The Christmas lights were already switched on in the High Street even though there were another ten days of November to get through. Maggie glared at the bright, festive displays in the shops. She felt that the twinkling lights were mocking her. When she turned into the lane that lead to her house she sighed with relief. Here it was gloomy and dark. Since the tragedy she felt she belonged in the darkness, deep shadows were hanging over her and a huge empty pit instead of a heart.
It was only 4 o' clock and pitch black. The lane had no street lights and the houses were all set back from the road, surrounded by high hedges and fir trees. No twitching curtains here. She pulled up her collar and wound her scarf tightly round her neck. She walked past the village hall and then quickened her pace as she became aware of how very dark it was. She was almost glad when she caught sight of the house opposite and saw that there was a car in the drive with the lights on. She could make out a curly head in the driving seat. The door was open and Maggie quickly turned into her own drive to avoid any contact.
As she closed the front door behind her she let the tears flow. It had become a habit now. A robot during the day and then a good old cry when she got home from work.
She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and check her phone. There were six missed calls and ten messages from Linda, her sister.
The WhatsApp messages were those pithy platitudes that her sister loved downloading onto Facebook and Instagram.
'What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger,' 'After the storm the sun will shine,'
'If you want to give God a laugh tell him your plans.' 'Don't be sad because it's over, be glad that it happened.'
Maggie had always found them a bit annoying, sort of smug, but now they were actually quite a comfort. She knew it was a sign that her sister cared. No sooner had Maggie texted to say that she was home than the phone rang.
'Maggie,'
All her sister's love and caring were in that one word and Maggie felt overwhelmed, the tears came gushing now,
'Oh Maggie,'
Linda sounded like she was crying too.
Maggie took a sip of the strong sweet tea to steady herself.
'I'm alright Linda, it's so good to hear your voice. You were right about this house, it's perfect, hidden from the road and there seems to be no community spirit at all.'
She was surprised to hear Linda giggle and before she knew it she giggled too. Their sense of humour was what had united them all through the years. Their parents would shake their heads as they watched their daughters collapse in giggles for no apparent reason.
'Oh Maggie it's so good to hear that sound. Look I've got to go now, the babysitter wants to go home. We'll be down to see you at the weekend. Love ya.'
No sooner had Maggie put the phone down and taken another gulp of tea that it pinged.
She glanced at the message, ' Time heals all wounds.'
Just the sight of the word 'wounds' was like a punch in the stomach for Maggie. She decided to have an early night. It had been a tiring day. Linda would probably say, 'just one step at a time, live each day as it comes.' or something like that. It had been Linda's idea for her to rent this house, just for a few months so she could sort her head out. It was secluded and in a country lane but near enough for Maggie to walk to work in the local High Street but far enough away from the cul-de-sac that she'd lived in with Paul and the boys.
When she woke up there were six messages from Linda along the lines of ' Winners never quit,' 'Good things come to those who wait', and then one that made Maggie clutch her throat in pain, 'Let him go, if he loves you he'll come back, if he doesn't he was never yours in the first place.' Was Paul never hers? She couldn't bear the thought of all those years meaning nothing. Maggie thought of her sister waking up next to her handsome husband with her three beautiful little girls and her house full of love and laughter. She had always been so happy for her, wanted the best, ever since they'd lost their parents it was Maggie who had looked after Linda.
Somehow Maggie managed to get through the day. Everyone at work was very discrete, talking to her as little as possible.
Walking back home along the High Street she noticed the new lingerie shop had an eye-catching display of red, fur trimmed nighties. A lump came to her throat as she remembered one Christmas when they had no money for presents and she'd tied herself in a huge red bow and jumped on Paul cooing, 'I'm your Christmas present this year.' It seemed a lifetime ago.
It was a relief to turn into the dark country lane but just as she was about to turn into her drive she noticed the same car parked outside the house in front. There it was again, the lights on and the door open. It had started to rain, quite heavily, and without thinking Maggie went across holding out her umbrella and called out,
'Do you need any help getting into the house? I've got an umbrella.'
A muffled sound like someone laughing came from the car. Then the curly head appeared.
'Quick get in, it's lovely and warm in here.'
Maggie was so surprised by the invitation that she climbed in and shut the door against the pelting rain and turned to the curly head. In the light of the car she could see a very pretty, elderly woman. Maggie shivered.
'Gosh you're right, I hadn't realised how cold I was.'
She rubbed her hands together, ' I've come to live opposite for a few months, just for the winter really, a change of air, just for a while, till the spring. I don't really know how long, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.'
Maggie realized that she was gabbling and stopped and smiled.
'Sorry, I haven't introduced myself, I'm Maggie, and you are?'
'I'm really Olive, but I've never liked it very much, I prefer to think of myself as Olivia, what do you think?'
Without waiting for a reply Olive went on,
'I've just been for a beautiful drive. The beech woods are like cathedrals at this time of year don't you think? The colours of the leaves, the carpets underfoot that make such a lovely crunching sound. The fluttering and the scuttling and the puffs of smoke. The flurries and the scurries of the little creatures getting their hoards ready for the winter. The wood smoke, the dry crackling bracken, the chestnuts, the conkers, round and shiny and so, so smooth and comforting to hold in your pocket. the growing dusk and the gloaming, then just when you think it's getting too dark and you are lost and can't see anything and the crackles and crunches seem threatening, that's when you glimpse the evening star and know you will find your way home after all.'
Maggie watched Olive's face in fascination, an expression filled with joy and passion. She had never heard anyone speak like that before, without ever stopping to catch her breath. She smiled and put her hand on Olive's arm.
'But it's really dark and stormy, you can't tell whether the clouds are full of rain or just dark. I hate November, it's so dull and dark and dreary and so, so , so'
her voice dropped to a whisper,
'so hopeless.'
A silence fell between them. They both sat staring out of the window, watching the wipers trying to sweep away the torrential rain.
Olive was the first to speak, her voice was low and soft,
'I love November. I love the Autumn. It's the time when the abundance of summer withdraws into the roots and the earth. The colours of the fields and woods change from bright red to golden. Deep amber colours herald the parting of the sun. It's a chance to store up reserves for the winter, to take deep breaths of fresh clear air to nourish the body and the mind. There are nuts and mushrooms and pheasants. There are roast chestnuts and crumpets and pears and apples. There is so much goodness to store up in November to prepare us for the dark winter days ahead. Look at that dark sky, those thunder clouds heavy with rain, they will move away and the stars behind them will twinkle even more brightly, the rain will glisten on the branches of the trees in the moonlight. Believe me.'
Olive's voice faded away. Maggie felt as though she was in another dimension, Olive's gentle voice, the warmth of the car, the rain sweeping down, washing over them. If only it could wash away her pain.
Staring straight ahead she took a deep breath, 'Sometimes the dark clouds never do disappear, the shadows are too long.'
Olive placed her hand gently on top of Maggie's. It felt warm and safe.
' Is something bothering you dear? '
Maggie burst into tears at the kind gesture,
'It's terrible,' she sobbed, 'It's too terrible. I don't know what to do.'
Olive's voice was a whisper, 'Why don't you tell me dear and then I can put my thinking cap on and help you.'
Maggie almost laughed, was this woman real? It seemed right to tell her now, she deserved it.
She took a deep breath,
'My husband had an affair with his secretary.'
Olive stayed silent.
Of course, thought Maggie that's not anything so strange is it?
'The thing is,' she went on, 'that when I found out I was so angry. My sons were at uni, my parents had died, and I was just so, so angry. I got in the car and drove really fast and then I..'
Her voice faltered,
' I.. knocked an old man off his bike. He hit his head and went into a coma and.. died.'
The tears came again and she held her head in her hands. The rain beating on the car roof, like it was competing with her grief. Olive started to speak and Maggie held her breath waiting for the usual platitude of 'time heals all wounds'.
When she spoke though, Olive's voice was firm and clear.
'Nothing will take away that pain. It is a burden that you will have to bear. You won't ever heal. A life is so precious, the most precious thing there is.'
She fell silent for a moment then carried on, her voice louder and very clear.
'You could do something in his memory though. Maybe start a campaign about wearing bicycle helmets, men do tend to think they are invincible, and set it up in the poor man's name. Make a donation, make people aware.'
Maggie lifted her head and turned towards Olive. For the first time in months something shifted in her world, a positive thought at last. Then she slumped in her seat, defeated, as she remembered how Paul hadn't answered his phone when she was at the hospital with the old man. He'd been with her. The by now familiar sickness and pain at the thought of him with another woman swept over her. She wanted to wretch.
She jumped as Olive called out.
'Darling, two cups of tea.'
The front door of the house had opened and a man stood in the doorway. He lifted his hand in greeting and went back inside.
'Poor men',
Olive's voice was sad but a smile played on her lips.
'It only takes the lift of a skirt, the flash of black lace, a few buttons undone on a blouse and they forget, forget the one at home, cooking and cleaning and ironing and wiping runny noses or maybe trying to make sense of all they've invested in a career. I feel sorry for men, it doesn't take much to distract them you know. They are simple creatures. Ask them how they feel and they'll answer, cold, hungry or thirsty. Ask a woman how she feels and they just go and on.'
She turned to Maggie,
'Has your Paul gone to live with this secretary?'
Maggie was surprised by the bluntness of the question. She realized the rain had stopped. The dark clouds were shifting.
'Well no actually, he's gone to stay with one of his golf buddies. He said it didn't mean anything.'
Anger charged her voice.
'Well it did to me. It mattered very much. I thought he was mine and that he loved me. I was aching from the loss of my parents and my sons leaving home and he just .. just.'
Olive interrupted her, speaking firmly.
'I think you should send him one of those phone messages, ask him round for dinner. A good roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes with lots of butter and salt and pepper, peas and carrots and then apple pie and cream. That should do it.'
Olive licked her lips.
Before Maggie had time to reply the front door opened and the man came out again, pushing a wheelchair bearing two mugs of steaming hot tea. Maggie opened the car door and he handed them to her.
'Hello there, I'm Tom, Olive's husband. I'd better get her back inside, it's gone quite cold. She likes to sit out here in the afternoon and pretend she's been driving all over the countryside. Ah, careful with the tea, I put a drop of brandy in it to warm you up.'
He smiled at her and lifted Olive into her wheelchair. Maggie smiled back at them and then lent down to give Olive a hug. She smelt of roses and her cheek was soft, her curly hair like silk, she whispered,
'Thank you, Olivia. Please can I come and have tea with you tomorrow. If you like I'll take you for a drive to see the cathedral beech woods.'
As she was about to turn into her drive she turned round and waved. Olive and Tom were silhouetted against the doorway, they both lifted their arms in greeting. She felt a lightness come over her, like a huge weight was being lifted from above her, the dark shadow dispersing. She practically skipped into the house and picked up her phone.
She had two messages to write, the first to Linda, ' There is some light at the end of the tunnel.' Love you so much.'
Then after a while sitting and thinking about Tom and Olive she wrote to Paul, ' Would you like to come dinner tomorrow? I've got an early Christmas present for you?'
She put the phone back on the table and stared at it, her heart thumping when it pinged, and she read, 'Can't wait!'
'
