by Vivien Brown
‘Thanks, Aaron.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘So, where to next?’
‘Isn’t it getting a bit late for a country bumpkin like you? When you’ve got to be up for the milking?’
‘Oh, very funny. No, I want to make the most of it while I’m here. Noise. Bright lights. Stuff … going on. There’ll be plenty of time for the quiet life and early nights when I get back home, believe me.’
‘Okay. What about some fruit machines then? Noisy and bright enough for you? We’ll see if I can make a gambler of you.’
She laughed, pulling out the linings of her coat pockets to show they were empty. ‘When you don’t have it, you can’t lose it. Get me a bag of pennies and I’ll be happy as can be.’
‘Oh, I do like a cheap date. But are you? Happy, I mean?’
‘Never happier.’ She leaned across the table and kissed him, lightly, on the cheek. His skin was rough with the beginnings of stubble, and he smelled of soap and tomato sauce. ‘So what are we waiting for? Let’s go and make a killing.’
‘Fifty pence says I win more than you.’
‘You’re on.’
Chapter 19
I don’t like not knowing where she is, or when she’s coming back.
There are still so many things I need to know; things only she can tell me. I just have to work out when, and how – and if – she is ever going to do that. But why should she? Unless I can find a way to make her.
It’s not easy looking for clues. Alone in the dark, padding about with bare feet, not wanting to leave any trace. What would I expect to find anyway? It’s not as if I need evidence. She was the one. I know that now, only too well.
But I’ve done it again anyway. Crept in here, while the place is empty. The girl went out, and I came in. At least the nights fall early at this time of the year. Darkness and silence cover my tracks.
This is her territory, her space, and being here gives me a special sense of satisfaction. Keep the enemy close, that’s what they say. And while she’s away … well, she’s never going to know, is she? Until I decide to tell her.
The flowers have gone, but there are necklaces, lying neatly, side by side, in a tray. Not in their usual tangle. As if she’s sorted through them, rearranged them. Deciding what to take with her, perhaps, and what to leave behind? One by one I pick them up, run my fingers over the chains. I can’t help wondering where they came from. Whether he bought her this one, or that one? All of them? None of them?
I’ve never done it before. I’ve rearranged things, hidden things, even turned on a tap once, but I’ve never taken anything away. But this time, I will. Just the one. She won’t miss it. Not one, among so many. And if she does, she’ll tell herself she’s lost it, put it down somewhere and forgotten where, the way she so often does. Especially since I’ve been playing my little games. Working my magic. She’ll expect it to turn up again, but it won’t. Not this time.
I have so little that was his. I’m just taking something back, that’s all.
I pick up a thin chain, with what feels like a pearl hanging from it. I lift it to my face, feel its roundness against my skin, its smoothness. He used to say I was precious, his pearl, his little gem. I thought then that it meant he loved me best. More than anyone. I believed I was the centre of his world.
No, not this one. Not the pearl. I lay it down again. He would never have bought her a pearl. He knew how much that would have hurt me. It would be too cruel, and he was never deliberately cruel.
But this next one … a locket. Thick, flat, oval. I wonder what’s inside. His picture? A lock of his hair? Or nothing to do with him at all? I try to prise it open with my fingernail. Whatever it holds, I will remove it, destroy it or keep it, depending on what it might turn out to be, leave her just an empty shell. But it’s locked tight, holding its secrets close. I take it anyway. Whatever it contains, it will be precious to her. That’s what lockets are for, holding the mementoes, the memories you want to cling to, the ones you never want to lose. But she didn’t even take it with her. That’s how little he means to her now. Left on a cupboard, lost in a pile of tat. She didn’t have to take him from me. She robbed me, and now I am robbing her. I slip the chain over my head, around my neck, clasp it to my skin. Her loss, my gain. It feels good to turn things around that way, to turn the tables, take something from her for a change.
Men let us down, don’t they? I know that only too well. They make promises, they give and they take away. But it’s usually a woman behind the betrayal, a woman who leads them on, leads them astray, makes them do it.
I hate you, Madalyn Cardew. All the years I have been without him I didn’t know who to hate, and now I do. Slowly, drip by drip, I will make you suffer. You have to pay for what you’ve done.
Chapter 20
MADI
Madi stood on the step and watched the villagers piling out of the lane that led down from the church and turning towards the cottage, heading for the hall beyond. She had thought about joining them for the service, perhaps sitting quietly at the back, but she’d chickened out at the last minute. Religion never had been her thing. Now she pulled the front door shut behind her and hurried down the path to catch up with Faith and Patty as they rushed past, ahead of the pack.
‘Oh, Madi, how lovely! Are you coming to the Shelling Show? We can always use an extra pair of hands.’
‘Leave the poor woman alone,’ Stuart chipped in, coming along behind them. ‘She’s here as a visitor, a guest, not to help you two make the tea!’
‘Oh, I don’t mind at all. I’m usually happier with something to do.’
‘And how’s our little Flo this morning? I keep meaning to drop by with a bit of fish or something.’ Faith slowed her pace a fraction and put a hand on Madi’s arm. ‘I do feel bad that we’ve left you to take care of her. I had half a mind to ring Prue and tell her to come home. All this running-off nonsense makes no sense at all. And Flo is her cat …’
‘There’s no need, really. Flo is doing fine, and I don’t mind taking care of her. As I said, I like having something to do. And she’s company for me.’
‘Company? Feeling lonely, are you? We can’t have that,’ Patty said, pulling a packet of mints from her pocket and offering them round. ‘And if it’s something to do that you’re after, I’m sure we can think of all manner of things to entertain you and keep you out of mischief, can’t we, Faith?’
They had reached the door to the village hall and Faith was too busy fumbling in her bag for the keys to reply.
‘Take no notice.’ It was Tom, already waiting outside with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and a square cake tin in his hands. He had clearly dodged the church service too. ‘They mean well,’ he whispered, following the women inside. ‘They’ll have you manning the library or joining the choir if you’re not careful.’
‘Oh, God. I have a friend – well, a neighbour really – who works in a library. Betty. The way she talks about it, you’d think it was the most exciting job in the world!’
‘Each to their own. And you can always use me as an excuse if they try to rope you into anything you don’t fancy. Say we’ve already arranged something. A drive to the sea, maybe. Which is still on offer, by the way, with or without the swimming. You’re not the only one who needs a spot of company every now and then.’
‘How is Barbara? You not visiting her today?’
‘I probably will later. She’ll have the kids there this afternoon, and I don’t want to miss seeing them. Might even tempt them back over here for a while later. They can’t come often but they won’t miss Mother’s Day. They’re good girls, both of them.’ He looked around at the various tables placed around the edges of the hall, read the category cards, and deposited his wine on one table and the cake, which he had now pulled out of its tin, on another.
‘They look lovely. Did you make them?’
‘Of course. With my own fair hands. Thought I might as well have a go at the men’s categories t
his year. Give old Ken a run for his money. Not that there’ll be many entries, but it’s a bit of fun, isn’t it? And we usually get to taste everything, once the judges have been. You must be sure to try my elderberry wine. Brings hairs to your chest. Or is it tears to your eyes? One or the other!’
I could do with a few new hairs, or just a proper chest, come to that, Madi thought, smiling to herself, but she didn’t say it out loud. The last thing she wanted was to make poor Tom feel as if he’d put his foot in it.
Tom went to a small desk that had been set up at the front and paid his entry fees, collected the cards he needed, filled in his name and placed them next to his entries, face downwards.
‘The judges only turn them over after they’ve decided the winners, so it’s all anonymous,’ he explained. ‘Not that I’m likely to be picked, but you never know your luck.’
‘I suppose today will be my chance to meet a lot of new people, won’t it? Everyone gathered together in one place, taking a peek at the newcomer. I should have put my best wig on.’
‘You have more than one?’
‘Just joking. Best to make fun of myself. So much better than others doing it for me.’
‘Madi, stop it. Nobody is going to make fun of you, with or without the wig. And, for the record, I much preferred seeing you without it.’
‘One person at a time isn’t so scary, but I’m not quite ready to face the world at large just yet, Tom. Step by step, eh?’
‘Whatever you feel comfortable with. Now, let’s see if those scones are ready yet, shall we? It’s the real reason I’ve come, you know. Faith’s strawberry jam is to die for. And I could murder a cup of tea.’
As people came streaming into the main hall, bearing boxes and bottles and vases, Madi followed Tom through to the small kitchen area where two enormous kettles were already on the boil and Patty was furiously transferring scones from tins to plates and dolloping jam into bowls.
‘Not quite ready yet,’ Faith trilled. ‘Give us five minutes and we’ll be open for business.’
‘Right-oh.’ Tom took Madi’s arm and led her through an open doorway and down an alleyway at the side. ‘It’ll be a madhouse in there for the next half an hour while the exhibits arrive, with everyone vying for the best positions and having a nose at the opposition. Let’s wait out in the sunshine for a while, shall we? But tell me if you start to feel cold.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’ She pulled her collar up around her neck but, despite a breeze that was rustling the leaves, it was really quite pleasant out. In her rush to catch up with the other women, she had left her headscarf at home, but there was nothing quite like a wig to keep things … well, she’d like to say warm and snug, but sweaty would be a better description.
There was a small garden area behind the old wooden hall, with a collection of weathered tables and chairs arranged haphazardly on the grass. A couple of fat pigeons rose up from where they had been pecking at the ground and flew away as they approached. ‘They’ll be back soon enough.’ Tom laughed. ‘Once we start dropping crumbs.’
Within moments, Patty came flying out too, opening up a folded tablecloth and smoothing it over the nearest table. With her greying hair and white apron, and her arms flapping around like frantic wings, she looked like an over-sized pigeon herself.
‘Here, let me help you.’ Madi took the pile of linen from under Patty’s arm. ‘I’m sure you’ve got lots to be getting on with, and I can do these.’
‘Oh, thank you, Madi. Two cream teas, is it? Or I can make you a sandwich, if you prefer.’
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to wait on us.’ Tom waved her away. ‘I’ll come in and order at the counter like everyone else. When we’re ready.’
Madi moved around the garden, covering each table with a cloth, then they chose their seats, close to the shelter of the hedge, and sat down. ‘She means well.’
‘Oh, I know, but I do find her a bit … irritating is too strong a word. Just so busy, I suppose. The woman never seems to slow down. It’s like she doesn’t have an off button.’
Madi laughed. ‘But we are ready, aren’t we? For scones and a cup of tea. In fact, I’m famished! You should have let her bring them.’
‘Famished? Didn’t you have any breakfast?’
‘I did, but it’s getting on for lunchtime, isn’t it? Must just be the country air making me hungry. Or the beginnings of recovery. My appetite’s certainly coming back anyway, with a vengeance!’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
‘It is, so long as I don’t stuff myself to the point of obesity.’
‘Madi, I somehow can’t see that happening. You strike me as a woman who knows how to look her best.’
‘All those years in the public eye, I suppose, where appearance is all. Can’t go on stage without the right costume, every hair in its place, the full make-up … I’ve spent my life putting on a serious face or a tragic face or a laughing face, no matter how I might feel inside. I’ve lost weight for a part, padded up for others. It’s all a façade. A charade. Sometimes I forget who the real Madi Cardew is.’
‘And have you found her now?’
‘That’s why I’m here. To escape for a while, to let myself breathe. And it’s working, Tom. Or I hope it is. There’s something about having cancer that changes your view of life, you know. Brings things into focus. The things that have been pushed aside, forgotten.’
‘Like?’
‘Like people. Friendships. Even Patty there. You shouldn’t mock her, you know. She’s tried so hard to be nice to me. Welcomed me into the village. Okay, she can be a bit … in your face, but she’s a good woman. She’s genuine, if you know what I mean, which I have to say a lot of actors aren’t. It’s all me, me, me. And I’ve been guilty of that too, I’m sure. Suddenly my acting life seems a bit superficial, a long way removed from reality. And here … well, this is real life, isn’t it? A village show, open fields, a sick cat, scones and jam …’
‘Okay, I get the hint.’ He stood up and felt in his pocket for his wallet. ‘Scones it is. And a sandwich or two. And tea with two sugars, right? See, I remembered. Sit and enjoy the peace and quiet while you can. The hordes will be joining us out here soon enough.’
He was right, of course. He had no sooner disappeared inside than a string of villagers began to wander into the garden, nodding hello as they rushed to bag a table before they all filled up. Ralph and Sian stopped to ask after Flo and to introduce Ralph’s brother Joe who shook Madi’s hand but looked far too distracted to stop and chat.
‘Oh, don’t mind him,’ Sian said when he’d wandered back inside to get their tea. ‘He can be a moody sod when he wants to be. Not really his thing, this, but their dad wanted them both here in case he won the wine contest. I’m surprised Joe came, to be honest, as he and his dad are hardly speaking these days, but old habits die hard and I think he was hoping Prue might turn up.’
‘Not likely. As far as I know, she’s still at my place, and will be for another two weeks at least.’
‘Ah, but he doesn’t know that. She never did tell him where she went. Or for how long.’
‘Poor boy.’
‘Oh, don’t feel sorry for him. It’s Prue who drew the short straw, and he might be my future brother-in-law so I know I shouldn’t say it, but she’s better off without him, believe me.’
Madi watched them walk away, stopping to chat to just about everyone else who crossed their path. Being the local vet was bound to get you recognised, Madi thought. And liked.
‘Excuse me.’
The boy standing beside her laid one hand on the back of Madi’s chair and waited for her to turn to face him.
‘Oh, hello.’ He was probably about thirteen or fourteen but short for his age, and a bit on the chubby side, and he was wearing a shirt and tie that didn’t quite seem to go with the scuffed trainers (the toes of which he was busily kicking into the grass) or the unruly hair badly in need of a comb. She gave him her best smile, noticing
how anxious he looked, and tried to put him at his ease.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss, but they say you’re famous.’ He lifted his hand from the chair and nibbled at his nails. His cheeks were very red, and he was gazing at her quizzically, as if trying to put a name to the face. She half expected him to produce an autograph book any second now, if only to work out exactly who she was by reading her signature.
‘No. Not famous. Known maybe, among people who go to the theatre, but far from famous. I’m Madalyn Cardew, and you can call me Madi. Miss is for schoolteachers.’
‘Right. I’m Donny.’
‘Ah, we meet at last! I’ve heard a lot about you, Donny. And I’ve heard you in the bell tower, of course.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Have you?’
‘Hard not to, Donny, while I’m living so close to the church.’
‘Sorry. Is it too loud?’ He lowered his eyes. ‘I’m sort of teaching myself, so I haven’t worked out how to do it quietly yet. But I will.’
‘I’m sure you will. Now, would you like to sit down? Perhaps I can tempt you to a scone, once they arrive? I’m sure we can spare one.’
‘Oh, no. Mum’ll be here later. She doesn’t like me to have too many snacks, and she’ll be wanting me to eat my dinner when we get home. After she’s done the judging. Not that she’ll eat much herself tonight, after tasting all those cakes!’
‘A cup of tea then, or a lemonade or something?’
‘No, you’re all right. I just wanted to ask …’
‘Come on, sit. You’re making the place look untidy.’ She pulled out a chair and pointed to it, and Donny reluctantly sat down. ‘Now, what was it you wanted to say? It’s okay, I don’t bite!’
‘I had this idea, you see, Miss. About doing a show. Oh, not like this one, with cakes and things.’ He threw his arms out to encompass the hall and its surroundings. ‘A proper show. On a stage. Music and comedy and stuff.’ He stopped and took a breath before spilling his ideas out, so thick and fast she could hardly keep up. ‘Bells aren’t the only thing I play, I’m learning the guitar as well, and I’ve written some lyrics for a song. Or I could just read them out like poems. Or my mate Sean could sing them. He can sing okay. Or thinks he can. And tell jokes. And there are these girls from school who pretend to be The Supremes, in the playground at break times. You know, that girl group from the old days. They can’t be the Spice Girls or Little Mix cos there’s only the three of them, but they’re quite good, I think, even though only one of them is actually black …’
