Read Online Remember Me by Margaret Thornton - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Thornton
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one’s from Maddy; Irecognise her handwriting. And this one’s from Samuel. It’s addressed to both of us, though,’ she added.
‘Well, that’s a step in the right direction anyway,’ replied William Moon with a grin. There had been a time when any letters that Samuel wrote would be addressed solely to Mrs Faith Moon, as though he were trying to ignore the fact that his mother now had a new husband. Even Samuel, however, would not have dared to address her in her former name of Barraclough. But Faith had pointed out to him that it was rather rude and churlish behaviour, very childish, in fact; and so he had eventually come round to doing as she said.
‘He’s addressed the letter to both of us as well,’ said Faith, after slitting open the envelope with a knife and taking out the two pages. ‘It says… Dear Mother and William… Oh, I’d better read it later,’ she went on as Mrs Baker entered with the first part of their breakfast, two bowls of steaming hot porridge.
‘Lovely! Thank you, Mrs Baker,’ Faith said sincerely, as she did every morning. Their live-in cook and housekeeper, the aptly named Mrs Baker, was a veritable treasure. She had been with them ever since they had moved to their present home some three years before. Faith slid the letter beneath her side plate before adding brown sugar and cream to her porridge.
‘Aye, first things first,’ agreed her husband. ‘I’llread our Maddy’s letter later, an’ all. That’s addressed to both of us, of course, as they always are.’ He sneaked a look at the first page. ‘Yes… Dear Dad and Aunty Faith…’ He smiled fondly as he thought of his daughter. ‘She’s a grand lass is our Maddy. It seems ages since we saw her. Anyway, mustn’t let this go cold, eh?’
He tucked into the porridge, remarking, between mouthfuls, ‘I see Father hasn’t joined us yet. I’ve known the time he’d’ve been first down and raring to go. I suppose his age is catching up with him; Anno Domini, as he likes to call it.’
‘Yes,’ Faith agreed. ‘How old is your father now? Mid-seventies, isn’t he? But I can never quite remember.’
‘Aye, he’s seventy-four, seventy-five next birthday; that’s in September. He’s just thirty years older than me. Happen we could have a special do when the time comes. It might even be a retirement do, of course…’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Why? Is Isaac thinking of giving up the business?’ asked Faith, sounding surprised. ‘Well, handing it over to you and Patrick, I mean. Not that I don’t think it’s time he did. But you know what he’s always said. “You’ll have to carry me out feet first…”.’
‘Aye…“In one of me own coffins,”,’ agreed William with a sad smile. ‘Yes, I know he said he’d never retire, that he’d die on the job, but he’s slowing down, there’s no doubt about that. He’sdoing less and less at the workshop, although I don’t think he realises that Patrick and I have noticed. Oh… I’d best shut up. He’s here now,’ he added in an undertone as his father came into the room.
‘You’ve beat me to it again, the pair of you,’ Isaac remarked. ‘Reckon I must have overslept.’ He shook his head in a befuddled manner. ‘Anyroad, good morning to you both.’
‘Good morning, Father,’ said William, whilst Faith smiled welcomingly at him.
She was never sure what to call the father of her second husband. Her own father – and mother – were still alive, although somewhat estranged from her since her marriage to William. They had disapproved strongly of the divorce and subsequent remarriage of their daughter and that of her ex-husband. As had Edward’s parents. It had seemed to them all an ideal match, the marriage of Edward and Faith, the son and daughter of families who had long been friends, and they had regarded their divorce as a shameful state of affairs. Faith had always addressed Edward’s father as Mr Barraclough; she had been too much in awe
‘Well, that’s a step in the right direction anyway,’ replied William Moon with a grin. There had been a time when any letters that Samuel wrote would be addressed solely to Mrs Faith Moon, as though he were trying to ignore the fact that his mother now had a new husband. Even Samuel, however, would not have dared to address her in her former name of Barraclough. But Faith had pointed out to him that it was rather rude and churlish behaviour, very childish, in fact; and so he had eventually come round to doing as she said.
‘He’s addressed the letter to both of us as well,’ said Faith, after slitting open the envelope with a knife and taking out the two pages. ‘It says… Dear Mother and William… Oh, I’d better read it later,’ she went on as Mrs Baker entered with the first part of their breakfast, two bowls of steaming hot porridge.
‘Lovely! Thank you, Mrs Baker,’ Faith said sincerely, as she did every morning. Their live-in cook and housekeeper, the aptly named Mrs Baker, was a veritable treasure. She had been with them ever since they had moved to their present home some three years before. Faith slid the letter beneath her side plate before adding brown sugar and cream to her porridge.
‘Aye, first things first,’ agreed her husband. ‘I’llread our Maddy’s letter later, an’ all. That’s addressed to both of us, of course, as they always are.’ He sneaked a look at the first page. ‘Yes… Dear Dad and Aunty Faith…’ He smiled fondly as he thought of his daughter. ‘She’s a grand lass is our Maddy. It seems ages since we saw her. Anyway, mustn’t let this go cold, eh?’
He tucked into the porridge, remarking, between mouthfuls, ‘I see Father hasn’t joined us yet. I’ve known the time he’d’ve been first down and raring to go. I suppose his age is catching up with him; Anno Domini, as he likes to call it.’
‘Yes,’ Faith agreed. ‘How old is your father now? Mid-seventies, isn’t he? But I can never quite remember.’
‘Aye, he’s seventy-four, seventy-five next birthday; that’s in September. He’s just thirty years older than me. Happen we could have a special do when the time comes. It might even be a retirement do, of course…’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Why? Is Isaac thinking of giving up the business?’ asked Faith, sounding surprised. ‘Well, handing it over to you and Patrick, I mean. Not that I don’t think it’s time he did. But you know what he’s always said. “You’ll have to carry me out feet first…”.’
‘Aye…“In one of me own coffins,”,’ agreed William with a sad smile. ‘Yes, I know he said he’d never retire, that he’d die on the job, but he’s slowing down, there’s no doubt about that. He’sdoing less and less at the workshop, although I don’t think he realises that Patrick and I have noticed. Oh… I’d best shut up. He’s here now,’ he added in an undertone as his father came into the room.
‘You’ve beat me to it again, the pair of you,’ Isaac remarked. ‘Reckon I must have overslept.’ He shook his head in a befuddled manner. ‘Anyroad, good morning to you both.’
‘Good morning, Father,’ said William, whilst Faith smiled welcomingly at him.
She was never sure what to call the father of her second husband. Her own father – and mother – were still alive, although somewhat estranged from her since her marriage to William. They had disapproved strongly of the divorce and subsequent remarriage of their daughter and that of her ex-husband. As had Edward’s parents. It had seemed to them all an ideal match, the marriage of Edward and Faith, the son and daughter of families who had long been friends, and they had regarded their divorce as a shameful state of affairs. Faith had always addressed Edward’s father as Mr Barraclough; she had been too much in awe
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