rather than creating an awkward pause, brought a connection that spanned the decades. Maggie still hadn’t asked the burning question but it would take time for Elsie to trust her enough to reveal what had happened to the baby. However, that didn’t stop her from skirting around the edges.
‘Do you have any family in Sedgefield?’
‘No. My eldest daughter, Nancy, lives in America and Yvonne lives up in Scotland. As for the rest of my family, I only have a brother left now and he’s in his seventies. I do have plenty of nieces and nephews though, some close enough to be called upon if needs be.’
‘And you have me, not sixty years ago but now. Please do go to see the doctor but that doesn’t mean you can’t come here too for some complementary therapy. In fact, you might want to try this cream,’ Maggie said, jumping up so fast it made Harvey start. She quickly found the jar she was after and checked the label, which was written in Braille as well as print. ‘You can apply it to your arms, neck and chest before bedtime to help improve your sleep patterns or you could use it during the day to keep your thoughts clear. It contains lavender and lemon balm,’ she explained, undoing the lid.
‘I prefer lilacs,’ Elsie said without taking the proffered jar.
‘I’ve noticed but I’m afraid lilac isn’t widely used as an essential oil. It’s very expensive and even the lilac perfume you wear will be made from a synthetic scent rather than a natural oil.’
Maggie heard a surreptitious sniff; Elsie was checking the remnants of her perfume on her wrist. ‘It was my Aunt Flo who introduced me to lilacs. I stayed with her when I was last in Sedgefield and I can remember back to that time as if it was yesterday. She could walk into this room right now and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.’ Elsie’s voice trailed off as her mind wandered for a moment but then she sighed. ‘Now, where was I? Ah yes, Flo Jackson. She had lilac trees in her garden and made all kinds of concoctions from the flowers, including soap. I didn’t like it at first but I’d be lost without my perfume now, even if it’s not quite the same as the one the old lady used.’ Elsie laughed to herself. ‘Listen to me talking about an old lady. I sometimes forget I’m one myself.’
Maggie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Well, I can’t claim to be another Flo Jackson but if this one doesn’t help then there are other recipes to try or I could always acquire some lilac oil if you really wanted it.’
Elsie didn’t respond immediately and Maggie felt herself being scrutinised. ‘My instincts still work no matter what state my mind’s in and they tell me you’re a good person, Maggie.’
‘I try to be.’
‘And you’ll make a good mother. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’
‘You remember me telling you how scared I am about becoming a mum?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Elsie said although there was something in her voice that made Maggie think she did, even if her mind failed to register the fact. ‘It was your friend outside.’
‘Kathy?’
‘She went to great lengths to tell me how capable you are and how anyone who dares to suggest that you wouldn’t make a wonderful mother would have her to answer to. She talked quite a lot, probably to drown out the noise of you torturing that poor girl who was in here. Is she all right, by the way?’
‘Jenny? Yes, she’ll be fine. It’s good to have that emotional release now and again, especially in a safe environment with someone you trust,’ Maggie explained. ‘She’s actually my closest friend and despite appearances, she’d say the same about me.’
‘Once she stops sobbing,’ added Elsie.
Maggie could feel herself relaxing and would have been happy to chat some more but she heard the plastic chair squeak one last time as Elsie hauled herself up. ‘I’d better get going before Ted starts fretting.’
‘Will you come and visit me again? We could make another appointment for you now if you’d like?’
Elsie didn’t answer immediately and Maggie willed the old lady to reach out to her, but without the park bench to unite them, Elsie’s determination to keep her distance was too strong. ‘Let’s see how I get on with this cream first,’ she said with a groan as she straightened her back. ‘Who knows? It might be a miracle cure.’
Maggie took the jar and, tightening the lid, popped it into a paper bag. ‘I hope so, Elsie.’
‘So how much do you charge for miracles?’ Elsie asked, putting her handbag on the table so she could find her purse.
‘This one’s on the house. No arguments.’
Elsie thanked her and when she took the paper bag, Maggie heard her flip it over to twist and seal the corners, reminiscent of a fruit and veg seller in the town market.
‘When’s the baby due?’ Elsie then asked.
‘October.’
‘You’ll be just fine.’
Many people had said the very same thing but it was the first time that Maggie had come close to believing it. There was something in Elsie’s tone that dared to be challenged, a tone that Maggie hadn’t heard since her mum had died.
Maggie stirred her tea as she sat perched at the breakfast bar. It was Saturday afternoon and the house was quiet, unlike her thoughts. After Mrs Milton’s visit earlier that week, she had been left shell-shocked and not a little ashamed. She should have known immediately that Elsa wasn’t the young woman she claimed to be. Even without the benefit of sight, her perceptions were better than that but whereas Alice had coaxed Elsie out of her fug when they had met, Maggie had only reinforced the old lady’s illusory world, leaving her even more confused.
To make matters worse, Maggie felt completely impotent. Mrs Milton would not be returning to the salon despite her assurances to the contrary. She had said her piece and now she wanted to draw a line under the past while that choice remained in her control. There was nothing else Maggie could do except ponder Elsa’s fate and grieve the loss of a friendship that, for the briefest time, had made her feel less alone.
There was one good thing to come from the whole mess: failing Mrs Milton had made her all the more determined not to fail anyone else, not least the baby growing inside her. She could still hear the raw pain in Elsa’s voice as she contemplated giving up her child and behind it that fierce love that only a parent could know. It was that inner strength that prompted her to make one particular call that was well overdue.
‘Hello? Are you there?’
The only reply was the combined sound of shuffling and heavy breathing.
‘Dad? It’s Maggie,’ she said.
She could hear shuffling footfalls as the person on the other end of the phone, no doubt her father, went in search of assistance. Stan had moved to Spain not long after Maggie’s wedding and she had given him a mobile phone so that they could keep in touch. Her dad was hard of hearing and technology wasn’t his strong point so he always seemed mildly annoyed when the phone started to vibrate and
