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Back Sisters of Gold Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. A Week’s Work in Birmingham
  5. I
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. II
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. III
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Forty-Nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-One
  59. Fifty-Two
  60. Fifty-Three
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Further Reading
  63. About the Author
  64. By the Same Author

‘The thing was,’ she said to her aunt, ‘I had been poorly for so long and when he came, I got better. It was as simple as that. It was as if he had given me my life back. I felt as if I had to be with him.’

Twelve

Twelve

Aunt Hatt cleared her throat and put her teacup down.

What more can I tell her? Margaret thought. She thinks it’s just a simple case of falling in love . . .

Last winter, with her health recovered, Margaret had begun her life again. She felt left behind. Annie was still at home, still doing the work of the church but chafing at the smallness of the village. Annie, too, felt that God needed more of her in the great world out there. She read a great deal and was full of ambition.

For Margaret, whose world had for so long been confined to bedroom and parlour, the cold, crisp months were very happy ones. With Charles there as well, there was much talk and the liveliness that a guest can add to family life.

Margaret started visiting again, took up her beloved work with the children, and began, at last, to see that she had a future.

‘Now that I look back to this spring,’ she said, her right index finger tracing a small circle on the leather arm of Aunt Hatt’s chair, ‘I suppose I can see signs. You see, we knew really that Charles had been ill. But when he came, he did not seem ill exactly. I was caught up in him completely. He was like no one I had ever met.’ The tears came again and she wiped them away.

She could not seem to speak, as if they were veering too close to the darkness of what had happened, the way Charles had drawn her in until he could pluck her like a stringed instrument.

‘I thought – and he made me think – that he was my destiny. He even used that word. And I was so unused to thinking about what I should do . . . I didn’t know anything about myself! While I was ill there was no point in thinking about the future. It was as if I was pressed against a wall – there was no road I could take. We all thought of the missions because that’s what people like us do – but I was never so sure, not like Annie. So to marry Charles and be the wife of a minister seemed to be what God was steering me towards.’ She stopped and looked up again, her eyes wet. ‘Not steering – hurling, more like. What could make more sense? Charles told me he loved me. I . . .’ She stopped in confusion.

Into the silence, Aunt Hatt said, ‘Nothing like someone telling you they love you to make you feel you must love them back, eh?’

Margaret looked up in surprise. ‘Has it happened to you, Aunt?’