Rules for a Perfect Life

by Niamh Greene

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Odette,’ Edward replies, looking a tad flummoxed by her sudden appearance from nowhere. From his expression, he’s not overly thrilled to see her either. Interesting. Very interesting.

  ‘Saffy’s OK now,’ Polly huffs. ‘She doesn’t need to see you.’

  ‘Well, better safe than sorry, isn’t that right?’ Odette tinkles. ‘Why don’t you lead her out and I can see how she looks?’

  ‘Honestly, Odette, she’s fine,’ Edward says. ‘Right as rain.’

  ‘Still, I’d just like to check her again. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her …’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Polly is immediately alarmed. If anything ever happened to her precious Saffy she’d be bereft.

  ‘Well, infections can look like they’ve cleared,’ Odette says, ‘but sometimes they linger …’

  ‘And?’ Polly’s little face is white with fear and I resist the urge to lean across and slap Odette hard. It’s like she’s deliberately trying to scare her. She knows how Polly feels about her pony – there’s nothing on earth more precious to that child.

  ‘Well, then,’ Odette looks deadly serious, ‘the infection can travel through the bloodstream and head to the heart. It can be fatal.’

  ‘You mean Saffy could die?’ Polly whimpers.

  ‘That’s not going to happen, darling,’ Edward consoles his daughter. ‘Odette, I don’t think that’s what you meant, is it?’ He is clearly very annoyed that she has put such a notion into Polly’s head. She’s an idiot – doesn’t she realize that six-year-olds are very impressionable?

  ‘No, of course it isn’t,’ Odette backtracks, visibly alarmed by Edward’s tone. ‘There’s probably no need to check her. I was only trying to help. Maybe I should go.’

  ‘No! Don’t go!’ Polly screams, terrified. ‘Dad, let’s get Saffy, quick! I want her to be safe!’

  ‘OK, it can’t hurt, I suppose.’ Edward looks oddly at Odette, then follows Polly as she bounds away to Saffy’s stable.

  ‘So, Maggie.’ Odette places her veterinary bag on the ground. ‘I must say you look quite at home – it’s amazing that you’ve settled in so quickly.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know …’ I wipe my grimy hands on my tracksuit. I’ve given up all hope of it ever recovering from this experience – even the Juicy logo on the bum is barely legible any more. My jeans are the same – no matter how much I wash them, they still look filthy.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Odette says. ‘I think you’re fitting in very well for such a city girl. It’s all so … cosy.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that.’ There’s nothing cosy about mucking out. But then I get the feeling that’s not exactly what Odette is referring to. I really don’t want to talk to this woman: she makes me feel very uncomfortable – and more so because she’s dressed immaculately, as always, even though she’s on call, while I’m soaked in sweat and probably looking a complete fright.

  ‘I just don’t know how you do it all, Maggie,’ she goes on, steadfastly ignoring what I’ve just said. ‘I mean, you’re here to paint – that’s what I understand anyway – and yet you’re finding time to do so much else as well. It’s so … commendable.’

  I can tell from her tone that ‘commendable’ is not the word she wants to use. ‘What do you mean, Odette?’

  ‘Well, here you are, working so hard in the stables …’

  ‘That’s part of the lease agreement.’ It’s not as if I want to work here, even if I have grown very fond of the ponies. They all have such different personalities – the thought of not seeing them every morning when I go home makes me feel a little sad. The city seems almost like a foreign country now. With a shock, I suddenly realize I haven’t really thought about it in days.

  ‘It’s part of the lease agreement?’ Odette’s eyes widen. It looks like this revelation is news to her.

  ‘Well, yes – didn’t Edward tell you?’ How strange that he hadn’t said anything – surely if they’re in a relationship they should be discussing this sort of thing.

  ‘Of course, that’s right. I forgot,’ Odette says quickly. ‘But it’s not just here, in the stables. You’re getting so involved in village life as well.’

  ‘I suppose you’re talking about the supermarket?’ I sigh.

  ‘Well, yes. How are you finding the time to develop an interest in it as well as everything else you do? Are you Superwoman?’ She makes an attempt to laugh girlishly, but it sounds more like a strangled sob.

  I put my broom against the wall – there’s no point in trying to work when Odette is buzzing in my ear. ‘Peg and Ted asked me to. I couldn’t really refuse.’

  ‘That’s very worthy of you. But what have Peg and Ted ever done for you exactly?’ She smiles tightly at me and her white teeth gleam.

  She’s had veneers, I’m almost sure of it – her teeth are way beyond what could be considered naturally perfect. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ I say.

  ‘Well, you’re certainly going out of your way to help them out, but why? That’s what’s puzzling.’

  ‘I like them. They asked me for my opinion.’

  ‘Yes, it seems straightforward enough,’ she muses, tucking a stray strand of her glossy hair behind her impossibly petite ears. Has she had them pinned back? For a second I thought I spotted a tiny scar behind one lobe. ‘And yet … something doesn’t quite add up. I mean, they are complete strangers, after all.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t like them,’ I retort.

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just that it makes so little sense. You swoop in, set up house, then throw yourself into village concerns so vigorously. It does seem … unusual … don’t you think?’

  ‘Are you saying I’m not allowed to be involved in the community, Odette? Is that it?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She smiles again, but there’s an unmistakably threatening air about her. ‘I’m just a little confused, that’s all. And then, of course, there’s Edward.’

  ‘What does Edward have to do with it?’

  ‘You’re spending so much time together. You even went to the gymkhana with him.’ Her eyes are boring into mine.

  ‘I was helping out.’

  ‘Helping out. I see. That’s what you’re calling it.’

  ‘I was helping out!’ I protest.

  ‘So you didn’t beg him to go, then?’

  I feel a red heat inch up my neck. Did Edward tell her that? That I’d drunkenly pleaded with him to take me along? He wouldn’t have – would he? Unless … unless he’s been talking about me behind my back to Odette as well as to Matilda. The thought makes me squirm with embarrassment: he’s obviously been having a real laugh at me when I’m not around.

  ‘I have things to do, Odette.’ I grab the brush and go to make my way past her, but she doesn’t budge.

  ‘Would you like to share what you were discussing?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ I can’t believe this.

  ‘What you two discussed. You were together for hours on the journey there and back. Maybe you’d like to share with me what you spoke about.’

  Somewhere inside me a little spark ignites. This woman has gone too far. And maybe, just maybe, this is an opportunity to teach Edward a lesson too. If I stir things up a bit between them, he’ll have to deal with the consequences. Odette is not a woman to be crossed – I can only imagine what it must be like to be in a relationship with someone like her. And Edward deserves some hassle. It might teach him to stop talking about me when I’m not around.

  ‘I can’t reveal that, I’m afraid, Odette,’ I say slowly, arching an eyebrow suggestively at her.

  ‘What?’ she barks, then tries to compose herself. ‘I mean, why not?’

  ‘Well, because the conversation that Edward and I had was private. I couldn’t possibly tell you what we discussed. It would be … betraying a confidence.’

  I pause meaningfully to allow her to digest the implication. She’s absolutely furious – her face is turning a deep purple c
olour that clashes unbecomingly with her baby blue jacket. It’s very, very satisfying.

  ‘Are you telling me that you won’t divulge what you spoke about?’

  A small vein in her neck is bulging and I stifle a giggle. This is brilliantly funny but I don’t want to burst into laughter and give the game away. ‘It’s not that I won’t …’ I say, trying to control the urge to dissolve into hysterics. ‘It’s that I can’t. I’d love to be able to tell you, Odette, but when someone asks you to keep a secret, you can’t very well tell people, can you?’

  ‘A secret? What secret?’

  Her eyes are bugging from her head now and I can see she’s struggling to regain her composure. Good. She’ll probably kill Edward for this – it serves him right for making fun of me. ‘That’s not for me to say.’ I lower my eyes. ‘If Edward wants everyone to know, I’m sure he’ll tell.’

  ‘I’m not exactly everyone,’ she spits.

  ‘Of course, I know that,’ I concur. ‘And you and Edward are close so I’m sure he’ll confide in you very soon. After all, you said yourself that you two have a very special relationship.’

  I watch as she battles to control the rage that threatens to explode on her face.

  ‘I know!’ I say, as if the thought has just occurred to me. ‘Why don’t you ask him about it? Here he comes now.’

  Edward and Polly are walking towards us, leading Saffy. The little pony doesn’t look too pleased to be dragged from her stall to meet the vet. She hates being poked and prodded. I can’t help wishing she’d kick Odette, just to mark her card. That would be priceless.

  ‘I – I –’ Odette splutters.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it, shall I?’ I say sweetly. ‘I have so much artwork to catch up on – the commissions are coming thick and fast. I just can’t keep up!’ With that, I turn on my heel and leave, a big fat grin on my face. It may have been a bit mean to goad Odette like that, but it serves her right for being so hateful. Besides, it was the best fun I’ve had in ages.

  Rule Sixteen: Beware wolves in sheep’s clothing

  ‘I like your gold hot pants,’ I say to Odette.

  She does have good legs, to be fair, although I’m not sure if her pearls and twinset go all that well with the overall look. A belly top might have been better.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replies. ‘I bought them on eBay. Now, give me that mic. It’s my turn on the karaoke machine.’

  ‘What are you going to sing?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘“Secret Lovers”, of course! For Edward!’ She wiggles her hips, then leaps on to the stage, and the crowd in Matty’s pub goes wild.

  I wake suddenly. What a funny dream. It’s such a shame I won’t get to see what happens next. Still grinning, I reach to turn on the bedside lamp and illuminate the inky blackness. I have no idea what woke me or what time it is. It’s so dark here – there isn’t even a chink of light peeking through the curtains, not like the city where there’s always a street lamp to depend on. My fingers are just grappling with the switch when I hear it. A rustle outside the window. Someone’s there. Someone’s trying to break in! I know immediately who it is – it’s the Mad Man of the Woods Matilda told me about! He’s back. He’s heard that a single city girl is living alone in Rose Cottage and he’s come to ransack the place and do God knows what to me. He must have been hiding out in Glacken Woods all this time. He could have been spying on me since I got here – he could have been watching my every move, waiting for this opportunity to pounce.

  I lie frozen with fear, my heart thumping. What on earth should I do? Turn on the light to scare him away, scream for help, try to phone the police?

  Before I can decide, I hear a muffled grunting. He’s trying to get in through the window – if I don’t do something I’ll be murdered in my bed. Forcing myself to move, I leap up, grab my mobile phone and bolt from the room, my mind racing. I need to get out of here before he gets in. Not stopping to think any more, I wrench open the cottage door, run up the path and on to the road towards Edward’s – he’ll know what to do. Heart pounding, I race along, my knees almost buckling with fear. At last I see the manor house and, with one final gigantic effort, I sprint to the front door and hammer on it until Edward appears, his sleepy face startled.

  I’ve obviously woken him up because he’s wearing rumpled pyjamas – not that I would care if he was standing there in his long johns. I just want him to help me.

  ‘The Mad Man’s trying to kill me!’ I gasp, my breath ragged from the exertion of sprinting all the way.

  ‘What?’

  ‘In the cottage! The Mad Man of the Woods!’ I feel a trickle of sweat roll down my neck and into my cleavage. I probably haven’t run that fast since I won the egg-and-spoon race back in primary school.

  ‘A mad man?’

  ‘Yes,’ I pant. God, is he dense? Which part of this does he not understand? ‘He was trying to break into the cottage – I heard him trying to climb through the window,’ I manage to wheeze. Then I promptly burst into tears. This is all too much.

  ‘Right.’ His face is grim now. ‘I’ll get the keys.’

  The keys? How about a rifle? He must have a rifle surely. For hunting? We are in the country, right?

  ‘What on earth is going on?’

  June appears behind Edward and frowns at me. She’s wearing a long white nightdress and has old-fashioned rag curlers in her hair. Evidently she’s been woken from a deep sleep too and she’s very displeased.

  ‘Maggie thinks there may be someone trying to break into the cottage, June,’ Edward says. ‘I’m just going to have a look.’

  ‘A burglar? That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘I heard noises!’ I snuffle through my tears. ‘Someone was rattling the window.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she tuts. ‘It was probably the wind in the trees. Honestly, what a lot of fuss over nothing – you’ve woken the entire house!’

  ‘It wasn’t the wind!’ I protest, rubbing my dripping nose on my arm. I’m suddenly very conscious that I’m barely dressed and Edward and June are watching me shiver in a teeny T-shirt. This must be the third time Edward has seen me like this. But what can I do? It’s not like I had time to pull on my dressing-gown before I ran screaming from the scene of the crime that was about to be committed.

  ‘Well, let’s check it out, shall we? I’ll be back as soon as I can, June.’

  Edward shrugs on a fleece, then takes me by the elbow and steers me outside towards his Land Rover. I can see June scowling at me as we leave, her bushy grey eyebrows pulled low over her cold eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry, Maggie, it’s probably nothing,’ he says, opening the passenger door for me and looking away as I try to hoist myself up without exposing my bottom to him. Of course I’m wearing my greyest knickers. And my legs are probably the hairiest they’ve ever been. The city-centre waxing appointments are long gone and I haven’t bothered to shave for weeks now – my legs look like the Black Forest. Edward must be repulsed, not that I care what he thinks, of course.

  ‘Would you like a hand or …?’ he offers, as I struggle to get in, tugging my T-shirt down around me as best I can. The dismay on his face tells me he doesn’t know where to look.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I snap, annoyed that he and his horrible witch of a mother-in-law are dismissing my fears. I’ve almost been murdered and they’re reacting as if it’s nothing serious. Is this the way people conduct themselves here? Are they so used to rampant violence that they don’t bat an eyelid when something like this happens? Maybe they’re all suffering from violence fatigue. Or maybe some local tipped off the Mad Man that I’d moved in. For all I know, half the village is in cahoots with gangs of professional thugs who roam the countryside just waiting to attack vulnerable women. They’re probably all in on it.

  ‘Like I say, it was probably nothing,’ he says, as the engine jumps into life.

  ‘It was not nothing.’ I glare at him. ‘I heard someone trying to get in. He was – he was … grunting. God knows what he was u
p to.’ I shiver at the thought of what I may have escaped from – it doesn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Well, if someone was trying to get in, I’ll deal with him.’

  Deal with him? What does that mean? Maybe he has got a gun, after all. ‘Do you mean shoot him?’ I tuck my legs beneath me to try to keep warm. I can’t stop shivering, which is obviously the shock of what’s happened.

  ‘Shoot him?’ He turns to look at me. ‘Why would I shoot him?’

  ‘Well, isn’t that what you do down here?’

  ‘What? You mean like vigilantes?’

  ‘Well, yes. That’s what I heard anyway.’ I distinctly remember reading that country folk dealt with crime in their own way – which I took to mean an odd bullet or two in the kneecap for anyone who broke the law.

  ‘Maggie, this is Glacken village, not the Wild West.’ Edward chuckles to himself. ‘We don’t go round shooting people, even if they are breaking and entering. If …’ he pauses and looks sideways at me ‘… that’s what happened.’

  ‘I’m telling you,’ I say very loudly and clearly, so there can be no mistake, ‘someone was trying to climb into my bedroom window. I’m not making it up – I know what I heard.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ he says. ‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you – it’s just that it would be pretty unusual for something like this to happen round here. It’s usually pretty quiet.’

  ‘Except for last year, I suppose?’ I snap. I can’t believe he’s still not acknowledging all those burglaries that Matilda told me about. ‘Or have you conveniently forgotten about that?’

  ‘Last year?’ he says, sounding confused.

  ‘Yes, last year – when there were all those break-ins?’

  ‘Break-ins?’

  It’s hard to read his expression because the interior of the Land Rover is so dark, but he’s certainly managing to sound surprised. Why the cover-up? ‘Yes,’ I bark impatiently. ‘And the Mad Man who’s been camping out in the woods? The one with the criminal record?’