by Jane Green
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“I liked your parents,” he said, leading her to believe he was not as drunk as she thought he was. “They weren’t what I would have expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought you were a posh girl. Well, you are a posh girl but your family’s also very down to earth, which I like. And they’re hikers. I never would have thought we’d have so much in common.”
“Who knows what else we might have in common.” Maggie was definitely flirting.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He laughed, his dimples showing again as Maggie’s heart flipped. “Shall we find somewhere quiet to talk?” She nodded as he took her hand, her heart leaping into her mouth. He led her through the crowds in the house and into the garden, where they sat on a low stone wall, close together, their legs brushing as Maggie felt sick with nervous anticipation.
“So what makes you tick, Maggie Hallwell? Other than hiking with your parents and almost getting into fights in pubs.”
“Ha ha,” she said, aware of the heat from his leg, a ripple of electricity running through her body when he pressed a little closer. “That was hardly my fault. I’m very nonconfrontational.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “I think you’re strong and opinionated.”
“What gave you that idea? Is it just because I’m tall and a bit Amazonian?”
“Amazonian?” He laughed. “That’s not the word I would have used. I would describe you as striking. Stunning, actually. And maybe just a little Amazonian. So are you strong and opinionated then?”
“I’m quite strong,” she admitted. “Three brothers will do that to you. I had to fend for myself.”
He squinted at her. “What’s the other side, Maggie? I think there’s another, softer side. Someone vulnerable and loving.”
Maggie stared at him, not knowing what to say. Of course she had that other side. Didn’t everyone? She didn’t expect Ben to have seen it though.
She shrugged.
“You’re a caretaker,” he said. “I can see that.”
I am, thought Maggie. And how perceptive of him to notice.
“But who takes care of you?” he said softly as a lump unexpectedly appeared in Maggie’s throat.
“Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you,” she said quickly.
“I’m not sure I want to talk,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “I can think of something much more fun.” And with no warning, he suddenly leaned over and kissed her as Maggie felt herself melting into him.
I’m kissing Evil Ben! she thought. This is it! The beginning of the rest of my life!
He tasted of tequila, and strawberries, but it wasn’t strawberry, she knew, it was beer. So he was drunk, so what? He wasn’t that drunk, he knew what he was doing, and this was huge, the happiest night of her life yet.
They sat on the wall kissing, then moved onto the ground. Evil Ben was above her, and then he was beneath her, his hands all over her, fumbling with her bra strap.
Maggie felt the cool night air against her skin, and abruptly realized this encounter wasn’t just happening suddenly, but completely out in the open. Her mouth against his, she whispered, “Why don’t we find somewhere inside where we can have a little more privacy.”
Ben paused, then pulled back a bit. “Yes, right. That’s a good idea.” He seemed to think for a moment. “I’ll go get us another drink. Meet you in five at the top of the stairs.” And with that he was off.
Maggie headed into the house, a huge smile stretched on her face. Once she got to the top of the stairs, she shook out her hair, wondering whether she would sleep with him tonight. She would never usually sleep with anyone on the first night, but this wasn’t just anyone, this was Evil Ben, and she already knew she would be spending the night with him. For just a second she imagined taking his shirt off, and inhaled sharply, a buzz of excitement washing over her. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, looking to see if Ben was coming up the stairs yet.
He wasn’t. She waited nearly twenty minutes, but there was no sign of him. Finally she thought she might have been mistaken, had maybe misheard, that perhaps he had said to meet him back downstairs after all. She went back to the stone wall where they had just been lying, but he was nowhere in sight. Maggie teetered across the grass on her heels, calling his name, but she couldn’t find him. She walked around the garden three times before figuring he must have gone into the house, so she headed back inside, shouldering through the people in the living room and kitchen, asking them if they’d seen him.
Upstairs, she pushed open bedroom doors to where couples were writhing among huge piles of coats on single beds. “Ben?” she said, hoping to God she wouldn’t find him there with someone else, simultaneously disappointed when he wasn’t there.
He’d gone. Left without a trace. No one knew where he was. Maggie’s happiness vanished, too, leaving her bewildered and upset, worried it was something she had said or done. It had to have been. Why else would he just disappear? Okay, so they didn’t talk much beforehand, but he was flirting with her so much, he clearly did fancy her, so why would he just leave?
Where was Evvie? There was no way she could stay here by herself. Not now. She’d go and see if she could find her. Maybe she could help her make sense of what had just happened.
* * *
• • •
Evvie was behind the bar, wiping up glasses and scowling, unable to take her eyes off a table in the corner where Julian, her former boyfriend, was sitting with a group of people.
Maggie followed her gaze, seeing Julian chatting animatedly with a fresher. “I take it you’re not back together then?”
“No. The bastard wanted to talk to me to tell me he was now dating that girl. And he has to damn well sit and flaunt it in here. Asshole.” She shook her head in disgust before putting a bright smile on her face. “I’m trying to pretend I don’t give a shit.”
“Stop staring at the table then. I need to talk to you. I need advice.” Evvie instantly gave her full attention to Maggie, who told her what had happened that night with Ben.
“I told you he was a dick,” said Evvie, when Maggie, perched on a bar stool, had finished.
“But it doesn’t make sense. You don’t spend twenty minutes snogging someone and then do a runner.”
“You do if you’re a dick.”
“I don’t think so. I think something must have happened to him.”
“No. You want something to have happened to him because then it won’t be about you. But it’s not about you anyway. You said yourself that he was drunk. God only knows what he was thinking. He probably passed out somewhere under a table and you didn’t even see him. Honestly, Maggie? You deserve so much more.”
“You don’t know him,” Maggie said fiercely. “He wasn’t the Evil Ben we know. He was gentle, and sweet, and flirtatious.”
Evvie looked at her skeptically. “I worked with him. ‘Gentle’ and ‘sweet’ are not words we use to describe Evil Ben.”
“That’s the point,” said Maggie. “I think he must be really insecure or something, and drinking brought out the real Ben. Remember when I met him with my parents? There’s another side to him that’s lovely.”
“So drinking brought out the real Ben who passionately made out with you and then disappeared? That’s what you want? Someone completely unreliable?”
“There has to be an explanation. I’m going to find him tomorrow, and I’m going to ask him.”
“Please don’t,” said Evvie. “He’s not worth it. It was a drunken kiss. It meant nothing. Don’t humiliate yourself further. Please.”
“You’re only saying that because you’ve always hated him. He’s leaving, and we still have a whole year here. If I don’t say something, I’ll never know because none of us will ever see him again.”
“Don’t go chasing after him. You’re too good for that. Please.” Evvie sighed. “Oh God. I guess I’ll have to be ready with a box of Kleenex tomorrow for your tears.” She shook her head as she left to serve another customer.
* * *
• • •
Maggie didn’t have to go chasing after Ben the next day. Topher came rushing into the kitchen, where Maggie was trying to forget about the night before by making homemade pasta. She hadn’t been successful, neither at the forgetting nor at the pasta, which was thick and doughy.
“You won’t believe this, but I just passed Evil Ben in the coffee shop.” Topher dumped his jacket on the sofa of the house they were sharing. “He’d just ordered egg and chips, so I think he’s still there if you want to go and grill him on his disappearing act.”
“Oh God. I don’t know now. I’m scared.”
“You’re allowed to rethink in the cold light of day. I think that’s why it’s called the cold light of day.”
“No.” Maggie stood up. “I’m going. I owe it to myself. I’ll probably never see him again so what do I have to lose?”
Topher shrugged. “Nothing. Just all your dignity and self-respect.”
“Fuck off,” Maggie laughed as she grabbed her purse. “Wish me luck.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” said Evvie as Maggie paused, then nodded, and the two of them put their jackets on and ran out.
* * *
• • •
He’s still there,” Evvie hissed, returning to the doorway they were using to spy on Evil Ben.
“I’m going in,” said Maggie, who had marched across the road before Evvie could stop her.
Evvie shook her head and reluctantly followed her in, standing at the counter and ordering a hot cross bun so she could watch.
Maggie walked over to Evil Ben, and sat down opposite him.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly short of breath, nerves getting the better of her.
“Hello.” He frowned at her and continued eating.
“How are you feeling today?”
“I’m all right. How are you?”
“I’m . . . fine. No, that’s a lie. I’m not so fine. Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”
Evil Ben looked confused, before putting down his knife and fork with an apologetic grimace. “What happened last night?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I wish I was. It was a bit of a night. Too much to drink. I don’t remember a lot. A mate apparently brought me home after I passed out.” He squinted at her. “You were at the party then? Did I embarrass myself?”
Maggie stared at him. “You’re serious? You don’t remember anything?” What else could she say? Now was not the time to point out that they had passionately snogged, not when he was back to being the same old Evil Ben he was before she ran into him with her parents and thought there was more to him. This was the Evil Ben who had never seemed the least bit interested in Maggie, the Evil Ben who scowled and refused to meet her eye.
“I don’t.” He shrugged as Maggie felt her eyes welling up with tears. She turned away quickly, but not before he noticed.
“Christ. I did something to you last night, didn’t I? I must have been rude. I’m really sorry, Maggie. I can sometimes be a bit of a dick when I’m drunk. I am so sorry if I offended you.”
“You weren’t a complete dick. In fact, you were anything but.” Maggie couldn’t believe that he didn’t remember anything. How was that possible? He didn’t seem that drunk, just tipsy. Could he be pretending not to remember? She sighed and shook her head.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just . . . I’m surprised you don’t remember anything. The garden? The stone wall?” She paused. “Chatting?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I wasn’t rude to you then? Well, that’s a relief. But then, what did I do? Whatever it was, I’m really sorry.”
“Forget it.” Maggie stood up, scraping her chair back. “Have a great life.” She turned and walked quickly outside, so he wouldn’t see her blinking back the tears.
nine
- 1989 -
Toward the end of their last year, they finally got to meet Topher’s mother. Maggie’s perfect family had been up, and Evvie’s mother had finally come, bearing roti and curry, rice and peas, and black cake, which Maggie insisted on getting the recipe for, and had made continually for about six weeks until they all begged for a change.
But Topher’s parents remained a mystery until his mother announced she had a charity event in Bath and would be coming to visit. The day arrived, a Mercedes pulling up outside, driven by the most glamorous woman Evvie and Maggie had ever seen, who looked less like a mother than someone’s stunning older sister.
Evvie had barely been able to say a word since she arrived. Topher’s mother had sat at the kitchen table, her full-length fur flung over the back of a chair, huge diamonds glittering in her ears, peppering them all with questions. Maggie seemed to have fallen madly in love, and was chattering away, but Evvie was mesmerized, like a deer caught in headlights.
It wasn’t just that Mrs. Winthrop—“Call me Joan. Please”—truly was the most glamorous woman imaginable. It was that she had a confidence that Evvie assumed could only come with money. She walked in just over an hour ago, having checked in at the Dinham Arms, her Fendi mink coat sashaying around her hips. She wore perfectly cut flannel trousers and expensive loafers, a cashmere sweater knotted around her shoulders on top of a silk shirt, and her hair was a mix of copper and blond highlights. (“My mom is a good old Irish redhead,” Topher had explained before she arrived, “but she hides it expertly with blond streaks.”)
But most of all, she was tiny. Evvie’s mother had been slim when she was young, but since menopause she had lost her trim waistline and flat stomach. Mrs. Winthrop looked like she was twenty-five. Evvie didn’t even know it was possible for women to look like that at her age.
She looked like the wealthy, philanthropically minded housewife she was, devoted to spending fortunes on herself. She was completely self-assured, and from a world that Evvie recognized distantly from her father’s stories about his family, but a world she didn’t know. Suddenly she felt inadequate, wishing she felt better about herself, wishing she hadn’t isolated herself to study, taking sugar breaks every hour or so. All that cake may have numbed her feelings at the time, but it always led to the same self-loathing, and she was back to lying in bed every night vowing to start a diet the next day, a diet that would inevitably be broken, catastrophically, sometime midafternoon.
“You are so not what I expected,” Evvie said at one point, shaking her head, breaking her gaze. “I just have to stop and say I can’t believe how young and gorgeous you are. Topher never said.”
“You mean, he doesn’t have pictures of his family all over his bedroom?” Topher’s mother waved a finger at him. “Shame on you, Topher. Why did I send those silver photo frames over?”
“I had to replace all the family pictures with photos of my friends,” said Topher. “I know you’ll forgive me. Especially because I even clean my own room. Can you imagine?”
Joan shook her head. “We spoiled you having Diana,” she said. “You should have always cleaned your room at home. I did when I was growing up.”
Evvie looked from one to the other. “Diana?”
“Our live-in housekeeper,” explained Topher as Evvie shook her head.
“I should have known.”
Since as far back as she could remember, Evvie had done household chores, and heaven forbid she should ever question a parent. “I’m about to give you some licks,” her mother would say before a series of smacks. Evvie adored her mother, and her mother adored her, but she was clearly the opposite of the indulgent mother who was sitting before her that day. Evvie’s mother was the head of the household, even when married to he
r father. She was tough and opinionated, said exactly what was on her mind, and demanded respect. Many was the time Evvie heard, “Don’t back answer me. I will put your teeth down your throat.”
Evvie had no experience of being accepted unconditionally, of having a mother who might gaze at her with absolute adoration, in the way Joan Winthrop was gazing at Topher. Seeing it filled her with a sense of loss. She loved her mother, but how nice, how much easier it would have been to have a mother like this. She pictured her own mother looking her up and down, judgment in her eyes as she sucked her teeth.
“You never mentioned a housekeeper before,” said Maggie. “We had a daily, but a live-in? That’s very posh. You never told us you were so fancy.”
“Now that you’ve met my mother, you know everything.”
“I wish I’d worn jeans and sneakers,” said Joan, looking down at her beautiful clothes. “I didn’t realize West Country would be quite so casual.”
“Mom, do you even own jeans and sneakers?”
“Of course. What do you think I work out in?” Joan grinned.
“You’re so slim,” breathed Evvie, mustering the courage to speak to her. “How do you do it? How do you stay looking so fantastic?”
“Aerobics classes three times a week,” said Joan, giving Evvie a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sure they have them here. They’re so much fun. You girls should try it.”
Evvie flushed, convinced that was a comment on her weight.
“Not that either of you need to do anything,” Joan said quickly, seeing Evvie flush. “You have youth and beauty on your side. You’re perfect.”
Evvie mentally exhaled. “I’m not perfect,” she said, grabbing her thighs. “Look. I’ve gained almost twenty pounds this term. It’s awful.”