Secrets

John McCaighey

Description

This is a tale of widower Matthew Taylor, a retired headmaster living in North London. His greatest regret was never becoming a father. On a visit to his wife Anne's grave during 2004, he reminisces over his life, and the secret she kept from him, which had almost destroyed their marriage. Matthew also had his own secret, his love for Rita, a teaching colleague. After a one-night-stand their relationship deteriorates, resulting in Rita leaving her job during November 1963, never to see Matthew again. But what was the secret behind Rita's sudden departure? And who is the stranger that comes looking for Matthew over forty years later, knowing the answer?

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 13 mai 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785382055
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
Secrets
By
John McCaighey



Publisher Information
Secrets
This edition published in 2015
by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © 2015 John McCaighey
The right of John McCaighey to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Secrets
During the autumn of 2004, on a cold Friday afternoon in North London, seventy-four-year-old Matthew Taylor walked the two miles from his home to the cemetery where his wife was buried. He had given up driving some nine years previously, shortly after he retired as a headmaster, since he found driving in London far too stressful. Also during this time he had been diagnosed as suffering from angina and high blood pressure, so his doctor recommended he take regular exercise, such as a short daily walk. Just across the road from the cemetery gates stood a small convenience store selling bunches of flowers. As he had been doing regularly throughout the nine and a half years since his wife had died, he bought a bunch of red roses for her grave.
As he squatted next to his wife’s headstone, he muttered to himself, “Oh Anne, if this cold weather continues it won’t be too long before I will be joining you.”
The inscription on her headstone read, “Anne Susan Taylor, beloved wife of Matthew, born September 24 th , 1934, died age sixty on March 12 th , 1995, may she rest in peace”. He then replaced the old wilted red roses with the fresh bunch, before putting the dead flowers in a nearby rubbish bin next to a bench where he then sat. Matthew then glanced at his watch, the time was a quarter past two and the weather was now starting to become slightly breezy and overcast. In spite of this, Matthew could not bring himself to leave his wife’s grave. On a few occasions since Anne’s death, he had felt her presence near him. Matthew, who was not religious, thought it was just his imagination. However, ever since awakening that morning this feeling had been getting stronger.
As Matthew sat there on that cold grey autumn afternoon, he remembered the time when they first learnt Anne had stomach cancer. She would complain about being breathless and having discomfort, especially after eating. At first it was thought her symptoms were caused by indigestion due to the stress of her job as a paediatric ward manager. However, when Anne took early retirement her symptoms still continued to worsen, as by then she was also starting to lose weight. She eventually visited her doctor, who in turn referred her to a specialist at the same London hospital where she once worked. Unfortunately, it was discovered Anne had a cancerous tumour that was too far advanced to be removed. All the doctors could do was to make her remaining time as comfortable as possible. Matthew took a leave of absence from his job as headmaster, as he insisted Anne should spend the remainder of her time at home with him and not in a hospice. A few months later, just after four o’clock on a March morning, Anne collapsed on her way back from the bathroom. As Anne fell she knocked over a small table under the window on the landing, the clatter it made awakened Matthew from his sleep. As Matthew knelt next to Anne he told her he loved her, but sadly Anne never regained consciousness and died in his arms before he could telephone for help. During the following months Matthew not only felt grief, but also guilt for his relief for finally being freed from his wife’s suffering.
While Matthew sat facing Anne’s grave, he continued with his reminiscing and remembered how they first met, it was on a Saturday in late September 1955. During that time he was working as a geography teacher in a London secondary school. As was usual for a Saturday evening during term time, he spent it in his lodgings grading his pupils homework. When he had completed that task, he then got up from his desk and gulped down the remaining dregs of his now cold tea. He then went to the wardrobe and took from it his grey tweed blazer with a satin lining and laid it on the bed. He had bought it the previous Saturday, but initially thought it might have been too good to wear at school. As he gazed upon it, Matthew thought if he did not wear it to work it would just hang in the wardrobe for the moths to feast upon.
He then said out loud to himself, “Ah well, if I don’t wear it at the school, then where else would I ever get a chance to wear it, apart from maybe my own funeral.”
Matthew then put the blazer on and walked down the stairs to the hall. As he looked through the half open parlour door, he noticed that Mrs. Burke, his landlady for the last two years, was in her armchair with her eyes closed. She had been widowed for about twenty years and was in her late sixties. As he was about to move away from the door, she quietly informed him without opening her eyes, that the front and back doors would be bolted at eleven o’clock. As she spoke, the open pages of her newspaper slowly slid off her lap and down her legs, forming an untidy heap at her feet as she dozed off. Matthew, who was feeling somewhat irritated at being told the obvious, assured her he would be back long before then, but his reply was not heard.
He was glad to get out of the house, as the other young man who lodged there had gone away for the weekend, leaving only Mrs. Burke for company. As he walked aimlessly through the streets of North London, his attention was drawn to a father and his young son, as they talked about football.
As he stood and listened to them, he thought, “One day that could be me teaching my son about football, if I ever meet the right girl to settle down with. Ah well.”
Determined not to allow his thoughts to take him down the route of self-pity, he turned away from the pair and continued his leisurely walk.
He then looked at his watch and thought, “It has just gone seven, I’ll drop into ‘the pub for an hour or so, anything is better than going back to that damned house.”
As he stood at the bar waiting to be served he lit up his last cigarette and glanced around in the hope that a fellow teaching colleague might be there.
“It’s still early,” he thought, “maybe one or two of them will turn up later.”
Then just as he was turning to face the bar, a pretty young woman collided into him spilling the drink she was carrying over his new tweed blazer.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” she said, “I was looking the other way.”
“That’s all right, so was I,” laughed Matthew, as he gazed into her dark green eyes.
She then hastily put her purse and empty glass on the counter, before taking a handkerchief from the cuff of her lilac cardigan.
“I hope it won’t stain,” she said, while dabbing the front of his damp blazer. “By the way my name is Anne, I’m with that lot of drunken hooligans over there,” she jokingly said, while pointing to a group of four girls sitting around a table in the corner of the bar.
Anne, who was of average height and slender build, had dark brown shoulder length hair with loose curls around the edges.
They both chatted for a while, and then Anne proudly announced, “By the way, it’s my twenty-first birthday. You can come and join us if you like, the more the merrier. Oh, I don’t even know your name yet, what is it?”
“It’s Matthew, and I’ll be happy to join you and your friends, but first let me buy you another drink, what would you like?”
“Thank you, I’ll have a gin and tonic,” she replied with a smile. “By the way, I’m not usually this talkative to strangers, I just get a bit chatty when I’ve had a little too much to drink.”
Matthew, who was of slim build with blue eyes and fair coloured hair, towered over Anne at six feet tall, as they stood at the bar chatting. They eventually took their drinks to the table where Anne’s friends were seated. As the evening progressed, one by one Anne’s four companions made their excuses and left. By nine-thirty the bar was crowded, and Matthew and Anne were finding it very difficult to have a conversation among all the noise. Anne tapped on her watch, and then pointed towards the exit before standing up, Matthew then helped her with her coat.
Once they were outside, he asked, “Do you live far from here?”
“Not too far,” she replied, “anyway my bus should be here soon.”
“With you being a nurse, are you working tomorrow?” he asked eagerly. “It’s just that on Sundays if it’s not raining I like to go for a walk, and as there’s a park across the road from your hospital, maybe you could meet me there.”
“Yes, I’m working as it happens,” she answered, “but I could meet you at one o’clock by the fountain if that would suit you?”
Matthew then grinned and said, “That will suit me just fine.”
The following day they met as arranged. Anne, who wore her dark brown hair pinned up under her white nurse’s cap, was wearing a long navy woollen cloak with purple lining, over her starched white apron and bib. She told Matthew her ward was somewhat understaffed, so she could not stay too long. During the brief time they spent together sitting on a park bench on that sunny autumn afternoon, Anne told Matthew a few things about herself.
“When I was a junior nurse, I had to do the really menial tasks, I practically lived in the sluice room all day just cleaning bedpans. It w