What Maisie Did Next

by Katy Lilley

  ‘Next question, who wrote the Mr Men books?’

  They looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘Auto suggestion?’ Lottie spluttered. ‘If so, do it again.’

  They didn’t win, but nor did they come last. ‘Fifth out of thirteen, that’s not too bad is it?’ Maisie said as she and Cam strolled towards Daps Cottage. He’d walked out with her as if it was a given. ‘It was a good turn out. Let’s hope it always is. But if we go again, I’m brushing up on Mediaeval history, and Russian Tsars. To say nothing of local folklore. Thank goodness Lottie and Gibb knew about smugglers and so on. Living where they do is a help I guess.’ Their house had an alleged smugglers tunnel leading down to the river and up to their local church. ‘Don’t you wish our church has what their local one has?’

  ‘We just have the tall tower that used to be used as an aid to shipping,’ Cam said. ‘And on a few occasions helped wreckers achieve their aim of ransacking a few ships which carried silks or brandy. That’s enough for me to cope with when someone at Sunday School asks why Jesus let people do it.’

  ****

  ‘Do you fancy making a break for freedom on Friday night?’ Cam asked the following week as they walked back up the hill from Dario and Bryony’s, arm in arm after a companionable evening, which included Barns. Maisie—along with Barns—had offered to Theo sit so the other couple could have a night out now Bryony had - in her words - stopped feeling icky and before she couldn’t see her feet. Cam had popped in with the parish magazine, and just stopped on. She’d shared the goodies Bryony had left with him. A seafood platter, profiteroles and an assortment of sweets from Mrs Cherry’s version of pick and mix for her, and some dog treats for Mop and Barns. There had been no need to conjure up an excuse for not drinking. Cam wouldn’t in case any of his parishioners needed him, and Maisie wouldn’t because she was Theo sitting. However, she was under no illusion that she’d have to say something about her condition sooner rather than later. That morning she’d discarded three skirts and one pair of trousers as being impossible to wear with any hope for decency, and desperately needed to go shopping. Her smock top covered her burgeoning bump for the moment, but for how much longer?

  For some reason Cam had washed his shoes and squelched with every step. When Maisie asked him why, he’d merely said, they were dirty and refused to elaborate. ‘It’s nothing. So how’s life going?’

  The sideways glance at Barns made her wonder what the dog had been up to but neither of them were admitting anything.

  ‘Earth to Maisie? It’s not that a difficult question.’

  ‘I feel eyes on my every move and it’s unnerving.’

  Maisie had at first been amused and then irritated that she couldn’t even hang her washing out, or go to buy a pint of milk, or whatever without someone noticing and commenting. How she’d managed her hospital and doctor’s appointment she had no idea. It had seemed so bad that she’d taken to drying her lacy smalls indoors and sneaking anything remotely unhealthy into her bag before she left Mrs Cherry.

  ‘It’s so bad, Mrs C asked if I’d like her to wrap my chocolate and flapjack in plain brown paper. Then she winked and said, ‘That’ll get the gossips going. I can just hear them. That new woman up at the school gets naughty things delivered to the shop. Poor Mrs Cherry!’’

  They both broke out in laughter. Mrs Cherry beta read all Dario’s books for him and was the least prissy person Maisie knew.

  ‘Oh buckets.’ She was trying not to cuss. ‘Faye Soole has just driven past so I guess we’ll be on the equivalent of the town crier’s list tomorrow. Seriously if looks could kill, I’ll be pushing up daisies. Why can’t the silly woman get it into her head the only person who fancies Dave Soole apart from her, is him? And why can’t he understand that as well? Seriously, he picked Krystal up today and made a pass. I waved the cutting out scissors in the direction of his crotch, told Krystal to be careful as they were very sharp and never to mess with them. My tone told him in no uncertain terms that messing with them on him didn’t count. Repulsive man. If I was into voodoo, I’d put a hex on him. One unpleasant act and his bits would shrivel.’

  Cam laughed. ‘I love it. Maybe I need to do a sermon that love thy neighbour does not have to be taken literally. Except in our case of course.’

  ‘Wouldn’t do any good.’ She ignored the innuendo. ‘According to Krystal, her dad doesn’t hold with church n stuff. Load of twaddle and all that. He’s an ‘aggie no stick’.’ She mimed quote marks. ‘Better off digging the lots-men, or fishin’ away from moaning women. I tell you, some parents would have a fit if they knew what kids said about them. I guess she meant agnostic and allotment.’

  ‘When I was at primary school, we had to write a paragraph about out responsible adults. Evidently, I said my dad had given up smoking and ate apples and my mum loved reading Mills and Boon. Both true. One of the best moments of her life was when she met one of her favourite authors and they signed a book for her. She still had it over twenty years later when she passed away.’

  ‘Aww that’s lovely. We’re not allowed to do that sort of essay now, too probing or something. Ours is all free flow ideas, and so on. Takes me ages to remember what’s flavour of the term sometimes.’

  They reached Daps Cottage and Maisie unlocked the door. ‘Thanks for seeing me home…and keeping me company.’ She spoiled her words of gratitude with a yawn. ‘Ouch sorry.’

  ‘No apologies needed, just this.’ Cam bent his head and gave her a through, toe tingling kiss which Maisie responded to with a fervour she didn’t realise she had. When they finally drew part, she was light-headed. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Very wow. And on your doorstep, you hussy.’

  Maisie giggled.

  Good lord, how mortifying. Giggling for heaven’s sake. She hardly ever giggled it seemed so immature and here she was a thirty something year old doing it on a regular basis. ‘That’s it, I’ll be removed from post and have do something else. You’ll be unfrocked or defrocked and we’ll both be stared at for ever more.’

  ‘Sackcloth and ashes?’ Cam said. ‘I’m more likely to do a high five and say don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it, but don’t try it with my lady.’ He paused. ‘Or my lady when she realises, I’m determined, trustworthy, and mean every word.’

  Despite her situation, she liked the sound of that.

  ‘So,’

  Maisie had hardly got up and dressed the next morning before Bryony appeared.

  ‘You had company last night eh? And?’

  ‘And what?’ Maisie asked suspiciously. ‘Bryony Monk, did you arrange it?’

  Bryony spluttered. ‘Moi?’

  Maisie narrowed her eyes. When her friend did that ‘how on earth could you think that of me’, look, it was obvious Bryony had done something. ‘Spill, or I’ll tickle you.’

  ‘Meanie.’ Bryony sighed. ‘I did mention to him that we’d be out, and you were baby and dog sitting when he said he’d drop the magazine off. So, it was up to him, not me.’

  ‘Devious, Bry.’

  Bryony nodded. ‘It’s obvious he fancies you, and I bet you’re not unaware of him. I’m just trying to be helpful.’

  ‘Well don’t, OK? I’ve enough to worry about as it is. Let me talk to the education department, get maternity dates sorted, then let the maybe father know and then, well, we will see what happens. Okay? Promise?’

  Bryony sighed. ‘Okay, promise and no I do not have my fingers crossed. But being pregnant does not negate friends of the opposite sex.’

  ‘Of course not. I have Dario, Gibb and ooft.’ Bryony had put her hand over Maisie’s mouth.

  ‘You know what I mean. Just remember he’s our friend as well.’

  Which of course could make things even more problematical. Maisie was aware she’d need to share her secret with Bryony before long. First though, how to share it with Cam.

  Would it be wrong to show him she was interested in furthering their acquaintance, before she told him? Or should she tell him, then
ask if he still wanted to be more than friends? She glanced at her burgeoning waistline. So far, she’d managed to conceal her bump with the big floaty tops she liked, and baggy oversized boyfriend jumpers, but soon that strategy wouldn’t work.

  And if they did get closer as he’d intimated he’d like to, getting naked wasn’t an option, even the short sighted of blokes couldn’t fail to notice it wasn’t just an excess of chocolate and pasta that had created it.

  Oh, what a tangled web and all that.

  ‘Anyway, in that vein,’ Bryony rattled on, ‘How about Sunday lunch? Thought we could do tapas type stuff. Something for everyone.’

  ‘Define everyone.’

  ‘Oh,’ Bryony said airily. ‘You know, the usual crowd.’ Her insouciant attitude didn’t fool Maisie for one minute.

  Which, she now suspected included Cam. ‘Sorry, I’ve promised to go to Exeter on Sunday to chat with someone about secret stuff for school.’ Not that she thought Bryony would believe her, but that was all she was getting.

  It wasn’t enough.

  ‘You’re telling porkies,’ Bryony accused her. ‘You’re rubbing your pinkies together. You always do that when you’re not quite telling the truth.’

  Damn. Maisie shoved her hands into her pockets.

  Bryony tutted and stared forcefully at Maisie. It was like being in the witness box. ‘Too late. How well do you know Rik, and don’t give me any crap about “not a lot”. I’m your bestie, I should be in the know and able to help if need be, give your relationship a boost. Every time I mention him you change the subject.’

  That was enough. Maisie gulped and broke into noisy, snotty sobs. ‘If, and that’s a big if, anything happens between me and C…’ She realised her mistake as soon as the name was out of her mouth. Bryony’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Cam…Rik’s name…Oh fucketyboo. Is it?’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Is it what?’ Maisie hedged. She knew Bryony would catch on one day, but why now?

  ‘You know what, Maisie MacLean. Cam. You fainted when you saw Cam. You’ve been very careful not to use the name of the hotshot lover. Is Cameron Rickards, our vicar, the father of your child. Did you shag our vicar?’

  Maisie sighed. ‘Guilty as charged. There’s a fifty-fifty chance and I didn’t know he was our vicar when we…we…’

  ‘Had it off?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Maisie wiped her nose on a tissue Bryony handed her. ‘What a mess, eh? There I was sneaking out like a… oh, whatever, and thinking that was it, a great night, one off, over and done, never see again, think well, what if, and then I bloody do.’ She sniffed. ‘Not only see, but live in the same village a few hundred yards away, meet a lot and he shows he likes me and how can I show him I like him, eh?’ She drew a deep breath. ‘And when I show properly, what then? What if he does the maths?”

  ‘Does the…shoot. You mean…?’ Bryony grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sank most of it in one long gulp. ‘Am I right in thinking that the fact you can’t confirm the date also means can’t confirm the father?’

  Maisie nodded. ‘So now you know why I’m in such a funk. I mean just how do you say, ‘oh well, I’ve been avoiding you because there might have been a repercussion from our shower’… er well.’ She went hot all over and laughed. ‘It was stupendous, but I couldn’t swear hand on heart we remembered the condom. But you see my dilemma. He knows I’d only just split up with Stan, and what bloke in his right mind wants a partner who’s pregnant and doesn’t know who the father is?’

  ‘An honourable one? Come on Maisie, give the bloke a break. He might not be the dad, but he might be, and until you tell him you don’t know how he’ll react. Plus, isn’t it better to bite the bullet and tell him now before he finds out for himself? You aren’t getting any slimmer.’

  Maisie pulled her top tight and looked down. ‘True. Yeah, I know I need to tell him, but I really wanted to make sure I’d got as much sorted as I could first.’

  Bryony waggled her finger in front of Maisie’s face. ‘Tell him, stop procrastinating. Whatever else happens isn’t going to affect the status quo with him. Promise? Then you can come to lunch.’

  Maisie sighed. ‘I promise I’ll try but I doubt it would be before lunch.’

  ‘Then I’ll put it off a week. That gives you plenty of time.’

  Bryony’s idea of plenty of time didn’t coincide with Maisie’s.

  A text from Cam saying, ’over to you now,’ didn’t help her state of mind, nor did Bryony’s daily phone calls with various suggestions on how to tell Cam. Some were reasonable, some totally illogical. After one suggesting she kidnapped him and took him onto Dario’s boat and stopped there until they’d spoken was the last straw. She rang Bryony and stated, ‘If you don’t stop, I’ll be kidnapping you and sending you to your Aunt Lucy in Sunderland.’ As Bryony and her aunt were not on speaking terms, she got the idea and the texts stopped apart from the ones asking how she was feeling. Maisie agonised over how she could explain to Cam, and in the end decided she’d invite him for a cuppa. Her tentative text was answered promptly. Sadly in the negative, as he had to take a funeral and then head to a diocese meeting. His suggestion of after Church on Sunday had her thinking hard. Before she’d answered he’d got back to her. ‘Better make it after evensong, will I see you at Church?’

  She said no to church and yes to meeting in the evening and then worried over what to wear say and compose herself.

  A gibbering wreck was an understatement.

  Sunday was a strange day. She got up, lightheaded and nauseous after very little sleep, and watched people head to the church for the morning service. It seemed strange to know Cam was across the village green, preaching. Something that was a part of him, something she could be a part of and chose not to.

  But if she did go, wouldn’t that be hypocritical?

  She was giving herself a headache. Maisie downed two painkillers suitable for pregnant ladies, checked her dress was sufficiently voluminous, found a jacket, and took Barns for a walk down the lane towards Bryony’s house. Not that she’d intrude, but if Bryony saw her, they could at least pass the time of day.

  Sadly, there was no sign of any of the family. Not even Mop to woof at Barns as they walked past. Maisie walked to the corner, and hesitated. Down towards the river or home? Barns was okay to take out now, his shots were up to date, but would his stamina last? She didn’t fancy carrying him back up the hill, and there were no buses on a Sunday.

  Barns whined and tried to get onto the first step of the stile. Maisie laughed. ‘On your head be it then. No howling or saying your paws are sore. A mile and a bit there and a mile and a bit back, no shirking.’

  Barns barked. A full almost grown up bark, not a puppy woof.

  Maisie hefted him over the stile and clambered to follow him. He, bless him, decided to remember his manners and sat while she did the almost show your knickers act. A floaty dress, thick black tights and old, old tatty Uggs was not the preferred attire for stile climbing. At least there was no one around to comment. Or she hoped not.

  Once over, the path skirted the field and then met the local pitch and putt golf course, before it twisted through the trees at the cliff edge and reached the village where the foot passenger ferry chugged from one side of the estuary to the other. Maisie had done the trip more than once with Bryony when she’d been visiting her friend, but not since she’d moved. There had been no time.

  They reached the edge of the golf course and Maisie eyed it in doubt. It was to coin a phrase, heaving. That was what happened on a reasonably mild late autumn day. People on every tee and green. People waiting and people watching. Not a good place for one only just happy at the big wide world puppy. Barns sat down and learnt on Maisie’s leg. Maisie glanced at him. ‘Not today eh, Barns. Think we’ll give it a miss.’

  She turned on her heels ready to go back the way they came.

  ‘Fore, Miss, duck. Look out!’ Someone shouted in an anguished, urgent wa
y.

  She ducked.

  A ball whizzed over her head, missing her by a few inches.

  Maisie spun around, ready to give someone an ear bashing only to see Krystal running across the grass with a worried looking older man next to her.

  ‘Lord, Miss,’ he puffed. ‘That gave us a fright and a half. We was waiting for us turn and some blood…begging your pardon, bleeping youth hit his from the next hole and shafted it. I grabbed our Krystal here and ducked and we saw you were in the firing line. I’d have given him a piece of my mind, but little pitchers ‘n all that. Plus the varmint bug…scarpered. Are you both all right?’

  Maisie nodded, more concerned about the man’s breathlessness.

  ‘I’m fine, Mr?’

  ‘Ah sorry. I’m Albert Messenger, Krystal’s granddad.’ He grabbed Maisie’s hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Her mum’s dad. Mum’s a bit under the weather so I said we’d have a day out and let Mum get sorted.’

  ‘Me dad’s been naughty again,’ Krystal confided. ‘Dunno how, but I ‘eard him say he were sick of the dog ‘ouse n it takes two.’ She shrugged. ‘What’s he mean, Grandad?’ She bent down to stroke Barns.

  Mr Messenger exchanged a look with Maisie over his grandchild’s head. ‘No idea, love.’

  ‘Other women,’ he mouthed.

  Maisie nodded. She couldn’t say anything, but he knew she knew, and she’d keep an eye out for Krystal at school. ‘I’d better head back,’ she said. ‘It’s too busy for Barns here. He’s still a baby and the big wide world is a scary place for him.’

  ‘And lunch and evensong before you know it, eh?’ Mr Messenger said. ‘Day goes by quick. Lovely man, the new vicar. Not got you roped into Sunday school yet?’

  Sod it.

  ‘I have enough with weekday school,’ Maisie said. She ignored anything else he might have hinted at and sketched a wave. ‘Enjoy the rest of your game.’

  She huffed back up the hill, conscious that she wasn’t just out of breath but out of sorts. Why did people have to try and interfere? She was doing a good job—she hoped—enjoyed school in the main and loved her little house and most of the village. Of course, there were always rotten apples, but Little Bristow was a gorgeous place to live, and she didn’t want it spoiled. If people continually commented on her choices, it was going to grate. To say nothing of making her wonder about where her relationship with Cam could go, once she’d confessed her condition.