Past and Present - A Modern Day Romance of North & South

CHAPTER ONE - PERFECT STRANGER

“I’ve arranged to pick up the house keys from Adam,” Richard Hale announced conversationally as he steered the car off the heaving motorway and onto a relatively quieter main road which, if he had followed his great friend, Adam Bell’s directions properly, would lead them directly into the heart of Milton. His voice, a gentle boom in the interior of the car, tore through the silence that had accompanied them for much of the long journey, drawing the attention of both his wife and daughter simultaneously. “He said he’d be in the office all day so we won’t have to worry about him not being there.”

As he spoke, Margaret could not help but smile. It had been a long time since her father had sounded so upbeat, so optimistic about the future. In fact, it was as though losing his job at the small accounting firm just outside Helstone had shaken off a thick layer of dust under which he had been stagnating for far too long. She knew that he was looking forward to beginning his new job with Adam’s team of accountants in Milton. It had given him a new lease of life, the tiredness and worry that had dogged him since his redundancy now completely evaporated as though they had never been etched into his features at all.

The only shadow that cast itself over his present mood was, she knew, her mother’s feelings about moving away from the village.  Such feelings were always going to prove difficult to alter and although, after much discussion and gentle persuasion, Maria had eventually relented and agreed to make the move, still there lingered a certain resistance to fully embrace their new life.

However, if Richard’s enthusiasm eluded his wife, it was certainly not the case in respect of his daughter, for over the past few weeks Margaret had come to think very much along the lines of her father. She had only very recently allowed herself to acknowledge the need to break away from Helstone’s cloistered community, hearing at last those whispers of disquiet that echoed on the periphery of consciousness which her relationship with Henry had all but obliterated. It was only now that she realised just how much of her identity had been overshadowed by Henry; and how little she actually really knew herself. Yet she had adored him – adored him with all the anguish and vivacity of first love. He had been her first and only boyfriend, central to her whole world for so many years. When the end had come it had been like that world had come crashing down around her. He had inevitably grown away from her and from the village he said he could no longer bear, his desire and determination to remove himself from the latter impossible to derail.  She had had no choice but to watch him go….

“You’re sure that he knows we’re coming today?” Her mother’s somewhat doubting words rang through Margaret’s thoughts, dissembling the image of Henry from her mind and bringing her once more into the present.

“Of course, of course,” her father responded, his tone placating. “You don’t have to worry about that.” He took one hand from the steering wheel briefly, just long enough to pat his wife’s hand that lay lifelessly in her lap, perceiving in her expression a general lack of enthusiasm or unwillingness to believe that all the plans that had been made would run smoothly. “It will be all right, Maria. Everything will fall into place. I’ve made sure that everything is ready at the house.”

Maria nodded her head fractionally, although she did not verbalise her acknowledgement of his words at all.

Silence once again returned to drape itself around them. Margaret, lapsing into thought, stared out of the window, idly contemplating the changing scenery that glided past them. The open countryside gave way to the true beginnings of urbanisation as they entered the outskirts of the town. Interminable residential streets abounded on every side, interposed by the sporadic flourish of a parade of shops. The steady and unmistakable build up of traffic was held in strict check by an army of traffic lights that had been erected seemingly with the intention of driving every motorist who came upon them to distraction. Margaret heard her mother’s weary sigh, the resignation in it seeming almost amplified to her ears. She saw her father look and look away, a troubled frown clouding his expression as the sure and certain knowledge that it would be Maria who found it difficult adapting to their new home passed across it. Her mother, after all, had known little else but the slow, rural ambience of Helstone with its hourly bus service, only venturing into the neighbouring town a couple of miles away a couple of times a week or when necessity dictated. Milton, in comparison, was almost heathen and brutal in its atmosphere, the constant bombardment of groaning cars and swarming pavements an unwelcome assault upon the senses.