Matilda

Winslow was a pretty country village situated amongst the low-lying hills of South Canterbury.  Wild flowers grew in abundance and it was a lovely place to live. The winters could be very cold and often school would be closed for a few days; life during this time could be difficult.  The summers on the other hand could be very hot, yet the long evenings meant the locals could get out and about and enjoy community social occasions. The population of Winslow was around three hundred.  Most of its residents had lived in the village all their lives.  Everyone knew each other well and there were two, and in some cases three generations of some families. 

The little town supported a Post Office, a general store, and a barbers shop.  Out the back of the barbers shop was a billiards room where some of the men used to like to congregate in an evening.   There was also a timber yard on the outskirts of the town and quite a few of the local men were employed there.  Often the work was seasonal, which made finding a steady income in the town difficult.  The only other source of employment was the railway yard which had a big grain store situated nearby.

The nearest large town, Ashbury, was thirty five miles away.  The women had to go to Ashbury to have their babies delivered and one or two of the men commuted daily to their place of employment which in most cases was the freezing works.

Within the village was a small Anglican church.  It was made of river stone which had been collected from the mountains many years before.  The locals had all pitched in and eventually a stained glass window was erected above the small alter. James Fleming had been the vicar for the last ten years.  His wife Claudine played the organ on Sundays and they had two little girls, Gemma aged eight and Sophie aged four.  Vicar Fleming and his wife were held in very high regard in the community and were often the instigators of many a social occasion.  The church had its Harvest Festival every March where the locals could bring along their produce, jams, and preserves.  These would be given out to the less fortunate folk of the town after judging.

After the festival was over Claudine would gather all the produce up and set out on her rounds to give out the food to the needy in the town.  Most of the people receiving these gifts were parishioners, but one or two were not.  This did not bother Claudine; she was a kind woman and not at all judgemental of people’s circumstances.

It was Monday the day after the Harvest Festival and Claudine was rushing around putting all the produce into boxes ready for delivery.  There were beautiful jams made from locally-grown fruit, in particular the apricot jam was everyone’s favourite.  There were also fresh vegetables and preserves.  Claudine was eager to get going as she had a lot of people she needed to visit and it would take her most of the day.  She also needed to be home by three for her children after they came home from school.

Claudine’s first stop was Mr Rogers.  He was a lovely old gentleman and had been a widower for seven years, after his beloved wife Katherine passed away at the early age of fifty-two.  He was a kind man and always invited Claudine in for a cuppa.  This day she politely declined as she had many people she needed to visit.  

“You come back another day,” called Mr Rogers, “I enjoy visitors”, he added.  Claudine waved and nodded as she headed off down the path with her big basket.

The next call was to Mr and Mrs Chambers, both were in their late eighties and hard of hearing.  Claudine had to knock several times before Mr Chambers made his way to the door.  

“Thank you my dear.  My wife and I appreciate this food”, he said as he quietly closed the door.  Claudine felt sorry for them as their family lived in the North Island so they did not see much of them and the couple generally kept to themselves.

After leaving the Chambers home it took another twenty minutes before Claudine arrived at Margaret Bridges' house.  Margaret was a strange woman, known for being quite cold and unfriendly.  Claudine was always a little apprehensive about dropping off food but felt she had to as Margaret was as worthy as anyone else.  When Claudine knocked at the door Margaret opened it with a rush, as though she has been expecting a knock.  She looked tired and drawn, and her eyes were blood shot.  Claudine asked if she was unwell.  

“I am perfectly fine. Don't you bother yourself young lady”, said the old woman.  Before Claudine could reply the door was shut on her.  Not knowing quite what to do, she placed the food by the doorstep.   Claudine noticed as she left that Margaret’s house was very run down, it needed painting and the gardens needed tending.

Claudine thought she would talk it over with her husband over dinner this evening.  Surely some of the locals could get together and try and help Margaret she thought.

That evening after dinner Claudine decided to broach the subject of Margaret with her husband.

“I am concerned about Margaret Bridges.  She seems so unwell and there is much work that needs to be done around her property” said Claudine, with an obvious air of concern in her voice.

“Yes I am aware of the situation,” replied the vicar “but she will not let anyone help.  In fact I am surprised she opened her door to you, she is not keen on callers” he continued, hardly looking up from his book.

“That may be so but she needs help and we must try.  Please talk to your parishioners on Sunday”, Claudine asked, putting her arm around his shoulder.

“Alright my dear.  I will, but no promises mind you.  You cannot give help where it is not wanted you know”, said the vicar as he looked kindly at his wife.

Sunday came around and there were only around fifty parishioners at the ten o’clock sermon.  Claudine sat in the front row with her children.  She sat there patiently waiting for her husband to make the announcement, asking people to volunteer to help tidy up Margaret’s property.

Vicar Fleming caught a glimpse of his wife but averted his gaze as he knew she was waiting for him to make the announcement.

After the sermon and after all the parishioners had left Claudine went over to her husband and asked, “Why…why did you not do it?”  She was visibly annoyed.

The vicar sat down on a pew, his face ashen.  Claudine sat down next to him.  “I really can’t explain darling…if I try to you won’t believe me”, he said answered.

“What on earth are you talking about?  Explain yourself please”, replied Claudine with a tone of anxiety in her voice.

“Well you won’t believe me I am sure, but this is the truth,” said the vicar looking quite flustered, “Quite frankly I was about to ask the parishioners to help, my mouth was open and my throat just dried up…As I looked up to speak it saw this little girl sitting near the back of the church…”.  Vicar Fleming's eyes darted around the church, as if he was looking for someone, “She had her hand to her mouth as to hush me not to speak.  I was quite taken aback, I don’t believe in apparitions but there she was, dressed in a nightgown looking at me with pleading eyes…” 

Claudine put her hand on her husband's arm in an attempt to comfort him.  He continued, “My mouth went totally dry…I was speechless and I could say nothing.  As suddenly as she appeared, she disappeared”. 

Claudine was more than shocked.  What on earth had happened to her husband?  Had he had some sort of strange turn, was he overworked, what on earth was going on?

“I am bewildered,” Claudine said to her husband, “This is nonsense” she said softly.

The vicar looked sad, “I know it is but I tell you and I swear on the bible that is what I saw”.

Claudine sat quietly for a moment, and then turned to her husband, "You're just overworked”.

The vicar frowned, “I think it’s best we put all this out of our heads, maybe I just imagined it all…”, he said, though neither of them seemed convinced.

“Let's go home” Claudine replied, trying to reassure her husband.  

Both were resolved never to speak of the incident again.

The next week Claudine was at the General store when she started chatting to the store keeper’s wife Martha.

“I called on Margaret Bridges recently with some of the produce from the harvest festival and she looked very unwell.  I am concerned about her”, said Claudine.

“Well, we deliver food to her door but never see her to speak to.  She just leaves the money under a tin for us to collect, never opens the door to us”, replied Martha.

“Oh I see…” replied Claudine.

“You cannot help people who don’t want to be helped Mrs Fleming”, Martha called out as Claudine exited the store.

Claudine turned and gave Martha a wave as she left.

On her way home she drove past Margaret’s house and felt an overwhelming urge to stop and see her.

As Claudine made her way up the overgrown footpath, she could see the curtains were all drawn and the house certainly did not look inviting.

Claudine knocked and waited.  Nothing happened, so she then knocked again and still there was no sign of Margaret.

Claudine left but in her heart she felt troubled and spoke to her husband over dinner.

“I think you and I should call on Margaret tomorrow.  I am concerned she is ill.  She didn't answer the door when I called in on her today”, she said as they ate their meal.  

“We can call in, but I doubt she is going to invite us in for tea”, said the vicar in an uninterested tone as read his book of sermons and ate.

“That’s fine, we don’t need tea, but we do need to check on her.  She has no one to care for her and it’s our duty to ensure she is safe”, Claudine responded.

The next afternoon Claudine and the vicar made their way over to Margaret’s home.  Claudine had baked some fresh scones she thought Margaret might like.

The vicar knocked and called out to Margaret, but here was no response so he decided to walk around to the back of the house.  The grass was so over grown he had trouble making his way to the door.

Claudine stayed by the front door.  A few minutes later the vicar returned, “I am not totally sure, but I could just see through a small opening in the curtains what appeared to be Mrs Bridges lying on the floor,” he said to Claudine, “I need to go and call Constable Smithers and get him to come and open the door”.

“Oh I do hope she is alright”, replied Claudine as she tried to see through the dirty windows.

Early that evening Constable Smithers knocked at the vicarage door, Vicar Fleming turned on the porch light and ushered the constable inside.  He gestured for the policeman to sit down.

“Well I managed to get into Margaret’s house and I found her lying on the floor.  She was barely conscious and I would say she had been lying there for a couple of days,” the constable advised, “She has been taken to hospital in Ashbury by ambulance”.

“Oh goodness, I should have called on her…” replied Claudine guiltily.

“At this point I have no idea of her condition, and as she has no known relatives I am at rather a loss about what to do.  She won't want intervention from Social Services, but she may well have to accept it”, he replied, shaking his head.

“Maybe I can go and visit her in a few days if she is well enough”, said Claudine, “I really don’t mind”.

‘”That is very good of you my dear,” said the constable, “I will be in touch”, he called out as he left.

A few days passed and Constable Smithers again called in to the vicarage.  Claudine invited him in for a cup of tea.

“Any news on Margaret’s health?” asked Claudine as she poured the constable a cup of tea.

“Yes she is still very weak, but a little better and I hear from staff she is starting to eat a little.  She is not communicating with staff very much so it is hard to ascertain her needs,” he replied as he sipped his tea, “her leg was ulcerated and she had a severe chest infection so I gather Margaret will be in hospital for some time,” the constable went on to say.

“I will pop in to see her in a few days when I have to go to Ashbury for some other errands”, replied Claudine.

“That’s very good of you, but do be aware Margaret may not be very receptive as she is not used to company”, Constable Smithers warned.

“That’s fine, I have to at least try…” she said as she poured a cup of tea for herself.

Five days later Claudine picked some oranges off the vicarage fruit trees and gathered some wild flowers and headed off to the hospital in the hope of seeing Margaret.

Claudine checked with the ward sister and asked if it was alright to visit Margaret.

“You certainly can try.  She could do with some company and cheering up.  Good luck”, said the sister as she pointed out Margaret’s bed.

Margaret was sleeping as Claudine walked over to her bed.  Suddenly Margaret opened her eyes and frowned, “What do you want?” she asked in a gruff voice, “I need my rest”, she added.

Nervously, Claudine got closer to the bed, “I just thought I would pop in and bring you some oranges and flowers”, replied Claudine, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“Well you can leave them and just go…Be off with you woman”, Margaret said as she closed her eyes again.

Claudine felt she had no option but to leave and could hear Margaret grumbling under her breath as she walked away.

When Claudine got home, she told her husband the visit didn’t go well and was worried that there was little she could do to help.

“I don't want to give up.  Maybe I will try again in another week”, said Claudine as she started to prepare dinner for the family.

On Sunday during the sermon Vicar Fleming spoke about Margaret during the church news bulletins.  He pointed out that she was still in hospital and he was hoping to find volunteers who could help Margaret once she was released from hospital.

Only a couple of people put up there hand to help.  Margaret had intimidated so many of the townspeople that they tended to keep away.

Near the end of the sermon Vicar Fleming felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and as he looked up he saw the form of a young child leaving the church.  As the apparition made its way outside it quickly turned and looked at him.  Her bright blue eyes seemed to be pleading with him.  The young girl’s hair was long and blonde, and was tied back loosely with a blue ribbon.  She had a sweet face with little freckles on her nose and cheeks.  He could see she looked sad, and she waved out her hand to the vicar she disappeared from his sight.  

Vicar Fleming started to tremble.  His heart seemed to miss a beat or two, and he had goose bumps all over his body.  Why was he seeing this?   It had to be real, for this was the second occasion he had seen such a thing.    Vicar Fleming decided he would not tell his wife as it would only worry her.  Why was he seeing this young child?  What was the message or was it simply his imagination playing tricks on him?

The next day Claudine decided to go back to the hospital and try and see Margaret.

“Good luck this time”, said the ward sister.

“Thanks, I think I will need it”, replied Claudine as she walked over to Margaret’s bed.  Margaret was reading a book.

“Hello Mrs Bridges.  You are looking a lot better, and I hear you are walking around the ward now?” said Claudine.

Margaret continued to look down at her book, but there was a sheepish quality to her expression.

“I am sorry I was rude to you last time you came to visit.  I am not used to visitors”, said Margaret, looking uncomfortable.

“That’s perfectly alright, I understand.  I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you.  I am sure you could do with a bit of help”, replied Claudine.

Margaret put her book down and sighed, “I am not used to people helping me I have lived alone most of my life.  I give nothing and expect nothing in return.  That is what I am used to and I manage, but things are going to change I fear”, she said with tears welling up in her eyes.

Claudine had been standing and now Margaret gestured her to sit down on the chair by the bed.  She was overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness for this woman who had so obviously cut herself off from people.

“The hospital told me I have to have help or otherwise I am going to be put in a rest home,” Margaret started to cry as she put out her hand to Claudine, “I want to stay in my own house till I die.  I could not cope being in a rest home”, she said wiping away her tears with the bed sheet.

“I will do everything I can to help you Margaret, once you are home I will come and visit you and we will see what we can work out”, replied Claudine reassuringly.

“Thank you my dear.  Though, please make sure you come alone.  I am supposed to be discharged in a few days’ time”, Margaret asked with pleading eyes.

“I will I will come over to see you a few days after you come home.  Is there anything you would like me to bring with me?” assured Claudine.

“Maybe you can help me with my grocery order.  I have been told I have to eat better so I don’t get sick again and end up back in hospital”, Margaret said.

Claudine then bid Margaret goodbye, feeling a lot happier she had managed to get Margaret to open up and accept her help.

Just over a week later Claudine told her husband Vicar Fleming that she was going to pack a basket with food and head over to see Margaret for the day.

“That’s very sweet of you my dear,” said the vicar to his wife, “I am hoping we can get one or two volunteers to come forward to help perhaps put a bit of paint on the house and a bit of garden tidying.  Maybe you can mention it to Margaret when you see her, dear”.

Claudine nodded as she picked up her basket and made her way over to Margaret’s house.

It took two or three knocks before Margaret made her way to the door as she had been sleeping in her chair.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you Margaret”, said Claudine with a gentle voice.

“Well you had better come in now you are here”, Margaret replied with annoyance.

Claudine felt confused and apprehensive.  Maybe it was too soon for Margaret to have visitors.

“I can go if you prefer?” said Claudine as Margaret led her into the house.

“You might as well stay.  What have you brought in your basket?” Margaret replied softening a little.

“Oh just a Shepherd’s pie, some bottled peaches and some fruit and vegetables from the vicarage garden”, Claudine said as she took the things out of the basket and popped them on the table.

“I shall just leave everything here and you can put them away when you are ready”, Claudine smiled.

“Thank you, that’s good of you.  No one has ever done anything like that for me before…” said Margaret with sadness in her eyes.

Claudine smiled and offered to make Margaret a cup of tea.

Margaret nodded and got up and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle and find some cups.

“My china is not very good and is very old, so you will have to excuse the cracks and chips”, said Margaret looking a bit embarrassed.

“Please don’t worry about me Margaret, and thank you for my tea”, replied Claudine.

The two women walked back into the sitting room.  Claudine had to gently push Margaret's cat aside and move some old papers to find somewhere to sit.

“Molly is the only company I have had since Matilda died…” murmured Margaret.

Claudine was not quite sure what Margaret was talking about and was afraid to push her to tell more.  Obviously someone close to her died but Claudine didn’t feel it was her place to push for more information.

Nothing more was said during the visit.  The two women talked about the garden and Claudine asked if she could come back soon and help do a few chores for Margaret.

Margaret said she was welcome to come back but did not expect her to do chores.

“I am only too happy to help and maybe some of the church volunteers could come and do a few jobs outside as well,” responded Claudine, “I will see you next week, but if you need me please let someone know.  The grocery man can call the vicarage and I will come straight over”.

Margaret stood up and shook Claudine’s hand as she got up to leave.

“Thank you, and thank you for the pie”, said the frail lady.

Claudine felt happy she was at last getting somewhere with Margaret. She was starting to come out of her shell.  Claudine felt Margaret must have had a difficult life and she felt sorry for her and wanted to take her under her wing and help her.

About a week later Claudine called on Margaret again and brought along some lovely little jam tarts and a bacon and egg pie.

Margaret’s face lit up when she saw Claudine at the door.

“I thought perhaps you might not be coming back”, said Margaret sadly as she ushered Claudine inside.

“I am sorry Margaret.  You should have got the grocer to contact me if you needed me.  I would have come.  I have had a busy week helping sort entries for the flower show,” replied Claudine as she noticed the uncertainty in Margaret’s eyes “is something troubling you?  How can I help?”

Margaret sat down in her chair and gave the young woman a resolute look, “You can’t help Claudine, but I have something I wish to tell you…” she continued, looking down at her hands.  Her voice was trembling.

“You can tell me anything in confidence Margaret.  What’s wrong?” responded Claudine hesitantly.

Margaret then reached out for Claudine’s hand for reassurance.

“This is very hard for me.  This is something I have not told anyone and it’s hard for me to talk about.  It was all so long ago”, Margaret started as she wiped away a tear.

“Take your time, and only tell me if you really want to.  What is troubling you?” Claudine said, trying to make Margaret feel comfortable.

“I know I can trust you and I know you won’t judge me.  I have paid for my sins all my life and its time I told someone and made my peace”, Margaret said as tears ran down her red and tired face.

Claudine sat quietly.  She patted Margaret’s hand to try and make her feel more comfortable.  Obviously the poor lady needed to get something off her chest.

“Well many years ago, not long after I moved to Winslow to live in this house my parents left me, I met a young man by chance.  He was one of two teachers at the local school,” said Margaret, her voice full of emotion, “James had been teaching at the school for 12 months when I arrived.  We met purely by accident.  One day as I was walking home with groceries, I managed to drop the eggs I was carrying and James crossed over the road to help me.  His face was kind and he offered to bring me some eggs as he had several chickens at home,” she continued, “Two days later there was a knock at my door.  There was James with a bowl of fresh eggs.  I thought it was so kind of him, so I invited him in and made him a cup of tea.  During our conversation he told me he was married and his wife’s name was Mary.  I felt embarrassed for inviting him in after he told me he had a wife”.

Margaret stopped for a moment to watch some Wax-eyes on the window pane, “After James left I felt happy I had met him but sad we could not be friends as he had wife”, Margaret went on to say.

Margaret then explained to Claudine that James would often call in and drop off eggs.  Sometimes he would stay for a cup of tea and sometimes he would rush off home after only a brief conversation.

“On one occasion I asked him about his wife Mary.  James seemed reluctant to talk about her but eventually confided they were not close.  They had known each other for years and both their families expected them to marry.  Mary also suffered with crippling asthma which restricted her”.  Margaret paused.

“I have to admit I felt slightly happier hearing this”, said Margaret to Claudine guiltily, “for the next two years James kept calling in.  Our relationship became more intense and I knew I loved him”.

Margaret turned to look at Claudine.

“To this day I still vividly remember James calling in and telling me he had a transfer to a new school, his wife was unwell and he needed to move closer to a city where she could get care.  I was broken hearted, knowing I would not see James again”, she continued.

Claudine tried hard to suppress her shock and did not know what to say.  Claudine could see Margaret needed to talk about this.

“Two months after James and his wife left I found out I was having a baby.  I was upset, ashamed and really did not know what to do.  I decided the only thing to do was to become a recluse and move to Westmeath in the West Coast and live with my sister until the baby was born”.

 Margaret was now fighting back tears.

Claudine was finding it hard to take in.  This was such a tragic story and she could feel nothing but sadness for Margaret.

“There is more…,” Margaret said, “Much more and this is the hardest thing I have ever held to tell anyone…” she added.

“If you prefer not to I understand.  Just tell me what you are comfortable with Margaret”, Claudine said trying not to push Margaret.

“I have come this far, I will finish telling you the whole story,” said Margaret, who looked exhausted by this point, “I gave birth to a little girl, she was so sweet and she reminded me so much of her father.  I never told James about her, I felt it would not be fair on him and his wife.  We made a mistake all those years ago and it should not have happened”.

Again, Margaret stopped to look out the window.  She put her hand up to a gold locket around her neck.  After a long pause she continued.

“I loved my baby girl more than anything in the world and I only wanted to do the best by her.  My sister and I discussed what was best to do, and as she already had two children it was felt that Matilda should be brought up by her and her husband Peter.  My sister agreed that I would have her come and stay with me for short periods of time and as far as anyone in the town knew Matilda was my sister’s child”. 

By now Margaret was getting really upset.  Claudine could see there was relief in her tears but this had to be hard for her to bring up after all these years of staying silent.

“When Matilda was three years old she came to stay…,”  Margaret became overwhelmed as the tears streamed down her face, “I told her never to go up the stairs to the loft…I reinforced this many, many times she added forcefully, “then came the day that is etched in my memory forever.  I went outside in the garden for a few minutes to get some vegetables for our dinner.  Upon my return I found Matilda lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs.  She was so still and was not breathing.  I picked her up and cradled her beautiful little blonde head in my arms where she passed away quietly.  There was blood on the blue ribbon tying back her hair.  It had come from her ear.  I was in a state of panic.  I did not know what to do.  I called for the doctor from Ashbury to come.  It seemed to take an eternity for him to arrive.  My worst fears were realized after he examined Matilda”, again Margaret paused for a moment, “Doctor Williams and his wife Maureen helped me sort out a funeral.  My sister agreed that Matilda should be buried as near to me as possible so I could visit her grave.  The only people attending the funeral were the doctor and his wife, the undertaker and I.  My sister was too overcome to be unable to come and no one in the town knew Matilda was mine.  After the funeral I kept to myself.  I have not visited Matilda’s grave since, as my shame and the pain has kept me away.  I carry a small picture of Matilda in this locket which I keep close to my heart”, said Margaret as she showed Claudine the photo.

Claudine was in a state of shock.  Her heart was heavy.  Margaret had suffered so much.  Margaret reached out her hand to Claudine.

“Please I beg you to say nothing of this to anyone.  I need to keep this secret.  It is no one’s business what happened all those years ago…” Margaret pleaded.

“I am sorry Margaret I know how terribly hard this must have been for you”, said Claudine, feeling exhausted.

“I have been punished for not taking care of Matilda properly and for having a married man’s child.  I cannot be punished any more than I already have been.  Please Claudine say nothing to anyone”, she pleaded.

Claudine touched Margaret’s hand as she made her way to the door.  She gave a nod and a small smile as she left.

Claudine could not sleep that night.  She tossed and turned as she thought of Margaret’s terrible secret.  

Just before dawn she began to feel a strange sense of calm come over her and as she went off to sleep she saw the image of a little girl in front of her.  The little girl looked at peace.  Claudine smiled to herself as she drifted into sleep.

In the morning Claudine made her way over to Margaret’s.  On opening the door Margaret looked like she had been sleeping in her chair all night.  She looked so tired.

Claudine settled into a chair opposite Margaret and took her hand in hers.  “I am not going to say anything of our conversation yesterday Margaret, so you need not worry.  I believe Matilda is at peace.  It was not your fault what happened.  Children do such things.  You have punished yourself for over thirty years.  It is time to let go and forgive yourself”, said Claudine gently as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Thank you my dear, I shall not forget this and all your kindness”, replied Margaret as she pulled out her handkerchief. 

“I am always here for you Margaret and I will keep visiting.  I will arrange for some volunteers to do a little around your house to make you more comfortable”.

Margaret smiled, “I would prefer to tend my own garden though.  I have a special little part of the garden where Matilda used to grow some plants and I like to keep in growing in her memory”.

“I understand” said Claudine.

Over the next couple of years the church folk popped in occasionally to Margaret’s, offering their help with painting and maintenance.  Margaret accepted their help graciously. 

A month or so later, Claudine convinced Margaret to go to a Sunday morning service.  Claudine sat with her and they prayed together.  Both women wore a little pink rose on their jackets in memory of Matilda.  

As for the little girl herself, she made her final appearance at the back of the church.  Only the vicar, Claudine and Margaret saw her.  She looked happy as she waved them goodbye.  Now Matilda was at rest, and Margaret was finally at peace.

Not long after Margaret passed away in her sleep.  It was time for her to rest finally.  She was at peace but her body was weary.  Claudine saw to it that Margaret was buried alongside her little girl.

Margaret and Matilda could now be together forever.

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