by Niamh Greene
With that, Polly drops the cat, digs her hand into her pocket and pulls out a mangled mouse. She holds it aloft by its scaly tail – its little head is dangling by a sinew from its neck. At first I think she’s joking – that can’t possibly be a proper mouse she has in her hand: it must be one of those plastic joke things you can buy. I had one myself as a child. It’s amazing how lifelike they make them now – this looks so real.
‘Polly!’ June gasps. ‘Drop that at once. I’ve told you a million times you can’t bring dead rodents into the house under any circumstances.’
‘But, Granny,’ Polly protests, ‘it’s a really big one!’
With a jolt, I realize the creature in Polly’s hand is not a fake. There’s a dead, head-almost-severed-from-its-tiny-body mouse in the kitchen. An arm’s length away from me. A few weeks ago it would have made me sick. Now I’m able to be in the same room and not run screaming. Maybe it’s all the road kill I’ve seen since I came here, but I’m not scared, not a bit.
‘Polly,’ June says, ‘I’m sure you’re frightening, Maggie. She’s from the city – she’s not used to seeing dead rodents like this. Are you OK, Maggie? You look a little white – do you need to sit down, maybe? Put your head between your legs?’
The note of sarcasm in her voice is unmistakable. She’s almost willing me to faint so that Polly will think I’m some weak city slicker. ‘I’m fine, thank you, June,’ I reply calmly. ‘But I do think you should put that away, Polly, don’t you? It’s time to get back to work.’
‘OK, Maggie, if you say so.’ Polly skips back to the door, and swings the mouse outside by its tail.
I glance at June and I could be mistaken but I think I see respect in her formidable features.
‘Ladies!’ Edward calls, striding back into the kitchen. ‘I found what I was looking for. Polly, give me your painting. I have something here that will finish it off just perfectly.’
‘What is it?’ Polly shouts. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a frame, of course – a very special frame for a very special painting.’
‘You’re going to frame it?’ Polly holds her picture aloft.
‘Yes, I am!’ Edward grins. ‘That way I can look at it every day. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’
‘What do you think, Maggie?’ Polly asks me.
She’s unsure if the idea has merit, or if it’s completely naff.
‘I think it’s a brilliant idea, Polly,’ I assure her. ‘All the best art is framed – it means this picture is very special indeed.’
‘Thanks, Dad!’ Polly is thrilled, her pudgy little face beaming with joy.
Edward has managed to make this moment really special for her – something she’ll always remember. As Polly flings herself into her father’s arms and he stoops to hug her, I glance across the room to see June surveying the scene. She’s watching with a very peculiar look on her face, tears glittering in her eyes. She stares straight at me momentarily, her expression much softer than before, then slips silently out of the door, letting it creak gently behind her.
‘Did you get the text?’ Edward asks, seemingly oblivious to June’s disappearing act.
‘What text?’ I ask.
‘From Ted – there’s another meeting about the supermarket on Thursday.’
‘Oh, right.’ I lower my eyes from his, suddenly too embarrassed even to look at him properly. I’m like some kind of soppy teenager – it’s ridiculous.
‘This could be our chance,’ he goes on.
‘Our chance?’ What does he mean by that? I whip my head back up. Does he mean us? Does he feel the same as I do?
‘Our chance to sell the arts development project idea to everyone, of course,’ he says. ‘What did you think?’
‘Of course!’ I bluster. God, if he only knew what I was really thinking.
‘So, are you ready? Will we take on the village?’
‘I’m not sure … I’m an outsider, after all. The villagers mightn’t take too kindly to me getting involved.’
‘You’re not an outsider, Maggie, you’re one of us now. Isn’t she, Polly?’
‘Yeah, Maggie, you are.’ Polly grins.
Then Edward smiles at me and my heart melts. How can I refuse him? If he asked me to muck out a hundred stables right this second I might just do it. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Why not? We don’t have anything to lose, do we?’
‘Great!’ he says, ruffling Polly’s hair. ‘Let’s hope they don’t eat us alive!’
Rule Twenty-three: Rules are made to be broken
‘I’m so glad you agree, Edward,’ Odette croons smugly, from the stage. ‘This supermarket will be a wonderful opportunity for the village – one we must exploit if we’re not to lag further behind than we already are.’ She stares meaningfully at Peg and Ted, who are sitting in the front row of the packed hall, their arms folded across their chests, looking mutinous.
‘Well, I don’t exactly agree with everything you propose, Odette,’ Edward says coolly.
‘You don’t?’ Odette’s eyes widen, as if she can’t imagine why anyone would ever disagree with anything she had to say. She really is a player. A player in pearls and a cashmere twinset, which I’ve discovered can be the most dangerous kind.
‘Let me elaborate,’ he says. ‘I think that the supermarket could help Glacken, yes. It could bring us some much-needed employment for a start.’
Odette nods energetically and there’s a murmur of approval in the hall.
‘But,’ Edward continues, ‘on the other hand, we don’t want to destroy the unique quality that the village has. It’s that quality that makes Glacken special. And I think we can agree that this village is very special to all of us.’
There’s an outburst of applause at this, led by Peg and Ted clapping and cheering enthusiastically. Ted is dying to give Edward a standing ovation already, I can see that.
‘What are you getting at, Edward?’ Odette asks crossly, momentarily forgetting to be sweetness and light to her beloved.
Seeing Edward’s surprise at her impatient tone, she remembers to smile at him again. This woman is like Jekyll and Hyde – what does he see in her? I just can’t understand it.
‘Well,’ Edward glances at me, ‘Maggie and I were chatting about it and we think we’ve come up with a plan that we believe could work.’
My face warms. It must be because everyone is staring at me – it can’t be because Edward’s cornflower blue eyes are locked on mine. Can it?
Half of the crowd has swivelled to see where I am. I try not to give in to the urge to sink down in my seat and hide. Instead I force myself to smile gamely, as if I’m the type of person who could have a plan about things. And I desperately try to forget the way Edward just looked at me. He’s looking at me like that because I’m here to support his arts idea, nothing more. After all, he and Odette are together. This fantasy that there’s some sort of connection between us is in my mind.
‘You and Maggie?’ Odette’s voice cracks and she shuffles the papers before her to compose herself and buy some time. I can tell she’s rattled because she’s got a death grip on her precious documents; her pearly pink manicured talons are almost ripping through them with rage.
‘Yes. Maggie,’ Edward confirms, smiling at me. ‘As you all know, Maggie is a celebrated artist here to complete an important commission.’
I wince as Edward says this. Whatever made me lie so stupidly like that? If only I’d told him the truth – that I’m an out-of-work estate agent … Maybe he wouldn’t have cared. Then again, from the way he reacted when we spoke about estate agents, he hates them all. Anyway, it’s too late to confess now that everyone here thinks I’m an artist. A massive wave of guilt washes over me. I feel terrible for letting them all believe I’m something I’m not. I try to push that thought away, though, because if I focus on it, I’ll never be able to speak or say anything remotely useful and I know that Edward is depending on me to contribute. Watching him talk with such conviction about the place he
loves is moving. I’m rooting for people to support his idea and I want to be involved, even though I know I should probably just walk away before I land myself in even more trouble. Something is making me stay, though, and I know that something is Edward. The little voice in my head can’t be denied: I’m here because I genuinely don’t want to leave. I want to stay because of Edward and the way I feel about him.
‘… and Maggie feels that Glacken has something special to offer too.’ Edward is still speaking. ‘So, we’ve put our heads together,’ Odette shivers visibly, ‘and we both think that Glacken could be promoted as an artists’ retreat.’
‘An artists’ retreat?’ Odette’s voice is withering. ‘That’s your big plan?’
‘Yes,’ Edward says. ‘We could invite painters from all over the world to come here to work. We could establish a gallery – we could even have a festival.’
A festival? That wasn’t something we’d spoken about – obviously Edward has put even more thought into this proposal. A festival is a brilliant idea. Nothing too grungy or like Glastonbury of course, something civilized. There could be showings, demonstrations, that sort of thing. The locals could rent out rooms to guests, Matty would make a fortune in the pub, and Peg and Ted would be set up. The more I think about it, the better it sounds.
‘But, Edward,’ Ted interrupts him, ‘how would that help us?’
‘I don’t like those festivals, Edward.’ Peg is unconvinced. ‘It’s all sex and drugs.’
‘Yeah,’ someone shouts, ‘we don’t want that sort of thing going on here.’
‘Yes, we do!’ someone else calls, and there’s a ripple of laughter in the hall.
‘There could be naked mud-wrestling or orgies. I saw that on the TV!’ Betty from the butcher’s bounces excitedly beside me, a basket of steaming sausage rolls at her feet. She’s already tried to entice me with one, but I had to resist. I can’t let Peg see me fraternizing with her. I may sneak one later, though, when she’s otherwise occupied.
‘Keep dreaming, Betty,’ Jimmy the guard, in his blue wool jumper, says.
A heated debate breaks out about the possibility of an orgy happening in a muddy field.
‘No, no, listen,’ Edward shouts. ‘I don’t mean anything like Glastonbury – of course that wouldn’t work here. I’m talking about something much more cultured. You know, like that literary festival they have at Hay-on-Wye.’
‘I’ve heard of that,’ Ted says. ‘They had Dan Brown there one year.’
‘Did they?’ Peg perks up. ‘Do you think Dan Brown will come here too?’ she asks, her eyes widening.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Betty from the butcher’s says. ‘Dan Brown will never come to Glacken.’
‘Well, why wouldn’t he?’ Peg pouts. ‘What’s wrong with Glacken? We’re just as good as that Hay-on-Wye place.’
‘I’d say we’re better,’ Ted agrees. ‘Far better. Dan Brown would be a fool not to come here.’
‘But he’s not an artist, Ted.’ Betty sniffs. ‘He’s a writer.’
‘Well, we could have that girl, then,’ Peg says. ‘You know, the one who puts all her filthy rubbish on her bed.’
‘Tracey Emin?’ Jimmy the guard pales.
‘Yes, that’s her. She could come. Or that man.’
‘Let me guess, the one who floats dead cows in formaldehyde?’ Jimmy puts his head in his hands.
‘Yes!’ Peg looks jubilant. ‘Now, he wouldn’t be my cup of tea, but it would get the village great publicity. He’s always in the papers.’
‘Listen! LISTEN!’ Edward bellows. Everyone falls silent again. ‘If, and I say if, this project got off the ground and was in any way successful, it could attract tourists. The right sort of tourists.’ He smiles. ‘It could generate business for us all.’
Peg and Ted begin to look a little hopeful. ‘So you think our shop could be saved, Edward?’ Peg asks.
‘No one can say for sure,’ Edward answers honestly, ‘but it’s worth a shot.’
There’s a loud hum in the room as everyone leans in to their neighbour to chat about the plan.
‘Order.’ Odette raps her little hammer on the table in front of her. ‘Order!’
Everyone falls silent again.
‘Edward.’ She fake-smiles at him. ‘This is a nice idea. But there’s one problem.’
‘What’s that?’ I pipe up. It seems unfair to let Edward do all the talking. I need to help him out.
‘I was speaking to Edward,’ Odette snipes at me. ‘Not you.’
‘That’s OK, Odette,’ Edward interrupts. ‘Maggie should have some input. She’s the expert, after all.’
I blush as he says this – God, I feel terrible for lying to him. Why on earth did I ever do that?
‘OK,’ Odette doesn’t look too happy, ‘if you insist.’ She settles her eyes on me. ‘So. Maggie. Celebrated artist.’ She raises an eyebrow when she says this. ‘Who’s going to pay for this scheme? Unless you’re going to fund the exercise yourself perhaps. Then again, from what I hear, artists don’t make much money … not until they’re dead, that is.’
Peg gasps. She knows exactly what Odette is implying – that she could kill me here and now with her bare hands, given half the chance.
‘That’s a good question, Odette,’ I reply, getting to my feet, ‘and one I’m happy to answer.’ Lie. I’m not happy to answer this. I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified.
‘Great.’ Odette leans back in her chair and smiles. ‘Please – go ahead.’
‘Well …’ I take a deep breath and try to remain composed ‘…we could look for funding. There are grants we could apply for. The government –’
‘The government isn’t giving any money to anyone, Maggie,’ Odette interrupts, ‘or hadn’t you noticed that all public funding has completely dried up?’
I clear my throat. She’s not going to make this easy for me. ‘We could get a private investor,’ I go on.
‘A private investor?’ Odette laughs. ‘Please. There are no private investors any more.’
‘There are still people out there who want to invest in the arts,’ I argue, ‘especially if there’s something in it for them too.’ I’m building up to mentioning Xanta. I can’t just wade in and drop the bombshell: it would be too much of a shock for everyone. I have to choose my moment carefully.
‘We’re wasting time.’ Odette dismisses me with a wave of her hand. ‘It’s never going to work.’
‘Hang on, Odette,’ Edward says, his voice steely. ‘Let’s just listen to what Maggie is saying.’
‘Edward, we need to form a consensus about how best to proceed. Time is of the essence, and we can’t afford to waste any more of it.’
‘Some of us have formed a consensus,’ Ted says. ‘Some of us have a very clear consensus.’
‘Yeah, who died and made you Queen of the World?’ Peg mutters, just loudly enough for those sitting in close proximity to hear.
Odette continues as if she hasn’t seen them – it’s as if they’re a muddy spot on her otherwise perfect landscape, best ignored completely. I know if she could somehow get rid of them both she’d do it in a heartbeat.
‘I thought, at this juncture, it would be useful if we had some outside input. To help us focus …’ Odette pauses meaningfully and an excited murmur runs through the hall as people wonder who she’s going to wheel in ‘… so that’s why I’ve invited the chairman of Xanta Ireland here tonight to discuss the development with us.’
‘What?’ Ted roars, his face pink.
Chaos erupts in the hall and there’s a deafening buzz as people process this information.
‘Calm down, Ted,’ Odette shouts over the din. ‘You know full well that Laurence wasn’t given a fair hearing last time around. It’s only right we listen to what he has to say.’
‘The chairman has been here before?’ I ask Betty from the butcher’s.
‘Yes, he came to talk to us a few months ago. It got pretty ugly.’
‘It did?’
<
br /> ‘Laurence had his own security with him and they tried to throw Ted out of the hall.’
Betty doesn’t look too upset by the memory – probably because she and Peg are mortal enemies, even if that has never been openly acknowledged.
Wow. I can’t imagine Ted having to be escorted off the premises – he’s such a gentle soul. Then again, he can get pretty fiery when it comes to this topic.
‘I can’t believe you did this behind our backs, Odette,’ Peg fumes. ‘You’ve ambushed us!’
‘Peg, be reasonable.’ Odette shuffles her papers and avoids Peg’s eye. ‘If I’d told you that Laurence was coming here tonight, you would have refused to attend. This was the only way to get everyone together – it makes perfect sense.’
‘Yeah! I want to hear what he has to say,’ someone calls from behind me.
‘So do I,’ someone else agrees.
‘He’s not a monster, Peg,’ a third says, ‘and we need the jobs.’
‘You see?’ Odette smirks smugly.
Peg slouches in her seat – she’s very unhappy about this development, very unhappy indeed.
Suddenly there’s a flurry of activity at the rear of the hall and a portly man in a pinstripe suit, leather briefcase tucked under his arm, makes his way to the stage.
‘Laurence,’ Odette coos, kissing him on both cheeks, ‘how lovely to see you again.’
‘Odette.’ He kisses her back. ‘You’re looking gorgeous as always.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ she giggles, blushing. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’
‘My pleasure, my dear, my absolute pleasure. Halloooooo, everyone!’ Laurence turns to face the room, his voice booming. ‘Thank you for coming here tonight.’
He’s so Big Top cheery, I almost expect him to do a little tap dance or pull a rabbit from his briefcase to try to impress us all.
‘We wouldn’t have come, if we’d known you’d be here,’ Ted says loudly, his face stony. ‘We were tricked into it.’
‘Peg, Ted, it’s lovely to see you again.’ Laurence beams at them both, ignoring the fact that he’s just been insulted.
