Maggie heard Ruby calling after her but she carried on racing as fast as she could down the hall until she reached the front door, where her eyes were drawn to several bottles of expensive sherry left over from the funeral. She paused and stared at the box in the corner of the porch with the unopened bottles neatly lined up and ready to go back to the village off-licence. She only thought for a few seconds before the temptation became too much, and she snatched one of them up by the neck. Running out of the house, she took refuge on the narrow grass strip along the side of the garage where she was out of sight.
The last thing she wanted at that moment was for any of them to find her.
She sat on the grass and tried to think, but her brain refused to work. Her head was spinning, and her arm was hurting like crazy inside the plaster cast after she’d used it as a forceful weapon on Ruby.
Her mother. Ruby Riordan née Blakeley, who she had always thought of as a sibling, was her mother. The ever charming and friendly Johnnie was her father.
It was too much for her to take, so she pulled the top off the bottle and took a swig. Instinctively, she spat it out because it tasted so vile, but then she made herself try again. She didn’t want to have to think, and she imagined a few slugs of alcohol would solve that. But instead she got angry, very angry, and drank some more, and the more she drank the more the taste became palatable.
Once everything started to blur, she focused on two things. She really wanted to see Andy, and she wanted a cigarette. She decided that they both went together and determined to go and find Andy. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand up, and she had to balance herself against the garage wall. But then she climbed through the hedge that edged the house and headed out in the middle of the road in the direction of the Manor House, bottle in hand.
‘Maggie?’
Through her stupor she could feel someone pushing and pulling at her, trying to make her sit up, but nothing was working. All she wanted to do was sleep.
‘Go ’way,’ she mumbled. She reached up to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand, but she missed and ended up with her hand in a pool of vomit.
‘Maggie? What’s the matter? Are you drunk? Christ, you’ve been so sick … Is this what you’ve been drinking?’
She did her best to focus, but all she could see was something waving back and forth in front of her face. Another wave of nausea washed over her, and she heaved again, but her stomach was empty. ‘I want a ciggy,’ she slurred. ‘Gimme a ciggy …’
‘You can’t have a cig, your breath’ll catch fire. You’ll be like a bloody fire-eater spitting flames. I’m going to have to get someone to help.’
‘I’m OK.’ She tried to form the words carefully. ‘I was a bit sick but I’m ’K …’
‘Come on, get up. You’ve got to get up,’ Andy said forcefully as he grabbed her good arm. ‘It’s starting to rain. You’ll die out here. Just try and stand up, and I’ll take you indoors.’
But every time he got her up on her feet, her legs crumpled under her, so in the end he had to leave her lying on the ground while he dashed off at full speed towards the house.
The next thing Maggie knew was waking up and finding herself tucked up in a strange bed wearing an unfamiliar nightdress.
‘Ah, you’re awake. Good. I was just checking to make sure you were OK; you’ve been asleep for hours.’
She looked up to see Eunice Blythe looking down at her; mortified, she quickly tried to sit up in the bed, but her pounding head made it impossible.
‘Careful now, I think you’re going to have the worst headache in the world, young Maggie Wheaton.’ Eunice laughed gently. ‘Nearly a whole bottle of sherry, I ask you. Sherry. Tut tut! Here you are – try this on your forehead, and when you feel a bit better there’s a cup of tea and some dry toast on the tray here.’
She handed Maggie a cold damp flannel, and then perched gracefully on the edge of the bed. ‘I spoke to Ruby last night; Andrew gave me the number. I said I thought you’d be better staying here for the night. She’s coming to get you this morning.’
‘I don’t want her to,’ Maggie said as she wiped the soothing cool cloth around her face.
‘Well, it’s arranged now, and she’s bringing you some clean clothes; your others are not a pretty sight. They’re probably not so bad now – I think Anna’s washed them, because they were a little mucky – but they won’t be dry yet.’ Eunice Blythe stood up and looked out of the window. ‘Yes, that looks like your clothes out there on the line. And your shoes – she’s even sorted out your shoes! I love Anna. She’s the best housekeeper in the world.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Maggie said. She put her hand up to her mouth as she was suddenly aware of the gap in her teeth again. She was mortified to realize she must have lost the temporary denture, probably in the garden outside when she was sick. ‘I didn’t mean to drink all that; I’ve never even drunk alcohol before. I don’t know what happened …’
Eunice smiled down at her. ‘Well, I do. You’ve had a bad time, darling girl, and we all understand. Just don’t do it again. You scared my poor Andrew half to death; he thought you’d expired on the lawn.’
‘I’m sorry …’ Maggie felt as if her head was going to explode. She leaned over and reached for a piece of toast and tried to remember what had happened the day before, after she’d left home with the bottle of sherry from the porch.
‘Don’t keep apologizing, honey, we’ve all done it at one time or another. It’s a rite of passage. But a little tip from Aunty Eunice: never ever drink alcohol when you’re unhappy. Now, I think you should go and have a bath and wash your hair. Make yourself presentable while I go and tell Andy you’re alive. He was so worried about you. He’s such a good boy.’
‘I’m sorry. I feel really bad.’
‘Well, next time you have the urge to raid the sherry, just remember how bad you feel right now. I’m sure it’ll put you right off!’ Eunice patted her cheek gently, explained where the bathroom was and then left her to it.
Maggie bathed herself in the very luxurious bathroom opposite the guest room and washed her hair as best she could with one arm held up in the air. She put the nightie and dressing gown back on and towelled her hair dry.
As her headache had lessened in the water, so her feeling of embarrassment had grown. She tried desperately to remember what had happened the day before, but although she remembered starting to walk towards the Manor House, she had little recollection of anything after that.
She went back into the bedroom and was shocked to find Ruby sitting on the edge of the chaise longue that was under one of the wide draped windows. Now the curtains were open she could see the room clearly, and despite her bleary hung-over eyes, she did a double take. It was twice the size of her own room at home, filled to overflowing with furniture and decorated in all shades of blue. The swagged flowery curtains matched the quilted bedspread and the stool tucked under the dressing table; the bedside rugs were powder blue, as was the etched fire screen which stood in front of the fireplace; and the four pictures on the walls were all similar sea scenes.
‘It’s very blue. Do you like it?’ Ruby asked with a smile as Maggie looked all around.
‘Yes, it’s beautiful.’
‘Ah. OK. Well, I’ve brought you some clean clothes and shoes to change into. Do you want me to wait outside while you get dressed?’
‘Yes, I want you to wait outside,’ Maggie said very slowly and deliberately while staring at her.
Ruby stood up and walked to the door. ‘I do understand, you know; I understand why you did it, and I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t your fault, it was a reaction. Everything that’s happened to you, it’s all wrong, all of it, but we can get over this if we try and understand each other.’
Maggie shrugged but didn’t answer.
‘Mrs Blythe, Eunice, was so understanding, such a nice woman. Just shows you shouldn’t believe all you hear in the village gossip circle,’ Ruby continued. ‘Anyway, she’s waiting downsta
irs to see you before we leave.’
‘Why?’
Ruby sighed and shook her head, her exasperation breaking through. ‘Probably because, as an uninvited guest, you passed out in her garden and you were sick all over her lawn. She took you in, cleaned you up, changed your clothes and then let you stay in her home despite it. So that’s probably why, Maggie. Just maybe she’s expecting you to thank her and say goodbye politely.’
Maggie had the grace to feel bad, but she wasn’t going to admit it to Ruby. ‘I’ll get changed.’
As they walked downstairs together, with Maggie keeping a defined space between them, she took in the vastness of the Manor House with its sweeping divided staircase, galleried landing and doors everywhere indicating a large number of rooms over three floors. At the bottom of the stairs was a lobby, which was big enough to double as an extra reception room, and a door, which Maggie guessed led down to the old kitchens and the cellar that her mother, Babs, had told her about when they’d talked about the Manor House.
Andy was sitting in one of the regency striped armchairs by the fireplace reading a newspaper, but he jumped up when Ruby and Maggie walked down the staircase. ‘Good morning! How’s the head?’ he asked with a slight smile.
‘It hurts. I’m so sorry, Andy.’
‘Oh, after everything that’s happened to you, you are entitled. Anyway, I did the same last year at a party, and my friend’s dad had to take me home. Mortifying, but no one really minds!’
Ruby smiled at the young man and held her hand out. ‘Hello, Andy, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ruby, I’m Maggie’s … I’m her …’ She stopped and looked confused.
‘You know who Ruby is,’ Maggie interrupted quickly. ‘My pretendy big sister, only now she’s my guardian. Wow, I’ve got a guardian. Aren’t I lucky? In fact, I’ve got two, just to be sure I do as I’m told. Two! Wow.’
‘Don’t, Maggie, not in public,’ Ruby said gently.
‘But we’re not in public!’
‘I said I’d take you both through to Ma once you were down,’ Andy said loudly with a cheery grin. ‘Follow me; she’s in the orangery with mad Aunt Lily, her batty sister. She likes overindulging in the sherry as well, does our Lily. When you meet her, let her be a lesson to you …’
Maggie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was desperately in love with Andy, even more so now he was being so sweet, and not so long ago she would have been delighted to be there with him, in his house, meeting his family. But instead she was mortified and wishing herself anywhere but there. She could see she’d blotted her copybook forever with both him and his family, however understanding they appeared to be.
It seemed to take forever for the niceties and repeat apologies to be over, and all the while Maggie just looked down at the floor feeling totally humiliated; she couldn’t bring herself to even glance in Andy’s direction.
Eunice made a point of telling her how lucky she was that she hadn’t collapsed earlier and died alone in a ditch from inhaled vomit and alcohol poisoning. She made it into a joke, and mad Aunt Lily, an older and very much rounder version of Eunice, laughed engagingly, but the underlying message was there for Maggie, which just compounded her feeling of humiliation. But then it was all over, and together they all walked out to Ruby’s car and said their goodbyes like old friends; it was as if nothing untoward had happened.
But once they were back at the house it was another story; as Maggie’s headache eased and the nausea started to pass, she was left with no option but to think about the day before. Not the alcohol episode, but the information she’d been given by Herbert Smethurst.
She turned it all over in her head, every single word of it, over and over again; she thought about it every which way, but however she tried to work it, she couldn’t see a way to deal with it all.
After a sullen interaction with Ruby, she took herself off to her bedroom and closed the door, pushing her chest of drawers across so that no one could get in, and then she curled up on her bed and cried and cried. She cried because she’d lost her parents, her identity and her whole way of life, and she cried because the accident and the destructive aftermath had been all her own fault.
She also cried because she wished she was dead as well.
Or instead.
Seven
‘They really think I’m going to let them drag me off to bloody Southend? Well, I’m not going, and they can’t make me. Guardians? How could Mum and Dad make them my guardians? It makes me sick just to think about it. Bloody Ruby and Johnnie telling me what I can and can’t do? And having to live with those three disgusting brats of theirs as well?’
‘Would it really be that bad?’ Andy asked cautiously.
‘Of course it’d be that bad,’ Maggie snapped. ‘And worse … Andy, I don’t want to go, I really don’t. Maybe I’ll just run away somewhere. I’m old enough to look after myself. I don’t need them.’
‘Don’t think that’s a good idea.’ Andy pulled a face and shook his head.
‘Well, I do!’
Maggie Wheaton was sitting alongside Andy Blythe behind the clubhouse; as she ranted, she strummed her fingers on the decrepit wooden bench they were sitting on and tapped her feet furiously. Her nerves were in shreds. It was only a few weeks since the life-shattering discussion with Ruby and Johnnie, and she simply couldn’t accept what she had been told. She couldn’t sleep properly, and when she was awake she couldn’t sit still for more than a couple of minutes. Her anger was all-consuming.
Because she was going to be leaving her school anyway, she had refused to go back at all; everyone had tried to persuade her it would be for the best if she could get back into a normal routine, even if it was only for a short while, but Maggie already had it in her head that she was not going to cooperate at all.
With any of them!
Instead, she either roamed around the house like a captive animal, snapping and snarling at anyone who approached her, or she hung around the tennis club with, or waiting for, Andy. Despite the traumatic events, she was as besotted with him as ever, and while she was focused on him she could block out some of the misery that was threatening to envelop her and send her careering into a full breakdown.
Because neither Ruby and Johnnie nor the vicar and his wife had had any success in getting Maggie to cooperate, Gracie Woodfield, Ruby’s best friend, had been summoned as a last resort to try and reason with her. Maggie had always liked Gracie, but now she put Gracie in the same camp of betrayal as Ruby and Johnnie. Gracie had known about Maggie’s history and parentage and had been part of the big secret keeping.
In a strange way, Maggie could see that Ruby was falling over backwards to try and help her, but she was having none of it. She was so convinced in her own mind that they were intent on stealing her inheritance – the same way that Ruby had stolen Aunt Leonora’s hotel, Maggie had convinced herself – that she could barely bring herself to talk to them. Her feelings of betrayal and abandonment were so intense, she had no intention of making anything easier for the Riordans. In fact she was determined to make their lives misery.
‘Oh Maggie, Maggie, we want you to be part of the arrangements for your future, we want you to have a say and be involved, but if you won’t cooperate we have no choice but to go ahead without you. Time is too short. I can’t stay here forever, so we have to get on with the arrangements. I’m sorry,’ Ruby had said – and that’s exactly what had happened; all the arrangements had been made, the time for the big move had nearly arrived and Maggie had done absolutely nothing. She hadn’t even sorted her own clothes and personal belongings out.
‘I can see what you mean. I suppose it does seem all wrong that you get no say.’ Andy frowned as he crossed his legs and leaned back. He had both arms stretched along the back of the bench. ‘But what else can you do? I mean, you can’t live on your own.’
‘I thought fatman the solicitor would cough up for a housekeeper for me, or a companion, or … Oh, I don’t know … But I’m not going with the
m, I’m not.’
‘I suppose they can’t drag you off if you don’t want to go. They can’t make you go and live with strangers, can they? Though I suppose they’re not really strangers.’
‘Well, they think they can. They think I’m going with them in two weeks’ time. They’ve even given me the date. Darling Ruby has decided she has to get back to her precious bloody hotels. I mean, even one of them came from my family, from my aunt! She’s got a knack of getting into wills has our Ruby.’
Maggie looked away. She felt bad that she hadn’t told Andy the whole story, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to admit the awful truth to him, or to anyone; she was finding it hard enough to accept herself that her whole life had been a lie.
She wasn’t the beloved only daughter of the respected village GP George Wheaton and his wife Barbara; she was actually the illegitimate daughter of an impoverished sixteen-year-old wartime evacuee from the backstreets of London and her secret on/off fancy man.
‘Ruby and Johnnie are both named as my guardians; the solicitor said so. What can I do? How can I change it? It’s just not fair …’
‘It doesn’t sound fair. I’ll ask my dad. He works with lawyers all the time. He might know what you can do.’ He shuffled along the bench towards her until their legs were touching, and he took her hand. ‘I don’t want you to go. I’ll miss you, Maggie. I really like you, you know. We sort of click, don’t we?’
Maggie blushed as he squeezed her fingers and, unable to think of anything to say, she looked down at the ground and tapped her feet even faster. Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of ten cigarettes and a matchbook. He lit one, drew deeply on it twice and then automatically passed it to her; she then took a small puff and passed it back to him. It had become a ritual between them to share their cigarettes, and although she didn’t really enjoy the actual smoking, which made her chest feel constricted, she loved the act itself. To her, sharing the same cigarette signalled an intimacy with Andy Blythe that she desperately wanted.
Maggie Page 8
