‘Would you like to buy it?’ the shopkeeper says.
Maggie nods. ‘I would. But I haven’t got enough cash and my cheque book is back at the cottage. It’s too far to go and get it. Anyway, I couldn’t carry it on my bike.’
‘You cycled here? You are brave. Where are you staying?’
‘Not far, the village near the Mineral line. I’ll buy the cushion next time I’m down.’
‘I know that village. My brother and I often walk there. If you like, I could bring you the cushion in the car after the shop closes.’
Maggie’s plans for the evening do not extend beyond cooking the vegetables and taking Merry for a wander.
‘I couldn’t put you to any trouble,’ she says half-heartedly.
‘It’s no trouble for me, it is not far. I’ll come about six. Is that suitable? Write down the address. My name is Indu Rao, by the way.’
Buying things often makes Maggie cheerful.
‘Alright then. I’m Maggie Bond. I’ll see you later. The sign to Wyld Farm is a bit hidden behind leaves but it is nailed to the tree. You should spot it. Bramble Cottage is in the yard.’
As she is leaving, Indu calls out. ‘I remember your village, Maggie. When I was a schoolgirl, my parents used to scare me with stories of wild hippies who used to live near there.’
‘Oh really?’ Maggie replies. She will not admit she had been one of them. It would be too humiliating now she has turned out so ordinary.
‘She’s not the sort of person I expected to meet around here,’ Maggie tells Merry as they lay on the bed that afternoon. She scratches the dog’s tummy hoping she is forgiven for not taking him on the shopping trip.
Being in the cottage is bringing back so many memories. How ecstatic she was when they moved into the cottage, how defiant when she let the sheep escape from the field and how lust-filled when she woke up in Simon’s bed. And even after that horrific accident when the horse’s kick smashed her jaw, she was unbowed. She went to India as soon as she could escape the doctor’s scalpels. She used to lead life firmly by the nose. Now it has her cropped and contained, scuttling between the staff room and her students who struggle with their verbs. The lethargy of lesson preparation, the tedium of teaching.
Maggie let Merry out into the garden, making a mental note to clear up the mess later. Then she begins to tidy up. The muted mismatched furniture and the faded carpet are hideous and Indu has such exquisite taste. What will she think?
Digging around Amy’s drawer, she finds some tea lights. The sitting room will look better in candle light. She’ll stoke up a fire, too. She will not take Indu into the kitchen. The cracked lino floor and melamine cupboards are so outdated. But sharing a house it is difficult to decide what to replace.
Maggie runs a bath. At least she doesn’t have to queue this time. She nicks some bubble bath from the bottle on Amy’s shelf and sinks into the soapy bubbles. Her eyes trace a crack in the ceiling. It will be nice to have a visitor and a new cushion.
Indu steps out of her car in jeans, a leather jacket and high-heeled boots.
‘Hi Maggie,’ she calls as she takes a parcel from the back seat of her car. ‘I found the cottage, your directions were fine. Here’s the cushion!’
She tip-toes across the yard, avoiding the puddles.
‘Hi,’ Maggie says. ‘Come inside. This is very kind of you. I’ve only just moved in so I’m not really set up for visitors. Did I say? I share this place with friends.’ She has put on the only other item of clothing she had at the cottage; a baggy dress. She wanted to reveal the butterfly tattoo that’s on her shoulder but it’s too chilly not to wear a cardigan.
The women sit either side of the fire. Though Maggie feels awkward, her guest appears at ease for she chats away about her plans for expanding her business. Producing clothes in Indian workshops – ‘ethnic chic’ Indu calls it – and importing it to the UK. What did Maggie think of that idea?
Indu does not pause to find out. Local sales might never be high but the shop will be a showroom for buyers to view the collection. Maggie is lucky to live in a city; it’s where Indu wants to be.
Maggie watches her talk. She is probably a little older then Indu, who must be in her late 30s. Did Indu’s parents expect her to marry and have children? At least Maggie’s mother had finally stopped asking those annoying questions. Indu had mentioned a brother, Sunil, a lawyer in a local practice. Was he the lawyer who sorted out Seymour’s will? Indu said Sunil was soon to become a father for the second time.
Indu turned to Maggie. ‘I have talked enough. I chatter like a bird, my mother says. I want to hear about you now.’
It would to dull if Maggie were to talk about being a teacher. Though once she had been thrilled by the idea of teaching English as a way of travelling the world, this had not happened. Maggie lived in a small town outside Bath. Though once a wild child who lived in a commune, her life had turned out differently. What happened?
So Maggie finds herself talking about her application to an international development agency. Of her determination to teach English abroad and her desire to ‘make a difference’. (The fact that the form lies uncompleted on her bedside table at her flat is a minor detail.) Maggie speaks so convincingly that she begins to believe that soon she will be living abroad.
Indu nods encouragingly. ‘You and I are so alike!’ she says.
As far as
