Margarets Grand Entrance
– Mary! Thats not stew! Its some unintelligible hodgepodge! Darling, youre a brilliant solicitor. Why not stick to what youre good at? Leave the kitchen to those of us less blessed in the brains department.
– Maggie, Im not even properly a woman! I could hardly keep from crying in sheer frustration.
Why did nothing in the kitchen ever work out for me? Even the simplest dishes seemed to elude me, and it never crossed my mind to attempt anything fancier. In our family, all the jobs were divvied up well before I ever tied an apron.
Veronica was the homemaker, I was the clever one, and Sally was the wild thing the only person alive who could get any cog in a family plan to turn exactly her way. So, it was usually Veronica who cooked for family gatherings, while Sally and I took care of supplies, washing up, and keeping the kids out of trouble. Sally really had the knack for taming the Stokes clan making sure Veronicas house and the adjoining garden werent left in ruin after every gathering, requiring either structural repair or new construction to accommodate the chaos. The Stokes family doted on its brood, perhaps to a fault, but tried to discipline the little ones, which occasionally showed modest results.
All seven of my grandmother Margarets grandchildren, whom she doted on more than air itself, took after the youngest aunt Sally. Even with two of her own racing through the garden, pretending at one moment to be pirates and the next some tribe from a remote island, Sally was as incorrigible as ever. She sat on the porch steps, fiddling with a bowl of plums Granny had tasked her to prepare for compote, and looked very close to joining in the merriment, stopped only by Veronicas withering glance. Veronica, furiously chopping tomatoes for another salad, muttered just loud enough for the rest of us to hear:
– Not a woman but a rascal! Sally, when on earth will you settle? Marys all grown up and solid; I manage all right. But you? Youll go hopping around your whole life, racing that bike of yours, preaching that lifes grand? Sally, your kids are growing up. What do they see in their mum? Its fine now at six, but in a few years? Theyll be hiding their faces in shame.
– Oh, Vera, dont be dramatic! Glancing rather uncertainly into the stew, which had cost me the better part of this morning, I slammed the lid shut with the finality of a judges gavel. At least theres something to be proud of. How many mums can assemble and disassemble any motorbike? Can you? I definitely cant. I cant even get a simple soup right! Isnt there pride to be found in that too?
– Absolutely. You cant cook soup, but in the courtroom, youre a wizard.
– Exactly. So, what does that mean?
– What?
– That everyone ought to do what they’re best at.
– Well said! Granny Margaret, having missed half the exchange, glided out onto the veranda, and the collective gasp from the womenfolk was enough to halt the children in mid-battle outside and fix all eyes on their resplendent grandmother.
– Goodness! Sallys twins, wide-eyed, clicked their tongues in perfect synchrony, so sharply that Granny Margaret nearly jumped.
– Effect achieved!
She turned slowly, model-like, so all could appreciate her new dress and the rather high heels set aside for serious occasions and today was exactly that.
– Ladies, opinions, please? Is it appropriate for someone of mymature years to appear at a date with a man who last saw me nearly forty years ago?
– Maggie, you look stunning! Hell be floored!
– Preferably not literally floored! Granny paced majestically, hands on hips, nose in the air. What on earth do I do with a fainted gentleman? I need to understand why, after all these years, this man needs my presence. What good can I do him?
– Gran, maybe he wants you to do him some good as a woman? Veronicas eldest, fifteen-year-old Annie, plopped down next to Sally, popped a plum in her mouth, and shrugged. What?
The laughter that erupted was enough to scatter the cats from the sunny porch railing and send Veras precious, trembling little Yorkshire Terrier cowering in terror under the table.
– Oh Annie, youll be the death of me! Veronica wiped away tears of laughter and slipped inside for a clean-up cloth, while I tried to soothe the startled dog.
– Maggie, what did you two have? I snapped at the kids, who, seeing the conversation was about to turn serious, melted away to the far end of the garden.
– Oh, Mary! We had ourselves a romance!
Granny Margaret pronounced romance with such relish that Annie, halfway to chasing the others, plopped back down, sighing so deeply Sally doubled over, giggling all over again.
– Annie, youre far too young for all that!
– Am I? Whens the right time then? Annie swiped the cloth from her mother, mopped up the spill, and let out another of her melodramatic sighs. No one has any life of their own! So, how old were you, Maggie, during your big romance?
– Sixteen! Maggie spread her hands, catching Veronicas eye. Why so shocked, darling? Yes, I was young, naïve, and astoundingly silly! Annies not in any danger of following in those footstepsshes clever and beautiful, just like you! Still, she ought to know a thing or two about the dangers of men and the perils of early heartbreak, dont you think?
– Oh, Maggie, do get on with it! Sally, wiping her eyes, finally composed herself. Shell never leave now. Sit, listen, learn!
Annie, grateful, snuggled closer, looking up at Granny. Her green eyes, as bright as the duckweed on next doors pond, were the twin of Margaret’s a strange fact, given Annie wasnt her blood but had somehow inherited the look, just as we threeVeronica, Mary, and Sallywerent her own daughters, but shed long since filled that role.
Margaret came into our lives not long after our mother died too soon, and our father, grief-stricken, didnt know how to live in the aftermath. Eight-year-old Veronica was forced to fill in for mum, soldiers on with five-year-old me, but two-year-old Sally was a law unto herself. Our grandmother, whod come to help, lasted only a couple of months before packing up:
– Sorry, son-in-law, I cant cope! Too old, too creaky… Your kids are a handful. Ill be going back to my cottage. You can send Vera to live with me if you really cant manage. But the wee ones are your look-out now.
Veronica listened, petrified she was about to lose everything shed ever loved. Even Sally, screwdriver in hand, howled in outrage, and Vera clung to her, paralysed by terror.
But gran left, dad just grunted a reply, and life shuddered on until one day, a new woman arrived.
Sally was ill, burning up for two nights, and Vera, who hadnt left her side, finally knocked on dads office door where he hid since losing mum, murmuring from behind the door Ask your mum, Vera… She always knew what to do
The reply terrified Vera, made her think dad was losing his grip, and she stopped asking, simply doing. With me, a reasonable five-year-old, she just managed, but with Sally there was hardly a moments peace.
But Vera knew this couldnt carry on. Sally sweated, tossing, calling for Vera, for mum
– Yes, Dad! This is urgent! Sallys dying!
Whether it was this odd declaration or panic in her voice, the door opened, the GP was summoned, and for the first time in months, Vera let go and for a while, dad picked up where he shouldve.
The GP covering the area that week was Margaretfilling in. She grumbled all the way: worried about her dinner at home, the chaps digging up her street, the cats unfed, but she made it, asked the old ladies on the bench the right questions, and gleaned the familys entire history, getting the full story in five minutes flat.
That day, Margaret became the Stokes sisters safe harbour, the rock in their lives. She sorted Sallys illness, called an ambulance, and then gave dad such an earful, he protested feebly but ultimately just let her get on with it.
From then on, Vera could be a girl again, and even cheered up when she learned shed get a stepmother. Margaret made sure everyone called her Maggie instead of Mum, explaining that there could only ever be one mother, and shed not try to take the title.
Veronica liked her straight away, appreciating the order she restored. I, less soId been closest to Mum, and wanted no one else. Id cover my ears and hum so I didnt have to hear Veras explanations. Even Sally started copying me, till poor Vera snapped at my selfishness.
Margaret found us, once, all three sobbing snotty tears in three corners of the bedroom. Without flinching, she scooped us up with those wide arms and rocked us gently, stroking hair and cheeks, pained noses and backs, whispering:
– Cry as much as you need. You havent a mother any more, thats truebut you have me. I wont be your mum, but Ill be your friend, and never let anything happen to you. Understand?
For the first time since wed lost Mum, we all wept openly. Even if I still wriggled out of her arms, Sally fell asleep in them, snuffling and shuddering. It was a beginning.
Over the years, we realised Margaret, whod always wanted children but couldnt have any after an operation, truly became mother to the Stokes girls not by birth, but by soul.
Dad was gone a year later, hit by a car in a moment of distraction, and Margaret, hearing the news, rushed straight to our school, wild-haired, in house shoesshe barely stopped to catch her breath before whisking us home, wrapping her arms around us, and declaring:
– Girls Dads… Listen. Youre not alone. You have me. Ill never leave you, never give you up.
Thanks to adoption paperwork already started, no one raised any objection: we became hers. She left the NHS and picked up shifts at two private clinics. Money was tight but enough; she devoted herself to her sparrows.
And oh, what sparrows! We were lively, stubborn, and brimming with ambitions. Every plan Margaret endorsed, however off-the-wall. Want to be an actress, Mary? Fine, lets at least have you audition at a proper theatrewell see. After two years, I changed my tune, and she secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It was a hard life, after all.
– Sally! If youre going to break your neck, at least do it properly!
And so Sally got proper gear and a solid motorbike. Margaret even sold her inherited cottage so Sally could follow her dream safely. She found a stuntman among her patients to mentor her. The remaining cottage money set Sally up with her own little garage a few years later. When friends interrogated her, Maggie just shrugged:
– Why not? Its a job! Who makes up these rules? Who needs standards anyway? As long as shes happy and earning, what else matters?
Veronica was the only one who never gave Margaret a headache. Sensible beyond her years, she sometimes melted back into a child in her arms, grateful for the rare, precious protection.
Margaret truly tried, in every way, to shelter and support us. And looking back, she had no regrets all grown up, all sorted, each with their own lives and families Isnt that enough?
Life rolled on, undramatic and full of everyday cares, until three days ago, when the phone rang. A forgotten voice made her drop her favourite mug of tea, shoo a surprised Annie out of the way, and collapse gracelessly into (well, nearly into) her armchair, where she stared at the ceiling lost for words.
– Annie, ring your mother! I need serious moral support! Now!
Veronica was there in half an hour, breathless and fighting to get through to the others on her mobile.
– Maggie, what is it?!
– I must have lost my mind!
– Old news, really! Veronica pulled off her coat, Sally bursting in behind.
– Just look at yourself! Sally retorted, plopping her helmet onto the cats bed, shooing the disgruntled feline. Dont whinge about mess if you rarely spot her sleeping and now youre fussed? Just look at the artwork she did for menice, isn’t it?
– Fabulous! What is it?
– Dragon!
– Very you! Maggie, finally dropping the ceiling, announced Girls, can I go on a date?
– Where?!
The older girls gaped; Annie squeaked and scurried to put the kettle onthis was going to take all evening.
And what a Granny off on a date! With who, I wondered.
The discussion raged for days. When the whole family gathered at Veronicas that weekend, Maggie suffered through all our questions.
– What would you have me say? He was my first love! Heavens, how handsome he was that mop of hair, those shoulders, and a voice that made me lose all reason!
– Did you love him, Granny?
– Madly! Maggie rolled her eyes in mock despair. Loved and suffered for it!
– But why suffer?
– Oh, darling, not only was my love unrequited, but it led me into serious scrapes. I lost myself, you see. Oh, what a way to put it!
– Oh, do go on, Granny!
– Child, its not a tale, its a ballad! Fit for a wandering bard only, since I wont sing it today, youll have to put up with the prose version.
– Maggie! Spare the drama give us the truth! Sally slid another bowl of plums her way.
– Dont tease me, child. Or youll get a telling-off worthy of an anthropologists study in English hand gestures.
– All right, all right! Dont keep us waiting Annies fit to burst!
– It is interesting, Aunt Sally!
– I know, Im curious too! Maggies a locked box, to be honest. Knows all about us, but as for herself… she only tells stories when something extraordinary happens.
– Better that, than you knowing things youve no business knowing, girls! Reputation, after all!
– Oh, youve reputation enough! Sally snorted. Weve noticed
Margaret sagged into the rocking chair, using Annies exercise book as an impromptu fan.
– Listen well: I sent this tale to oblivion long ago. Lets not be too judgemental about my past, shall we?
– As if! Veronica scraped tomatoes into the salad and started on the cucumbers.
– Oh, you old cynics. Ah, me. As with so many first loves, nothing came of it how could it? I was sixteen, he was seventeen, the other girl was just eighteen.
– Older? Annie bit her lip, immediately silenced by Sallys stern look.
– Now I see the age gap was laughable, but back then, it felt like a gulf. We were still at school; she was already a student. A neighbour. Our mums were friends; so we knew each other well friends, even. Heres your first lesson, Annie: never gush to your mate about your wonderful boyfriend. Nothing good ever comes from it. Jealousys a dreadful thing like black mould, at first out of sight, then everywhere. It got us, too. I didnt find out they were courting until Id already lost my heart. I kept quiet, suffered on, afraid to say anything.
– You werent the Tatiana kind, eh, Granny?
– No, I was too fond of Jane Austen for such drama. Still, maybe I shouldve said something. If Id spoken up, things might have been different but what hope for us? A few months of moonlight snogging? He wanted to join the navy; Id my sights on medicine. At least we both got what we wanted professionally! He even wrote to me twice. In the first, I told him I loved him.
– Hurrah! Annie nearly tumbled down the steps in her delight, Sally dragging her back upright, wary at the tone in Maggies last sentence.
– And then?
There was an awkward pause, and I thought Sally might call time on the evening, but just then, Maggie, voice small, continued:
– And in the second letter, I turned him down
– Why?! Annie stared at her.
– Because, darling, love is not always the only thing to give. He wanted children a legacy. And I well, I was never able. I eventually realised you can’t, out of love, only think about what makes you happy. When you love, you want the others happiness even at your own expense. Lesson two, Annie when you find someone who thinks of your happiness above their own, hold on tight and dont let go. Thats your person.
Annie fingered her plum, lost in thought.
– What happened then? she looked up, and saw that Maggie was crying. Annie dashed up, hugged her, and kissed away the tears.
– Dont cry! Dont tell us any more! I understand! Dont, Granny! You mustnt your nose will go red, the eyes puffy, and even the best make-up wont save it!
– Youre quite right! Maggie, hugging Annie back, clambered out of the chair. Ill have a lie-down, so I can be as fresh as a daisy tonight. After all, a grand entrance deserves nothing less! You never know when life might give you another one of those moments.
We saw her off quietly. What could we say? Theres little use in looking back once a page is turned better to go on, even if the ending is predictable.
Sally went indoors with the plums, Veronica tidied and bustled in the kitchen, I flopped with a book in the hammock, drifting into a doze, surprised at how unaccustomed the silence was.
Oh, how I would rue relaxing so soon…
Just a few hours later, an old, well-dressed gent in a smart cap arrived in a little car. Consulting a scrap of paper, he knocked on the gate.
– Good evening! Is Margaret Stokes at home?
Veronica, opening, looked him up and down, but, sensing no harm, let him in. After all, you never knew.
Only when the visitor gave his name did Veronica almost burst out laughing. He was Grannys romantic hero.
– Werent you to meet in town?
– Yes, of courseIm a bit early and couldnt wait.
– Right. Come in, Ill call her.
Veronica took one step but stopped, mouth open in delight.
Margaret Stokes swept onto the porch with all the dignity an Englishwoman could muster in the full glory of her grandchildrens help.
Thick, inky liner (thanks to the twins and a permanent marker) made Maggie’s eyes frightfully bold Annie fetched the cloth, the poor dog shrank further under the table, keening in terror. As for her hairdo the younger girls had spent forty minutes while Granny napped, contriving something resembling a floral tower more suited to a madcap stylists contest than a date.
– Good heavens! Maggie! Veronica gasped, then burst into helpless laughter doubled when the guest, transfixed with one foot on the step, removed his hat to reveal a shining bald head to the sunset.
– So, so, the famous hair! Sally snorted.
The poor, bemused gent turned, puzzled, but then broke out laughing himself.
– Well, once upon a time I was dashing, curly-haired, and dangerous! Those days have gone, haven’t they? Maggie, its a true pleasure seeing you again!
Only now did Granny, fully awake to the spectacle, dart a side glance at Annie, whose look was pure admiring horror, and dash indoors with a strangled yelp that quickly merged into delighted, frantic laughter as the entire family followed with hoots and whoops.
After a good scrub, Maggie returned to the porch for tea, everyone settled round, and the evening took on the air of new beginnings another page turned, a fresh chapter begun.
And we Stokes sisters all agreed, without words, that you can never have too many good people. And if a chap braves all this and stays, if he laughs with us, jokes with the little ones about beauty tips and mishaps perhaps, just perhaps, he is worth trusting with our Maggie? Only time would tell, but at least, for tonight, time was something everyone was willing to give.
As Veronica set another cup of tea in front of our stepmother, she hugged Maggies shoulders and whispered:
– Go on, then. Dont be afraid. Were all right beside you. Go for it!
