Rules for a Perfect Life

by Niamh Greene

  ‘And Edward? I’m sure he’s helping you to settle in.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. If calling me useless behind my back counts as helping – but I keep that thought to myself.

  ‘I’m a very good friend of Edward’s – you may have heard that.’

  There’s a certain tone in her voice – she’s not threatening me exactly, but she’s definitely trying to convey a particular message. I just haven’t figured out what it might be. ‘Um, no, I don’t think I have.’

  No one mentioned an Odette, did they? Perhaps someone did and I’ve forgotten – I’ve been so tired from the physical activity it’s all one big blur.

  I glance to my left and see the unmistakable heads of Peg and Ted peering out from the shop window. They’re watching this little encounter.

  ‘Well, I am.’ She lowers her voice, as if she’s afraid she may be overheard. ‘If I’m frank, we’re more than friends, really.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I watch as she fiddles with the pearl necklace draped round her neck. I’m starting to think she’s not doing high fashion, after all. Maybe her attire isn’t an ironic nod to the 1950s. Maybe she just dresses like an eighty-year-old woman.

  ‘We’re in a relationship but we’re trying to be discreet about it, if you know what I mean,’ she continues.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Odette is making me feel very uncomfortable – there’s something creepy about her eyes. She looks almost wolf-like. As if she might gobble me up in a second.

  ‘Well, out of respect for his deceased wife, of course. Edward doesn’t want all the villagers …’ she whips her head around to make sure no one is watching and I catch Peg and Ted ducking out of view ‘… to know about us. Not just yet. It wouldn’t be … proper.’

  ‘I see.’ Why is she telling me all this? What does it have to do with me?

  ‘Yes. So now you know.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I’m completely lost. I’m also sweaty and tired, and I’m dying for a cup of tea.

  ‘I think it’s important to tell you about Edward and me,’ she says, ‘in case there’s any … confusion.’ She stares directly at me.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I’ve no idea what Odette is talking about. Why would I care who Edward has a relationship with? I have to say, though, that I’m very surprised he’s going out with this woman – she strikes me as a nasty piece of work and I already dislike her intensely from her super-sleek bobbed hair to the tip of her pointy stilettos. I could never imagine him with her – she’s far too glacial for him, surely. Then again, even if Edward seems nice enough, he may not be. After all, his daughter claims he’s been less than complimentary about me. I have to remember that.

  Odette frowns, as if she can’t understand why I’m so stupid. Then suddenly the penny drops. I realize she’s staking her claim on Edward. She thinks I’m interested in him!

  ‘Well, Edward has been quite vulnerable since his wife passed away,’ she says. ‘Certain types might want to take … advantage of that.’ She picks a minuscule speck of fluff from her arm and flicks it away with her sharp nails.

  ‘What exactly are you suggesting?’ I glare at her. I feel a bubble of anger rise inside me – how dare she imply that I’m some sort of predator, stalking Edward?

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ she says coolly, rearranging her twinset so that it sits just so on the waist of her tweed skirt. ‘I’m just disseminating the information so we’re clear.’

  Then she gazes steadily at me again. She definitely gets Botox – her forehead hasn’t moved once during this conversation. In fact, her entire face is almost frozen. Whoever did it hasn’t done much of a job – good Botox can make you look years younger and fresher. Claire used to swear by it before she turned all happy-clappy, but her face never looked anything like this – like a freaky life-size plastic doll’s. Then again, Claire used to attend the most expensive dermatologist in the city for regular top-ups. Miss Twinset here could be injecting herself with something from her veterinary bag to cut corners.

  What can Edward see in her? And what about the children – what must they make of her? If they even know about her, that is. Maybe Edward hasn’t broken it to his children that he’s dating Odette – she did say they’re trying to keep their relationship quiet. I wonder what Matilda will do when she finds out – I can’t imagine her throwing her arms round Odette and welcoming her into the family. And Polly will definitely have something to say: she’s not one to hold back her opinion, even if she is only six.

  ‘Listen, Odette, I have a boyfriend back home, OK?’ I say coldly. ‘I’m spoken for, so you don’t need to worry.’ This lie trips off my tongue and I don’t feel an iota of guilt about it.

  ‘You do?’ Odette’s eyes light up.

  ‘Yes.’ Another lie, but she’s not to know, is she?

  A vision of Robert crying openly as I left him pops into my head and I say a silent prayer that he’s doing better now. He really didn’t take the break-up well – watching him dissolve into tears like that had made it so difficult to see through my decision. If I hadn’t known deep inside that I was making the right choice for both of us I might have faltered right then and there.

  ‘Well, that’s a different matter.’ Odette smoothes out her twinset again and then straightens her pearl necklace once more so that it lies neatly against her décolletage. ‘I’m glad we got that sorted out. Will he be paying you a visit, this boyfriend of yours?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply frostily. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to get on.’

  I inch my way round her – if I don’t have that tea soon my throat will close up completely.

  ‘Of course. I’ll leave you to it.’

  She smiles benignly at me as she walks away and I grit my teeth at her in return. This place is full of crackpots. Either they are all related or there’s something in the water. I’ll have to boil the kettle more than once before I make my tea.

  I watch warily as she crosses the road, then lowers herself into a pretty swanky red sports car and takes off at high speed, leaving a trail of dust behind her. It’s certainly not conventional transport for a country vet. Then again, Odette is not what I ever pictured a country vet would look like. I’ll bet she makes a point of being glamorous at all times – she probably looks just as good when she’s helping a cow to calve. I can’t imagine her ever breaking into an unseemly sweat or letting a mere animal muss her perfection.

  She’s certainly made it abundantly clear how the village hierarchy works: the country vet is obviously a powerful member of the community and she’s made damn sure I understand this. She’s also made it very clear that Edward is off limits – she couldn’t have been any plainer if she’d pulled plans for the big house’s remodel from her handbag. She’s intent on becoming Mrs Edward Kirwan, Lady of the Manor, and nothing will stop her. Not the villagers, Edward’s daughters, or his mother-in-law. She’d have them all for breakfast and not think twice.

  I’m in my car, instinctively indicating to pull out, even though there isn’t another vehicle to be seen on the street other than a parked Massey Ferguson tractor with a missing wheel, when Peg and Ted come rushing from the shop.

  ‘Maggie! Maggie!’ they shout in unison, bounding up the path.

  I think about taking off and pretending I don’t hear them, but it’s too late.

  ‘We’re sorry to bother you,’ Peg pants at my window.

  ‘But we wanted to apologize,’ Ted continues.

  ‘Apologize?’

  ‘Yes,’ Peg says, looking ashamed. ‘We shouldn’t have laughed at you in the shop.’

  ‘No, we shouldn’t, it was rude,’ Ted agrees, nodding earnestly. ‘It was very improper. Very funny, mind, but still very improper.’

  ‘You weren’t to know that Blackie was a tom cat,’ Peg goes on.

  ‘No, you weren’t.’ Ted’s mouth twitches at the corners. ‘Although it was hilarious.’ He breaks into chuckles.

  ‘Now, Ted, don’t set me off,’ Peg says, strugglin
g to stay serious. ‘You know you’ve a very infectious laugh – you’ll start me going again and Maggie here will think we’re terrible.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Ted composes himself. ‘Anyway, Maggie, we wanted to say we’re sorry.’

  ‘Yes, we’re sorry,’ Peg chimes in, as if they’ve practised it beforehand.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I say. I can’t hold it against them – thinking back, it was pretty funny, even if they are certifiable. ‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’

  Now that I’ve accepted their apology they can go back to their shop feeling happy and I can get on with making that cup of tea.

  ‘Well, there is one other thing,’ Ted says.

  ‘There is?’ Why doesn’t this surprise me?

  ‘Yes. You see, we’ve had a brainwave,’ Peg continues. ‘It’s about the supermarket.’

  ‘The supermarket?’ I look at the leaflet that Peg has shoved into my hands. ‘Save Glacken Village!’ it screams, in large red lettering.

  ‘Xanta is trying to build one of its cut-price supermarkets just outside the village,’ she says, her voice wavering.

  ‘And that would be a bad thing?’ Surely a Xanta store would do brilliant business round here – value supermarkets have been popping up all over the country since the recession hit. The papers say they’re the only businesses benefiting from the downturn – people want value for money in their trolley now more than ever.

  ‘Of course it would be a bad thing, Maggie.’ Peg looks at me as if I’m the crazy one. ‘We don’t want one of those awful places here – it would change the village for ever.’

  I can’t help thinking that Glacken could do with a bit of a change. Maybe this supermarket could force it to step out of the musty past and into the present. But I don’t say this because Peg and Ted look positively distraught at the idea.

  ‘So, we’ve started a campaign,’ Peg goes on.

  ‘A campaign to stop the supermarket destroying the com-munity,’ Ted adds. ‘Because if it’s built no one will bother coming into the village any more – there’ll be no passing traffic.’

  ‘And if there’s no passing traffic then …’ Tears well in Peg’s eyes and she’s unable to go on.

  Ted reaches out to grip her hand. ‘It’ll be OK, girl,’ he says firmly. ‘If I have to lie down in front of a bulldozer to stop this thing I will!’

  ‘Ah, Ted, you’re an ole dote.’ Peg smiles unsteadily at him. ‘We think you could help, Maggie. We need someone like you.’ Her eyes are pleading. ‘There’s a meeting tonight for both sides to air their views. Will you come?’

  ‘Both sides?’

  ‘Yes, some people, naming no names, think this supermarket is a good idea.’ Peg’s face darkens.

  ‘She means that Odette,’ Ted explains.

  ‘She thinks it’s a great idea!’ Peg cries bitterly. ‘What would she know about it?’

  ‘Now, now, Peg, take it easy,’ Ted counsels. ‘So, Maggie, will you come?’ He turns back to me.

  ‘Um, I’m not sure what I could do,’ I say uneasily. ‘I don’t know anything about supermarkets.’ And I don’t want to be dragged into village politics – all this is nothing to do with me.

  ‘But you have an artistic brain – we could do with one of those,’ Ted says.

  ‘Artists look at the world differently,’ Peg adds confidently. ‘You’ll probably be able to come up with some brilliant ideas.’

  ‘And you’ll be able to paint some posters,’ Ted suggests. ‘You know – for the campaign, like.’

  ‘Ted! That’s a brilliant idea!’ Peg says, beaming up at him. ‘You’re a genius so you are!’

  ‘Ah, no, I’m not,’ Ted says bashfully.

  ‘You are. You’re far too modest – isn’t he, Maggie?’ She gazes adoringly at him. ‘We’re married for thirty-two years, did you know that?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ I reply. How could I possibly know that? I only met them for the first time today. These two are complete crackpots.

  ‘Yes, thirty-two years of wedded bliss and he still manages to surprise me every day,’ Peg says in wonder.

  Ted clutches her hand and they stare lovingly at each other.

  I don’t know what to say. And, anyway, I don’t have to say much because they’re far too busy cooing over each other to notice me any more.

  ‘Thanks for the leaflet anyway.’ I go to drive away, hoping they’re so wrapped up in each other that they’ve forgotten about me and I can escape.

  ‘Wait!’ Peg springs away from Ted and grabs my arm. ‘Please come tonight, Maggie – we need you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ted says. ‘Please come.’

  ‘There’ll be cake,’ Peg adds, like that might be enough to persuade me.

  ‘And you can meet everyone,’ Ted goes on. ‘They’re going to love you. Although you’ve already met Odette.’

  Peg’s face twists again at the mention of her name. ‘Don’t let her put you off,’ she leans in close to me and whispers. ‘The rest of us are nothing like her.’

  ‘Nothing at all like her,’ Ted agrees passionately.

  ‘But there’s no point getting into all that now.’ Peg nudges Ted. ‘Maggie will find out soon enough.’

  ‘You’re right!’ Ted agrees cheerfully. ‘So, we’ll see you tonight, then, in the parish hall at seven p.m. There’ll be tea and sandwiches, as well as cake, so don’t be late.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me, Ted, I forgot to boil the eggs.’ Peg is in an immediate flap at the mention of sandwiches.

  ‘Quick so, we’d better go – there’ll be murder if you don’t bring your egg sandwiches.’ Ted swats her bottom and Peg giggles girlishly.

  ‘Go on out of that, you cheeky pup! But you’re right, I’d better get moving – that Betty in the butcher’s would only love it if I didn’t make any. She’s been trying to outdo me with her sausage rolls for years, hasn’t she, Ted?’

  ‘She has that, my love, but who wants a limp sausage roll?’

  ‘Ah, Ted, they’re not that bad.’ Peg looks thrilled with this verdict.

  ‘They are so – everyone avoids them like the plague. Not like your sandwiches, Peg – no one can resist them. They have a special ingredient,’ he says to me.

  ‘Do they?’ This is surreal.

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed they do. But I can’t tell you what that is – if I did, I’d have to kill you! Now, the hall is just across the road – we’ll see you there.’

  I twist my head to see a squat grey building, but before I can make an excuse about why I can’t attend the meeting, Peg and Ted have bounded away again. I’m left sitting speechless in my car, the milk carton, which has decided to spring a leak after its altercation with Odette’s pointy bosoms, dripping slowly into my lap.

  Rule Twelve: Proceed with due caution

  ‘Order!’ Peg roars, her cheeks pink.

  I’m impressed that she can project her voice so successfully across such a crowded room – for a small woman she can really pack a punch.

  ‘Order!’ she bellows again, and everyone stops chattering.

  ‘Now settle down, people,’ she says sternly. ‘Let’s not frighten the new girl!’

  I squirm with mortification in my seat. When I first got here, Ted himself guided me to a place in the front row, then handed me a cup of tea and one of Peg’s famous egg sandwiches. I have to admit, they are delicious – I’ve half a mind to ask her for the secret recipe. I’ve sat here, trying to look inconspicuous, ever since, but I’m keenly aware that people are staring at me curiously and I’m feeling incredibly self-conscious.

  ‘Now,’ Peg says, ‘this is Maggie. Maggie is an internationally recognized artist so we’re very lucky to have her here in the village. The great news is, she’s agreed to give us some input about the proposed supermarket development. Isn’t that marvellous?’

  Internationally recognized artist? I never said that! I never even hinted that. I just said I was a painter – how has she made that leap?

  I look at Peg’s happy
expression and I know she’s inflating my importance to impress the audience, half of whom are now craning their necks to see me.

  ‘Now, Maggie, if you’d like to say a few words.’

  Say a few words? I look wildly at Ted, who’s smiling broadly at me and gesturing with his hands that I’m expected to stand up and say something. There’s polite, if muted, clapping as I rise from my seat.

  What on earth do they expect me to say? How did I ever agree to come? I wouldn’t be here at all if Peg and Ted hadn’t arrived at my door at six forty-five p.m., declared they were there to give me a lift to the meeting and bundled me into their little white van. I suddenly long to be curled up in front of a flat-screen TV, back in the city, where I feel safe and I’m not dragged to mad places I don’t want to go to.

  ‘Hello, everybody.’ I look around the room and three dozen pairs of beady eyes stare back at me. They don’t look all that friendly. Some seem downright surly.

  ‘Um, my name is Maggie and I’d be delighted to help in any way I can,’ I stutter.

  I see an overweight man in a blue wool jumper fold his arms and roll his eyes, like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. He’s right not to, of course – I don’t really want to help at all and I have no intention of sticking round here for long enough to find out what happens with the supermarket. By then I’ll be gone. Long, long gone.

  ‘Maggie said she’d do a few posters for us!’ Ted beams proudly. ‘Isn’t that great altogether?’

  The crowd don’t look all that enthusiastic. I distinctly hear someone mutter, ‘Big swing.’ It might have been the man in the blue jumper – I can’t be sure.

  ‘What approach do you think we should take, Maggie?’ Peg asks earnestly, just before I lower myself back into my seat. My muscles are screaming in agony from the stable work – I feel tired and stiff all over.

  ‘Approach?’

  ‘To the proposed supermarket development. Should we be peaceful or more “active”, if you know what I mean?’

  There’s an excited murmur when she says that – clearly a few of the locals are in favour of some sort of civil disobedience to liven things up.