by Rosie Howard
‘Thanks,’ said Maddy.
‘And don’t overdo it,’ he called after her as she went out of the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Maddy’s plan was to jump off the bus at the bottom of town to collect the flyers from the printer on the quay. Getting around was so much easier without a big, bulky cast on her leg. She was grateful she had decided to wear her comfortable old plimsolls. Although her calf was wasted, her left foot seemed to have spread a bit inside the cast and, at the hospital, she had had to loosen the laces just to get her shoe on.
‘These look great,’ she said to the tall, spotty youth working in the printers who was giving her a strange look, she noticed.
Along with the key information about the threat to the pub and the call to action over the Development Committee meeting Maddy had quickly sketched a little picture of the pub with a large ‘CLOSED’ sign fixed to it, which caught the eye nicely.
She looked doubtfully at the two large cardboard boxes.
‘I can drop them off if you like?’ the youth offered. ‘It’s no trouble,’ he added, gazing at her meaningfully.
Maddy wondered if he was quite alright in the head.
She thanked him but took two large wodges out straight away. As she was walking up the high street to the pub to collect her car and see Patrick, she might as well shove some through letter boxes.
By the time she arrived at the Havenbury Arms, all the shops in the high street had posters and flyers, but it had taken two hours and Maddy was limping badly and sweating a little from the pain.
Pushing open the door to the bar, she was pleased to see the two boxes with the remaining materials had arrived. She was even more pleased to see an unmistakably broad back, topped with wavy dark-blonde hair standing in front of the sink behind the bar.
‘Ben!’
‘Hullo,’ said Ben, turning, smiling, towards her, with a bottle of Scotch in each hand. He was pouring the contents down the sink. ‘I know it looks like I’ve gone mad,’ he said. ‘Patrick’s orders: he’s concerned about poisoning people with fake liquor. I’m pretty sure this is the real thing, though,’ he said, sniffing the fumes. ‘Single malt. What a tragedy …’
Plonking the bottles in the recycling bin he came towards her and his smile faded abruptly.
‘Maddy?’ he said, his gaze switching rapidly from her face to her feet. ‘What on earth … ?’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, biting back tears. ‘Nice to have the cast off at last.’
‘Sit,’ he said, yanking out a chair and pushing her down into it. Sitting opposite her, thighs spread wide, he lifted her leg, cradling her foot tenderly in his hands.
The laces were stretched tight and the double knot had gone tiny with the pressure from her swelling foot.
‘Might have overdone it a bit …’ she muttered.
He gave her an incredulous look, shook his head and, transferring her foot to his left hand, he produced a penknife, flicking it open to reveal an evil-looking blade.
‘It seems an awful shame to amputate after all this effort …’ she joked nervously.
‘I should,’ he replied, instead sawing gently through the laces.
‘Oi! I like these shoes. I don’t have any spare laces, either.’
‘If you hadn’t been wearing stupid shoes like this in the first place, none of this would have happened.’
‘I like plimsolls.’
Ben said nothing, concentrating on carrying out his task without hurting her.
‘These are – were – my favourites,’ she complained again.
‘You’re going to need some better ones,’ he said. ‘There you go,’ he added, gently removing her shoe and tossing it on the floor. ‘Now, wait there.’
She watched as he filled a plastic bag with ice cubes from the ice-making machine, tied the top and then looked around him. ‘What can I … ?’ he muttered to himself, before disappearing into the kitchen. Coming out with a rolling pin he placed the half-full bag on the bar and proceeded to beat it with the rolling pin with what Maddy felt was quite unnecessary violence.
‘That should do it,’ he said, as he grabbed a bar towel from the bar, wrapped it around the bag of crushed ice and then moulded it gently but firmly around Maddy’s swollen ankle before laying her foot carefully on the chair seat.
‘Don’t move,’ he said.
She didn’t want to. The ice felt like heaven.
He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea and two round white tablets, cupped in his hand.
‘Here,’ he said, handing her both.
‘Are they strong?’
‘Yep,’ he said, standing over her as she took them.
Within minutes she felt the slight, heady rush as the painkillers kicked in. She sighed with relief.
‘I’ve got no shoes now,’ she complained. ‘I’ve taken all my clothes over to the Grainstore already.’
‘When’s your birthday?’
‘Not for a couple of months.’
‘Fine,’ he said, getting out his phone. ‘Early birthday present, then.’
‘Mate!’ he said to the person at the other end of the line. ‘When are you closing today? I don’t suppose you could stay on for a bit, could you?’ he went on, looking at his watch. ‘We’re not far but we aren’t walking particularly quickly.’
‘And,’ mouthed Maddy, ‘we – don’t – have – any – shoes!’
‘Only the Havenbury Arms,’ explained Ben. ‘That would be brilliant, mate. Thanks.’
A knock on the door, and a young man with a beard that made him look older, sidled his way in with a stack of large shoeboxes in his arms.
‘Here we go,’ he said, plonking them on the table.
Maddy, acutely aware of her horrible flaky and hairy leg, was busy making sure her jeans were down as far as they could go.
Ian – which turned out to be the man’s name – produced five near identical pairs of chunky, brown walking boots, with heavy-tread soles and high-laced, padded ankles.
‘Don’t you have any other colours?’ protested Maddy.
‘Why would you want other colours?’ he asked. ‘Look, they may all look the same, but you’d be surprised. There’s always one brand that suits customers better than another.’ He looked at Maddy’s feet with eyes narrowed in appraisal.
‘Mm. High instep. Narrow feet … I think …’ He grabbed a pair and deftly removed the laces altogether before starting again in a different pattern. ‘This is how you need to lace them if you have a narrow foot,’ he explained. ‘Better support. See?’
Getting the boot on her right foot was fine. He expertly adjusted it, wrapping the excess laces once around the back of her ankle before tying in a double knot.
For the other one, he made sure the laces were much wider, gently easing her foot into the boot and grimacing at the scar.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Hillwalking in stupid shoes,’ Ben informed him before Maddy had a chance to reply.
Ian tutted. ‘Wear these next time,’ he said, tying the bow with a flourish. ‘There. Want to give them a try?’
She got to her feet gingerly. Contrary to what she had thought, the boots were light and comfortingly all-encompassing, holding her foot and ankle in place while thick padding, which was responsible for the bulky, unflattering look, meant they didn’t press or dig in anywhere.
‘Nice,’ she said, trying a few steps. ‘Surprisingly nice, actually,’ she brightened. ‘My new favourite shoes, potentially …’
‘Happy birthday,’ said Ben.
‘Right,’ Ben continued, when Ian had been thanked again, paid and despatched. ‘About your car. Shall we have a look?’
‘Yes please! God … am I a complete pain?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You are a bit.’
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, glancing up at him. His jaw was set and he seemed to be avoiding meeting her eye again. She missed their easy camaraderie now replaced by a dut
iful concern that left her feeling like an irritating kid sister. She needed to stop looking for more from him. It clearly wasn’t going to happen.
After several weeks sitting unused in the corner of the pub car park, the battery in Maddy’s little car was completely flat.
‘Not a problem,’ he said, rummaging in the back of his Land Rover and producing a set of jump leads.
‘What haven’t you got in there?’
‘Not much. Now, bonnet up …’
In seconds, Ben had attached the leads and started the Land Rover engine. Maddy, sitting in the driver’s seat, managed to start it first time. He quickly detached the leads and closed the bonnets. She was desperate to go and give her scaly, reptile leg a long soak in Serena’s bath.
‘Thanks for everything,’ she said to Ben, shutting the driver’s door and winding down the window.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he said, opening the door again. ‘Budge over.’
Maddy climbed awkwardly over to the passenger seat.
‘I don’t care what the surgeon said,’ he continued, ‘you’re not driving today.’
‘Then you’ll be stuck at Serena’s.’
‘I need a run,’ he said. ‘From Serena’s house back to here’ll do nicely.’
‘Try this,’ said Serena, coming into the bathroom with a bottle of something pale pink and expensive-looking. ‘Apparently it’s an exfoliating, brightening, moisturising thingie,’ she said, peering at the label.
‘Mm, smells lovely,’ said Maddy, giving it a sniff when Serena handed her the bottle. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. Wasted on me.’
Serena perched herself on a low stool and looked on approvingly as Maddy squeezed some of it onto a loofah and scrubbed at the horrible, scaly skin on her leg.
‘At least it’s not hairy now,’ Maddy said, with a shudder, holding her leg up above the bubbles to check progress. The first thing she had done when she got into the huge roll-top bath was to borrow a razor and deal with the dark layer of fuzz.
‘You’ll have to put lots of moisturiser on when you get out,’ said Serena. ‘And how about a pedicure?’
‘Definitely. Although I’m no good at painting my toenails.’
‘Ah, but luckily, I’m brilliant.’
‘It’s pretty puffy still, isn’t it?’ said Serena disapprovingly, as she inserted cotton wall balls to hold Maddy’s toes apart. ‘No wonder Ben told you off.’
‘He’s always telling me off.’
‘He cares about you,’ said Serena. ‘He worries …’ She held up two bottles of nail varnish, jiggling them about. ‘Which one?’
‘Turquoise please,’ said Maddy.
‘Good choice.’
‘Is he like Andrew?’
‘Ben? Yes, in some ways. In a lot of ways, actually. He’s changed. Got more like him, I think. Steady. Loyal. When Andrew died he grew up pretty fast, and of course the poor boy had already lost his father …’
‘I know. It’s so awful,’ said Maddy. ‘Do you mind talking about him? I don’t want to make you sad …’
‘You can’t make me sad. I already am … I mean, there’s a bit of me that’s deeply, deeply sad, and always will be …’ she trailed off, staring into space.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No! Don’t be. “Better to have loved and lost”, and all that.’
‘But you love Giles, of course?’
‘I do,’ said Serena, brightening. ‘Funny old Giles, bless him.’
They were silent, while Serena concentrated on Maddy’s toenails.
‘It’s like the film Sliding Doors,’ she said at last, putting the lid back on the little bottle. ‘You know, there’s the moment where the heroine misses the train by about two seconds because she stumbles on the stairs. Only in this other version of her life she catches the train …’
‘I saw it,’ said Maddy. ‘And then it’s all about how things can take a different path from that moment – true love, success, good friends, happiness in one life, and then a cheating boyfriend, job loss and all sorts of other disasters in the other … I forget which one’s which now. Does she need to miss the train or catch it?’
‘I can’t remember either,’ admitted Serena. ‘But that “parallel life” thing … that’s what it feels like for me.’
‘How did you and Giles get together?’
‘Oh, it was just one of those things,’ said Serena. ‘Not romantic, I’m afraid. After Andrew died I just immersed myself in my work. First I did it because it helped and then I was doing it because the rest of my life fell away and it became everything. I was travelling, living out of a suitcase, working insane hours, getting promoted … One day I looked up and work was all I had. I was in my late thirties and it just felt like I was hurtling towards a life that I had never imagined for myself. No children, no family … just a stellar career. I say “just” but I loved my job …’ Serena paused.
‘And Giles?’ she prompted gently.
‘Giles was just … always there,’ said Serena, ‘part of our group, but I never noticed him, I confess, never saw him in “that” way, and then, one weekend, he took me off for a walk without the others and proposed. Well, it was more of a business proposition, really. He was getting on a bit. I was getting on a bit. We were both consenting adults with similar backgrounds and we both wanted kids before it was too late, so why didn’t we give it a go?’
Maddy blinked. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep. Mind you, once I’d said yes to the general principle he wooed me in the time-honoured manner. He’s a traditionalist is our Giles …’
‘But that’s so odd.’
‘Yes and no,’ said Serena. ‘For me, no one was ever going to be “Mr Right” because that was Andrew. Giles understood that. What I settled for was the man who adored me and who offered me everything I wanted. The man who was prepared to do that because he wanted me. He knows the score,’ she added, registering Maddy’s shock. ‘And look at me now. I’ve got Giles, the boys, this house, this life – I’m lucky, I know I am – but there’s a bit of me that wonders about my “other life”. The one where Andrew is still alive. Where somehow we manage to save him … Plus, of course, I feel hellishly guilty because Giles is a sensational man, and I fob him off with second best. He deserves all of me and what he gets is – basically – what’s left.’
‘Giles really, really adores you.’
‘He does,’ she replied briskly, sitting up and putting her hands on her knees. ‘Now, time for the topcoat.’
When she was painting Maddy’s nails again, concentrating on her feet, she continued on her theme.
‘Ben’s very special,’ she said. ‘And he cares deeply about you. I know him. I can tell.’
Maddy stayed silent.
‘The thing is, my darling,’ she said, sitting back to admire her efforts and meeting Maddy’s eye, ‘you have to decide. Are you going to catch the train?’
‘Sliding doors …’ mused Maddy. ‘I don’t know. I mean, put like that, it’s a no-brainer, but you’re asking me to leave my London life, where I’m – fairly – successful and,’ she swallowed, ‘on the whole, I’m okay. I mean, the thing that happens … that happened to me here, the nightmares and … things – I don’t get that in London.’ Her eyes filled with tears. It was true, in London she was the person she had invented after she left: the businesslike, polished professional with the shiny-new boyfriend, and the flat bought together in an up-and-coming area. She and Simon did the things successful young professional couples did: they went out for cocktails after work, they went to trendy new restaurants, to concerts and festivals and – at the weekend – they held barbecues for their friends in their teeny, tiny garden and had conversations about property prices and overcrowding on the Underground.
There were few nightmares, no flashbacks, no panic attacks sweeping the ground from beneath her feet, knocking the wind out of her. Not in London.
Maddy sighed as Serena carefully removed the cotton wool fro
m between her toes and gathered up the bottles to put them away.
Here, on the other hand, she had her dear, dear friends, the Bespoke Consortium, which was the most exciting work thing she had ever been involved in, she had Patrick – at the moment she also had her mother, which was a bonus – and, of course, she had the intrigue and excitement of her growing relationship with Ben, although his recent distance and reticence, presumably because of her continuing relationship with Simon, was a worry. His ability to close himself off from her so tactfully and kindly made her wonder what else he was capable of hiding.
It was a shame she also had the hideous recurring nightmares stealing her sleep, the frank terror of not knowing what was going to spark a flashback next with the risk of bumping into Kevin around every corner, and the general, terrifying sense that she was falling into a bottomless pit, out of which she would be lucky to escape with her mind intact.
Which future, in her ‘sliding doors’ life, should she choose?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The move from the Havenbury Arms to the Grainstore had been a fine idea, thought Maddy, but – delightful though the little apartment was – the nightmares inexplicably worsened there, waking her again and again through the night until, her eyes gritty and her body heavy with exhaustion, she was relieved to see the dawn.
It was a fine morning and the low winter sun streamed into the building through the French windows, reaching golden fingers across the platform bed where she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her most recent encounter with Kevin had been added to her repertoire of nightmares and she was driving herself insane, trawling through her fractured memories to decide whether his latest taunts were true. Had he been there? She even started to wonder if she was beginning to invent memories, piecing together the scant facts into a narrative, just to make sense of something senseless. She would have liked to have asked Ben but – since that first night in the Grainstore – he seemed to have disappeared, presumably caught up with his college work as the autumn term drew to a close.