by Niamh Greene
‘I didn’t mean to do it!’ Ted pleads.
‘What? Are you trying to tell me you didn’t enjoy it, Ted, is that it?’ Peg’s face is red with rage.
‘It meant nothing to me – nothing!’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ she spits. ‘You’ve probably been lusting after those sausage rolls all along, haven’t you?’
‘No, I haven’t, I swear!’
‘Were you thinking about them when you were eating my egg sandwiches, Ted – were you?’
‘Never!’ Ted is aghast. ‘I swear it!’
‘Then why don’t I believe you? I’m going.’ Peg quickly gathers up her things.
‘Please don’t,’ Ted begs.
‘Find your own way home,’ she calls over her shoulder, as she sweeps from the room. ‘Better still, knock on that hussy’s door – she might take you in. I hope you both choke on your sausage rolls.’
‘Ah, Ted,’ I say, when she’s gone. ‘What possessed you?’
‘I was starving, Maggie,’ he says, his eyes full of tears. ‘That Betty’s been trying to tempt me for years, waving her sausage rolls under my nose, and I just cracked. I don’t know what came over me. Will you go after her? Talk to her for me? Please?’
‘Why don’t we give her an hour or two, and then I’ll try, eh?’ I know Peg will need time to calm down. There’ll be no point in trying to talk to her now.
‘You’re probably right.’ He sighs. ‘Hopefully she’ll come round. What a mess.’
‘Yes,’ I agree.
If he only knew the half of it. Mess doesn’t come close to describing my life. There’s a long silence as we contemplate our fates.
‘I can’t believe I went for Laurence like that,’ Ted says eventually. ‘I just saw red when he insulted Peg.’
‘You were pretty nimble on your feet, all right.’ I giggle, somehow seeing the funny side.
‘Did you see him hide behind his henchmen?’ Ted smirks. ‘What a coward.’
‘If you hadn’t had a heart-attack you could have floored him for sure.’
‘Wasn’t Odette terrible for springing him on us like that, though? Him and his fancy architect.’
‘Yes.’ I stop laughing. It doesn’t seem funny any more.
‘What is it, Maggie?’ Ted asks. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
Suddenly I know I have to tell him the truth. He’ll find out soon enough – it’s only fair that he hears it from me first. He and Peg have been so good to me and he deserves to know.
‘Ted, I have something to tell you,’ I start. ‘I’m not who you think I am. I’m not an artist.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No.’
‘You’re not from the Inland Revenue, are you?’ he whispers fearfully. ‘I was going to sort all that out – I swear.’
‘No. I’m not a tax inspector. I’m an estate agent.’
‘An estate agent?’
‘Yes. I don’t know why I lied about it. I told one fib and then it all seemed to snowball.’
‘Yes,’ he says sadly. ‘That’s what can happen. One lie leads to another.’
‘So, now you know.’ I wait for Ted to say he never wants to see or talk to me again. An image of Edward flashes into my mind. What must he think of me now?
‘Well, everyone has their secrets, Maggie,’ he says. ‘I won’t judge you, that’s for sure. Peg won’t either, I know that.’
‘You think?’
‘No, of course not. Not now you’ve come clean. Everyone deserves a second chance. I just hope she gives me one too. Besides, you’re a good friend – look how you helped us tonight. Peg really wanted you in her hour of need – and so did I.’
‘Thanks, Ted.’ I lean in to hug him tight. As I do, there’s the beep of a text in my pocket.
Flipping open my phone, I see it’s from Edward and my heart soars. Maybe he wants to meet me – maybe all isn’t lost. I click and read it eagerly, my heart pounding. But it’s not the message I hope for.
It’s Drya. The wild horse is missing. And so is Matilda.
Rule Twenty-six: Seize the day
‘Thanks for helping, Robert,’ I say. ‘You didn’t have to.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Robert says. ‘This is an adventure! And it’s a great opportunity to try out the four-wheel-drive mode!’ He pats the steering-wheel of his jeep and grins at me.
I’d forgotten how much Robert loves his jeep. He even named it after his favourite football player. That was another thing that used to get on my nerves – his long-standing obsession with Fernando Torres. In fairness, though, I can’t very well tell him off about it, not when he’s driving me round the countryside in the middle of the night, searching for a stroppy teenager he’s never even met.
The minute he heard what had happened – that Matilda had gone missing, presumably after galloping off somewhere alone on that mad horse – he volunteered to help. It’s made me see him in a different light. Not that I’ve changed my mind about us, but he’s stepped up to the plate tonight when he didn’t have to and I really admire that.
‘Well, it’s still very good of you,’ I say. ‘It’s not like you know Matilda or Edward.’
‘Ah, yes, the brooding Edward,’ Robert says. ‘Is he the hero of the story?’
‘What do you mean?’ I shift a little uncomfortably in my seat. I know Robert clocked how I looked at Edward earlier – he must have worked out how I secretly feel.
‘Well, you’re the heroine, obviously, and I’m the villain of the piece. So that makes Edward the hero, right?’
‘You’re not the villain,’ I say quietly. ‘If there is a villain it’s probably me.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I haven’t exactly told everyone the truth about myself.’ That’s the understatement of the century.
‘So I gathered … What’s all this about being an artist?’ Robert turns his head to glance at me, his expression soft. He’s not making fun of me, which is kind of him.
‘It’s a long story,’ I say, ‘but everyone here thinks I’m an artist. An award-winning artist.’ I wince as I say the words – how stupid am I? Award-winning stupid, that’s how.
‘Aha.’ Robert nods. ‘So that explains Odette’s reaction.’
‘Yes, Odette doesn’t particularly like me.’ I sigh.
‘I picked up on that.’ He smiles. ‘Not very subtle, is she? What’s her role in this little drama? Wicked witch?’
‘Some people think so,’ I reply, remembering what Polly said.
It seems so long ago now. I feel a pang when I think of the little girl with the big attitude. How will I explain to her that I have to leave? Because that’s what I must do. I’ve no choice: I can’t stay here – not now that everyone knows the truth about me. Or they will once the village hotline jumps into action. Everyone will be talking about me, come morning. Once they’ve polished off the Ted-Peg-Betty triangle, of course – that will take precedence. There probably hasn’t been this much scandal in Glacken for years.
‘She’s certainly dangerous, that’s for sure.’
There’s a warning in Robert’s voice that I can’t ignore. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she’s not promoting Laurence’s development for the good of her health, let’s put it like that …’
‘You mean he’s paying her?’ I can’t believe it.
‘Or promising her a new veterinary clinic next door to the supermarket at cut-price rent …’
‘Wow.’ So Odette has a vested interest: no wonder she was so keen for the project to be pushed through, regardless of local opposition.
‘You really like it here, don’t you?’ Robert asks.
‘Yes, I do. Crazy, I know.’ I peer out of the window, straining to see any sign of Matilda or Drya. It’s past midnight and it’s getting cold – if we don’t find her soon, who knows what could happen? She may be in real danger.
‘It’s not that crazy. People change – I know I have.’
‘You have?’
�
��Yes.’ He laughs. ‘A girl broke my heart – that was pretty life-changing for a start.’
‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ I say. A tidal wave of guilt washes over me. Robert is such a nice guy – he never deserved heartache.
‘That’s OK. You were right – it was for the best. I’ve learned lots of things about myself since then that I never knew before.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, it turns out I’m more adventurous than I ever thought.’
‘Really?’ I’m doubtful of this. Robert’s favourite pastime is charting the financial decline of the country from the comfort of his sofa. He thinks adventurous is ordering extra pepperoni on his pizza.
‘I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but I’ve put a stop to the doom-and-gloom watching. I even joined an orienteering club a few months ago.’
‘Orienteering? Wow!’ I whistle sarcastically, and he laughs.
‘I know, I know, orienteering mightn’t have much sex appeal but, believe me, it’s thrilling enough for me.’
‘I’m only kidding.’ I smile warmly at him. ‘I’m glad for you.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiles back. ‘I love it – it’s where I met Maria.’
Aha. There’s a new woman – no wonder he has such a spark in his eye. Am I jealous? I search around inside to try to decide. Nope, nothing. Nada. Not even a sniff of the green-eyed monster. ‘Who’s Maria?’ I ask. He’s dying to tell me. I have to put him out of his misery.
‘My new girlfriend,’ he says proudly. ‘She’s Australian.’
‘Australian, eh?’ A picture of Dom pops into my mind. I wonder if he’s had that threesome yet? Doubtful – he would definitely have called me to boast if he had. Maybe even texted a few photos, if I know Dom.
‘Yes, she’s from Sydney. She’s very sporty. She’s taking me bungee-jumping next week.’
I try to erase the image of Dom in bed with two buxom babes and concentrate on Robert. Did he just say bungee-jumping? That can’t be right. Robert hates physical challenges. He refused to get into the hotel pool the last time we went away together. Now he’s going bungee-jumping? That doesn’t make any sense at all.
‘I know!’ He laughs again, seeing my confused face. ‘Isn’t it mad? But Maria just brings out the wild side in me. Do you want to know what her motto is?’
I don’t really – it’s bound to be something corny – but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. ‘Sure,’ I say.
‘It’s “Seize the day” – isn’t that amazing?’
I can see from the misty-eyed look on his face that he genuinely believes Maria has come up with this life-affirming nugget all on her own. ‘Amazing,’ I agree.
‘Yes, she’s taught me a lot. Like, what’s the point of worrying about the financial crisis and the recession? We’re all just passing through – we have to live life to the fullest and follow our dreams, grab our happiness where we can.’
‘You’re right.’ I’m not just agreeing with him for the sake of it any more. He’s right – he is. Suddenly a vision of me standing at my easel, paintbrush in my hand, comes into my mind’s eye. Art really is my passion. Ironic, considering, but I know now that, whatever happens, I’ll be pursuing it in one way or another. Robert’s right – life’s too short not to follow your dream, and my dream is to paint. I’ll probably never earn a penny from it, of course, so I’ll have to find another job to pay the rent, but that doesn’t mean I can’t paint in my spare time, even if I’m no good. I’ve postponed it and buried the urge for far too long. I’m not going to put it off any longer.
‘Of course, the other great thing about Maria is that she hates jelly-babies!’ Robert jokes. We both burst into laughter and then he brakes suddenly. ‘Look, Maggie,’ he hisses, pointing out to the inky blackness, ‘over there!’
‘Where?’ I can’t see anything.
‘Down the embankment – is that her? Is that Edward’s daughter?’
I look to where he’s pointing and I see Matilda, barely visible, sitting against a tree in the darkness. Is she hurt? It’s impossible to tell – I have to get to her fast.
‘Quick, let me get out!’ I gasp.
‘Hang on, I have to come with you,’ he says. ‘You can’t go down there on your own.’
‘Robert, I’ll be fine,’ I say, determined now. ‘I have my torch, now let me out. She won’t want lots of people making a fuss. Just call Edward and tell him we’ve found her – he’ll be worried sick.’
‘OK, then,’ Robert agrees, as I scramble out. ‘Be careful.’
‘I will.’ I turn to smile at him over my shoulder. Without his help, we might never have found her.
‘Well done, Maggie,’ he says.
‘Well done?’
‘Yeah, you’ve really got the hang of this country thing. I never thought you had it in you.’
‘Neither did I! But I guess people really can change.’ I close the passenger door behind me and creep down the embankment, trying not to skid as I go. Matilda hasn’t moved a muscle – hasn’t she heard me? It’s as if she’s in her own world. There’s no sign of Drya – she must have bolted.
‘Matilda,’ I call softly as I get closer, ‘are you OK?’
‘Go away,’ she says, her voice hollow. ‘Just leave me alone.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
My eyes adjust to the dark and I see her face, streaked with tears. ‘Well, it’s late and you’re obviously upset – let’s get you home.’
‘No, just go away.’
‘Please, Matilda. We’ve been so worried about you, please let’s go home.’
‘What’s it to you?’ she cries.
I’d like to say I want her to be safe but something tells me she might not believe me. After all, we haven’t had the friendliest of relationships. I’m sure she blames me for being grounded – that may be why she ran away like this. ‘You’re right.’ I shrug. ‘It’s nothing to me, really. I’m leaving Glacken tomorrow.’
Changing my tactic like this is a gamble, but maybe if I act disinterested she’ll change her mind and come with me. Teenagers can do the unpredictable and I’m hoping a bit of reverse psychology will work.
‘You’re leaving?’ Matilda snuffles.
‘Yes.’ My heart constricts as I confirm it. I have to leave – I have no other choice.
There’s a silence as she absorbs this information. ‘I see.’
‘Yes, so you and your boyfriend can have the cottage back,’ I say, trying to be light-hearted.
Maybe a little humour will do it – anything to get her back up the embankment and into Robert’s jeep. But it doesn’t work. She’s not laughing, she’s crying even harder. In fact, she’s now wailing uncontrollably. What did I say? How have I made it even worse? I seem to have an uncanny ability to do that.
‘He’s not, he’s not …’ She dissolves into a sobbing heap and she can’t go on.
‘What is it, Matilda?’
The poor girl is in bits and suddenly my heart goes out to her – she looks so young and vulnerable, not at all like the sulky brat I’ve met before.
‘Daniel broke up with me,’ she chokes.
‘I see.’ I hunker down to her level. So that’s what’s wrong. Matilda has had her heart broken for the very first time. ‘That’s tough.’ I reach out and hold her hand. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. ‘I remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me.’
She lifts her head and looks at me curiously, as if she can hardly believe I ever had a first boyfriend. I obviously look so haggard, these days, that she can’t imagine I was ever young and wrinkle-free.
‘Yup. I was about your age when it happened,’ I go on.
‘Don’t tell me,’ she says. ‘It was no big deal and you got over it, right?’
‘No. I was devastated, actually.’
‘You were?’ She pauses from sobbing.
‘Yes. He snogged my best friend. Well, I thought she was my best friend – turned out she was a two-faced
cow but, hey, you live and learn.’
‘That’s awful!’ Matilda gasps.
‘Yes. I got over it, though. Eventually.’
‘Did you ever forgive her? Your friend?’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘It only took a few decades to do that.’
Matilda laughs and rubs her dripping nose on her sleeve.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ I ask. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
Matilda looks warily at me, as if she’s trying to decide whether to trust me or not. ‘He wanted …’ She clears her throat. ‘He wanted us to have sex.’
‘I see.’ I try to keep my tone neutral, but inside I’m panicking. What am I going to say to this revelation? ‘And how did you feel about that?’ I try.
‘I …’ She snuffles again, but she’s definitely sounding less hysterical now. ‘I didn’t want to.’
‘OK.’ Thank God for that – she’s far too young even to be thinking about having sex.
‘He said I was a frigid bitch.’ She bursts into tears again.
Rage bubbles inside me. How dare that little upstart call Matilda such an awful name just because she wouldn’t give in to his pressure? I’ve a good mind to march down to the village and tell his parents exactly how charming their son is. But then I see Matilda’s face and I know that this would be exactly the wrong thing to do – it would completely humiliate her. ‘Listen, Matilda,’ I say. ‘You did exactly the right thing.’
There are tears coursing down her cheeks. She looks so incredibly childlike I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes, I do. Having sex for the first time is a really special thing. It’s not something you want to rush into. And it’s definitely not something you want to be pressured into either.’
‘He used to make me meet him in the cottage,’ she sniffs.
‘Rose Cottage?’
‘Yeah. He said it was the perfect place to be alone. That’s why we were there that day – you know, when you caught us.’
‘I see.’ Wow, the little shit had it all worked out.
‘He’s going to tell everyone I’m frigid. They’re all going to laugh at me.’
‘Matilda, I know it’s hard not to give in to peer pressure,’ I say, holding her hand even tighter, ‘but you have to stand up for what you believe in. You wait until you’re good and ready to have sex. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I bet if you tell your friends how you feel, they might feel exactly the same way.’
