. How unusual; she hadn't seen him without a scowl since ... well, she couldn't remember when ... perhaps one summer when she and Christopher had driven to Cornwall to retrieve him from the farm after a week's golf holiday. They had arrived in Portwenn a day earlier than planned and had driven out to the farm after checking into the Portwenn Hotel. Martin had been running up from the seaside cliffs with a small dog following him; he was waving some shells in his hands and he was beaming. She remembered how he had stopped suddenly as he saw them getting out of the car and how quickly his expression changed to one of wariness and caution.

She immediately suppressed that memory and returned her attention to Miriam, "How nice. You seem to have a happy family. Even your son-in-law seems to be enjoying himself."

"I suppose he was. I think the two families enjoy getting together. You wouldn't guess it, but Martin and Alan get along quite well, and of course Annie is a nurse, so he has that in common with her as well. The girls love to dote on James, and I know they are looking forward to the new baby."

"I see that Martin's two aunts were there as well."

"Yes, Louisa and Martin and Ruth were staying with Joan. Alan and his family were at Louisa's cottage. Sometimes I wish I could join them for the holidays, but really, it's just too cold. They call early on Christmas Day when they know that Paulo and I will be home."

"Paulo? Oh yes," Margaret thought, "that man Miriam lives with. Not even married. Well, what can you expect from the lower classes?"

She couldn't help herself as she asked, "What about Martin's parents? Do they ever join the rest of the family for holidays?"

Miriam shrugged, "Never met them."

"They didn't go to the wedding?"

"No Martin refused to invite them."

"That seems a bit harsh."

"Louisa tells me they are estranged."

"How unfortunate."

"Yeah. Joanie tells me that they neglected Martin as a child, and he has no interest in seeing them ever again."

Margaret startled at this, "Neglected? I don't think so. We gave him a beautiful home, good food, the highest quality clothing, the best nannies we could find and an excellent education. Hardly neglect!"

"Whatever could she mean by that?"

"She said they let the nannies raise him and then sent him off to school when he was little and to her farm for holidays, never made time for him." Miriam let out a huff, "Don't know why some people have children."

Margaret was offended. How could Joan say such things about her and Christopher; they did the best they could. She needed to defend herself, even if Miriam had no idea she was Martin's mother. "Perhaps they had responsibilities that prevented them from spending more time with their child."

"They had better things to do than raise their own child? I can't imagine."

"It happens." Margaret wasn't going to give in. She thought about how much of her time was spent in serving the hospital auxiliary board, planning and hosting gala fund raisers for the hospital, wooing benefactors, all to further Christopher's career. She really didn't have time to spend taking the child to the park or reading him a bed-time story. It was all they could do to ensure he had a good education. As Christopher said, it was the way all the children in their set were raised. "They did provide him with a good education, it seems."

"Yeah, I guess you could give them that, but what could be more important than loving your child?"

"Maybe he was a difficult child." She thought about how he cried constantly as a baby, and she shuddered.

Miriam raised her eyebrows and nodded. "That's certainly a possibility. He is definitely a difficult man." Then she laughed. "Although Louisa seems to handle him quite well. Just gives him a look when he starts to go off."

"Still," Miriam continued, "Sometimes difficult children are the ones who need the most attention from their parents. Who knows, maybe he would have been different if he had a pair of loving parents."

Margaret wasn't about to be swayed from her position; there was nothing she or Christopher could have done to make him more congenial. Other children were just good natured from the start; Martin was not. Still, she needed to stay on Miriam's good side in order to always look her best. There was no sense in arguing the point so she replied in a quiet tone tinged with just a hint of scepticism, "Possibly."