Authors: Janet Woods
Meggie nodded.
To my unborn child, whether boy or girl, I take with me into the unknown the thought that I’ve created and left behind a unique and beautiful child who will take its rightful place on this earth.
Tears blurred Meggie’s eyes.
It grieves me that I won’t be here to support and guide you over the years to come. I’ve left that task to the sweet and generous lady who filled the last months of my life with such joy, and gave me you.
You will be grown when you read this, child of mine, and your mother will have guided you through the uncertainties of growing into maturity without me.
There’s not much else I can say, except you were created by love, and your presence, even though unseen, is a miracle to me. I love you, my infant. If there’s a window in heaven, you might catch a glimpse of me in the starshine now and again.
Your loving father,
Richard Sangster.
Meggie crossed to the window and gazed at the sky. It was a clear night, with a white moon riding high in a circle of mist. She held her breath when a star shot across the sky, then smiled at the coincidence.
She smiled again and whispered, ‘Not a coincidence, I think. The star was created especially for me. Thank you, Daddy.’
Downstairs, the party was getting under way. She smoothed down the blue satin folds of her calf-length gown, and adjusted the flounces at the shoulder line. She was wearing the garnet ring her aunt had given to her, and had spent hours practising in her grown-up shoes with the heels. She was nervous.
A knock came at the door, and her aunt came in with her mother. Aunt Es looked wonderfully wicked in a long, black satin cocktail gown, with diamanté clips resembling miniature chandeliers dangling from her ears. A matching one was clipped daringly to the low point of her bodice. Her mouth was a red pout to match her nails.
Her mother was in an ankle-length gown of tangerine silk, that was old-fashioned, but breathtaking.
‘Where have you been hiding that gown?’ Meggie asked her.
‘It was designed by our mother . . . your grandmother, Eloise Carr. I felt like wearing it in her honour tonight, though I’m surprised it still fits. But never mind me. As the only women in the family, we felt we should offer you support on the occasion of your first New Year party.’
Meggie smiled at her mother, because she knew she’d understand when she said, ‘I’ve just seen a shooting star.’
‘I think you’re going to be the star yourself tonight, my Meggie. You look quite grown-up. Hmmm . . . I must remember to keep an eye on the local boys.’
‘Mummy, you’re making me squirm. Boys my age are all so impossibly . . . well you know . . . impossibly gauche and terribly
spotty
!’
‘You’re right of course. I recall that your Uncle Chad was as spotted as a Dalmatian once. Now he’s quite handsome.’
Esmé laughed. ‘By the way, I believe he’s invited a local girl tonight. I’m dying to meet her.’
Meggie smiled. ‘I know who it is, Aunt Es. It’s a girl who used to be your best friend at school. I can’t remember her name, and Uncle Chad wouldn’t tell me. He said it was a surprise.’
They exchanged grins, then linked arms and went down the stairs to celebrate the coming of the New Year.
Their appearance brought them a barrage of wolf whistles.
‘Oh . . . for heaven’s sake,’ her mother said, but she turned pink and laughed and looked pleased, anyway.
Remembering the shooting star and its brief, but oh-so-glorious journey across the heavens, a lump rose in Meggie’s throat, and she slipped one hand into her mother’s and raised the small glass of champagne to her lips. She wrinkled her nose at the taste of it. Like most grown-up things, she discovered that forbidden fruit didn’t always taste as sweet as it looked.
Later, her stepfather raised his glass in toast. ‘To absent friends, and to whatever the New Year may bring.’
The church bells began to ring and everyone raised their glasses.
‘To 1937,’ they said, and they began to count. ‘Fifty-nine . . . fifty-eight . . .’