The Unlikely Life of Maisie Meadows

by Jenni Keer

  ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m happy here,’ she said. ‘Really happy.’

  And Theo placed the tray onto the bottom shelf, slid the door closed, and turned the key with a satisfying click.

  Three drinks in and Maisie’s head was spinning. Lisa, on the other hand, looked as sober as an abstemious judge.

  Finally persuaded by her socialite sister to let her hair down outside her own living room, and on the back of their charades success, Maisie decided she could hardly preach about the importance of family relationships if she wasn’t prepared to make an effort herself. Lisa suggested a wild night out and, although she thought it was an odd choice for someone professing to feel fragile and struggling with work stress, Maisie agreed.

  Maisie’s need for order was usurped by the realisation she’d got her priorities skewed – even her new neighbour, Josh, had assumed her sister staying involved lots of girl time. Still waiting for Lisa’s bank to sort out the unspecified catastrophe that had left her low on funds, and feeling guilty she hadn’t spotted any sign of her sister’s overload, the night was on Maisie. Lisa may have a glittering career but it had obviously come at a price. A night out would do them both good – although she hadn’t dared mention the planned evening to Zoe.

  Lisa winked at the bartender collecting empties from nearby tables and then returned her focus to Maisie.

  ‘You’ll never get a man if you spend your evenings hoovering the carpet to within an inch of its life. You need to stop being such a control freak,’ Lisa said. Conversational topics had so far covered work, family and had now moved to boyfriends – or lack thereof.

  ‘I’m not. I’m tidy-minded.’

  Lisa rolled her eyes and downed her remaining drink in one. They were at a trendy wine bar in Norwich, full of young, suited work-types who Maisie noticed had come in, shoulders hunched and the stresses of the day etched across their faces, but who had begun to unwind and embrace the noisy atmosphere and the end of their working week.

  ‘Tonight is about setting you free. For a start that’s the last boring vodka and tonic you’re having. We’re moving to cocktails and finishing the evening in a club.’

  ‘I’m too old for nightclubs,’ Maisie whined. ‘I’m not you, Lisa. I don’t lead a socialite life.’

  ‘Yeah, but look where it got me? I’m a shell of my former self,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s such a nightmare – working all the hours God sends. You don’t understand how … stressed I feel all the time.’

  ‘Then talk to me about it.’ Maisie leaned over the sticky table towards her sister. ‘What can I do to help?’

  For a moment her sister looked vulnerable and Maisie wondered if she was about to break through Lisa’s veneer of independence. It was as if her sister felt she had to trail blaze. From the moment she left home she could never admit failure or seek comfort from her family, even that first misguided adventure when things went pear-shaped with Biker Boy, Lisa Meadows had pulled her shoulders back and strutted confidently through life.

  ‘Not tonight …’ Lisa paused, studied her glossy nails and wrinkled up her nose. ‘It’s too raw. And work has sucked the life from me.’ Her eyes avoided Maisie’s as she suddenly rocked back on her chair. ‘It’s hard being so … in demand. I had no one and I needed support. I even went to church looking for answers, if you can believe that?’

  ‘But that’s what family is for. Why didn’t you come and see us sooner? We’re all here for you. Mum would have loved an opportunity to help – she worries about you.’

  Lisa sighed. ‘She asks too many questions.’

  ‘Then talk to me,’ Maisie begged. ‘It’s what sisters do, after all – share.’

  ‘Huh – like you and Zoe? Closer than layers in a damn onion and always shutting me out.’ Lisa’s demeanour changed slightly.

  ‘We don’t shut you out.’ It was quite the reverse. Lisa chose to distance herself.

  ‘You won’t even tell me what’s in the spare room. That’s not sharing. Unless you’re either growing cannabis in there or have a leather-clad sex slave chained to the radiator, I don’t see what the big deal is. Don’t you trust me?’

  Maisie crossed her arms and felt the tips of her ears glow, as she prepared to lay her soul bare. If she was honest about her hobby, perhaps Lisa would trust her more.

  ‘It’s where I paint.’

  Lisa looked disappointed. ‘Is that it? I thought it was some deep, dark secret. Something you were ashamed of.’

  ‘Not ashamed – embarrassed maybe. You haven’t seen the paintings. They’re a bit … random. I’ll show you when we get home but you’re not allowed to laugh,’ she warned.

  Several colourful cocktails and one throbbing nightclub later, Maisie kept her word.

  Chapter 39

  The following morning, Maisie moped about the living room with a nasty headache. She had drunk enough the night before to forget how many she’d had – though it was obvious now that it should have been considerably less. The pain was worth the gain, however, as it had been a memorable evening. She felt totally reckless that the washing-up from the night before was still on the worktop, and strangely elated that they hadn’t been the oldest people in the club.

  The bonding element, though, had been a limited success. Maisie had opened up to her sister but her sister hadn’t reciprocated in equal measure. Lisa wouldn’t talk about work or her needy admirer and Maisie felt she was hiding something connected to this mysterious man. Perhaps, she pondered, he was someone famous.

  There was a knock at the front door and she was bewildered to find Theo on her doorstep. He’d featured heavily in another muddled and overtly sexual dream.

  ‘What are you doing in your pyjamas at eleven o’clock?’ He looked genuinely surprised but her head was a little too thumpy to give a detailed explanation.

  ‘Come in,’ she mumbled, shuffling back down the hall and wishing she’d removed her make-up the previous evening, as she was fairly certain it was still on her face but perhaps not in the specific areas she’d initially applied it.

  ‘Good grief,’ Theo said as they entered the living room. ‘Have you actually been living a life, Maisie? The house is a mess – and that’s not a criticism, more of an accolade.’

  ‘Whaaa …?’ Lisa’s head popped up from the bundle of bedding on the sofa – a scrunched-up sock stuck to the side of her face. She peeled it off and sat up. ‘Bloody hell, sis, you didn’t tell me your boyfriend was dropping in.’

  ‘You know full well Theo is my boss,’ Maisie said, feeling the temperature in the room jump a few degrees.

  ‘Poor man. If you don’t want him, I could give him a test drive?’ Lisa offered. ‘How about it, Theo? You, me and a Sloe Comfortable Screw Against the Wall?’

  ‘It’s a cocktail,’ Maisie gushed, anxious to clear up any ambiguity. ‘With sloe gin. We were out clubbing last night. And drinking cocktails …’

  ‘I’m not on the market but thanks for the offer,’ he said to Lisa and then flicked his eyes to Maisie and rubbed his hand slowly over his stubble. Ella was the beautiful yet meek elephant in the room – although as members of the animal kingdom go, she was distinctly more gazelle-like.

  ‘Oh, your heart is taken?’ Lisa pouted.

  ‘Afraid so,’ he said, ‘and as lovely as the offer is, I’m not on the lookout for anyone else.’

  ‘Shame.’ Lisa collapsed sideways back into the pile of bedding.

  ‘And as for you, young lady,’ he said, turning to Maisie. ‘I didn’t have you pegged as a clubber. You keep surprising me.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, hastily grabbing crumpled clothes and dirty cups in an attempt to tidy up. ‘Now we’ve satisfactorily established the complicated relationships within the room, how can I help?’

  ‘Right. Yes. I’m nipping into town to get some flowers for Pamela as Arthur let slip it was her birthday when we were locking up the barns on Friday night. I wondered if you’d like to come back with me? I know you are as fond of him as I am,’ sa
id Theo. ‘Although looking at your pale face and state of undress, perhaps it’s not a good time.’

  ‘I’d love to come,’ she said, tugging at her top. ‘Just give me five minutes … maybe ten. Lisa can keep you entertained.’

  He raised an eyebrow and took a step back. ‘Right. Be quick,’ he said, eyeing Lisa suspiciously as she mumbled something into the pillow.

  ‘Just flowers?’ Maisie asked, exactly seven minutes later as she slumped into the front seat of the Capri.

  ‘Apparently they are her favourite thing and the reason he grows so many in the garden. I guess as you get older you don’t want to keep acquiring possessions. I need to remind myself of this or when I’m ninety I won’t be able to get through my front door.’

  ‘What’s she like – his wife?’ Maisie imagined her to be a cheery but firm lady. She was always encouraging Arthur to get out and about, although she gathered Pam wasn’t terribly mobile herself.

  ‘I’ve only been in his house a couple of times and on both occasions she was with the daughter. He’s obviously fond of her but they do a lot of things independently. She’s never been to any staff get-togethers, for example, but from everything he’s said about her, I gather she wears the polyester print trousers.’

  They stopped at the florist in town and Theo selected a beautiful bunch of roses, lisianthus and eucalyptus, and the young aproned lad wrapped them in pretty pink tissue paper and tied a huge raffia bow around the stems. Maisie wanted to buy Pamela something as well and tried to rack her brains to recall conversations she’d had with Arthur, but the problem was a lot of what he said was lost in the rolling river of words. He’d mentioned she liked pretty bits of china from when they’d talked about the tea set, but she wouldn’t presume to know Pamela’s tastes. In the end, she bought a potted begonia and a card.

  Arthur was delighted to see them, opening the front door in his vest and trousers.

  ‘Flowers for Pam’s birthday,’ Theo said, passing over the bouquet to a watery-eyed Arthur.

  ‘Oh, how embarrassing. I didn’t mean for you to—’

  ‘I know, Arthur. I know.’

  ‘Well, it’s right kind of you, sir. She’ll absolutely love them.’

  ‘I’ve got her a little something too,’ Maisie said, handing over her gift.

  ‘Well, bless you both. I’ll take the flowers down to her in a few minutes. I was just ironing a shirt but it takes me an age. Women are so much quicker at jobs like that and I’ve never properly got the hang of it. Perhaps you’d both like to come with me?’ He looked hopeful for a moment.

  ‘Ah, she’s with your daughter,’ Maisie said.

  ‘Yes, it’s only round the corner but I expect you’re busy. I know you youngsters are always rushing about. This non-stop modern life is exhausting to witness. Not like in my day. We had all the time in the world to enjoy the simple things; sitting in the long grass, watching Holly Blues and Red Admirals flutter around us in the meadow, a lazy Sunday lunch that would stretch well into the afternoon, and an evening simply sitting outside watching the sun as she slipped below the horizon.’

  ‘I’d love to come, mate,’ said Theo. ‘About time I met the lovely Pam.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Maisie agreed. ‘I’m in no hurry.’

  ‘Oh, she will be pleased. Give me two minutes.’ After disappearing briefly to collect his shirt, he picked up a door key from the shelf in the hall, and locked the front door. ‘I’ve told her so much about both of you and she knows how kind you are. Not everyone makes the time to chat with me but you two always do and I appreciate it.’

  They followed the old man down the road and turned into a quieter lane dotted with traditional Suffolk cottages set back from the road. Most were rendered and painted in sunny yellows or the more traditional pink. At the far end of the lane, at the top of the gently sloping hill, was Tattlesham church. Maisie could see its flinty walls and imposing round tower as they turned the corner. The sun was on her way up, rising through drifting blobs of marshmallow cloud, and as they followed behind, Arthur maintained a happy chatter about his morning’s activities – managing to make getting up and having breakfast sound like a full day’s work.

  Maisie assumed they were going to the daughter’s house but as Arthur swung open the low wooden gate to the church she realised, as it was Sunday, the ladies were probably engaged in something church-related. She could imagine Arthur’s wife being the sort of lady who gave up her weekends to arrange flowers or bake cakes in support of the local vicar.

  She stood and held the gate for Theo, as he was starting to lag back. Arthur continued to stride across the churchyard so she let the gate swing shut and trotted behind him – not wanting him to disappear from view. Theo had all but stopped. Wuss, she thought, he can’t be out of breath, unless it was an anti-religion thing.

  Arthur stopped by the low flint wall on the south side of the churchyard and rested his bottom on the edge, putting up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

  ‘So where exactly is she, Arthur?’ On such a glorious day, perhaps she was outside tending to graves or cutting back unruly brambles. Everything had shot up in the past few weeks with the warm, wet weather. Maisie looked around for any sign of life in the peaceful but unnerving place of death.

  But something didn’t feel right. The church and churchyard were silent. A blackbird landed on the top of the wall near Arthur – a fat pink worm hanging from its bright yellow beak. It studied the pair of them, now both at a standstill as dappled light from the lofty canopy of the trees danced across their faces.

  ‘There’s my birthday girl …’ he said, with a grin, a shaky hand rising slowly. And in that moment, when time was split into fractions of indeterminable length and that one second took ten times longer than it should have, between focusing on his raised hand and turning her head to see where it was pointing, she suddenly knew.

  She knew why this dear old man talked so much every time he came across people – desperate for human contact and to pass the time of day with another living soul. She knew why he gabbled on, not pausing for questions or sympathy when he opened up his heart a tiny bit to the tragedies or bleak things that had happened in his life. She knew why his shirts were creased and his socks occasionally had holes, why he took odd jobs home over the weekend to keep him busy and leaped upon every social invitation that came his way.

  Her stomach folded in on itself as she questioned how she could have been so stupid.

  Maisie allowed her gaze to shift slowly from the end of his finger, across the recently mowed grass of the churchyard, and rest upon a large white marble headstone – a piteously smaller stone in its shadow, topped with a delicate carving of a weeping angel.

  ‘… With Primmy, our daughter.’

  Chapter 40

  ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Maisie whispered, as she carefully arranged Theo’s flowers in the stone vase at the foot of Pamela’s stone. ‘When we came through the gate – you knew?’

  ‘Yeah, a few things suddenly dropped into place,’ Theo admitted, pulling up the tiny weeds that had germinated at the base of the headstone. ‘He’s a proud man, and one who goes out of his way not to inconvenience or elicit sympathy from others. I remembered his words more clearly as we approached the church. “Flowers are the only thing I can give her now.” And I realised they are one of the few gifts we give to the dead.’

  Arthur reappeared from behind the west tower, where he’d trundled off to fill up a watering can from the churchyard tap.

  ‘Well, now, I’m thinking that from the way all the colour drained from young Maisie’s face, that perhaps I hadn’t made it clear that my lovely Pam was no longer with us. And now I feel right bad that I prattle on about her the way I do.’

  ‘Maisie and me both, to be brutally honest, Arthur,’ Theo said.

  ‘Really?’ Arthur sounded surprised as he topped up the water.

  ‘How come no one in the neighbourhood mentioned it? I’m mortified. I’ve lived around the co
rner from you for nearly two years.’ Theo stood up and brushed soil from his fingers.

  ‘I don’t think there’s anyone left in our road who remembers her, if I’m honest, and in many ways, she isn’t gone to me. She’s the first person I speak to when I wake, and the last person I tell my troubles to when I sleep. I know she can hear me, and she’s always been that calm, steady voice in my ear, guiding me through the difficult times and telling me off when I’ve mucked something up.’

  ‘You talk to her – like out loud talk to her?’ Theo was frowning and scratching his springy hair. ‘Oh, Arthur, my dear fellow.’

  ‘Well, yes, and it don’t seem weird to me so I forget people might misunderstand. But when she passed and I was so alone and lost, I began talking to her to help me cope. “Now what am I going to do, Pam?” “How the hell do I load this washing machine, woman?” – that sort of thing. And it made me feel like she was there with me and helping me through the muddle.’

  Maisie’s heart went out to this vulnerable old man who had allowed a mask of coping and a barrage of words to shield his misery and loneliness.

  ‘Has she been gone long?’ Maisie asked, still playing catch-up with this unexpected turn of events.

  ‘Now, let me see,’ and Arthur scratched his head as he did the maths. ‘It will be twenty years this autumn.’

  And her heart, which had already taken a bettering on this old man’s behalf, crumpled even further. Twenty years, reflected Maisie, was an awfully long time to live alone.

  A week later and Maisie was back at Willow Tree House with a slightly less suspicious but equally blunt Irene. She took a large bunch of yellow tulips to thank the old lady for all her help with the tea set but they were greeted with the mumbled aside that a couple of packs of Benson and Hedges would have been more useful.

  Much to Maisie’s surprise, Lisa tagged along, muttering that she was so bored it was either eat her own head or slap some nail polish on the quavery hands of a few old dears – the latter being the most appealing option by a smidge. Maisie reminded her sister that those ‘quavery hands’ mercilessly thrashed her at Wii Sports and knitted the most delicate baby clothes in a blur of fingers and clicking needles. Their mother was beside herself when her glamorous eldest daughter appeared in reception and she whisked Lisa down to the salon to work her magic on the residents – clearly expecting Lisa to transform them all into Hollywood superstars.