Short story

A straw hat reminds Sarah of a gift that brought joy to her life long ago

This morning the walk to the village Post Office seemed longer than usual. Sarah’s rheumatism was troublesome and she sighed heavily as she watched two young girls skipping gaily along the sunny street. Growing old was such a nuisance. ‘Oh well,’ she thought, ‘no point feeling sorry for myself. At least I can still use my legs to get about, not like poor old Simeon and his mobility scooter’. She could hardly believe her eyes the first time he rode past, shouting at her to get out of the way in his usual grumpy manner. She wondered if it was legal to be riding that thing on the pavement. She stopped to look in the window of the fishmonger’s, planning to buy a tasty bit of haddock for her tea. She hoped the rumours were wrong about the shop closing down. Nice Mrs Finnegan had been running it for years and all this talk of a supermarket on the outskirts of the village was most upsetting. The old bakery was no longer there, but she remembered her neighbour, Hannah, telling her that a charity shop had opened in its place. Hannah had shown her the skirt she had bought there, lovely material and hardly worn at all. Hannah was lucky like that – she always seemed to find the bargains. Well, maybe today would be Sarah’s lucky day. She paused to look at the window display. She looked, then she stared. She closed her eyes and opened them again and it was still there. Her heart was thumping so hard she felt it might jump right out of her nice stripey cardigan that she’d bought at the church sale of work last week. (It wasn’t really her style, but the vicar’s wife was such a lovely knitter she felt she had to buy it. And it was for a good cause, after all.) There in the charity shop window was the hat. Her hat. Of course it wasn’t the same one – it couldn’t possibly be – but it looked so much like it! Suddenly Sarah was transported back to another bright sunny day, a long time ago. It was the day of the garden party at the big house where the Eckerstone family had lived for generations. The people who lived in the village looked forward to the event all year. They called it ‘the big house’ back then and many of them worked there in some capacity or other. Sarah’s father had been head gardener and Simeon had once been the young Mr Eckerstone’s chauffeur. She chuckled at the memory of Simeon driving around in the luxurious car, tooting the horn impatiently. Maybe some things hadn’t changed much after all. Sarah recalled the excitement of being 18, her lovely new red dress and knowing that John (so handsome and charming!) would be at the garden party. She’d been in the marquee having tea with her mother (such good teas they were, with dainty sandwiches and delicious iced cakes) when Cecily Eckerstone strolled in. Immediately there was a stir around the tables. Cecily couldn’t help but create a stir

She’d been in the marquee having tea with her mother when Cecily strolled in

wherever she went, thought Sarah. She was so beautiful, with her blonde hair always cut in the latest style, big blue eyes and impossibly red lips. Today she was wearing a green dress made from some shimmering material that clung to her slender body as she walked. And then there was the hat. The most adorable hat that Sarah had ever seen. She heard her mother tutting disapprovingly. “She’ll come to a bad end, that one. All that money and spoiled rotten.” Sarah ignored her, and gazed enviously at the older girl. The white straw hat was trimmed with a red ribbon around the crown. A large scarlet flower adorned the brim. Cecily caught sight of Sarah and approached their table. “Hallo, Mrs Green. Hallo, Sarah. How are you both?” “Very well, thank you,” Sarah’s mother replied primly, but Sarah smiled back at her. “I was admiring your lovely hat,” she said shyly. “I think it’s just wonderful.” “Thank you!” Cecily laughed gaily and turned away as two young men came across the marquee to join her. “I say, Bobby, do let’s go somewhere a bit more exciting. Where’s your car, Sebastian?” Bobby slid an arm around her waist and she said: “Bye bye, Sarah, Mrs Green.” The three strolled away, but Cecily turned back suddenly. “This hat really isn’t quite me, Sarah. It will look much nicer on your dark curls. Here.” She removed the hat and placed it firmly on Sarah’s head, waving away any attempts to refuse the gift. “It really does suit you, you know!” Then she was gone, striding swiftly away, even as Sarah stammered her thanks. Mrs Green was frowning darkly, but no matter what her mother said Sarah was determined to keep the hat on. It made her feel almost glamorous for the first time in her young life. Later, when she and John strolled around the perfectly tended gardens, he held her hand for the first time and told her how lovely she looked. Their romance blossomed that day and she had treasured the hat for many years, firmly believing that it had played a leading part in John falling in love with her. In the years that had passed since that magical garden party, Sarah had often wondered how differently her life would have turned out if the war hadn’t come and shattered all their lives. If John hadn’t been killed in action, before they could even be wed. She had had a good life, but it would have been nice to have married, maybe have a family; children and grandchildren. But there had never been anyone else but John for her. Cecily had also been killed in the war – overseas, no doubt doing something exciting and top secret, just the way she would have wanted to go. Sarah looked again at the hat in the charity shop window. Should she buy it? She told herself that £2.50 was a lot of money to spend on something so frivolous, yet she found herself entering the shop, searching in her purse for the right coins. “Shall I put it in a bag for you, dear?” the assistant asked kindly. “Oh, no thank you,” Sarah replied. “I shall wear it home.” And she did. Strolling along in the sunshine, a broad smile on her face, her age and rheumatism no longer seemed a burden to her. She felt as if the hat had transformed her thinning grey hair back to dark glossy curls. Cecily never knew what a precious gift she gave me, she thought, and I never got a chance to thank her properly, but right now, viewed from under the straw brim, the ever-changing world looked beautiful again.

‘This hat really isn’t quite me, Sarah. It will look much nicer on your dark curls’