Love, could you spare me just a quarter of a loaf? Ill pay you back tomorrow, I promise. Im feeling rather faint from hunger
Now really, came the reply, this is a bakery, not a pawn shop. We dont take bottles here, cant you read? Its perfectly clear: bottles go to the bottle bank, and then you can buy your bread. What is it you actually want?
Well, I hadnt realised the bottle bank closed at noon. I was too late. Id never had to collect bottles before, you know. Despair set in, and I trudged on, clueless as to where I might find a few pounds.
Well, said the lady behind the counter, maybe get up a bit earlier tomorrow, hand the bottles in, and try again.
Love, just a sliver of loaf? Ill pay tomorrow, honestly. Im dead on my feet with hunger.
You could see the old lady hated having to ask, but she kept her chin up and stood her ground.
Sorry, replied the shopkeeper, Im not a charity, barely making ends meet myself. There are beggars everywhere these days, please dont loiter.
Good morning, she called to the man who wandered up. Weve got your favourite bread in today! Apricot danishes are fresh, cherry ones are from yesterday.
Good morning, the man replied, lost in thought. Ill have the walnut and fruit loaf, please. And six cherry danishes.
With apricot, she repeated. Apricot then, thats fine.
He gazed off, not noticing the old lady nearby, staring at him with quiet hope.
The shopkeeper handed over the goods through the hatch. The man pulled out a thick wallet and paid with a crisp note. As his eyes swept past the old lady, they paused at the large brooch pinned to her jacket.
The old woman didnt look anything like a beggar. She was dignified, dressed in old but spotless clothes, her back straight despite her years.
David slid into his car, popped his shopping on the passenger seat, and drove away.
His companys offices were nearby.
As he stepped through the door, his secretary, Helen, greeted him.
Mr Foster, your wifes called asked for you to ring her back.
Oh, Helen, whats wrong? he blurted out, suddenly uneasy.
David Foster owned a home appliances business, built from scratch in the early 90s. Thanks to his brains and a pinch of luck, things grew quickly.
His office was on the outskirts of Birmingham. He could have afforded something plush in the city centre, but he hated wasting money.
David had built a lovely detached house, where he lived with his wife and two sons.
In a fortnight, he was set to become a dad for the third time, which explained why his wifes phone call put him instantly on edge.
Jenny, whats happened? he asked.
Dave, the schools called us in again. Tom was in another fight with a classmate.
Darling, Im not sure I can come. Ive got too much on at work. Im trying to land a big supplier.
Please, Dave, you know its hard for me to go alone.
No, no, you stay put. Look after yourself, and Ill make time, I promise.
Toms really asking for trouble. If he doesnt listen, hell get whats coming to him, I swear. Sorry, love, I need to work. Dont wait up for me at dinner.
Oh David, youre never home. The kids dont see you, you come in after theyre asleep and leave before theyve woken up. I worry about you. You never get a break.
What can I do? Its the job. But Im hoping these crazy hours will only last another week, then everything will settle. When Im at the hospital with you, wholl have the boys?
Ill think of something. Dont worry, perhaps we can hire a nanny.
I just dont like the idea of strangers watching them all day.
Dave, can we talk later? Youre up to your eyes, and so am I.
Feels like you dont care about us at all.
Dont say that, darling. Everything I do is for you and for Tom, Jamie, and our little girl on the way.
Sorry, I shouldnt have said that. I just miss you, thats all.
David buried himself in work until late. The kids were asleep and his wife was waiting in the lounge.
Sorry, love, I said too much earlier.
Its all right, you need your rest. Lets get you something to eat.
No, Im fine. Actually, I had lunch at work. I brought home those apricot danishes from that bakery theyre extraordinary. Never had better. And the fruit and walnut loaf
Oh, the danishes are lovely, but honestly, the breads a bit much for me and the boys.
Davids mind drifted back to the old lady at the bakery.
Love, get to bed youll be up before dawn again. Dave, Jenny tried to get him talking, is there something wrong with work?
No, honestly, if I land this supplier, well be laughing.
Youre exhausted, youre running on empty.
No, Im just thinking. You know, today I saw an old lady at the bakery. I was off in my own world, didnt really listen to the conversation between her and the shopkeeper. Bits of what they said are coming back to me now, but thats not whats bugging me. Her face is familiar, but I cant quite place it. And that big brooch on her jacket
David was the sort whod offer you his coat and cup of tea, always going out of his way to help.
The old woman at the bakery wouldnt leave his mind. He scolded himself for not helping when it mattered. But what really niggled was her familiar face he was certain hed met her years ago, but couldnt recall where.
David turned up at the office at sparrows fart and crunched numbers over a cup of tea, trying to get his head straight.
Maybe Im losing my marbles or just need more kip, he chuckled to himself.
Then he blurted out, Was that really Miss Thatcher? The brooch! The tweed jacket! He hadnt seen her in seventeen years shed aged plenty.
Miss Margaret Thatcher (no relation, before you ask) was the schools beloved maths teacher, adored by everyone, including the parents, who often came for advice.
Shed married rather late at 38 and had a daughter, frail and often ill. Tragically, the little girl passed away at just three.
Margaret split from her husband after losing her child.
She poured all her care into her students.
Davids own childhood was rough his gran raised him after his parents died in a lorry accident. Hed always been bright and hard-working, and everyone at school, Margaret especially, noticed his grit.
He often popped round to help with jobs at Miss Thatchers house; she knew he and Gran were struggling, sometimes without enough food. She invited him over for lunch, but David was too proud, always refusing.
So she got clever, offering a bit of work here and there always ending with a proper meal.
Margaret baked spectacular loaves in her oven, using an old loaf tin handed down from her grandmother.
David swore hed never tasted bread so soft and airy in all his days.
Right, if its truly the best, youll want to take some for your gran, shed say, slicing off a chunk the size of Wales.
David was so lost in memories, he didnt notice his staff arriving.
He knew the area where Margaret once lived had been replaced by tower blocks. So, he called an old friend in the police, and within an hour, hed tracked down her new address.
But work was relentless he couldnt spare an afternoon to visit.
That night, David told Jenny all about Miss Thatcher.
Shes a decent, clever woman. Youve said we dont know wholl help with the kids when you go to hospital. Lets invite her here. She did so much for me gave me the best advice when I needed it most. I cant leave her in a tight spot, David said.
Of course, love. Go fetch her, bring her here. Let her stay. She might finally be the one to tame Tom and stop these school fights, Jenny agreed.
You have no idea, she has a way with words, David grinned.
The understanding between the Fosters was complete.
Sunday came before David could spare the time. He bought flowers and set off for Miss Thatchers flat.
With nerves jangling, he knocked. Margaret Thatcher herself opened the door. She looked all of her years and more, her face frail, eyes faded.
Good afternoon, Miss Thatcher Im David Foster. You probably dont remember me, I finished school seventeen years ago.
Oh, David, of course I remember. I knew you right away at the bakery.
Sorry, Miss Thatcher I was miles away. Did you think I was embarrassed?
She wept a bit.
No, no, I was searching for you and Im so glad I found you.
He awkwardly handed over the flowers.
Thank you. Last time anyone gave me flowers was on the first day of term, four years ago. That was my last year teaching well, lets say I was encouraged into retirement.
Sorry, couldnt even offer you a cuppa; the pension doesnt land for two more days.
Ive come to take you home, Miss Thatcher. Ive got a big house, wife, two lads and a baby girl on the way.
No, David, I cant impose. Your family wont want some old biddy in the house.
Not true. Im offering you a job. The wifes all for it. Our children desperately need a wise head and a teacher. Who better than you?
Tom, my eldest, scrapped again this week. Can you sort him out?
Ill be seventy next year, but just you watch Ill manage.
Pack a bag, Miss Thatcher, were off to meet the family.
Thats how Miss Thatcher moved in with the Fosters, leaving her worries behind for good.
Jenny was delighted to have such a sensible, serene woman in the house an experienced schoolmistress and, as it turned out, a treasure for the family.
A week and a half later, the familys joy was complete: little Daisy arrived, long awaited and much fussed over. While Jenny was in hospital, the boys were quite content under Miss Thatchers watch. She baked treats, cooked up proper meals, and tutored them with infinite patience.
David and Jenny could truly relax, knowing their children were in safe hands.
Even Tom, notorious for his fiery temper, softened under her gentle tutelage. Not once did she have to raise her voice perhaps she really did work magic, and Tom soon forgot all about schoolyard brawls.
At last, David brought Jenny and Daisy home.
I missed you all so much! Jenny wrapped her arms around the boys.
We had a brilliant time! Jamie grinned.
Mum, Miss Thatcher and I baked bread! Tom boasted.
It was good, though she says real bread, baked in a proper oven, tastes a hundred times better than anything from ours, he added with a grin.
