Acts of Kindness

by Heather Barnett

  ‘Can I sit here?’ she’d asked, as she lowered herself to the floor beside them. Why did I ask? her older self wanted to know. What right had they to decide?

  ‘No, sorry,’ one of the girls had replied, continuing to stare. ‘This is a private conversation.’

  Bella had shuffled to her feet again and walked what seemed like miles across the speckled grey floor, aware of their eyes on her back in the silence. As soon as the door closed behind her she’d heard them laughing, loud and shrill. Not a major incident in anyone’s life. So why had it stayed in her memory all these years?

  She slid the key out of the ignition and gazed, unseeing, through the windscreen at the unruly rose bush which smothered her garden wall. When she forced herself to think about why that particular moment at school had remained with her, she realised it was the sense of rejection. One of her own personal demons. No one likes to feel rejected, of course, but to someone who drew on others’ opinions to validate their view of themselves, it was devastating. Perhaps it was a moment such as that which had first endowed What Others Might Think of Her with its vicious teeth and claws.

  Locking the car, she let herself into her house, going through the motions like an automaton. At least she was aware of her insecurity, that was a good first step. Like an alcoholic admitting that a vodka chaser with their morning orange juice might not fall into the category of ‘a cheeky drink’.

  She dumped her handbag on the table in the hall and glanced at the clock. Plenty of time for a cup of tea. She needed to snap out of this mood as well, it was time to be positive. Yes, she had insecurities. Everyone did. But at least she knew her enemy. She’d recognised her enslavement by What Others Might Think of Her and she was determined to loosen the chains.

  Bella made the tea in her favourite mug – bone china with small turquoise dots on a white background – and carried it through to her bedroom to pack. She had a couple of hours before the OAK car was due to collect her and take her to the airport. As she was pondering a favourite dress in green cotton which had a tendency to crease, her phone buzzed. A text from Zoe, asking how Lauren had been at work that past week.

  After her moment of epiphany, when she had realised the stranger in The Royal Oak with Ben and Lauren was Adonis aka James, Bella had been itching to find out more. If Lauren already knew him, why hadn’t they shown any signs of recognition at his parents’ drinks party? And if she didn’t know him, what was he doing deep in conversation with her at the OAK Institute a few weeks later?

  She started to feel like a conspiracy theorist. Everywhere she looked she uncovered something suspicious. Teddy Thatcher’s name crossed out in the Register of Names. The shiftiness of her Royal Oak chauffeur. Lauren and James disappearing together at the drinks party without warning; then reappearing in a private conflab at The Royal Oak. What with moving to a new place, starting a new job, and the overwhelming weirdness of OAK, she felt like she’d walked into a hall of mirrors. Everything around her was so confusing that she couldn’t distinguish between reality and paranoia.

  She’d settled in her mind that she would somehow try to tease the information out of Lauren. There was no point trying to do it at work, she would invite her round to the house. Remembering that Zoe was due to come over the following weekend, she’d invited Lauren to join them for dinner.

  Zoe had arrived mid-afternoon on the Saturday and they’d gone to the supermarket to pick up ingredients for dinner. Back at the house, Bella started chopping lamb for the tagine while Zoe made hummus under her direction.

  ‘Whack a dessert spoon of tahini in with those chickpeas, Zoe. Then a good glug of the extra virgin olive oil, a squeeze of lemon juice, garlic, salt and pepper and blend it all up. I can’t believe you don’t know how to make hummus.’

  Zoe waved a tahini-covered spoon at her as she mock-yelled back: ‘I’ve got a one-year-old, mate! I barely have time to open a tin of beans let alone whip up Middle-Eastern dips from scratch. Who do you think I am, Nigella Bloody Lawson?’

  Bella reached past her for a clean chopping board to cut the vegetables on. ‘You’ve not always had a one-year-old, though, have you? And you also have a husband who works from home. And an au pair.’

  Zoe tentatively licked the tahini spoon, pulled a face and dropped it in the sink. ‘Au pair shmo pair. Mathilde is about as much use to me as a chocolate teapot most of the time. Less – at least I could eat a chocolate teapot. I only keep her on because she’s so bloody nice. Every time I think I’m going to send her packing I look at that angelic little face and cave in.’

  ‘Not like you.’

  ‘What, to be nice to someone? Thanks a lot. Where’s the garlic crusher then?’

  Bella opened the drawer under the hob and fished it out. ‘You know what I mean. You’re not known for keeping your opinions to yourself.’

  Zoe crushed the garlic into the bowl and swirled the mixture around with a clean spoon. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think they injected me with some kind of pathetic-ness drug along with the epidural when I had Amelia. I never used to be this emotional.’ She was waving the spoon again. ‘Like today, for instance. I’ve still got my baby-brain and managed to leave fifty quid in the cash machine at Paddington. Fuck knows what I was thinking, it even beeps at you, doesn’t it? But I took my card and was like, right then, that’s me done, and wandered off. Then I hear this guy shouting at me, so I turn round and he’s running after me with this wad of cash in his hand!’

  Bella paused in her chopping. ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘What did he look like? That’s your first question? You did get it was my cash he was giving me, didn’t you? If you’re thinking there’s a gorgeous millionaire prowling around Paddington throwing money at lone women you’re out of luck.’

  Bella repressed a smile. ‘No! I don’t know, I wondered if he was young, old, a tourist, or…’ She tailed off.

  Zoe shrugged and thought for a moment. ‘I can’t remember what he looked like.’ She went on to describe how she’d thanked him and, overwhelmed with unexpected emotion, found herself welling up.

  Agent, Bella thought.

  Once the tagine was in the oven, Zoe went to the spare room to call home while Bella laid the table.

  Bella had grown attached to the house in the few months she’d been there. The living room was her favourite place. It was the right size to feel cosy but not cramped, with a dining table at one end and the sofas at the other, grouped around the wood burner. That evening she’d set candles out on the table and along the mantelpiece and lit the fire. The artificial light was kept to a minimum, one lamp on the small table by the sofa and a floor lamp at the other end of the room.

  Zoe reappeared as Bella stood in the doorway admiring the candlelight glinting off the wine glasses and the contrast of the white linen napkins against the bare sanded wood of the tabletop.

  Peering over her friend’s shoulder, Zoe enquired, ‘Erm… You did say it was your friend Lauren coming round from work? Not the very-capable-boss-who-you-don’t-fancy-only-in-fact-you-blatantly-do?’

  ‘Yes, that is what I said.’ She turned and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting with eyebrows raised for the next jibe.

  ‘Right. You didn’t forget to mention that you also fancy Lauren, did you? Because this looks like you’re planning to seduce her. I’ll make myself scarce.’

  ‘Well if you did it would ruin all my plans,’ Bella purred, indicating the place settings, ‘when you can see that I’m planning a threesome.’

  The doorbell rang before Zoe could answer. Bella picked up the bottle of red wine from the sideboard and thrust it into her hands as she passed her. She went to open the door, calling over her shoulder, ‘I like candles and firelight. Is that a crime?’

  Her words of welcome stuttered and ground to a halt as she found Maggie Thatcher on her doorstep, swiftly followed by Maggie Thatcher trundling down the hall. Bella followed her into the living room, looking for the bag of knickers but it seemed to be missing this
time.

  ‘Oh, you again, is it?’ Maggie said, on seeing Zoe sitting on the arm of the sofa pouring herself a large glass of red wine. She seemed to take Zoe’s presence personally.

  Zoe gave a smile that showed all her teeth. ‘Yep, me again. Can’t seem to keep away.’

  Maggie pushed a couple of magazines off the armchair and sat down, taking in the candlelit table as she did so. Her nose wrinkled. ‘Friends of Dorothy’s, are you?’

  Zoe looked puzzled. ‘Nope, don’t know any Dorothys.’ She slid a sly look Bella’s way. ‘One or two dotties, though.’

  Bella made an odd noise as she tried to smother a giggle. She was annoyed that it had sneaked out. She was determined to treat Maggie with more respect now she knew her history.

  ‘Can I get you a glass of wine, Mrs Thatcher?’

  ‘Can’t drink red wine, dear, gives me wind.’

  Bella could see from the look on Zoe’s face that she thought they’d had a lucky escape. ‘We’ve got white.’ Bella offered. ‘Or I could make you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ll have a Dubonnet on the rocks.’

  ‘Erm…’

  ‘Or a pale ale.’

  ‘I don’t think I…’

  ‘Or a stout.’ She said this as if it was her best and final offer.

  ‘I think I’ve got some Guinness in the kitchen that I had in for making steak and ale pie,’ Bella said.

  Zoe leapt up. ‘I’ll go, Bel! Don’t want to keep you from your guest.’

  Bella perched on the arm that Zoe had vacated.

  ‘What brings you round this evening, Mrs Thatcher?’

  ‘Call me Maggie.’ All thoughts of friends of Dorothy seemed to have slipped away. ‘I wanted to show you this.’

  Maggie pulled something out of her coat pocket and pressed it into Bella’s hand. It was a photograph, creased in a couple of places from having been stuffed in her pocket. Maggie, looking more well-kempt than she did now, but with the same unfocused stare, stood against a low wall, one arm flung out as if to indicate the beauties of the hills behind her. Beside her was a man; a full foot shorter than her, made up of spheres. His bald head was a sphere, on top of a spherical body, with two protruding eyes on either side of a little round nose. Even his mouth was an O.

  ‘He looks very nice,’ Bella said, as she handed it back. It wasn’t the most ringing endorsement in the world, but it was true.

  Maggie put the photograph away. Bella clocked that she was wearing the same clothes as on the two previous visits. A long beige mac, mid-calf pleated tartan skirt with sensible shoes and a pale green sweater. Underneath the sweater, she wore a cream blouse: one collar tucked in and the other out. Her hair was wild and her glasses skew-whiff. What must her life be like? Her husband was missing. It was doubtful that she had many friends, her – Bella sought for a tactful word – ‘difficult’ personality would see to that.

  ‘Help me find him,’ Maggie said, her urgent tones snapping Bella back to the here and now. ‘Help me find him, dear, please. They’re keeping him in there somewhere. A prisoner. You could look for him.’

  ‘I…’ Bella shook her head, unsure how to respond, ‘I wouldn’t know where to start, Maggie. I’ve only been there a couple of months. Wouldn’t you be better off asking someone who’s been there a while? Someone who knows their way around?’

  ‘I don’t trust anyone at Acorns,’ Maggie hissed. ‘The longer you’re there, the more they suck you in. Brainwashing, that’s what it is.’

  Before Bella could reply the doorbell rang.

  ‘I’ll get it!’ said Zoe, who had reappeared with a pint of Guinness for Maggie.

  As soon as Zoe had left the room, Maggie stood up and grabbed Bella’s arm with her free hand.

  ‘Please. Please help me. I can’t trust anyone else!’

  They heard the front door opening and closing then voices coming down the hall.

  Bella placed her hand on top of Maggie’s. ‘Okay, I’ll try. I don’t know what I can do, but I promise I’ll try.’

  The look of relief which had lifted Maggie’s expression vanished the instant she caught a glimpse of the person entering the room. She took a step away from Bella and very deliberately hurled the contents of her glass at Lauren, who sprang backwards out of the path of the liquid.

  Bella watched her, stunned. ‘What on earth…’

  Handing Bella the empty glass she said, ‘Won’t drink under the same roof as her.’ Maggie stalked out past Zoe and Lauren, who were standing like statues by the living room door. Zoe looked bemused but Lauren was aghast. They heard Maggie open the front door and slam it behind her. There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Zoe pointed down at the carpet where the Guinness had drenched an area into a brown teardrop shape surrounded by petal-like spatters, stark against the cream. ‘Quick, that’ll stain.’ With tangible relief, they all bustled about getting cloths and tea towels.

  ‘It’s salt or white wine for a red wine stain, isn’t it? Anyone know what it is for Guinness?’ asked Bella.

  Lauren offered to Google it, sitting herself on the very edge of one of the dining chairs. The sense of shock started to ease.

  Zoe sat back on her heels; one palm pressed to a tea towel that she’d placed over the stain. ‘I mean what the hell – what the hell – was that all about? That woman is a complete psycho, Bella, you’ve got to stop inviting her in.’

  ‘I don’t invite her in, she just comes.’

  ‘It’s my fault.’ Lauren’s soft voice from the other end of the room surprised them both. She’d put down her phone and was sitting with her legs crossed, one foot flicking nervously from side to side. ‘She hates me.’

  ‘Well,’ Zoe stood up and stretched each stiff leg in turn, ‘I don’t want to be rude but that’s stating the bleeding obvious.’ Her frank smile took the edge off her words.

  ‘Something awful happened not long ago,’ Lauren said, her voice so low that the others had to strain to hear. ‘Her husband went missing. He worked for AC.’

  Bella picked up the bottle of red that Zoe had left by the sofa, went over to the table and poured a glass. Taking the seat next to Lauren she pushed the glass wordlessly towards her.

  ‘Thanks.’ Lauren took a good glug. ‘I needed that. I haven’t seen Maggie since it happened. And that time was awful.’ She shook her head, hands cradling the bowl of the wine glass. ‘When Teddy – that’s her husband – went missing, Ben and I went to see Maggie to… well, to see if there was anything we could do to help.’

  Bella examined Lauren’s face as she spoke. Something didn’t ring true, why would Ben and Lauren be the ones to go and offer help? Wouldn’t AC send someone like Catherine from the HR team or even Isadora herself?

  ‘It didn’t go well,’ Lauren continued. ‘As soon as she realised we were from AC she lost it. She threw a mug of tea at me.’

  She got that angry at being offered help? thought Bella. Even for Maggie that seemed far-fetched.

  ‘Doesn’t like drinking with you, that’s for sure,’ remarked Zoe.

  ‘No,’ Lauren agreed with a short laugh. She was starting to look more like her usual self. ‘She definitely took against me more than Ben, for some reason.’

  ‘Maybe she fancied him?’ suggested Zoe. ‘Good-looking, is he?’

  Bella could have killed her. Lauren flushed and tried to laugh again before carrying on.

  ‘You joke, but… it was all very strange and sad. It really shook me up but I don’t hold it against her. I feel sorry for Maggie. She’s been under a lot of emotional strain; it must be awful, your husband going missing like that.’

  ‘What happened to him then?’ asked Zoe.

  Lauren shrugged. ‘No one knows. He vanished into thin air.’

  ‘Had he been acting strangely beforehand?’ asked Bella, spotting a chance to do her first bit of investigation on Maggie’s behalf. ‘Did anyone notice anything odd?’

  Zoe threw her a look. ‘Steady on, Marple.’

  ‘I didn’t wo
rk with him,’ Lauren replied, ‘but according to his team, there’d been nothing out of the ordinary. And the police haven’t managed to turn anything up so far.’

  ‘Poor Maggie,’ Bella said. She knelt and peeled back the tea towel. A large beige stain remained on the carpet. ‘That’s my deposit gone then. What did Google have to say about Guinness stains?’

  ‘Google says professional cleaners, I’m afraid,’ Lauren said. ‘Or a rug.’

  It was lucky tagines didn’t suffer from being left in a warm oven, because it was late when they sat down to eat. Bella was feeling a bit tipsy from having necked several glasses of red wine on an empty stomach. She was hoping, judging by the others’ red-wine-lips, that she wasn’t the only one. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and she ate more than she wanted, hoping to soak up the alcohol. Must stay clear-headed, she reminded herself. This wasn’t an occasion to relax, she was supposed to be getting Lauren to lower her guard. If this had been a spy film with Bella in the lead role, the other two would now be verging on catatonic while she retained her rapier-clear brain. Something had gone awry in her planning.

  ‘Delicious tagine,’ Zoe said, gesturing vigorously with her fork. ‘Best yet.’ She didn’t notice a piece of butternut squash flying over her shoulder. Raising the fork to her mouth she was puzzled to find it empty.