Chapter Four: ‘Day Two: Margaret’
During the next day, Alan and I managed to get a few cat-naps as we had spent most of the night talking about all manner of things of a personal nature. Throughout our nightly conversation, I’d gained the impression that Alan would allow his mind to stray, and there were occasions when I didn’t know if the woman he was talking about was his wife, Amanda, or his personal assistant, Margaret.
That night, when the other two patients in the side ward were fast asleep, three to four hours were spent at the side of Alan’s bedside, drinking copious cups of tea and talking together. Throughout this lengthy conversation, I often felt as though Alan was using me as a kind of priest confessor, upon whom to offload his heaviest and most uncomfortable of thoughts.
“Bill, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told another living soul in fifteen years. What the hell! If a man can’t tell the truth at death’s door, then where can he speak it?”
“Don’t think too badly of me, Bill, but it’s the absence of any future with Margaret that’s my greatest regret. During the past fifteen years now, I have loved two women in different ways, and had I not recently heard that I’d less than a fortnight to live, I was planning to leave Amanda and set up house with Margaret and her son.”
To say that Alan had managed to keep this a secret for the past fifteen years made it more remarkable that he now felt able to disclose it to a total stranger. Having told me, he looked greatly relieved to have unburdened himself.
“You’ll no doubt think me a hypocrite to have betrayed Amanda, especially knowing how much she depends on me,” he asked.
“Where love and relationships are concerned,” I replied, “I’ve learned that anything is possible and that few things are constant in the life span of any human!”
Just then, Alan’s nurse turned up to check his pain level and our nocturnal conversation was brought to an abrupt end.
That night, when the other two patients in the side ward were fast asleep, three to four hours were spent at the side of Alan’s bedside, drinking copious cups of tea and talking together. Throughout this lengthy conversation, I often felt as though Alan was using me as a kind of priest confessor, upon whom to offload his heaviest and most uncomfortable of thoughts.
“Bill, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told another living soul in fifteen years. What the hell! If a man can’t tell the truth at death’s door, then where can he speak it?”
“Don’t think too badly of me, Bill, but it’s the absence of any future with Margaret that’s my greatest regret. During the past fifteen years now, I have loved two women in different ways, and had I not recently heard that I’d less than a fortnight to live, I was planning to leave Amanda and set up house with Margaret and her son.”
To say that Alan had managed to keep this a secret for the past fifteen years made it more remarkable that he now felt able to disclose it to a total stranger. Having told me, he looked greatly relieved to have unburdened himself.
“You’ll no doubt think me a hypocrite to have betrayed Amanda, especially knowing how much she depends on me,” he asked.
“Where love and relationships are concerned,” I replied, “I’ve learned that anything is possible and that few things are constant in the life span of any human!”
Just then, Alan’s nurse turned up to check his pain level and our nocturnal conversation was brought to an abrupt end.
~~~~~
I hardly got chance to speak with Alan during the day ahead as I had X-rays, other examinations and numerous tests to undergo.
It was after midnight when we next spoke. Alan seemed very worried about the two women in his life. He was worried about his wife’s depression and her capacity to handle everyday life without him. It was his greatest fear that she wouldn’t be able to cope after he was no longer around to support her, even doing the everyday tasks that so many people take for granted. He was also worried about the continuation of the firm and the consequences upon Margaret and her son after he’d died; especially if the business had to fold.
It was after midnight when we next spoke. Alan seemed very worried about the two women in his life. He was worried about his wife’s depression and her capacity to handle everyday life without him. It was his greatest fear that she wouldn’t be able to cope after he was no longer around to support her, even doing the everyday tasks that so many people take for granted. He was also worried about the continuation of the firm and the consequences upon Margaret and her son after he’d died; especially if the business had to fold.
That night, as the other patients slept, we talked at length. He seemed to be impatient to get a lot off his chest, but given the brevity of his life span, I no longer found that too surprising. I seemed to be constantly playing the roles of conversationalist, listener, confidante and even confessor as Alan started to relate how he and Margaret had first met and how much she had grown to mean to him.
He told me that it had all started during a working weekend in County Waterford, Ireland during the month of January, fifteen years earlier, when he interviewed her for a job at his haulage firm. A few weeks before meeting Margaret for the first time, Alan realised that his firm needed a Secretary; someone who could keep things shipshape; a person who could double as a Personal Assistant. His wife had previously been encouraged to have a go, but it soon became apparent that she wasn’t up to the task.
He desperately wanted a person with the personal skills to put things in shape and to re-establish some semblance of order. The appointed person needed to possess the personality to keep his three haulage drivers in line, so he advertised the position in the ‘Munster Express’. He knew that he was going to Waterford soon on business and thought it represented an ideal opportunity to fit in a few interviews of suitable candidates while there.
It wasn’t that Alan had an aversion to English workers that led him to seek out an Irish candidate for the post, it was just that all three of his lorry drivers were from Ireland and he felt that a little psychology would go a long way when it came to persuading them to work overtime etc.; especially if the request came from an Irish woman who was also extremely personable.
As it happened, Alan only received one response to the job advertisement. It was from a Margaret Poole from Portlaw, County Waterford. Being eager to employ a suitable person as soon as possible, he wrote back immediately that night before he went to bed.
He desperately wanted a person with the personal skills to put things in shape and to re-establish some semblance of order. The appointed person needed to possess the personality to keep his three haulage drivers in line, so he advertised the position in the ‘Munster Express’. He knew that he was going to Waterford soon on business and thought it represented an ideal opportunity to fit in a few interviews of suitable candidates while there.
It wasn’t that Alan had an aversion to English workers that led him to seek out an Irish candidate for the post, it was just that all three of his lorry drivers were from Ireland and he felt that a little psychology would go a long way when it came to persuading them to work overtime etc.; especially if the request came from an Irish woman who was also extremely personable.
As it happened, Alan only received one response to the job advertisement. It was from a Margaret Poole from Portlaw, County Waterford. Being eager to employ a suitable person as soon as possible, he wrote back immediately that night before he went to bed.
“January 8th, 1995.
Dear Miss Poole,
Thank you for your application for the post of Secretary and Personal Assistant, which I received today. Having read your background details and degree results, I am pleased to offer you an interview for the position in my transport firm in West Yorkshire.
I will be in County Waterford on business for two weeks after Thursday of this week. I fly out there in two days’ time and will be staying at the ‘Fitzwilliam Hotel’, in Bridge Street, Waterford City. I would be available to interview you there in the Conference Room over a coffee between 2.00 pm and 3.00 pm of the afternoon of Monday, January 16th.
Yours sincerely,
Alan Hawthorn,
Managing Director of Hawthorn’s Haulage”
Dear Miss Poole,
Thank you for your application for the post of Secretary and Personal Assistant, which I received today. Having read your background details and degree results, I am pleased to offer you an interview for the position in my transport firm in West Yorkshire.
I will be in County Waterford on business for two weeks after Thursday of this week. I fly out there in two days’ time and will be staying at the ‘Fitzwilliam Hotel’, in Bridge Street, Waterford City. I would be available to interview you there in the Conference Room over a coffee between 2.00 pm and 3.00 pm of the afternoon of Monday, January 16th.
Yours sincerely,
Alan Hawthorn,
Managing Director of Hawthorn’s Haulage”
Margaret was over the moon to have received such a positive reply. Her recent experiences in Portlaw had led her to want to get out of the town as soon as possible. Apart from knowing of her qualifications, name, age, and where she came from, Alan didn’t know what it was that had made Margaret Poole want to flee her beloved Ireland at the earliest opportunity to take a job in West Yorkshire.
~~~~~
Margaret Poole had always been a loyal and helpful daughter to her parents. She’d been born in Portlaw, County Waterford and was the eldest of seven children. Having been brought up in a large Roman Catholic household where there was hardly ever enough to eat and nothing over, she knew how to be both creative and sparing when it came to the management of minimal resources. Like all ambitious young women who’d been reared on a ‘mend and make do’ upbringing, she wasted nothing.
Margaret was determined that when she got married, she would give any children she brought into the world a better start in life than her parents, herself and her sisters had experienced.
It wasn’t that Margaret resented her parents or their modest way of life. They had simply turned into adults they were brought up to be.
Modestly educated, Margaret’s parents were simple folk who seemed resigned to accept their lot in life without much protest. Margaret thought them too accepting of their lot; too accepting of a class that she felt to be beneath her expectations and far less than she was worthy of! What Margaret wouldn’t settle for; what she just couldn’t understand or accept, was their lack of desire to better it!
Margaret was determined that when she got married, she would give any children she brought into the world a better start in life than her parents, herself and her sisters had experienced.
It wasn’t that Margaret resented her parents or their modest way of life. They had simply turned into adults they were brought up to be.
Modestly educated, Margaret’s parents were simple folk who seemed resigned to accept their lot in life without much protest. Margaret thought them too accepting of their lot; too accepting of a class that she felt to be beneath her expectations and far less than she was worthy of! What Margaret wouldn’t settle for; what she just couldn’t understand or accept, was their lack of desire to better it!
Margaret Poole knew that she was different to other locals of her age. Margaret wanted much more out of life than most Portlaw folk thought they deserved or had a right to expect. She was determined never to settle for ‘second best’.
Margaret’s father worked as a farm hand, a job he thoroughly enjoyed, and whenever her mother wasn’t giving birth to another child, her mother worked most evenings serving in a local pub.
Margaret was 24 years old. Two years earlier, she obtained an Honours Degree in Business Studies at Dublin University. She was the cleverest in her family and always had her talents and ambitious nature encouraged by her mother. Being the first family member ever to hold a degree in the Poole family, and only one of four young men and women of her generation in Portlaw to go to university, all of Margaret’s siblings looked up to her and expected great things from their big sister.
Margaret’s father worked as a farm hand, a job he thoroughly enjoyed, and whenever her mother wasn’t giving birth to another child, her mother worked most evenings serving in a local pub.
Margaret was 24 years old. Two years earlier, she obtained an Honours Degree in Business Studies at Dublin University. She was the cleverest in her family and always had her talents and ambitious nature encouraged by her mother. Being the first family member ever to hold a degree in the Poole family, and only one of four young men and women of her generation in Portlaw to go to university, all of Margaret’s siblings looked up to her and expected great things from their big sister.
“You get those papers and letters behind you, Maggie, and you’ll not go far wrong in getting well-paid work!” her mother would often tell her as her daughter studied for her qualifications to gain entrance to university. Her mother had wrongly presumed that her bright daughter would eventually obtain work in Dublin or some other part of Ireland, and the thought of her working across the sea in England had never once entered her head.
After obtaining her degree, and before Margaret had started looking for work in earnest, her mother fell ill. This sudden change in family circumstances made Margaret modify her plans. Margaret didn’t have it in her heart to leave home amidst so much uncertainty. There was simply no way she could leave them all high and dry. Besides, as any Portlaw born and bred woman knows, when mammy is unable to carry out her household and family functions, it naturally falls to the oldest daughter to step into the breach.
So, for the next two years during her mother’s prolonged ill-health, Margaret placed her own career on hold to manage the family household full time.
~~~~~
Within the short space of two years, Margaret Poole changed from plain girl to woman in bloom. Margaret was a most attractive woman and undoubtedly appeared a fine catch for any man south of the border. She carried herself with an innocent elegance wrapped in a ball of daring do. For instance, she knew that she had a fine figure and a cracking pair of legs that most young women would die for, and she would frequently play to the gallery of male onlookers. For instance, should her dress blow up in a sudden breeze, the amount of time she’d allow between letting it rise and coyly bringing it back down to modest heights was just enough to preserve her reputation of being a good Catholic woman, while providing any male onlooker with sufficient sight of leg and stocking to raise their blood pressure. Without being conscious of it, Margaret was a veritable flirt.
During this period, the local Squire’s son, Jerry Swales, started to notice Margaret. Jerry fancied himself as being ‘a lady’s man,’ and had assessed Margaret as being Portlaw’s best looker. He became determined to gain her favour and went out of his way to cultivate a clandestine relationship with her. She was, in turn, highly flattered by the attention of Squire Swales’ son and started seeing Jerry occasionally, unknown to family members or other Portlaw citizens.
Jerry Swales came from wealthy and landed gentry. He showed no hurry to engage in employment after he’d passed through public school and university.
He was six months older than Margaret, yet this 24-year-old had shown his parents little interest in either settling down into marriage or securing any kind of employment in the immediate future. He seemed determined to engage in the role of ‘playboy’ for as long as he could get away with it without his father threatening to cut off his inheritance.
Jerry Swales had been born ‘an only child’, and as such, it wasn’t surprising that he became a spoilt child who grew up accustomed to always getting his own way. He initially managed to hide these selfish characteristics from Margaret; who, if truth be known, was quite taken with the opportunity of one day possibly becoming the ‘Lady of the Manor’; a lady of leisure.
Jerry Swales came from wealthy and landed gentry. He showed no hurry to engage in employment after he’d passed through public school and university.
He was six months older than Margaret, yet this 24-year-old had shown his parents little interest in either settling down into marriage or securing any kind of employment in the immediate future. He seemed determined to engage in the role of ‘playboy’ for as long as he could get away with it without his father threatening to cut off his inheritance.
Jerry Swales had been born ‘an only child’, and as such, it wasn’t surprising that he became a spoilt child who grew up accustomed to always getting his own way. He initially managed to hide these selfish characteristics from Margaret; who, if truth be known, was quite taken with the opportunity of one day possibly becoming the ‘Lady of the Manor’; a lady of leisure.
I suppose that if Jerry Swales ever exercised any responsibility at all, it was in the maintenance of his six milking cows. When Jerry showed Margaret his ‘babies’ as he called them, she could sense the pride ooze out of him. To her, the cattle, being a hornless breed, looked somewhat strange.
“They’re Irish Moiled,” Jerry told her, “and are one of the rarest and most expensive breeds in Ireland. They’re good for either beef or milk. I love their colour of red with their white lines across their backs and stomachs. Even their flecked face doesn’t let you know what they could possibly be thinking. They most certainly stand out in any herd. I love these poker-faced beasts immensely!”
It was easy for Margaret to see the attraction Jerry had for his up-market cows. They were certainly a breed that could only afford to be stocked by the wealthy gentry and would be as unlikely to be seen in any farmer’s field one passed by as a four-leaf-clover.
“They’re Irish Moiled,” Jerry told her, “and are one of the rarest and most expensive breeds in Ireland. They’re good for either beef or milk. I love their colour of red with their white lines across their backs and stomachs. Even their flecked face doesn’t let you know what they could possibly be thinking. They most certainly stand out in any herd. I love these poker-faced beasts immensely!”
It was easy for Margaret to see the attraction Jerry had for his up-market cows. They were certainly a breed that could only afford to be stocked by the wealthy gentry and would be as unlikely to be seen in any farmer’s field one passed by as a four-leaf-clover.
Jerry’s father hoped that his only son would one day become a gentleman farmer instead of being a permanent ‘play boy’, and accordingly, he had bought Jerry the six cows for his last birthday. Squire Swales hoped that his son might one-day breed from them and become the owner of an exclusive herd. He wanted his son to do something more constructive to occupy his hours when he wasn’t horse riding, shooting or driving fast cars around the country.
Margaret soon came to realise how spoilt and privileged a life Jerry enjoyed being the Squire’s son, but the size of the catch as ‘a potential husband’ led her to suppress these less attractive features of his. It would certainly make life a lot easier for herself and family were she to play her cards right and one day become the ‘Honourable Mrs Swales’ of Portlaw. Were that to happen, her place in society would most certainly be secure and her large family would be better taken care of.
Margaret soon came to realise how spoilt and privileged a life Jerry enjoyed being the Squire’s son, but the size of the catch as ‘a potential husband’ led her to suppress these less attractive features of his. It would certainly make life a lot easier for herself and family were she to play her cards right and one day become the ‘Honourable Mrs Swales’ of Portlaw. Were that to happen, her place in society would most certainly be secure and her large family would be better taken care of.
Given their difference in social status, Jerry Swales needed to be careful not to offend his parents, especially his mother. Although Jerry wanted to see Margaret, it had to be on his terms. Consequently, his parents could not be made aware of his relationship with Margaret, and their meetings would naturally occur in secret. He had no intention of becoming part of Portlaw gossip.
Their contact would take place away from public gaze and his car would be used to take the couple into a bordering county where neither would be recognised. On other occasions, they’d meet up Curraghmore during the quiet hours, after darkness had started to descend.
While Margaret didn’t at all approve of this coat and dagger stuff, Jerry assured her that he would eventually inform his parents of their liaison, but only after he felt the time to be right to tell his mother. This pledge seemed enough to buy off Margaret’s initial protests and the couple continued to see each other secretly over the months ahead.
Their contact would take place away from public gaze and his car would be used to take the couple into a bordering county where neither would be recognised. On other occasions, they’d meet up Curraghmore during the quiet hours, after darkness had started to descend.
While Margaret didn’t at all approve of this coat and dagger stuff, Jerry assured her that he would eventually inform his parents of their liaison, but only after he felt the time to be right to tell his mother. This pledge seemed enough to buy off Margaret’s initial protests and the couple continued to see each other secretly over the months ahead.
Paradoxically, it was Jerry’s mother who was the snob while his father had no such pretentions. It was his mother who’d insisted that her son marry well and not below his station if he wanted to ensure his standing in society.
She’d come from much humbler circumstances when she married her husband and didn’t want any repetition of earlier difficulties occurring with their only son and heir. She’d been the owner of a hat shop when she’d first met and hooked Jerry’s father, and though she’d never been a woman of sensual expression, she allowed herself to get pregnant early on in their relationship to strengthen her position of becoming the ‘Honourable Mrs Swales’ of the Manor House. Having gained so easily an entry into her husband’s social class and gentrified living, she didn’t want any future wife of their only son to be undeserving of similar social passage.
She’d come from much humbler circumstances when she married her husband and didn’t want any repetition of earlier difficulties occurring with their only son and heir. She’d been the owner of a hat shop when she’d first met and hooked Jerry’s father, and though she’d never been a woman of sensual expression, she allowed herself to get pregnant early on in their relationship to strengthen her position of becoming the ‘Honourable Mrs Swales’ of the Manor House. Having gained so easily an entry into her husband’s social class and gentrified living, she didn’t want any future wife of their only son to be undeserving of similar social passage.
After the health of Margaret’s mother had improved enough for her to resume her family roles as wife and mother, and with Jerry Swales now on the scene, Margaret decided to stay on at the family home in Portlaw to play out the cards she’d been dealt, in the hope of hitting the jackpot. She secured herself employment at a solicitor’s office in Waterford. During a four-month period, she met up with Jerry three nights weekly at various clandestine meeting places.
One of their occasional meeting places was the vacant cottage of one of the Squire’s tenants. The cottage remained unoccupied for almost three months before the next tenant farmer was due to move in, and although cold and modestly furnished, it only took a warm fire making up and a few well-scattered rugs to transform it into a love nest. It proved sufficient for Jerry to get as close to Margaret as she was prepared to let him.
One of their occasional meeting places was the vacant cottage of one of the Squire’s tenants. The cottage remained unoccupied for almost three months before the next tenant farmer was due to move in, and although cold and modestly furnished, it only took a warm fire making up and a few well-scattered rugs to transform it into a love nest. It proved sufficient for Jerry to get as close to Margaret as she was prepared to let him.
