‘There’s someone else I’d like you to meet,’ said Lilian, as they wended back to the centre of the festivities, though she had to take a breather outside the post office. She was old before her time, thought Marnie with a sad inner sigh. They headed towards a road that Marnie presumed wound its way up to the manor house. Kytson Hill, a pointy sign indicated. A pale-green cottage stood back from it. They had to bend under the low-hanging boughs of a large apple tree in the front garden to continue down the path. Before Lilian’s hand touched on the handle of the door, it opened and an old lady emerged, wearing a long black dress and a cape, with her hair in twin white buns by her ears. She looked like a negative of Princess Leia’s grandma.
Lilian greeted her warmly. ‘Emelie, come and meet Marnie.’
‘I was just on my way,’ said Emelie, shutting the door behind her. She held her hand out towards Marnie. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Lilian.’
‘All good, I hope,’ Marnie smiled back at the sweet-faced Emelie.
‘All very good,’ said Emelie, nodding her head.
‘How are you today, my dear?’ asked Lilian, giving her friend a kiss on her cheek.
‘I’m fine. More to the point, how are you?’ asked Emelie. ‘You look pale.’ She reached up and touched Lilian’s face gently in the manner of someone who was very fond of her.
‘It’s the black, sucks all the colour out of your skin,’ said Lilian, waving away any inference that she could be less than well. She took Emelie’s arm. For all her age, the older lady was steadier on her feet than her friend.
‘Have many people arrived?’ asked Emelie, a soft lilt to her words, Marnie noticed, and the hint of a speech impairment in the way she pronounced her ‘r’s.
‘The usual piddling amount,’ sniffed Lilian.
‘Ah, that’s a shame. But, so long as the May Queen is crowned to protect us all, it doesn’t matter how many people witness it.’ Emelie patted Lilian’s hand and smiled at her. It sounded to Marnie as if they all needed protecting from Titus Sutton more than from a long-dead witch.
They went back down the hill to the green where a small crowd, but a crowd nevertheless, was gathered now. Three children were holding the ribbons attached to the maypole and were running around it, weaving the strands into a tangle, then running the opposite way to unravel them. A woman was adjusting the flowers in the May Queen’s hair, personal-stylist-style.
‘Lionel, come and meet my friend Marnie.’ The vicar was duly summoned over.
‘Ah, this is your famous Marnie. We’ve met, sort of,’ he said, holding out his hand and Marnie’s joined it in a firm shake. ‘But nice to meet you formally.’ He had taken out the tooth plate and his real teeth were even and displayed beautifully as he smiled.
‘Looks like Ruby Sweetman is taking her role very seriously.’ Emelie grinned mischievously.
‘I wonder why,’ said Lionel, with the tone of someone who knew exactly why.
‘Well, Herv is doing the crowning after all,’ Lilian replied.
Herv? The hairy bloke on entrance ticket duty? Well, he must look better out of the sackcloth then, thought Marnie. She couldn’t imagine that Ruby was at the end of a very long queue for his attentions.
She studied the May Queen whilst Lionel and Emelie and Lilian were talking amongst themselves. Ruby looked about the same age as herself, long golden hair, large blue eyes, perfect nose but the overall effect was let down by the mean line of her mouth. She set Marnie on edge; it wasn’t for any reason she could put her finger on. Maybe she was predisposed to not favouring the blonde/blue-eyed combo.
Someone barged past knocking Marnie into Lionel who courteously steadied her. The man in tweed, the one with the flat cap, waistcoat and expensive boots – Titus Sutton. He clapped his hands to summon attention to himself.
‘Ladies and Gentleman,’ he addressed the small crowd. ‘Thank you all for coming to this auspicious occasion where we crown our most beautiful May Queen and honour her.’
‘Lionel, you should be doing this,’ Lilian said to the vicar.
‘Be complicit in a pagan ceremony, whatever would the bishop say?’ replied Lionel.
‘He need never know. Titus is bound to spoil it.’
‘Magic, if you believe that old tripe’ – Titus sniggered behind his hand as if he was in a play and telling the audience something he didn’t want the rest of the cast to know – ‘is at its strongest on May Day, so based on that we should all be in for a wonderful, happy, fruitful year. Protected from the wicked witch of the well.’ He said the sentence with relish and drama and Lilian responded, none-too-quietly.
‘Well, really! She wasn’t wicked. If her spirit heard that, she’d be very cross.’
Titus heard but ignored her and carried on. ‘So, it is with great delight that I ask that the May Queen be crowned. Who crowneth the queen?’
‘I do. Herv Gunnarsen.’
Blond Hagrid appeared from behind them. Blimey, he’s massive, thought Marnie. He’d taken those revolting teeth out and she could see what Lilian meant about him looking as if he’d just walked off a Viking longboat. His real leonine blond hair fell past shoulders wider than a double wardrobe. Yep, now she understood why the May Queen’s heart was melting before their eyes, although hers didn’t quicken in the slightest. It was learning at long last. Hip-bloody-hurrah!
Herv held a floral crown in his hand, yellow flowers twisted with ivy leaves. He lifted it above Ruby’s head with his left hand and with his right he fumbled in his trouser pocket under the sackcloth. He brought out a piece of paper and began to read from it.
‘Oh May Queen. Please protect your people from the old magic that exists in de village. May your goodness and beauty overcome anything dat threatens to harm us.’ There was that accent again. Scandinavian, Marnie guessed. She wondered if he was putting it on to match his Eric the Red image.
‘This year, may you show us where you are so we can lay you to rest and we can all finally be at peace with one another.’
Well, I don’t think Sir Ian McKellan has got anything to worry about, Marnie sniggered inwardly. His acting was about on par with Gabrielle’s.
The big blond man screwed up his script then and attempted to return it to his pocket, except he couldn’t find the gap in the sackcloth. The woman who had been adjusting the queen’s hair earlier bobbed forward and took it from him, otherwise they could have been there all day waiting for him to put it away. Now ready, at last, to perform the final part of the ritual, Herv lowered the crown onto the May Queen’s head, which he had to do at an angle because her face was tilted up to his and if she’d been a cartoon, red love hearts would have been pumping out of her eyes.
A cheer erupted from the gathered throng and Ruby’s head swivelled now so she was proffering her cheek. Hairy Herv bent and kissed it and Ruby’s lips spread into a smile that threatened to engulf her whole head.
‘Let the festivities begin,’ said Titus Sutton and a band consisting of a drummer, a penny-whistle, a tambourine and someone on a triangle started up.
Lilian immediately hobbled over to him with rage powering her steps. ‘Titus, that was unforgivable of you, mocking the ceremony. And to call poor Margaret wicked can only bring bad luck, as if we haven’t had enough. The reason we have to do this ceremony is because she was unjustifiably executed. Vengeful magic of innocents is very powerful.’
‘Dear lady, I apologise wholeheartedly,’ said Titus, hands out at his sides and smiling as a crocodile might try and assure a salmon that he had no intentions of scoffing him. It was quite obvious to Marnie that he was a patronising git. And a liar because he didn’t look sorry at all. Margaret’s curse hadn’t touched him, if his house was anything to go by. Or his wardrobe. He was clad in the very finest of country gentleman’s attire, which must have cost a small fortune. He made Chris Eubank look like Charlie Chaplin.
‘He is an odious man,’ Emelie confided quietly to Marnie. ‘Wychwell has been more than good to him and all he had to
do was be reverent today, because it’s important to Lilian. Griff Oldroyd has always made the speech before, but he has laryngitis at the moment. Lilian will be furi—’ She snapped off the word as Lilian came back to them at speed.
‘Well that doesn’t bode well,’ she said with huffing impatience. ‘Not well at all. Mocking poor Margaret. How could he? Wicked witch indeed.’
Lilian’s eyes were shining with angry tears.
‘It’s done, Lilian, the queen is crowned,’ said Lionel in a calm but firm voice, squeezing her hand as he spoke. ‘It will be fine.’
‘Let’s have some mead,’ suggested Emelie. ‘You’ll feel better after one of Lionel’s magic potions.’
A young, slim girl with a blaze of long red hair arrived, with magnificent timing, at their side with a tray of drinks. She was dressed like a wench in a Hammer Horror film.
‘Go on, Marnie, you have to toast the health of the May Queen,’ Lilian urged, nodding towards the plastic beakers which contained bright gold-coloured liquid. ‘Lionel makes it. He and David at the Wych Arms have competitions to see who can make the best mead—’
‘But I always win,’ Lionel broke in, taking beakers from the tray and passing them to the ladies. ‘Thank you, Zoe,’ he said to the wench-waitress. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled and Marnie thought that he must have been a very handsome man in his youth.
‘They hold a lot of public tasting sessions, so you can see there are worse places to live,’ Emelie smiled and Marnie had to agree with her. As quiet and villagey as it was, living somewhere like Wychwell would be far preferable to living in Redbrook Row at the moment.
As Lilian continued to savage Titus Sutton for cocking up the ceremony with her friends, Marnie indulged in a spot of people-watching, in particular the dynamics between the May Queen and the Viking, which would make a good Midnight Moon title, she mused. Except this story didn’t look as if it would have the traditional happy ending. They were drinking mead now and talking together. Ruby was playing with her hair coquettishly and her body was swinging slightly as she stood in front of him, whilst he had his arms crossed protectively against his broad and impressive chest. Her body language said, ‘I’m yours for the asking, in fact you don’t even need to ask – just take me now.’ His said, ‘I’m being polite but still keeping my distance because I’m not interested.’
The mead was sweet and toxic. Marnie could feel the first sip going to her brain at warp speed and she thought she’d better not drink too much more of it if she was driving. She watched Titus Sutton knock back his cup in two gulps, in comparison to the tall, slender, dull-looking wife at his side, holding hers with her pinkie finger slightly stuck out, as if it were a cup of Earl Grey. Titus was talking to the May Queen’s mother now and guffawing at something, but Hilary Sutton’s smile was strained, as if she felt obliged to show approval.
The ‘fool’ in the half-horse costume was bouncing around the maypole, making people laugh. He looked as if he was having a whale of a time. Actually, he looked as if he was wrecked. Marnie imagined that it wouldn’t take very many of those meads to get everyone else feeling the same. Main ingredients: honey and petrol.
‘Marnie,’ Lilian’s voice cut through her reverie. ‘Why don’t you stay the night? I have a spare bedroom in the manor. Actually I have seven, but one is always made up. You can carouse into the night with us. Your car will be perfectly safe.’
Yeah, right, thought Marnie. The last thing she wanted to do was carouse into the night. Knowing her, she’d probably confess the sins of her life to the whole village and that would be another part of England that she’d have to avoid like the plague.
‘Thank you, but I’d better be going soon,’ she replied, whilst looking at her watch. ‘I’ve got some . . . er . . . files to look at before work tomorrow.’
‘You have to stay for the food,’ Emelie entreated with enthusiasm. ‘We all go up to the manor and it’s quite an occasion.’
As curious as Marnie was about seeing the manor, she had a long drive back home and work in the morn— . . . No, she didn’t, actually. Really, there was nothing stopping her going up to the manor with them all, except for some inexplicable reason, she felt that she had to go. She’d kept her promise to visit and should leave now.
‘Herv, come and meet my friend,’ Lilian waved over at the blond man and he waved back, made his excuses to the May Queen and wended his way over to the three women and Lionel. Close up it was even easier to see why her royal highness was in full-on flirty hair-flicking mode. He was quite a dish if you were in the market for some eye candy, which Marnie most categorically wasn’t. She’d always thought the long hair look on men was a bit girly or ‘aged rock star’ and hadn’t seen anyone yet who could carry it off with perfect aplomb – until now. All that mane, a killer smile plus knicker-meltingly blue eyes – but not the same blue as the Salt family eyes. Herv’s were much lighter; softer and yet more intense at the same time. And infinitely warmer: the difference between a Caribbean sea and a bloody cold Arctic one. Her knickers were not melting though. They had been coated with the strongest fire-retardant on the market and were totally impervious. He could have been Gerard Butler with a bouquet of red roses in one hand and bottle of warm massage oil in the other and still the permafrost would have remained intact.
‘Herv, this is my friend Marnie. Marnie, this is Herv Gunnarsen, my gardener and groundsman and maintenance man and . . . what did we decide your job title was in the end, Herv?’
‘I don’t think that we ever did.’
‘The word Herv should be added to the Oxford English Dictionary,’ Emelie giggled girlishly. ‘The definition should read man who does everything.’
Emelie was a sucker for his charms too, it seemed.
‘Nice to meet you, Marnie,’ said Herv, holding out his hand towards her. It engulfed hers in a warm, gentle shake. ‘So where did you meet Lilian then?’
Lilian answered for her. ‘We met online talking about cheesecakes. We have great fun and some rapier-sharp battles with truly hideous people. Idiots from all over the world.’
Marnie winced visibly. ‘If that sounds tragic, it’s because it is,’ she said quietly to Herv.
He laughed and it was a deep rumbling sound, as if it came from the very core of him.
‘I’d better get back,’ Marnie said again. ‘I’ve got a two-hour drive ahead of me. Should I leave my sack on the rack?’
‘I need to return your deposit,’ said Herv, hunting around himself again for his lost pocket.
‘No, it’s fine. Keep it in the collection box.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Lionel.
‘Oh Marnie, it has been lovely to see you again. Please say you’ll come back. I’d love you to see the manor,’ said Lilian.
‘I will, I promise,’ said Marnie. ‘I’ll stay longer next time.’
Someone called Herv’s name and he indicated that he’d heard them with a wave of his arm. ‘Nice to meet you, Marnie. I hope I see you again, too.’ His smile said that he meant that.
‘Yes, bye,’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She daren’t look to her side where she could just see the May Queen dangling at the edge of her vision. Probably casting a hex on her.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, to the manor,’ shouted Titus, summoning everyone to follow him.
‘That isn’t his job either, that’s mine,’ said Lilian crossly as the crowd began walking towards Kytson Hill.
Marnie gave her a hug and it appeared that Lilian didn’t want to let her go.
‘Little Raspberries is there for you,’ she said again. ‘It doesn’t like being empty. I think you could help solve that problem.’
‘Go and eat and enjoy the rest of your day,’ Marnie commanded. ‘We will be in touch with each other again very soon.’
‘Let me know when you reach home safely,’ said Lilian.
‘Will do,’ replied Marnie. ‘Lovely to meet you too, Emelie, Lionel.’
�
��Very much likewise,’ said Emelie, her lovely face lit up by her smile and Lionel reached over to shake her by the hand again.
She took a few steps, turned, blew a kiss to Lilian and set off towards her car, wondering why she felt the need to get away so quickly because there was nothing waiting for her at home. She didn’t even have a home.
Emelie had started to walk up with the others but Lilian and Lionel remained, watching Marnie until she was out of sight.
‘Do you reckon it is her?’ asked Lilian. ‘I’m so sure of it.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, dear Lilian,’ said Lionel, shaking his head slowly. ‘But I don’t think you should hope too much.’
‘She looks so Irish, her colouring, her eyes, Lionel,’ insisted Lilian. ‘And the dates tie up exactly. There’s a reason why she came into my life. I know, without any doubt, that’s it’s her.’
*
Marnie’s drive home was smooth and unhindered and she barely saw any traffic on the roads, which was good news because she tackled most of the journey on automatic pilot as her brain was whirring. For a reason she couldn’t fathom, her visit to Wychwell had stuck a huge wooden spoon in her life and stirred everything up. As if it weren’t agitated enough already.
She had just short of a month before her doctor’s note ran out – and what then? What was she going to do? She also had to decide about where she was going to live. She could go back to the estate agent and tell them she’d changed her mind about changing her mind, but she knew she wouldn’t. She had never liked living in Redbrook Row and now she carried a big fat greasy memory of shagging Justin in it. A very married man. She felt sick at the thought.
The closer she got to Doreton, the bigger the knot of dread in her stomach grew. She expected to see Suranna throwing bricks at the right house this time, but there was no activity other than a kid racing up and down the pavement on a bike. Still, her skull prickled with anxiety as she zapped open her garage door and it was only when she was safely inside number 34A that her nerves began to settle.
She was a wreck. She texted Lilian to say that she was home and safe but she was neither. This wasn’t her home and she didn’t feel safe. She felt on edge and stressed and tense and terribly guilty about what had happened to Melissa’s house and car. She felt mad with worry about what she was going to do about her job. How could she possibly go back there? She couldn’t. So what the buggery bollocks was she going to do?
The Perfectly Imperfect Woman Page 10