‘Maggie, you know how you’re a painter?’ Polly asks, as she rubs Saffy’s nose.
‘Yes,’ I say reticently. Technically, I’m not lying to her – I’m not a professional of course, as half the village seems to think, but I did paint her face as she asked me to. She was so delighted with the tiny stars and flowers I drew on her cheeks one morning last week that she now seems to think I’m some sort of Van Gogh. Luckily, she hasn’t asked to see any of my artwork yet – because there is none.
‘Will you teach me how to paint?’ she says. ‘I want to learn how to draw properly. Mary Devlin says I’m crap at art.’
‘Does she now?’ I say. Her father wouldn’t be happy if he heard her using that word, but I can’t very well correct her – I’m not her parent, after all. ‘Well, Mary Devlin doesn’t know very much, does she?’
‘She brought a dead hedgehog into school the other day. All the other kids thought it was really cool.’ Polly’s face is glum.
‘And you didn’t?’
‘No,’ she pouts. ‘Who wants to see a squashed hedgehog in a cornflakes box?’
‘Not very many people, I imagine,’ I say. I’ve seen any number of dead animals on the road since I came here and it takes some getting used to, even if the locals are completely blasé about it. Peg told me that Betty from the butcher’s sometimes makes stew with road kill, although I can’t be sure she wasn’t exaggerating slightly. There was an unspoken suggestion that Peg wasn’t quite certain what ended up in Betty’s sausage rolls, although I tried to ignore that. I secretly tried Betty’s sausage rolls last week when she pressed some on me in the street and they weren’t half bad. Not that I can ever admit that to Peg – she and Betty are sworn enemies and I get the very strong impression that Peg doesn’t like me even passing the time of day with her.
‘So will you teach me?’
‘Sure I will, Polly.’ I smile back. She really is very cute. ‘But I bet you can paint perfectly well without me.’
‘I’d like you to help.’
‘OK, then, I will some day.’ I heave a large pile of straw bedding to the door of the stable, then attempt to sweep the floor – it’s strip day so everything has to be cleared and then washed out. It’s a dirty job but I’m getting much quicker at it. It still leaves me a little breathless, though, even after a few weeks’ practice.
‘Which day?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Which day will you teach me how to paint?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I fudge. ‘Some day soon.’
‘I know what that means.’ Polly sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes like a pro.
She must have been watching her older sister for inspiration. Matilda is the Queen of the Rolling Eyes. ‘You should be careful, Polly,’ I say. ‘If the wind changes your eyes will stay like that.’
‘That’s only an old wives’ tale,’ she tuts knowledgeably. ‘Everyone knows that.’
‘They do?’ I always used to be really scared to roll my eyes as a child in case they got stuck – but Polly is a lot smarter than I ever was.
‘Yeah. Anyway, I know what you mean when you say “some day soon”,’ she says now.
‘When grown-ups say “some day soon”, they mean “never”.’
‘That’s not true.’ Except it is. This kid is sharp. It’s like she can see straight through my bullshit.
Maybe Theresa’s right: maybe children can see into your soul. Theresa says both her twins have a ‘second eye’ – they seem to know what she’s thinking or even if she has a sneaky ciggie when they nap. She can tell they know from the accusing way they look at her sometimes. As far as Theresa’s concerned, smoking the occasional Marlboro Light is no big deal – she reckons it’s a miracle she’s not on anything stronger than nicotine, she has so much to deal with. She told me a few days ago that there’s talk at her mothers’ group that a wilder mum – one who doesn’t even believe in the naughty step, a scandal in itself – can actually score cocaine. Theresa says the only thing stopping her giving in to temptation is the worry of what might happen if she did: she doesn’t want to turn into some sort of crack whore – and it’s not as if she can rely on Malcolm to look after the twins properly if she’s carted off to rehab. He’d have no clue how to grill potato waffles the way the twins like them – he can’t even find the toaster.
‘Yes, it is.’ Polly’s voice snaps me back to the present. ‘Daddy says it all the time. I keep asking him when we can go hacking in Glacken Woods and all he says is “Some day soon.” I know what that means. It means “never”.’
‘I see.’
I daren’t say any more. Glacken Woods? That’s where Polly’s mum had her accident. It’s also a haven for deviants, according to Matilda. No wonder Edward doesn’t want Polly to go there.
‘Mummy used to paint with me,’ Polly announces out of nowhere.
‘Did she?’ I’m not sure what to say to that. Should I say I’m sorry her mother is dead? Are you supposed to acknowledge death to children?
‘Mummy’s dead.’ Polly looks at me with clear hazel eyes. She doesn’t sound upset – more matter-of-fact.
‘I heard that.’
‘Yes. She fell off her horse and then she died.’
‘That’s very sad.’ I’m just following her lead, stating the obvious and not being overly emotional.
‘Yes, it was.’ Polly sighs. ‘Daddy was sad for a long time.’
‘I’m sure he was.’
‘He’s cheered up a bit now.’ Polly smiles. ‘I think it’s because of you!’
‘Me?’ What do I have to do with it?
‘He likes you.’
‘No, he doesn’t.’ He likes me mucking out the stables, and that’s about it.
‘Yes, he does. He like-likes you. I can tell.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He wants to fall in love with you.’
‘Don’t be silly!’ I laugh. Where did she get that idea from? Edward only tolerates me because Claire is renting Rose Cottage and I provide cheap labour. He wouldn’t choose to have me around, not unless he really had to. And he certainly doesn’t want to fall in love with me. For one thing he’s already in love with the vet from hell.
‘I’m not silly,’ Polly insists. ‘I saw it on TV. The man and the woman in the movie pretended they didn’t want to fall in love but they did, really. All they needed was a little help. And someone to get rid of the wicked witch.’
‘The wicked witch?’
‘Yes – that’s Odette.’ She looks around as if she’s afraid Odette might pop up from behind a bale of straw. ‘In the movie, the dragon ate the witch in the end, but I don’t know what we’ll do to kill off Odette. I’ve never seen a dragon in real life, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t. It sounds like an interesting movie, though – what was it called?’
Polly scrunches up her face with the effort of trying to recall. ‘I can’t remember,’ she says at last, ‘but there was lots of kissing. That part was gross. I hate kissing. Do you?’
How do I answer that? ‘I haven’t been kissed in a long time,’ I say eventually, trying to brush over the subject.
‘Really?’ Polly’s eyes widen. ‘Doesn’t your boyfriend kiss you? That’s what all grown-ups do.’
My boyfriend – that’s right. I told them all I had a boyfriend in the city. Nice one.
‘You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?’ Polly smiles knowingly. ‘You told a lie.’
‘It’s complicated, Polly.’
‘I know what that means. It means you’re lying! Show me your tongue!’
‘I will not.’
‘You have to! Show it to me – if there’s a black spot on it then you’re lying!’
If that was true my entire tongue would be black – I’ve told so many lies since I got here that I can barely keep track of them all. ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’ I say briskly, to change the subject.
Changing the subject is another one of Theresa’s fail-safe ploys with the twins. She can talk about fifteen different subjects in less than three minutes – she timed herself once. ‘Tell me, Polly,’ I ask, keeping my voice neutral, ‘what’s your favourite colour?’ Favourite colours – that’s a safe topic. Probably the number-one safe topic actually.
‘I don’t know.’ She frowns, thankfully forgetting about the lying thing. ‘Mummy loved blue. Do you like blue?’
Hmm … maybe not so safe.
‘Is it your favourite colour?’
I think about this. I don’t want to hurt her feelings by saying that blue isn’t my favourite, but then again she’ll know immediately if I don’t tell the truth. ‘Blue does have a lot to recommend it,’ I muse, ‘but I’ve always preferred yellow, to be honest.’
‘I like yellow too.’ She smiles at me and I smile back. The gap in her teeth is adorable.
‘How about next week?’ I say, unable to stop myself. This child is so sweet – what harm can it do to paint with her for a bit?
‘For painting?’ Polly claps her hands with excitement.
‘Yes – for painting.’
‘Oh, thank you, Maggie,’ she squeals, and throws herself at me, wrapping her plump little arms round my waist. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
I hug her back, my heart unexpectedly full. Who knew such a small thing could make her so happy?
‘What’s all the excitement about?’ I look up to see Edward standing at the stable door, wiping his hands on his overalls.
‘Daddy!’ Polly launches herself at him like a rocket, careering across the floor and skidding to a stop millimetres away from him.
‘Hello there!’ He scoops her up and hugs her tightly to him.
‘Dad! Put me down!’ she yelps. ‘I’m not a baby any more, you know!’
‘Sorry, Poll,’ Edward says, setting her down. ‘I keep forgetting.’
‘Well, try to remember! I’m six now – you can’t be lifting me up all the time.’
‘You’re practically a teenager, I know.’ Edward winks at me over Polly’s head and I smile back – I can’t help it. They’re so cute together.
‘I have something to tell you,’ Polly announces. ‘Guess what it is!’
‘You’re leaving home?’
‘Dad!’
‘Sorry. Um, let me think … you have a new boyfriend?’
‘Dad!’ Polly pulls a disgusted face.
‘Well, I don’t know then, I give up.’
‘Maggie’s going to teach me how to paint!’ she yells, her chubby cheeks pink with pleasure.
‘Is she now? Aren’t you lucky?’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I say. Maybe it was inappropriate to agree to it without consulting him first. Suddenly I feel a little uncomfortable – Edward may not want to agree to this plan. Maybe I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth.
‘Of course not. And Polly is obviously thrilled.’
He smiles at me, his eyes warm and liquid, and something strange stirs inside me. Maybe I’m hungry – mucking out is hard work.
‘Dad, guess what Maggie’s favourite colour is?’ Polly is hopping from one foot to the other.
‘Um … purple?’
‘Purple? Urgh, no, Dad! It’s yellow. The same as me!’
‘How cool!’ He grins at me now.
What is it about the way he’s looking at me? I just can’t put my finger on it.
‘Yeah. Mum’s favourite colour was blue, but Maggie says yellow is better and I think she’s right.’
‘I didn’t actually say yellow was better than blue!’ I start. God, I hope he doesn’t think I was badmouthing his dead wife. ‘I just prefer yellow, that’s all.’
It sounds totally lame.
‘I like yellow too,’ Edward says. ‘It’s so … cheerful.’
Phew – he’s not insulted after all.
‘Do you, Dad? Do you hear that, Maggie? You and Daddy like the exact same colour! That’s just like in the movies!’ She winks knowingly at me and I make a face at her to be quiet. The last thing I need is for her to ask her father if he ‘like-likes’ me. Things are awkward enough.
‘Edward!’ A shrill voice sears through the yard. ‘Oh – there you are!’
It’s Odette – and she doesn’t look too happy.
‘Oh, hi, Odette,’ Edward says, turning to greet her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Polly says, glaring at Odette, unable to contain her intense dislike, and I try to stifle a laugh. From what Polly just told me, Odette is her version of the wicked witch.
‘Oh, Polly, hello,’ Odette says, as if the little girl is an annoying fly she’s just found in her soup. ‘I was just passing and thought I’d pop in and take another look at Saffy’s leg. Make sure she’s OK.’ She turns her high-voltage smile on Edward.
‘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 colour 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.