Comfort from another era

It’s hard to carry on after losing a loved one but, never forget, their spirit is all around you

The grey-bricked Tudor-style manor house came into view at the end of a driveway lined with trees. Jane paused to admire it, thinking to herself, “Shame about the distant traffic. If it wasn’t for that you could almost feel like you were back in time.”

She approached a wooden kiosk at the entrance. Inside were two middle-aged women chatting to a young man. She caught their attention and waved her ticket at them.

“Hello, I’m a bit early to visit the garden. I booked online…”

“That’s OK. We’re not busy,” said the man, ushering her through. “Enjoy.”

Jane found herself in a walled garden bursting with flowers and shrubs. In the centre of a neatly cut lawn was a pond.

She sank on to a wooden seat and stretched out her legs. The walk from the train station was longer than she’d remembered, but it was at least 30 years since her last visit – and she was 30 years older. From her hessian bag she took out a carefully wrapped, generous slice of fruit cake and bit into it.

“I made this all by myself, Bill,” Jane said out loud. “Happy birthday to me. I miss you.”

A pigeon flew down and strutted by in the hope of catching a few crumbs. It was in luck. Jane broke off a piece, crumbled it between her fingers and threw it down.

The cake consumed, Jane rose, wandered over to the pond and peered into the clear water. She spotted large goldfish, newts and water boatmen racing across the surface. There was movement under a clump of lily pads and a frog emerged. The distant traffic noise had ceased.

“Good day, madam,” said a female voice behind her. “You look sad.” Jane swung round and stared into the face of a young woman. She was dressed in a bell-shaped gown with a low, square neckline decorated with pearls and jewels. Around her slender neck hung a pendant. Her long, beringed fingers toyed with a pomander hung at her waist.

Jane thought, “What a splendid costume. They’ve certainly made an effort.”

She returned the greeting, adding ruefully, “I am sad. My husband, Bill, passed away a couple of months ago. We’d been married for 37 years. We used to come here. It’s my birthday today and I decided to visit.”

The woman pointed to a stone seat in an alcove and appeared to glide towards it. She beckoned Jane to follow. “I’m really impressed,” Jane thought. “She even walks the part.” They sat down.

“Bill hasn’t gone. He’s all around you,” the woman said. “He’s the sky, the rain, the wind, the snowflakes… even the sun. You have your memories.”

“But it’s so hard,” Jane said. She felt a lump rise in her throat and her eyes sting with tears. “I miss him so much. He was a lovely man. I’ll never be the same.”

“You won’t be the same,” the stranger agreed, “but you will find a way. Don’t be afraid to talk to him and share your moments. He’s in another life and watching out for you.

Take small steps…”

As the woman spoke, Jane felt a sense of calm wash over her. All the pain and anguish she had felt were no more. Bill was gone but there were so many happy memories and these would help her.

She felt a tremendous sense of pride about having found her soulmate. So many people went through life without meeting the right person. Bill was all around her.

This morning it had drizzled when she ventured out. He knew she hated getting wet, especially when unprepared. Sure enough, when she stepped on to the platform at the railway station, the sun came out.

Earlier that week, at home, she’d been frantic, trying to find a photograph of

Bill. She even spoke to him out loud, then smiled and thought, “What on earth would the neighbours think?

She’s gone mad with grief?”

A few days later she found the photograph in a drawer.

In the distance a church clock chimed four. As if on cue, the woman rose, smiled and bowed slightly. “Forgive me, I must be on my way. If you need to talk, please come again. My name is Mary.”

Jane stayed seated and watched her drift away, through an open gateway she didn’t remember seeing before. She glanced at her watch, amazed at how quickly the time had passed, and was aware again of the distant noise of the traffic.

“Must go, Bill,” she murmured.

“The cats will want their tea.”

Returning to the kiosk, Jane noticed one of the middle-aged women with the young man. They were serving takeaway teas, coffees and traybakes to visitors. The woman caught Jane’s gaze. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

“Certainly,” Jane replied. “I must say,

Mary, your lovely costumed guide was wonderful. So authentic. Where do you get those costumes from? Are they hired?”

The woman stared blankly. “We don’t have costumed guides here.”

“Well, maybe she was one of the staff from the house?” Jane asked. “Perhaps it’s a new thing being tried out for visitors?”

The woman shook her head. “This afternoon there’s just myself and Kevin. And the other lady, Dora, you saw earlier on.”

“I’m not imagining it,” Jane insisted. “There was a young lady. She said her name’s Mary. She was wearing one of those long dresses with a square neckline. I’d love to know where you can get that costume from.”

The man frowned. He murmured, “Lady Mary...”

His colleague gave him a knowing look.

“I bet Mary was in costume for some kind of role play,” Jane suggested.

“No,” said Kevin. “Lady Mary lived in the house… 500 years ago. She lost her husband, the heir to this estate, when she was very young. He was killed in a riding accident. She went on to remarry but she never forgot her first love. And it’s said that she sometimes appears to bring comfort to those in need.”

As the woman spoke, all the pain and anguish she had felt were no more