Finding Margo

by Susanne O'Leary

  “I don’t know.” Margo suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach. “I might stay on for a bit. I like Paris. It’s my favourite city.”

  “You know your way around then?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve been there many times.”

  “OK, here’s the exit you asked for,” Gráinne announced. “Are you sure that’s where you want to get off? I mean you could go with me a bit further.”

  “No, this is fine. I can take a train to Paris and then the Metro to my friend’s apartment. And this way you don’t have to go all the way into the city centre.”

  “OK. Suit yourself.” Gráinne turned into the exit and drove up the slip road to the roundabout. They could see the train station as they drove into the small village.

  Gráinne pulled up the truck. “Here we are,” she announced. “Right at the station. Fecking brilliant driving, even if I say so myself.”

  “Absolutely,” Margo agreed. She gathered up her bags. “Well, this is it then. Thank you and—”

  “Hang on,” Gráinne said, rummaging around in the glove compartment. “I’ll give you my mobile number. Just in case, right? You never know when you might need to get in touch. Got to have something to write on somewhere... Here we are.” She picked up a piece of crumpled paper and scribbled something on it. “There. Give us a shout if – well, you know.”

  “Thanks.” Margo shoved the piece of paper into her handbag.

  “Well, that’s it. See ya around sometime.” Gráinne hesitated and then suddenly held out her hand. “Goodbye and good luck and all that crap. Thanks a lot for helping out with the horses.”

  “No, thank you so much. For—for—everything.” On impulse, Margo leaned over and gave Gráinne a kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh shit,” Gráinne muttered, turning red. “It was nothing.”

  Margo opened the door and climbed down onto the street. She looked up at Gráinne for a moment. “Goodbye,” she whispered and without looking around, walked swiftly across the street into the railway station.

  ***

  Margo rang the bell and heard it echo inside the apartment. There was no sound for what seemed like an age and she pressed the button again. Still nothing. She was about to turn around and leave when the big door suddenly swung open. She smiled expectantly as a slim woman wearing a black dress, at least five rows of pearls and with her dark hair swept up in a French twist, came into view.

  “Fiona! Hi!’ Margo stepped forward, ready to kiss her friend on the cheek, but Fiona stepped back, a look of horror on her face and stared at Margo as if she had seen a ghost.

  “Margo,” she gasped, putting a hand to her chest. “You’re alive. Thank God.”

  “Alive?” Margo said. “Of course I am. What’s the matter? I know it must be a huge surprise, and I should have called first to tell you I was in town, but I thought—”

  Fiona grabbed Margo roughly by the arm and pulled her into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “What are you—,” Margo protested, trying to shake loose.

  “Shut up,” Fiona hissed. “Come with me.” She propelled Margo through the hall, down a corridor, and through a large kitchen where two waitresses making canapés looked at them curiously. “Just carry on,” Fiona snapped at them and pulled a door open. She dragged Margo into a small sitting room. “We can talk here.”

  “But Fiona,” Margo panted, trying to catch her breath after the sprint from the front door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sit down,” Fiona ordered as she locked the door.

  “OK.” Margo sat down on a small sofa and stared at Fiona. “Please, why are you so...”

  Fiona twirled around. “Why am I so what?” she snapped. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you know everybody’s looking for you?”

  “Everybody? What do you mean? Who is looking for me?”

  “Christ, I don’t believe this.” Fiona wrung her hands. “How can you not know that there is a huge manhunt for you? The French police have been looking for you all over the country since you disappeared yesterday. Alan thinks you were kidnapped from some motorway café! Your picture has been on every news programme on television and the papers are full of...” Fiona turned around and took a newspaper from a table beside the television. “Look, you’re on the front page of Le Figaro!” She held it up.

  “Where did he get that?” Margo stared at the picture, feeling confused. “I look terrible in that picture.” She took the newspaper from Fiona. “Oh, God,” she muttered as she read. “This is awful.”

  “You bet it is. You have no idea how—” Fiona stopped suddenly and waved her hand in front of her nose. “Sorry, darling, but what is that smell?”

  “What smell? Oh, horse probably,” Margo replied with a little laugh. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute.” She frowned at the picture. “But why did Alan phone you if he thought I had been kidnapped?”

  “I don’t know. He said he remembered that you had mentioned looking us up while you were in France and thought you might have come here to ask for my help or something. He was not very pleasant, I have to tell you.”

  “I can imagine,” Margo muttered as she continued to read the article. “Oh God, the police seem to think I was taken away by force by some truck driver.”

  “Weren’t you?” Fiona stared at Margo with her huge Bambi eyes.

  “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had a row, you see, and Alan was behaving like such a mean shit.”

  “So? I mean, don’t they all?” Fiona said, looking confused.

  Margo put down the newspaper. “No, this was too horrible. It was more like some kind of abuse. I just felt I couldn’t take any more. We stopped at this petrol station, and I went in to the restaurant for a cup of coffee. And then, I—I just kind of—I don’t know. Something snapped I suppose. I just felt I couldn’t face him. I left while he was filling the car. I walked across to the other side of the motorway and—”

  Fiona looked startled. “You just took off? Right there in the middle of the motorway?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” Fiona said. “I see. I know you’ve told me Alan has a bit of a temper, and I have to say, it wasn’t very nice to be on the receiving end of it this morning, but—” She stopped.

  “But what?”

  “You’re not thinking of leaving him, are you? For good, I mean?”

  Margo thought for a moment. She looked at the newspaper with her picture and the headline about a missing Englishwoman with a feeling that it was about someone else. “Leave him?” she said, a little shocked at the idea. “No, that really didn’t cross my mind. I just felt like I needed some space. Just for a little while, anyway. It all happened so fast. I haven’t stopped to think, really. I just walked away, and then—”

  “But how did you get here?”

  “That’s what I was about to tell you.” Margo laughed. “I got a lift with this rather quaint Irishwoman in a horse truck, or whatever you call it. We got off the motorway and drove...” She paused. “I suppose that’s why the police didn’t find me. Anyway, we stayed the night on a farm and—oh, Fiona, did you ever go to pony camp?”

  “What?” Fiona looked confused again. “Pony camp? What does that have to do with anything? But no, since you ask, I didn’t.”

  “Oh. Well, if you had you’d know what I mean. It was just like that. You would have laughed if you had seen me, wearing wellies and working with the horses and eating sausages. It was fun, though. And this woman was really, uh, unusual, but nice.”

  “Well, the Irish are charming, of course,” Fiona nodded, “quite charming. But go on. What happened then?”

  “Then I came here, because I thought I could stay with you for a couple of days while I—”

  “Here?” Fiona suddenly looked very nervous.

  “Oh, I know you’re having a party and everything, but—”

  “Yes we are. A very important party, as a matter of fact. The ambassador is coming, you know
. We’ve been trying to invite him for six months. It’s so important for Marcus’ career that we show how we can entertain at the very highest level.”

  “Of course. I understand. And I won’t disturb you at all. If I could just stay in your guest room for a couple of days—”

  “And then you’ll go back to London?”

  “Yes, of course. Eventually.” Margo put the newspaper on the coffee table, got up, and took Fiona’s arm. “Please,” she pleaded, “let me stay. It’ll just be for a few days. I need to get myself together. I need a bit of a rest, that’s all. A holiday, I suppose. Yes, that’s it. A holiday. Have you never felt like having a holiday on your own?”

  Fiona pulled away and looked sternly at Margo. “No, I haven’t. And I have to tell you that it was very irresponsible of you to just take off like that. I’ve been out of my mind with worry, you know, thinking you were...Oh God, I can’t even say it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Margo whispered, feeling guilty. “I didn’t realise this would have any impact on you or anyone else.”

  “You just didn’t stop to think, did you? I was so upset I...I nearly cancelled the party!’

  “No!’ Margo stared at Fiona in mock horror. “You thought I was dead and you nearly cancelled the party? I’m really touched.”

  “Stop it,” Fiona snapped. “It’s not funny.”

  “No,” Margo agreed, “it’s not.”

  “You’re in a big mess, you know,” Fiona remarked. “Alan is not going to be amused when you turn up and he finds out what you did. He’s going to be so annoyed when it turns out that—”

  “That I’m not dead? That I wasn’t kidnapped, raped and murdered, and my body thrown into ditch?”

  “Yes... No...I mean... You know what I mean.” Fiona’s face turned red. “I think you should call Alan as soon as possible, if only to make him call off the police. You needn’t tell him where you are. You could explain to him that you didn’t know what you were doing, that you were having some kind of mood swing. Something hormonal. You’re getting to the age when—”

  “What do you mean?” Margo demanded angrily. “Are you suggesting I’m menopausal? I’m only thirty-seven, for God’s sake. And don’t look at me in that patronising way! You’re only a year younger, so if I’m menopausal, so are you!’

  “Shh, there’s no need to shout.” Fiona looked at the door as if someone would be able to hear them through the thick oak panelling. “Calm down.”

  “I’m perfectly calm,” Margo snapped. “But if you don’t think you can put me up, I think I’ll be going now.”

  “No, don’t go,” Fiona said, looking suddenly contrite. “It’s all right. You can stay here for a little while. A few days. Until you feel ready to go back to Alan.” She looked at her watch. “Shit! It’s nearly seven o’clock. I have to go and make sure everything is OK and the chef has arrived. Marcus is supposed to have organised the drinks trolley in the drawing room. I have to go and check that too and that he has changed. It’s black tie, but if I don’t tell him, he’ll forget and put on a suit instead. And then I’ll have to make sure Rufus is behaving and doing his homework and not driving the au pair mad and—”

  “Darling Rufus,” Margo said with false warmth in her voice. “How is he?”

  “Fine, just fine.” Fiona looked suddenly both sad and worried. “It’s just that he hasn’t settled into school very well. We’re having a few problems with discipline, but I’m sure that’s just because he was quite upset by the move and losing his friends. They’re very strict in this school, and he isn’t used to—”

  “Doing what he’s told?”

  Fiona glared at her. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Isn’t it funny how people who have no children always—” She stopped as she looked at Margo’s face. “Oh, God. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just so stressed at the moment. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.”

  “It’s OK. Forget it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fiona said and put her hand on Margo’s shoulder. “Look, I’ll just show you the guest room and then—”

  “That’s fine. Thank you so much, darling. You really are a brick.” Margo wrapped her arms around Fiona. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, I swear.”

  “Yes, all right,” Fiona said, peeling Margo’s arms off her and smoothing her hair. “Fine.” She unlocked the door and gestured silently for Margo to follow her down the corridor and into a bright, pretty room with a big double bed. “This is it. Bathroom through there. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some sheets and towels.”

  “What are you going to say to Marcus?”

  “Oh.” Fiona shrugged. “I’ll just tell him you’re staying the night and that you’ll sort everything out in the morning. He’s so occupied with the party and the ambassador and what he is going to say in his little welcome speech that he wouldn’t care if an Iraqi terrorist was in the guest room. Don’t worry.” Fiona walked to the door and opened it.

  “By the way,” Margo called after her, “love your dress. Terribly ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.”

  “Thank you, darling.” Fiona smiled, slipped out of the room and softly closed the door.

  ***

  Margo went to the window and looked out. The room had a view of the tree-lined street and a small square with a little pond. She stepped away from the window and looked around the room, peered at a print of Paris, idly picked up a paperweight, and finally sat on the bed, bouncing up and down as if to test the mattress. It was the first time she had had a chance to think since her ‘escape’ the day before. She stared in front of her, going through everything that had happened and trying to get a grip on her feelings, but her mind was a blank. She didn’t really know what to do next. But she enjoyed the peace and quiet all the same – the feeling of not having to do anything for the moment but stay here in this bright room and relax. Fiona would let her stay until she had decided what she was going to do. Very kind of her, Margo thought – in fact, surprisingly kind. Fiona didn’t usually go out of her way for people if it didn’t suit her.

  They had met at the gym about ten years earlier when Margo was engaged to Alan and Fiona newly married to Marcus. They had got into the habit of having a cup of coffee after the aerobics class and chatted about their respective lives: Margo about her job at the hospital and her forthcoming marriage and Fiona about her budding career as a solicitor, her little boy, and her husband, who had a promising future as a diplomat. Not really close friends, Margo thought, but they enjoyed each other’s company and being useful as dinner party guests at each other’s houses. Margo admired Fiona’s fashion sense and impeccable taste, and Fiona seemed impressed with Margo’s choice of husband. If she only knew the real Alan, Margo thought, as she sat on the bed. She wouldn’t find him so marvellous. But she’s right about one thing – I’ll have to get in touch with him. And of course, I’m not going to leave him. Whatever gave her that idea? He’ll be furious, of course, but only for a while. But right now, I’ll just rest and try to get a good night’s sleep. I must have a bath and get rid of the smell of horse. Maybe Fiona will lend me some bubble bath. She always has lovely bath products. I’ll go and ask her. Margo slowly opened the door a crack and tried to figure out where Fiona was. She could hear the maids in the kitchen, chatting softly, and voices at the other end of the corridor. Fiona and Marcus – talking about the party, probably. But the voices were suddenly louder, more intense as if they were arguing about something. She could hear Fiona’s voice, low and insistent, and Marcus’, indignant, protesting. Margo tiptoed closer, until she was right outside the half-open door...

  “But she has just arrived,” she could hear Fiona say. “Out of the blue. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You have to call Alan,” Marcus said. “He has a right to know. Can’t you imagine what the poor man is going through?”

  “Margo said he was absolutely beastly to her. That’s why she ran away.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Marcus snorted. “He�
�s a very decent chap and a Harley Street specialist. Always very correct. A perfect gentleman.”

  “I know. I find it really unbelievable too.”

  “Did Alan say where he was when he called?” Marcus asked.

  “He said he was in Cannes. At this conference they were going to. He said it helped him to have something to do.”

  “He’s very brave.”

  “Yes, he’s bearing up amazingly well,” Fiona said.

  “So what are you going to do with her?” Marcus sounded annoyed. “I hope you’re not taking Margo’s side in all of this. I don’t think you should be involved at all, actually. Why should you? She didn’t show any consideration for anyone else when she just took off like that. Where did she go? And how on earth did she manage not to get caught?”

  “She hitched a lift with a truck driver,” Fiona said. “Some woman transporting horses to Ireland. Margo seemed to have enjoyed it. Said it was just like pony camp. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Sweet?” Marcus said. “She’s hysterical, can’t you see that? She must be having some kind of breakdown. She might even be dangerous.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Marcus sighed. “Well, maybe that was a little over the top. In any case, I really don’t need this right now, Fiona. I thought we agreed that you would concentrate on me during this posting and not go off on one of your mad schemes.”

  “But I have,” Fiona protested. “I even took leave of absence from my job for you. I’ve done nothing but run around for you since we came here, and—”

  “Oh, all right,” Marcus interrupted. “I know all that. But this is a very important evening for me. You know I was hoping to tell the ambassador about this idea I have, to make the French start buying British beef again since the BSE scandal. It’s pure nonsense on their part to keep the ban.”

  “I know, I know,” Fiona soothed. “You told me. And everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry about Margo. She won’t ruin your evening.”

  “You bet she won’t. You’re going to get rid of her right now.”

  “But darling, that’s not very kind.”

  “I know, but she doesn’t deserve kindness after all the trouble she caused. I’d call the police, but I don’t want them here just when the guests arrive, so—”