State of Mind
Margaret Fielding sat in her kitchen, staring out of the window. It was just turning to spring outsidesnowdrops peeking through, frost fadingbut to her, it felt like the depths of autumn. Three years had passed since her husbands death, yet time hadnt softened the ache. She supposed shed grown used to the silence, even accepted it, but inside there was still an emptiness. As if someone had taken a crucial piece from her, and now everything creaked and stuttered along, only half working.
Her children were far away. Her son lived in London, her daughter in Manchester. The grandchildren had grown up and set off on their own paths. They phoned her on birthdays, sometimes sent photos over WhatsApp. Margaret would look at the pictures, smile, and then return to her seat by the window.
Her neighbours often asked if she fancied a stroll, but what was the point? Sitting on a bench, chatting about pills and aches? It hardly raised the spirits. She used to walk to the park with her husband, go to the cinema at weekends or visit friends. Now, she had no one to go withand no desire to go anywhere alone.
Her fridge was half-empty. There wasnt much a person on their own really needed. Daytime telly was a never-ending run of soaps and romance dramas, which did nothing except make her feel even more forlorn.
Maggie, youll drive yourself round the bend like this, her friend Jean would sigh, popping by once a week. You ought to get out, love. Why not join a club, maybe try one of those dancing groups for pensioners? Theyre a right laugh!
Dancing? Margaret would huff, waving her hand dismissively, Who would I dance with? Its not as if Ive got anyone, is it?
Jean would shake her head and give up, and Margaret would return to her seat at the window, her mind wandering.
***
At the end of May her granddaughter Emily came to stay. A second-year student at university, she was lively and bubbly, forever plugged into her music. Emily burst into the quiet flat like a whirlwind.
‘Gran, hello! Im here for the whole summer! Honestly, Im fed up with London, just want a bit of peace and some of your pies!’
Suddenly, Margaret came alive again. The pies, the stews, the roastsshe began to cook with purpose. Emily devoured everything with enthusiasm, chattering about uni, her friends, and someone called Tom she fancied, but hes got no idea I even like him, honestly!
How about you, Gran? Emily asked one afternoon as they sat in the kitchen with homemade jam and tea.
Margaret sighed. Me? Oh, you know, I listen to you, think about washing the windows tomorrow… not much else happening.
Do you get lonely?
I do, Em. I really do.
Emily watched her for a moment, then her face lit up with an idea.
Gran, listen! Lets download a dating app for you!
Margaret nearly choked on her tea.
Have you lost your mind? Im sixty-eight!
So what? Emily replied, not the slightest bit embarrassed. There are loads of people your age. Theyre lonely too, just looking for a chat. You might meet someone nice, even just for a walk.
Dont talk daft, Margaret snapped. I spent over fifty years with Granddad. Now Im supposed to go searching for strangers on my phone? Its just not decent.
Nobody will know! Emily laughed. Secret, incognitocome on, lets just try. For a laugh.
Margaret scoffed and waved her off, but that evening, when Emily went out with friends, curiosity got the better of her. She fetched her phone and had a look.
She found a suitable app, downloaded it, and signed up. For a profile picture, she used an old photograph of herself at the seaside, cropping out her husband. She typed: Margaret, 68. Looking for a walking companion and good conversation.
Then she forgot all about it. Until the next morning.
***
The phone chimed. Margaret checked the appa new message.
Hello, Margaret. My name is Barbara, Im 64. Im also looking for a friend to go for walks with. I love wandering in the parks and breathing the fresh air. I miss having company. Shall we meet up?
She read it twice. Barbara. A woman. Not what shed expected.
Emily! she called. Come here! Some ladys messaged me.
Who? Emily dashed in, grabbing the phone. Look, Gran, shes just your age. She wants to meet for a stroll!
But what do I do now? Margaret was flustered.
Go and meet her, of course! Why not?
Three days later, they met in the park. Margaret was nervous as a schoolgirlshe tried on three jumpers, two skirts, then settled on her usual outfit and set off.
Barbara turned out to be a petite, sprightly woman with lively eyes and a bold northern accent. She was straightforward and friendly.
Margaret, Im so glad! Sitting at home on your own is a slow death, isnt it? I reckon weve got loads in common. Were you married? Im a widow too. Children? My sons in Germany, only get to see him once a year. Lets be friends!
They talked for three hours, strolled around the park, then sat on a bench. Turned out Barbara loved embroidery, old films, and she too missed her husband deeply, never quite sure what to do with her days.
Shall we meet again? Barbara asked as they parted.
Yes, said Margaret, surprising herself. Saturday?
For the first time in what felt like forever, she smilednot a forced smile, but a real one.
***
A month later, they were meeting up nearly every day: in the park, along the riverside, sometimes just over tea at home. Barbara was an endless source of ideas.
Listenwhy dont we find a few more people? she suggested. There are loads of women on the app, all stuck at home and lonely. Lets do something about it.
What do you mean? Margaret asked, bewildered.
Well, a club! We could have walks, tea, chat about books or films. I quite fancy trying Nordic walking, apparently its the thing now, but by myself, its no fun. In a group, thoughperfect!
At first, Margaret hesitated. Clubs, Nordic walking, it all sounded a bit much. But Barbara was persuasive. Within a week, they found two more womenJudith and Rose. Another week, three more joined.
Thats how the Light Steps Club was born. Judith, a retired teacher and keen organiser, came up with the name.
Nordic walking Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays! she declared. Tuesdays well have tea and a book group; Thursdays, cinema or art galleries. Weekends are for resting, but if anyones up for it, well meet anyway!
At first, Margaret simply joined in. Soon, she discovered she was running the group chat, signing up new members, thenthanks to Judithelected as club head.
Margaret, youre a born organiser! Barbara beamed. You keep us together, get everyone going. Wed be lost without you.
Margaret waved her off, but deep down, she felt a quiet warmth.
***
Word spread, and their local paper wrote an article about the club. A young journalist visited, asking questions, snapping pictures, taking notes. The following week, there they were: Active Ageing: Pensioners Find Friendship and Transform Their Lives.
Margaret stared at her photo, barely recognising herself: holding Nordic walking poles, standing in the middle of the group, radiant.
Then the local TV station called.
Mrs Fielding, wed love to feature your club on our news. Would that be alright?
She was mortified at the idea, but Barbara and Judith were insistent.
Margaret, think of the good it might do! More people will hear about us, maybe more lonely folk will join. You want to help, dont you?
She had to agree.
The filming took three hours. The reporter, a kind young woman named Claire, was gentle and respectful. She asked about the club, the members, why it mattered.
You see, Margaret told the camera, after you lose someone close, it feels as if life is finished. You think youre not needed any more. Especially when the children live far off. But actually, you are needed. Most of all by yourself. Weve found one another now, and thats why theres something worth getting up for every morninga walk, a chat, a new day.
They showed the segment on the evening news. Margarets phone rang all nightneighbours, old friends, even ex-colleagues. In one week, the club gained twenty new members.
***
Margarets seventieth birthday arriveda big milestone. She hadnt planned on marking it; what use is a celebration when youve reached such a grand age? But the club saw things differently.
Margaret, were throwing you a party! Barbara announced. A proper dowith music and dancing. Youre our star, and a star needs a party, end of.
Margaret protested, but she was secretly touched. She even bought a new dressblue, scattered with little flowers, just like shed worn in her youth, and shoes with a modest heel.
Then her son phoned from London.
Mum, well be there for your birthday. Me, Jenny, and the kids.
Youre coming? But what about work, school…?
Well take time off, arrange things. We want to celebrate with you. Its been too long.
Margaret couldnt sleep the night before, bustling around tidying up, getting things ready. In the morning, when her son and his family walked in, she realised she hadnt seen them for nearly three years. Her grandchildrenJames now eighteen, Sophie fifteenhad both grown so much.
Gran! Sophie ran to embrace her. You look differenthave you got younger?
Margaret laughed. Well, we do have an Active Ageing club here, you know. No time to grow old and gloomy!
They booked out a café for the party. Nearly all the clubs members turned up in bright dresses with flowers and gifts. Neighbours and old friends showed too. Barbara hosted, Judith read her own poems, Rose played guitar and sang.
Her son watched her, bewildered. Three years before, the last time hed seen her, shed been hunched, grey, her eyes dull. Now, she sparkled.
Mum, is this really you? he asked, when they had a moment alone.
Its me, love, she smiled. I just used to be on my own, thats all. Now Ive got friends, a purpose, something to get me up in the morning. Do you see?
I do, he nodded. Im sorry we didnt visit more.
Oh, dont fret, Margaret waved him off. Youve got your own livesand now, so have I. And dyou know what? I quite like it.
Then a video call came through from Emily.
Happy birthday, Gran! Im so happy for you! Remember when I tried to get you to use that app, and you called it nonsense?
Nonsense, Margaret grinned. Complete nonsense. Though sometimes, absolute nonsense can change your life.
***
Epilogue
A year later, Light Steps Club was famous across town. They were on TV, in the papers. The women had started up new groupsfor knitting, painting, and even a little theatre troupe.
Margaret wasnt just a participant anymore; she was now the groups coordinator, managing volunteers, setting up diaries, planning events months ahead.
Her sons family visited more often now. The grandchildren messaged her, asked for advice, sent her photos. Emily, her granddaughter, after finishing university, took a placement at the local papershe wants to write about inspirational pensioners.
Gran, youre my role model, Emily tells her.
And Margaret simply smiles, looking out the window. But now, outside is not autumn, but a proper, glorious spring.
Life carries on. And it is beautiful.
Margaret still keeps that app on her phone. Now and then she peeks at the new profiles, but shes not searching anymore. Shes already found what mattersherself. The rest is just a bonus.
Ladies, she says to new faces at the club, those shy ones who hesitate, dont be afraid. Life is longer than you think. You can always start again, no matter how hopeless things seem.
And they believe her. For they see before them a living, smiling, flourishing woman, who at seventy became a local legend. She provedage is just a number. Life, after all, is a state of mind.
