‘Is she going to die?’ a small voice says.
‘No, of course not,’ another answers.
‘She might,’ the small voice replies.
‘No, she won’t – I promise.’ The other voice softens a little.
‘She’ll be fine,’ a third voice interrupts. ‘She’ll come round – the girl has grit.’
‘I hope you’re right, June,’ a fourth voice says. He sounds worried.
June. Why does that name sound familiar? June … There’s definitely a ring to it, but I just can’t seem to put my finger on it somehow … But I won’t think about it now, because all I want to do is drift back into the darkness and sleep.
‘Dr Martin’s on his way,’ a fifth voice adds. ‘He’ll be here in a few minutes.’
‘I have a Mars Bar,’ someone adds. ‘Would it help?’
‘How would a Mars Bar help?’ a woman says. ‘She’s unconscious – what are you going to do? Set up a drip and mainline chocolate through her veins?’
‘Sorry,’ the man says. ‘I didn’t think.’
‘No, you didn’t, you sausage-roll-eating traitor!’ the woman snaps.
They sound familiar too. Why is that?
‘That’s enough. Out – all of you. She needs some peace and quiet.’
It’s a man talking now. A man with a lovely deep voice. I can hear him, closer, whispering in my ear: ‘Maggie,’ he says softly. ‘Maggie, can you hear me?’
I open one eye and try to concentrate. Who is he? I can’t see very well. Maybe if I could get the other eye open … but I can’t for some reason. It’s as if the lashes are firmly glued together. Did I forget to take off my mascara again last night? I wish someone would invent a mascara that miraculously disappears while you sleep, just sort of dissolves into your skin, maybe. It’s such a bummer to wake up with panda eyes. Now the gloop will have hardened and it’ll take twice as long to get myself looking presentable for work. I hope I haven’t run out of eye-makeup remover. The bottle was almost empty the last time I used it.
‘Maggie,’ the voice says again. ‘Maggie, can you hear me?’
God, my head hurts – what did I do last night? I try to remember. First I forgot to take off my makeup; now my head is pounding like I have the worst hangover in history. Did I go out? My brain is fuzzy and, for the life of me, I just can’t remember. Was I with Dom? Did he finally manage to get me to go clubbing? I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him – what on earth did he make me drink? I’ve never had a hangover like this. Not ever.
I turn my face to the left, where the voice is coming from, and with one last effort I manage to wrench both eyes open.
There’s a man kneeling by me – a stranger. A stranger who looks oddly familiar. Oh, my God. I’ve had a one-night stand. I’ve slept with a random guy. Is he someone I met in a nightclub? I rack my brains, panic flooding through me. I must have been really, really drunk – that’s why I ended up in this state, lying beside a total stranger. I can’t believe I’ve done this. It’s so not like me to hook up with someone I don’t even know. Even if he is … gorgeous. God, he’s gorgeous – even in my state I can see that. He has the most beautiful eyes, really smiley and crinkly and lovely.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks.
His voice is lovely too, really caring. It looks like I had a one-night stand with a really nice person. Not that this in any way absolves me of blame – I am a bad person, a very, very bad person. I should be ashamed of myself. I am ashamed of myself. If I could just sit up and get out of here …
‘Are you feeling a bit muzzy? You hit your head pretty hard. The doctor’s on the way.’
Doctor? What doctor? I hit my head? What’s he talking about? I can’t focus, because my skull is throbbing so much.
‘Do you have a headache?’ the stranger asks now, smiling kindly at me. Mmm … he’s cute.
I try to nod, but even that hurts. But it seems the stranger knows what I’m saying. ‘Here, take this.’
He lifts a glass of water to my lips and I drink thirstily. That’ll be the hangover – that’ll teach me to drink too much. I must be in a complete mess – what on earth did I get up to last night? I haven’t had a shocking hangover like this in years.
‘You’ll feel better soon,’ the stranger says. ‘Are you comfortable?’
‘Yes,’ I hear myself say, even though my head feels like it’s going to explode.
Who the hell is this guy and why does he look so familiar? And where exactly am I? I’m not in a bed – I seem to be lying on a sofa. Oh, God, it looks like we never even made it to the bedroom. I must have had wild-stranger sex in this guy’s front room – right here on this chesterfield with the worn cushions. Come to think of it, the cushions look familiar – I’m sure I’ve seen them somewhere before. And that smell … it’s sort of musky, almost outdoorsy. It smells like … horse manure.
And then it comes to me, like a blinding flash of light. This isn’t some gorgeous guy I’ve had a one-night stand with after a drunken night out. This is Edward – my temporary landlord. I am in the country, not in some stranger’s flat after drunken sex.
It all comes flooding back – Robert turning up at the meeting, Ted having his heart-attack, Matilda going missing. And Edward. He knows the truth about me. Oh, God.
‘Did I … did I faint?’ I croak.
‘No, you didn’t. Drya ran into you and you fell and hit your head pretty hard,’ Edward says.
Drya? That’s right. Matilda took Drya – she ran away.
‘Matilda?’ I croak. ‘Is she OK? Is she hurt?’
‘She’s fine.’ Edward smiles. ‘A bit shaky, but fine. Thanks to you. She told me everything about … about Daniel. We had a very long talk.’
‘Good – that’s good. She’s a nice kid – she’s just a confused teenager.’
‘You’re right. And I haven’t been a very good listener. But that’s going to change.’
I’m so proud of Matilda I could burst – she’s taken my advice to heart and reconnected with her dad. She’ll be OK now, even if she’s heartbroken for a while.
‘How’s Drya?’
‘Not so good – she fell too.’
‘Oh, no, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he says softly. ‘You and Matilda are safe, that’s all that matters. It could have been so much worse.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ I’m trying to make sense of it all.
‘We have to get you checked out, though – you might have concussion. The doctor will be here in a minute.’
‘How did I get here?’ I ask.
‘Robert drove you,’ he replies. ‘He’s been a great help tonight.’
Robert. Of course. ‘Can I maybe have some more water?’ My throat feels like sandpaper.
‘Sure.’
He holds the glass to my lips again and I take a sip – the cool liquid feels wonderful as it slips down my throat.
‘Is Polly OK?’ I ask. ‘I hope she wasn’t frightened.’
‘She’s fine,’ Edward says. ‘She was very concerned that you might die, but once we reassured her that you weren’t going to she recovered pretty quickly.’
‘Die? Why would she think I was going to die?’
‘Well, I guess since her mum passed away she’s had a heightened sense of fear that people she’s fond of will do the same. The psychologist says it’s perfectly natural – a sort of transference, I think.’
‘Polly’s fond of me?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he says. ‘She’s very fond of you. She says you’re different from other people. You’re not naff apparently.’
He fiddles uncomfortably with the blanket that’s draped across me while I try to think of something to say. Everything is such a mess – there’s no getting away from it.
‘I’m not an artist,’ I confess. ‘But I think you know that already.’ I may as well tackle the subject – there’s no time like the present.
‘Yes, I do.’
Edward’s voice isn’t angry. Why is that?
‘I’m an estate agent.’
There. I’ve said it. If there was any doubt in his mind about what he overheard in the hall I’ve cleared it up for him. There can be no misunderstanding any more.
‘An unemployed estate agent is what I understand,’ he corrects me.
He still doesn’t sound angry. Why? He hates estate agents – he blames them for his wife’s death. He thinks they should all rot in hell.
‘That’s true,’ I say. ‘And I’m homeless too.’ In for a penny in for a pound.
‘That’s why you agreed to stay in Rose Cottage? You had nowhere to live in the city?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I didn’t mean to lie – it all just got out of control …’ I struggle to sit up and explain it properly to him.
‘Sssh, you need to rest.’
‘Maggie!’
Before he can continue, Polly bursts into the room and flings herself at the chesterfield. Edward drops my hand. It’s only now I realize he was holding it tightly as we talked.
‘Hi, Polly!’ I smile at her.
‘Are you OK?’ Her plump face is creased with worry.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘Pinkie promise?’ She holds out her baby finger to me and grabs mine with hers.
‘Pinkie promise,’ I repeat.
‘I was really scared.’
‘I’m sorry, Polly. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘Polly, you have to go,’ Edward says kindly. ‘Maggie needs her rest.’
‘Can’t I just sit here, Dad? I won’t talk.’
I nod at Edward.
‘OK, then,’ he ruffles Polly’s hair, ‘but not a peep, OK?’
‘OK. I swear.’
Polly hunkers down on the floor beside me and takes my hand. ‘Can I just tell Maggie one thing?’ she asks, after about two seconds of silence.
‘Polly!’
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘Go on, Polly.’
‘We all know you’re not an artist,’ she announces solemnly.
‘You do?’ Of course they do. Nothing stays secret in Glacken for very long, I know that.
‘Yup. Odette told us. And then Peg and Ted told her she should mind her own business!’
‘They did?’
‘Yes – Peg said that everyone has secrets and we should forgive and forget. Then she and Ted got all mushy and kissed – it was naff! They’re going on a second honeymoon to see the Taj Mahal. I know what that is – we did it in school.’
I can’t believe it – not only has Peg forgiven Ted for the sausage-roll transgression but she’s agreed to go on a holiday! Ted will be over the moon – this is the adventure he’s been longing for. ‘What happened next?’ I ask.
‘Well, then Granny told Odette she wasn’t welcome here any more. She told her to leave.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup! And then Odette said that Granny was a withered old hag!’
‘No way!’ I gasp.
‘And then Granny told Odette that everyone knew she wasn’t really Dad’s girlfriend and she never would be. Granny likes you now – she says you have gumption.’
‘I didn’t know that was what Odette was telling people.’ Edward looks mortified. ‘I couldn’t believe it.’
‘So, you were never in a relationship with her?’ I ask, gobsmacked. Can it be that she fabricated the whole thing? Was it all in her mind?
‘No!’ Edward shakes his head furiously. ‘Never! I was just being friendly – I never knew she thought it would lead to anything more.’
‘You see, Maggie?’ Polly is triumphant. ‘I told you she was a wicked witch, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, I remember.’ How could I forget?
‘Guess what else she did?’ Polly is on her feet now, hopping with excitement.
‘She wanted to put Drya down.’
‘Oh, no!’ This is terrible, Edward will be heartbroken.
‘Yes, but Dad wouldn’t let her – would you, Dad?’
‘No.’ Edward shakes his head. ‘Drya needs extra love and attention now – it’s time we gave it to her. We won’t give up.’
‘I’m so glad.’ I beam at him. I’d always thought she was such a sad horse – maybe she can be helped after all. ‘Anything else exciting happen?’ I ask Polly.
‘Well, Robert had to go back to the city, but he said to give you this.’
Polly leans across and kisses me on the forehead. Robert has sent me his love – he really is one of the good guys. Hopefully the adventurous Maria will see that too.
‘So,’ Polly continues, ‘everything is just the way it should be.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just like the movie, remember?’
‘Ah, the movie, yes.’
Poor Polly is still living in Fantasy Land where boy meets girl and it all works out.
‘So, all you have to do is kiss Dad and then it will be happily ever after.’
‘Polly, I don’t think …’
I’m stuck for words. The last person Edward will want to kiss is me – not now, not after everything.
‘What do you say, Maggie?’ Edward asks softly.
‘About what?’ I stare at him. Is he joking?
‘Polly is looking for a happy-ever-after. It would be terrible to disappoint her – don’t you think?’
‘But, what about …?’
‘Maggie, I don’t care what you do for a living. I just want you in my life.’
‘You do?’ My head is spinning again, but not because I hit it – because of the way Edward is looking at me.
‘Yes, I do. Besides, I think you are an artist at heart. Which is why you’ll be the perfect curator for the new arts centre in Glacken.’
‘The new arts centre?’
‘Yes, I spoke to Robert about it – he thinks it’s a brilliant idea. He’s going to recommend it to Laurence. If Xanta agrees to provide funding, we’ll get the green light.’
‘And Peg and Ted?’
‘I’ve explained it to them properly and they’re all for it. They can see how it will benefit the village. Besides, it sounds like they’re planning a lot of travel over the next few months. Ted’s already been looking up destinations on his iPhone.’
I gaze at him, love filling my heart. He’s worked it all out – it’s amazing.
But then I remember: what about his wife? He’s not over her – I saw him in the graveyard only days ago and he was grief-stricken. How can he ever move on?
‘He’s even told Mum about you – didn’t you, Dad?’ Polly says, as if she can read my mind. Maybe she does have a second eye, just like Theresa’s twins.
‘I did,’ Edward agrees. ‘I brought some of her favourite flowers to the church and told her all about you. I know she’d have liked you very much.’
Favourite flowers? They must have been the roses he laid on the grave. He was asking for her blessing.
‘There’s only one problem,’ he says, frowning for a second.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘Well, when Claire gets back from India you’ll have nowhere to live.’
‘That’s true …’ I say, suddenly feeling much, much better. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Well, I suppose you could stay with Peg and Ted,’ he says seriously.
‘In that love nest? I’m not sure,’ I muse.
‘I see what you mean,’ he replies. ‘Well … I guess you could stay with us. We could do with some help in the stables.’
‘You could?’
‘Yes. You’d need to have experience, though – we can’t have just anyone mucking out.’
‘I’m pretty nifty with a pitchfork, as it happens.’
‘You are? Well, then. That could work.’ He leans towards me, his eyes liquid with desire. ‘I might have to draw up a new legally binding contract, of course,’ he says.
‘And I’ll have to get my lawyers to take a look before I sign on the dotted line,’ I reply.
‘That’s very satisfactory,’ he mutters.
Then he lowers his head and his lips meet mine.
I hear Polly scream with delight in the background as I close my eyes and melt into Edward’s arms. She’s right, this is just like the movies – it’s exactly as I always imagined it would be: absolutely perfect.