Rules for a Perfect Life

by Niamh Greene

  I look wildly at Edward. How can we ever explain this mess?

  ‘Well,’ Edward clears his throat, ‘it was all a misunderstanding, Jimmy. Maggie here thought someone was breaking in …’

  Jimmy starts to write. ‘“Someone was breaking in,”’ he repeats, word by word. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, no, that’s not exactly what happened,’ I interrupt, and he lifts his head.

  ‘You’re changing your story, are you?’ he says, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously, as if he doesn’t like the look of me one little bit.

  ‘Well, no, I’m not changing my story. I did think someone was breaking in.’

  ‘You’re not retracting your previous statement?’ He pauses, holding the pencil away from his notebook.

  ‘No, I did think that originally,’ I say.

  ‘So you’re sticking to the original version of events, then? Because if you’re changing it, I have to start again.’ He waves the notebook impatiently at me. ‘Time-wasting is a criminal offence, you know.’

  ‘Jimmy,’ Edward weighs in, ‘Maggie did think there was a burglar trying to get into the cottage, but it turns out there wasn’t.’

  Jimmy writes all this down, painfully slowly. ‘So,’ he says, once he’s finished, ‘can you explain why you thought a robbery was being committed? That’s a serious allegation to make.’

  I shift uneasily, tugging Edward’s fleece down round me. Why is he making me feel like I’ve done something wrong? I’m the victim here. Well, I would have been the victim if the burglar had been human. But that’s not the point.

  ‘There was rustling in the bushes,’ I say. ‘There were noises.’

  ‘Noises.’ He writes this down. ‘But you’re sure now it wasn’t a burglar.’

  ‘No,’ Edward confesses. ‘It was Mabel. The sheep.’

  ‘The sheep.’ Jimmy pauses. ‘So if all this was a fuss about nothing – can you tell me why I’m standing here now so instead of tucked up in my bed? I have greyhounds to walk in the morning, you know. They like to be out at six a.m., no later. How can I be expected to do that now? It’s gone three.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Edward says, winking at me as Jimmy stuffs his notebook into his pocket. ‘June never should have called you. I didn’t ask her to.’

  ‘June? June didn’t call me.’ He snorts, glowering at me. ‘The woman knows better than that. She knows about dogs. She knows about routine.’

  ‘Well, if it wasn’t June, who was it?’ I ask.

  ‘You know right well who it was, miss,’ he says. It was you – you called me.’ He waggles his finger at me. ‘And I’ve a good mind to caution you. This is pure messing. I don’t like messing.’

  ‘I didn’t call you!’ I protest. ‘I wanted to – but Edward said he’d deal with it.’

  ‘That’s right – she didn’t call you, Jimmy,’ Edward agrees with me. ‘I was with her the whole time.’

  I smile gratefully at him – at least he’s sticking up for me. That’s nice of him. And he gave me his fleece when I was cold. That was nice too. Maybe he’s not so bad.

  He smiles back at me and I suddenly notice the way his eyes dance when he does. If I wasn’t so furious about Mabel, I might even think he was cute. Really cute … Why didn’t I notice that before?

  ‘Well, someone who said they were you called me and begged me to come out here. If it wasn’t you, then I don’t know who it was. Mabel the sheep, maybe?’ Jimmy stalks back out of the door, huffing about wasting police time and resources.

  I look at Edward again, all thoughts of his dancing eyes gone as the implication of what Jimmy just said hits me hard. I can tell by Edward’s face that he’s realized who did this, just as I have: it was Matilda, I’m sure of it. She wasn’t just playing a silly prank when she spun that tale about the Mad Man of the Woods. She was really trying to frighten me. And now this. She must have heard all the commotion at the manor earlier and then called Jimmy to make things worse. She wants me out of here and I have a funny feeling she’s not going to give up trying to get rid of me any time soon.

  Rule Eighteen: Be a good neighbour

  ‘The very woman!’ Ted exclaims, as I walk into the Village Store.

  ‘Maggie!’ Peg beams. ‘We’re delighted to see you!’

  I cringe – it’s obvious that Peg and Ted have just been talking about me and I can guess exactly why: word has already spread about Mabel the sheep. ‘Hi, Peg, Ted.’

  I’m regretting coming into Glacken, but it’s not like I had a choice – not unless I wanted to make the thirty-mile round trip to the nearest supermarket. Mind you, I’m beginning to think that’s exactly what I should have done – at least then I wouldn’t have had to face the villagers. One or two definitely smirked at me as I parked my car on the main street – now I know why.

  ‘Now, don’t worry, pet, people aren’t laughing at you,’ Ted says. ‘Well, not much, anyway.’

  He’s trying to keep a straight face. I know what this means: it means that the entire village is talking about Mabel breaking into the cottage. I should have known that it would be impossible to keep a secret round here – I’ll never live it down.

  I wonder who told them. It must have been Edward. He’s probably told everyone and had a really good laugh at my expense. So much for him and his stupid dancing eyes.

  ‘I thought I was being broken into,’ I try to explain, feeling the red heat of embarrassment creep up my neck towards my cheeks. They must think I’m a clueless city girl. It all sounds a little silly now, in the cold light of day.

  ‘Of course you did, and why wouldn’t you?’ Peg is understanding. ‘That Mabel is a holy terror for frightening people. That’s the problem with feeding the runts. They start to think they’re human.’

  ‘That’s what Edward said!’ I gasp.

  So he wasn’t teasing me then – maybe that part was true.

  ‘And he’s right.’ Peg nods. ‘Rescued lambs can grow up thinking their place is indoors beside the fire, not out in the pasture. That Mabel especially – she’s a cheeky thing, no mistake.’

  ‘When I heard her at the window, I was convinced someone was trying to get in,’ I explain.

  ‘And, of course, it’s so dark here at night – terrifying if you’re not used to it,’ Ted adds.

  A weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. They know exactly how I feel.

  ‘That’s it!’ I whoop. ‘It’s so black – noises can seem … magnified.’

  ‘Well, of course they can – the long nights would put the fear of God in you unless you were used to it. I sometimes get a little spooked myself and I’m born and bred in Glacken,’ Peg confides.

  I suspect Peg made up that bit so that I won’t feel any more embarrassed than I already do, but because they’re both being so understanding and not at all judgemental, everything seems somehow much better. I had been feeling pretty foolish about the whole incident, but they’re so kind. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid mistake to make, after all.

  ‘I didn’t think I was afraid of the dark, but I’ve never seen darkness like I have here. It’s really scary,’ I confess.

  ‘Ah, sure, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people have irrational fears,’ Peg says. ‘I’ll let you into a little secret, will I? I used to be afraid of flying until I was cured. Wasn’t I, Ted?’

  ‘You were that,’ Ted agrees, looking fondly at her.

  ‘Yes, terrified I was. And then I was hypnotized and sure it doesn’t bother me now at all. You should try it.’

  ‘What – hypnosis?’ I’m not sure about this idea. Not at all sure.

  ‘Yes, it’s absolutely brilliant. I couldn’t even look at a plane before I had it done and now I’ve no problem at all. Do I, Ted?’

  ‘No, she can fly whenever she wants to. She’s a little trouper so she is!’ He puffs out his chest proudly.

  ‘So do you travel a lot more,’ I ask, ‘now that you’re not afraid to fly?’

  ‘Oh, no, I hate travelling.’ Peg bea
ms at me. ‘I prefer to stay at home. Sure why would I want to leave the village? Everything I need is here. Isn’t that right, Ted?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Ted agrees, pulling the wrapper off a new Mars Bar and diving into it.

  I can’t help but think he looks a little sad, as if he wouldn’t mind packing his suitcases and taking off on an adventure, with Peg as his sidekick travelling companion.

  Peg seems oblivious to this, though.

  ‘But I thought you said you could fly now, since you’ve had the hypnosis?’ Isn’t that what she said? Did I misunderstand her?

  ‘Ah, yes, I could if I wanted to,’ Peg nods, ‘but I’ve never flown anywhere.’

  ‘You’ve never been on a plane, even though you’re no longer afraid to fly?’

  This is so weird.

  ‘No. Never. But if I wanted to, then I could.’ She’s looking at me as if I’m the one who is a sandwich short of a picnic.

  ‘Because of the hypnosis,’ I say.

  ‘That’s right. Now, the other thing you could try is exposure therapy.’

  ‘Exposure therapy?’

  ‘Yes. It’s when you surround yourself by the thing you fear so you learn not to fear it any more. It’s supposed to be very effective – if you don’t want to go the hypnosis route, like. It really worked for a friend of mine who was terrified of mice.’

  ‘Nelly Reilly,’ Ted interjects, as if I should know who Nelly Reilly is.

  ‘That’s right, Ted,’ Peg agrees. ‘Ted has a wonderful way with names, don’t you, Ted? He never forgets a name.’

  ‘That’s the Mars Bars, Maggie,’ Ted says. ‘Chocolate is full of antioxidants – good for the old grey matter.’ He taps the chocolate wrapper on the side of his head.

  ‘Not so good for the cholesterol, though,’ Peg frowns.

  ‘You can’t have it every way, girl,’ Ted says mildly, taking another massive bite of Mars Bar and chewing slowly.

  ‘So, Nelly Reilly?’ I prompt Peg – if I don’t we could be here all day.

  ‘Ah, yes … Nelly Reilly.’ Peg gathers her thoughts. ‘She had exposure therapy to cure her of her mouse phobia, and she can pick up a mouse now – no problem.’

  ‘Why would she ever need to pick up a mouse?’ I ask. Why would anyone ever want to touch a rodent? That’s abnormal, surely. Catch one in a trap, yes, but touch one? No way.

  ‘Because she works in a pet shop, of course!’ Peg looks as me curiously, as if I should know this. ‘Why else?’

  ‘Do you know, I read the other day about this woman who found a dead mouse in a jar of spaghetti sauce?’ Ted interrupts. ‘They reckon it fell in just before the jar was sealed in the factory. You wouldn’t credit that now, would you?’

  He chews slowly on another chunk of Mars Bar as he contemplates this scenario.

  I blanch. Oh, God, I’ll never buy another jar of spaghetti sauce ever again.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Maggie, that was very insensitive of me,’ Ted says. ‘I don’t know what I’m thinking this morning. You don’t want to be hearing those kinds of stories. Would you like a Mars Bar, maybe? They’re very good for shock – it’s the sugar, you see.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I say.

  ‘Anyway, we’re glad you’re OK after your awful fright with Mabel,’ Peg says.

  ‘We heard Edward took very good care of you anyway,’ Ted says.

  ‘He’s such a lovely man,’ Peg adds. ‘And so lonely since his poor wife died. I don’t know why someone doesn’t snap him right up. Not that some people haven’t tried hard enough, mind you.’

  Peg raises her eyes to Ted and he nods back, but says nothing. They must be talking about Odette – maybe that secret relationship isn’t as secret as she’d like to think.

  ‘He told you all about it, I suppose?’ I ask.

  ‘Edward?’ they gasp in unison.

  ‘God, no,’ Peg says. ‘Edward never told us a thing. He’s useless for news – we told you that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ted agrees sadly. ‘He’s far too discreet – especially about people he likes.’

  People he likes? Do they mean me?

  ‘He’d never say a bad word about you, Maggie – protective of you, he is.’

  ‘He is?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Guards your privacy so he does.’

  So he hasn’t been talking about me. Right. That’s a bit of a turn-up for the books. I thought he’d been laughing about me with half the village. I even tried to teach him a lesson by stirring things with Odette … Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

  ‘Now, enough of all that. We’re glad you’re here, because we wanted to talk to you. Didn’t we, Ted?’

  ‘We did. The thing is, we feel bad.’

  ‘Why?’ I’m confused.

  ‘Because we haven’t brought you out – shown you the high life, like!’ Ted grins.

  ‘The high life?’ What kind of high life can there be around here?

  ‘Yes,’ Peg goes on. ‘I said to Ted the other night, “Really, Maggie must think we’re the worst sort of neighbours.” Didn’t I, Ted?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘I don’t think that,’ I say.

  ‘Well, the worst sort of muckers, then. We haven’t brought you anywhere nice since you came to Glacken.’

  ‘You brought me to the pub,’ I remind them.

  ‘That’s true,’ Ted says. ‘We took you to Matty’s.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but that was work-related,’ Peg crows. ‘We haven’t brought you anywhere just for laughs, to experience the social scene.’

  ‘The social scene?’

  ‘Yes, we have to take you out somewhere exciting! Somewhere fun!’

  ‘So, this is the plan. We’re going to a ball.’ Ted rubs his hands together with glee.

  ‘A ball?’

  ‘Yes, a hunt ball. It’ll be great craic! We haven’t been for a few years, but what better excuse now that you’re here? It’ll be a blast!’

  I don’t know what to make of this. On the one hand, the thought of a decent night out is tempting. On the other, could a hunt ball count as a decent night out? It’s hardly very cool – it’s probably like an old-fashioned dinner dance.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I can make it, actually,’ I stall. I need time to think. I can’t just accept straight away without knowing what I’m letting myself in for. I have to do some research – Google this type of thing, at least.

  ‘Of course you can!’ Ted laughs. ‘And I’m driving so you needn’t worry about a thing.’

  ‘Right.’

  How am I going to get out of this?

  ‘Now, if you need anything to wear, Maggie, don’t hesitate to ask.’ Peg’s sincere face is worried. ‘These things are very fancy affairs …’ She looks at my grubby outfit doubtfully.

  ‘Yes, Peg has some lovely dresses, if you need to borrow anything,’ Ted chimes in.

  Of course – Peg and Ted haven’t seen me in anything other than jeans or tracksuits. They’ve no idea that I have a glamorous city wardrobe just itching to be worn. No wonder Peg looks so worried – she probably thinks I have absolutely nothing to wear to a hunt ball. She may think I’ll turn up smelling of horse dung, with straw in my hair. She has no clue that I used to have a whole other life – a life where I dressed for success, wore proper makeup and styled my hair every day. That life seems so far away.

  ‘I have a lovely blue dress that would suit you perfectly,’ Peg goes on.

  ‘That’s OK, thanks, Peg. I have a few bits and pieces I can pull together,’ I say.

  I could give my D&G dress an outing. The thought jumps into my head and makes me tingle. I love that black dress – it’s the perfect mix of sexy and classic: not too slutty, not too prissy, but an ideal blend of both. Last time I wore it, to a work dinner with Dermot and Dom, Dom told me if he didn’t know me better he’d have given me ten out of ten. A back-handed compliment, yes, but I was chuffed all the same.

  Thinking about it now, I can’t remember the last time I went out properly. Dom
nagged me for ages to go clubbing with him after Robert and I broke up, but I never succumbed, no matter how much he begged.

  Maybe an outing would be fun. OK, so I’ve never been to a hunt ball before and I have no idea what’s involved, but how bad could it be? As long as they don’t actually expect me to go hunting, it’ll be bearable, surely.

  ‘Wonderful! So you’re on?’ Peg squeaks.

  ‘OK, then,’ I agree. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Great!’ She and Ted high-five each other.

  ‘Now, before I forget, I made this for you – I was going to drop it up to the cottage, but now that you’re here I don’t have to!’ Peg hands me a casserole dish, its top covered with tinfoil.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, just a little dinner. I thought you might like it if you were feeling shaky – you know, after … Mabel.’

  ‘You made me dinner?’

  ‘It’s nothing really,’ she says. ‘Now, it needs to be reheated in a hot oven for about twenty minutes. Add a little salt and pepper, if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, Peg, that’s really kind of you.’ I smile gratefully at her.

  ‘No problem.’ She grins. ‘Sure isn’t that what friends are for?’

  I’m taken aback by what she’s said. I can tell from her expression that she genuinely counts me as a friend, even though we’ve known each other for such a short time. That’s why she’s cooked this for me. It would never occur to me to cook for anyone, not even my closest friends in the city, yet it’s such a simple and lovely thing to do.

  ‘Well, thanks again,’ I say. ‘It was really thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ she beams. ‘It’s nothing special.’

  ‘It’s her shepherd’s pie.’ Ted winks at me. ‘Delicious, it is!’

  ‘Now, Ted, don’t be boasting.’ Peg swats at him with her hands.

  ‘That recipe won an award at the farmer’s market last year,’ Ted adds. ‘Beat Betty’s it did.’

  ‘Well, she came second,’ Peg says graciously. ‘That wasn’t so bad.’

  ‘Shepherd’s pie’s my absolute favourite!’ I sniff the dish appreciatively, suddenly transported back to my childhood. I haven’t had it for years – I used to love it with ketchup and mushy peas on the side.