September, 10th

Margaret:

While my mother is away in the kitchen, tinkering and muttering about dinner, my father goes to the internet and cable company to request connection. A glance at his open diary makes me notice that his prospective pupil J. Thorn. is going to show up any moment now. My father forgot this appointment or miscalculated the time, as it often happens lately, and I decide to host this person until he's back.

J. Thorn. stands for John Thornton, a man in his mid thirties who doesn't seem too happy to have me instead of my father receive him. I inform him my father is absent and invite him to wait for him, which he accepts with a short nod, and I lead him into my father's study. Fortunately it's the only room in the house completely unpacked and in order. I sit on one club chair and offer him the other one. As a former student of Miss Halliwell's good manners class I know it is my duty to entertain this person until my father arrives, and I know I'm able to do it.

This large man, whose long legs bump the coffee table no matter how he crosses or bends them, seems more irritated than uncomfortable. He's not exactly handsome, as most young men of my previous acquaintance are, but he's not bad looking either. He has classic cut dark chestnut hair, straight dark brows falling low over clear, deep-set eyes and is clean shaved. He's wearing a navy blue business suit with tie and I disapprove everything about this last item, from the width and length to the texture and pattern. The cuffs and neck of his shirt are spotlessly white but he doesn't ooze refinement. That his nose is slightly crooked and bump doesn't help my perception but it's his lack of conversation skills what show that his manners are far from over polished and closer to a little rough.

Everything I knew about manners with strange men seems fairly irrelevant with him and I don't venture a smile for fear of being perceived as attention starved - or lewd, actually. Miss Halliwell's teachings doesn't seem to be of much help here... my attempts at polite conversation fail, his short and curt answers nipping every subject in the bud. I wish this man could feign interest in a book or the weather, or even leave and come back later, but he doesn't do any of these things. From time to time I think he wants to say something but he doesn't and just stares at me, and it's so rude that I'm starting to get annoyed.

The only positive thing I find about this Thornton person is that he doesn't seem to be one of those nouveau riches who douse themselves in expensive perfume, but I don't perceive any body odor either.

I feel I'm being saved by the bell when my father arrives and he's so amiable that our guest's stony features relax and lets out a smile when he shakes my father's hand, one admittedly amazing smile that makes me wonder if he's younger than I first thought. My father informs me that we won't have internet or cable TV for a couple of weeks, which I regret loudly just to prove that new information should be followed of some reaction of sorts, and he proceeds to invite his new friend to join us for dinner.

My parents' hospitality is something I learned to appreciate after many years of meals in student refectories. Mr. Thornton seems to assume it's only a formality and leaves the house after a private talk with my father in his study. Later on I'll think of our interview and I'll regret having to deal with such an ill-mannered person so frequently but my father seems to like him well enough and he's quite happy from their meeting.

September, 11th

Edith:

Well, Margaret has sent her first message from her new home! I can't hold a grudge against my cousin - she always finds a way to make me smile.

In it she says her father is a lovely quaint scholar of the times where the internet and computers belonged to the labs across campus or the science fiction realm. Yesterday he came back saying they wouldn't get connection for two weeks but this morning the company's van arrived and two workmen, two teenagers actually, plugged they in.

She's happy she'll be able to read my messages and see our lovely pics from our honeymoon, but warns me that they still have to settle down and get household routines going so she's not sure when she'll have time to write, and finishes with a "Please don't get mad at me if I'm silent for a few days."

Oh Maggie, I'll never!

September, 30th

Richard:

Had I known I'd meet Mr. John Thornton, I would have moved to Milton years ago. I would have even agreed to live with my aunt only to have started this acquaintance before.

John Thornton is arguably the best student I've ever had the pleasure to teach. His intellectual curiosity, along with his memory and intelligence, puts him well above the immature college students I've had to deal with for so long. It's hard to believe that he doesn't hold a college degree, even more so that he hasn't finished high school.

According to what he told me one Saturday afternoon, lounging over a coffee after we had finished our lesson, at sixteen he had his eyes set on a scholarship at the Manchester Metropolitan University on account of him being the best student of his class and the fact that he was also a rugby player, and the University wanted a competitive team for the British University and College Sports prize. Smiling he said that he used to wonder which would eventually win, rugby or mechanical engineering; but then his father died suddenly and left the family deep in debt so he quitted school to enter the workforce full time. Thus he'd be able to help his mother shoulder their living expenses and household duties, and take care of a preschooler sister; all in the belief that he'd be able to return at his will and finish his degree, even if the scholarship opportunity had evaporated.

He understood early that he had to repay his father's creditors first if he ever wanted to make a name for himself, regardless the area of activity, so he focused on working and saving money for about five years until going round to each creditor and repaid to the last pound. His employer, the owner of a business specialized in fixing classic cars' engines, was understandably impressed by this young employee who had shown so much perseverance and backbone, and took him under his wing. He had been meaning to start a side business for servicing building machinery (anything from cranes and wrecking balls to concrete mixers), and had Thornton supervise and manage it, and a few years later when he retired simply sold him his share.

Possessing a business acumen apparently absent in his father Mr. Thornton focused on managing the company and less in the shop technicalities, so distancing himself even more of his old dream of becoming a mechanical engineer. But, as he remarked, it's a choice he made with eyes open and not one he would regret.

I would be hard pressed to find a shortcoming in this remarkable young man; the only one I can think of is that, as it usually happens with people who have risen from poverty by their own force of will, he might give the impression he doesn't have patience with less fortunate people. I think he might come across as cold but I am sure that impression is soon proven wrong in the light of his straightforward and unfussy persona.

And I believe Margaret would appreciate him as much as I do, or even more giving he's a rather handsome man and she's a young woman. Far be it from me to play the matchmaker, but what harm can there be in helping these two souls know each other better?

With this idea in mind I tell Maria we should invite John Thornton for a family dinner, and it's fixed for the 10th next month.

October, 3rd

Margaret:

While physical activity was not of paramount importance within the St. Anne's curriculum, they did offer organized sports and there was a monthly game against teams of other schools during the academic year. Though I was more enthusiastic about modern dance, Edith and I played a few seasons in the volleyball team and it's a sport I still enjoy watching and playing.

My mother is going to the local Council Sports Centre's swimming pool in the mornings and tells me the gym is nice, so I pay the general fee and visit the facilities. There is a volleyball court and three nights a week anyone over sixteen can show up and play. I start attending this group which varies widely from time to time. I notice soon that Mondays see many women in her forties, while Wednesdays seem to be teen night. Fridays is the only time a score is kept and the attendance is miscellaneous, with the office crowd shaking off the week from their bones and youngsters coming to start their weekend; often the girls come off the shower and deck themselves in party wear, elaborate make up and hairdos included.

Today we're just five people so we focus on technique: jumps, blocks and serves. Soon I strike a conversation with my partner, a girl of about my age, whom I immediately like. Her name is Elizabeth Higgins but she goes by the old fashioned nickname of Bessy and she doesn't much technique but obviously enjoys the game.

I save Bessy's number in my cellphone to call her later. She works as a messenger, bringing mailing back and forth a few Milton's companies in the back box of her red moped; two rounds a day carrying anything from memos in manila envelopes to boxes of whisky, she chuckles. She came in her moped and I hitch a ride home in the back seat wearing her extra helmet (one with pink plaid and skulls art), which is oddly exhilarating.

She is the kind of acquaintance I would have never made in my previous life and I'm impressed by her frankness and straightforwardness. She tells me her father works at Marlborough Mills (I assume it's an old textile factory but she doesn't elaborate), and there is where she starts the round every morning.

Bessy implies she has a boyfriend of sorts, and when she invites me generically for a drink I wonder if she's trying to introduce me to someone else. She seems genuinely interested in me, though, and I really have to put all of Henry's experience back.

Note: John Thornton and Margaret Hale's first meeting is described in Ch. 7 "New scenes and faces", told mostly from Mr. Thornton's point of view. Bessy in this story is a merging of different characters so she won't echo the original one. Margaret's schools are 100% fictional.