The Wicker Slippers Read online

  Max ignored them.

  She continued to move gracefully around the outside of the cottage. Craning her long neck first this way then that. Standing on tiptoe to see more of the roof. Twirling around when she’d apparently changed her mind, wanting to see the house once again from back here after all.

  She wasn’t just ensuring the cottage had the potential to be as beautiful as she needed it to be. She was also saying to the watching men, Hey, aren’t I just the most wonderful, desirable thing you’ve ever seen?

  No, she wasn’t one of those girls who constantly need a boost to their self-confidence. (Just how much more self-confidence could Max have?)

  Rather, all this, as far as Max was concerned, was preparing for later.

  She was setting the ground rules.

  I am your goddess. You are my worshippers, my supplicants.

  To win my pleasure, you must be prepared to do anything I ask.

  Did they understand that?

  To make sure they did, Max glanced back at her admiring audience.

  Yes, they understood. She could see it in the way they continued to dreamily gaze at her.

  She’d made it seem like an accidental glance their way, as she’d moved from one spot of the garden to another. She rewarded them with her long-practised smile, a wide, beaming grin that each man took to be for them alone.

  They all grinned back, as if in a daze.

  There’s still a lot of work to be done here before we get what we want, Max thought.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, her voice a mix of helpless girl and knowing promise, ‘who’s in charge here? I wonder if you could just…’

  *

  Lee opened the car’s boot.

  He’d leave the main bags for now. He and Max needed to explore the place first before they decided if it was ready for any preliminary photographic work. Their mobile phones would suffice for now for sending back any pictures of the cottage.

  Max just needed her work bag, containing the keys to the cottage and her notebooks.

  He dragged her bag out from amongst the others more brusquely than he’d intended. The clasp came free, the bag’s contents spilling across the tops of the larger bags.

  Damn damn damn!

  He was angry.

  He’d seen those workers laughing at him.

  He knew he was pathetic; just doing everything Max asked of him, like he was some sad little lap dog!

  Well, they’d seen her! Wasn’t she the most gorgeous woman they’d ever seen?

  Wouldn’t they do anything for her, just to be rewarded by one of her wonderful, glorious smiles?

  Wasn’t she wonderful in every way?

  Haahhhhh!

  Why couldn’t he just shake off this stupidity?

  Because he was bewitched, of course!

  Bewitched like…like he never knew it would be possible to be bewitched!

  Because he’d never known love like the love he felt for Max.

  It pulled him apart each night; the agony of being in love with her!

  Then, on a morning, when he saw her, saw her smile, felt her touch, heard her giggle; he was whole in a way he’d never felt before. Like at last he knew who he really was, where his future lay, why he’d been put on this earth, what the most important thing in his life was.

  The sheer joy, the ecstasy of being in love with her!

  Sometimes, if he dwelled too much on her (but how couldn’t he?), if he tried to hang around her too much, he’d be torn apart once more. Only slower this time, piece by tiny piece, as he watched other men receive the rewards he believed only he deserved.

  Sometimes, yes, sometimes he actually wept with the sheer agony of it all; but sometimes, too, with the incredible joy of it all!

  God, his emotions were a mess!

  How had he got himself into such a crazy state?

  Where being with her was both paradise and hell at the same time.

  Where being without her meant his life felt empty, meaningless.

  Where, when she wasn’t around, he had to try and find some way of bringing some piece of her back into his life. Even if it was just passing her empty desk to see her jacket hanging on its hook, or the mention of her name in a conversation – and if no one was going to mention her, then he would!

  How could they not mention her? What was wrong with them? Wasn’t the conversation so much better, so much more interesting, now we were talking about her?

  How did she do this to him?

  He shook his head, trying to clear it of all thoughts of Max. Trying to concentrate on the task in hand;

  He carefully rummaged through the bags in the car’s boot, seeking out the objects that had spilled from Max’s bag.

  Heady wafts of her musky scent rose up towards him.

  He breathed it in, relished it.

  It was one of those wonderful things that instantly conjured up images of her smile, her sparklingly eyes, her gorgeous body.

  He found her notepad, opened on a page full of doodles and a reminder of a hairdresser’s appointment.

  Just the sight of her notes made him smile. Made him start thinking of how she was the most amusing girl he’d ever known.

  How crazy was that?

  Yes, it was crazy.

  Yet he still delicately ran a finger over the swirls she’d made. Like it somehow connected him to what she’d been thinking as she’d made them. Like he could feel her amusement, see her smiling, as she casually drew them.

  Like it was a work of art, rather than someone’s aimless doodling.

  See, she didn’t need to use her tricks on him; he played them on himself.

  He was broken.

  He was joyous.

  And he deserved it, too, didn’t he?

  Deserved to be on the receiving end of this delicious pain he’d inflicted on others.

  Hadn’t he once played with girl’s hearts too, like it was all just a game?

  If only he’d known the agony it caused!

  Yes, he would have treated those girls better, if he’d known. He was sure of it.

  ‘Lee?’

  Hearing his name being called from behind him, he spun around.

  It was a girl. A pretty girl, fashionably dressed.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, unsure what else he should be saying.

  ‘Lee, it’s me. Don’t you recognise me?’ There was surprise, disappointment and hurt in her voice.

  ‘Oh, er, yes, yes, of course, I recognise you…’

  He was stalling for time, trying to search for her name.

  ‘Janet,’ he said with relief. ‘It’s been a long time Janet; how are you?’

  *

  Chapter 4

  It wasn’t a sensible thing to do, she knew.

  Yet Janet had turned around anyway, heading back towards Lee as he unloaded the car.

  If he and his girlfriend were moving back into the village, it would be hard to avoid them.

  She was going to have to meet him once again anyway, so it might as well be now.

  She might as well get it over with, rather than letting the agony of not knowing how things stood between them burn away in her heart every night as she lay alone in bed.

  Would he remember her?

  Surely he would.

  Would he want to rekindle their love for each other?

  Hah, not likely! Not when he’d managed to hook such an incredibly gorgeous woman as his girlfriend!

  (Fiancée? Wife? After all, they were moving in together. Moving back into the cottage where he’d lived for so long with his mum.)

  And now that she stood facing him, she saw that Lee was as beautiful as ever.

  The same eyes, with that constantly amused twinkle.

  Same bemused yet utterly charming grin.

  Same carelessly dressed hair, like he’d just got out of be–

  (No! she didn’t want to think of things like that! Not just yet; she couldn’t handle it just yet!)

  Seeing him like th
is, it all brought back so many memories, both good and atrociously bad.

  Yet Lee; he’d struggled to even remember her name!

  It was all so embarrassing!

  *

  She should haven’t turned back; she should have headed on home.

  And now, now she was here; she didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘I saw…saw…your…’

  She couldn’t say it; she couldn’t say girlfriend.

  ‘…the girl you were with.’

  ‘Oh, Maxine; Max!’

  Suddenly, Lee was standing up straighter, beaming.

  ‘Yeah, something else isn’t she, eh? Everybody thinks she’s wonderful; do you want to meet her?’

  ‘What? Oh no no, thanks! I was just passing, saw you…saw you coming back here, to the old cottage.’

  ‘Oh, so you know I used to liv – wait a minute! Of course. How silly of me!’

  His eyes lit up. For a moment, Janet hoped he was going to step forward and swirl her up in his arms.

  Instead, he corrected himself, politely hanging back.

  ‘Janet, that Janet. We used to play here together, when we were little? I’m sorry Janet; how could I have forgotten? I’m so sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind at the moment; what with the house and all.’

  Yes, yes, Janet thought; you’re busy moving in with your girlfriend. So you’re bound to forget everything else that ever happened to you, things in your past.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, managing to hide her disappointment, ‘we were friends when we were children.’

  But we were so much more when we were older Lee!

  And you’ve forgotten, forgotten it all.

  Or was it just me? Reading so much into what, after all, were just things we got up to as older children.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’ll see you around…Janet.’

  Lee pulled the boot lid down, slipping the bag he’d withdrawn from it under his arm.

  It was like an end to the conversation.

  Like, sure, it was nice meeting you Janet, but now I’ve got to get back to my gorgeous wife.

  ‘Oh, yeah, yeah; see you later,’ Janet replied.

  Lee smiled.

  Then he turned away, turned into the cottage’s gate.

  And, once again, he was gone.

  *

  Chapter 5

  Walking back into the garden holding the bag, Lee raised even more barely controlled sniggers amongst the workers.

  He bent his head low, hiding his embarrassment and his irate scowl.

  Okay, so laugh dimwits! But I’m the one that’s with her, not you! You’ll never have a chance of getting anywhere near her!

  Max was on tiptoes, peering in through one of the cottage’s windows as if she were Snow White or Goldilocks.

  ‘Max; why didn’t you just go in?’ Drawing near, Lee handed her the bag she’d asked for. ‘The workers have the door open.’

  She turned to him, lightly touching his arm, lowering her head slightly so that she was looking up at him alluringly.

  ‘Because I was waiting for you silly! It’s your house really, I suppose; so I thought it would be a bit of fun to cross the threshold together! You could even carry me, if you wanted.’

  She giggled musically.

  Lee knew her well enough to know she was teasing.

  She knew that would be his dream, to carry her across the threshold as man and wife.

  He laughed, like it was all a wonderful joke.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, excitedly taking his hand and drawing him towards the cottage’s door, ‘you know which room I’m most interested in; the bedroom!’

  *

  ‘Ah, so this is the famous window is it?’

  The window was open. Max leaned out, looking down for the bush that Lee had fallen into when he’d jumped out, ensuring he’d suffered nothing more than a few light bruises.

  The bush wasn’t there anymore. Lee had noticed that on his first glance at the house. The workers had removed it, replacing it with what looked like a plastic purple hydrangea.

  Why was he letting them do this to the house? he’d wondered, seeing the way they had removed so many of the wonderful flowers he could remember gracing the garden.

  Because it had remained unsold since he and his mum had moved out. And this was probably the only way of finally getting some money for it.

  Because it was a worthwhile sacrifice if it excited Max. And if it helped draw them closer together.

  Even so, he’d cringed at the destruction wracked by the workers downstairs.

  As he and Max had entered, a half dozen or so workers had politely stood aside as they had manhandled huge pieces of the huge cast-iron stove out of the kitchen. He could hear the clangs and hammer blows of others working in the kitchen, no doubt breaking what remained of the old stove into more manageable pieces.

  His mum had cooked all their meals on that stove.

  Although nowhere near as old as the house itself, it was still incredibly old. Lee had always regarded it as being as much a part of the house as the walls were.

  He couldn’t see why it had had to be removed, rather than somehow utilised in some other way. Perhaps modernised. Perhaps used as a decorative feature.

  From outside the window, Lee heard a few whistles, a few ribald catcalls of the workers who had noticed Max leaning out of the window.

  With a trilling laugh, Max waved back before lithely turning back to face Lee.

  ‘But I can’t see any fairy, Lee,’ she said with mock admonishment.

  He’d told her the story not long after first meeting her. He had hoped it would make him seem somehow different, somehow more exciting, more unusual.

  Later he had realised it had simply made him look childish, stupid.

  ‘Max, please; how many more times do I have to say I know it wasn’t a real fairy? I was three, for Christ’s sake. It was probably a butterfly; maybe even just something in my imagination, telling me to get out of the house.’

  He couldn’t be bothered going through the rest of the story yet again.

  How the fairy, butterfly, or whatever it was, had saved his life.

  There had been an explosion in the kitchen just below.

  It had killed his gran. It would have killed him too, the explosion’s force concentrated upwards, shredding the bed he had been in only moments before.

  His mum, at the gate, had rushed back into the house fearing the worst. But he was giggling happily on the lawn just below the window,

  His mum had still lost her mum, of course. But she had still regarded it as a miracle that he had survived.

  Lee didn’t like Max seeing that he was angry with her.

  It somehow made him feel that he was the one in the wrong. That he was being immature, over-reacting to a joke, or to her teasing.

  If she ever seemed surprised by his anger, he would apologise and say, yeah, sorry, he was being silly.

  ‘Miss! Miss!’ a harsh cry came up the stairs. ‘Sir? Miss?’

  Yeah, these guys instinctively know who’s the one in control round here, Lee thought bitterly.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ Max replied, stepping closer towards the bedroom’s door.

  ‘I think you should see this miss,’ the voice came back. ‘Something odd we’ve found.’

  *

  ‘Shoes?’

  Max observed the old, soot-covered shoes being held up towards her with disgust.

  ‘Who brought them in?’ she asked irately.

  ‘No one brought them in miss,’ the man holding the shoes up said. ‘Leastways, not recently anyway. These have been around for a good few centuries, you ask me.’

  ‘Might be worth a bit then,’ one of the men who had gathered around them said.

  Max gave him a look that implied he must be a little crazed.

  ‘I doubt it,’ she said with a frown. ‘Just throw them away!’

  Lee reached for the shoes, taking them off the man holding them. With his
fingers hooked in loops fixed to the rear of each shoe, he let them hang like dead fish. He was surprised how light they were.

  ‘They seem to be made of straw,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long, rather than just rotting away. And they look more like some sort of slipper than shoes.’

  ‘You don’t know about these then Lee?’

  Max asked him the question like she held him responsible for having these ugly things waved around in front of her face.

  ‘Never seen them before,’ Lee admitted. He looked up at the workers grouped around them. ‘Where were they? Where did you find them?’

  ‘When we removed that old range from the fireplace,’ one of the workers replied, nodding towards what was left of the old stove set off to one side of the kitchen.

  ‘We started cleaning up the original fireplace it had been built into. When we knocked a couple of bricks out, we found these neatly parcelled up in some old leather bag that’s just about had it.’

  He nodded once again, this time towards the remnants of a rotted bag lying on the floor amongst the rest of the rubble.

  ‘They were walled up?’ Max said incredulously. ‘Why would anyone wall up a pair of old shoes?’

  ‘Well, they weren’t so much as walled up as put in an alcove at the bottom of the chimney.’

  Lee had managed to carefully dust off a great deal of the grimy soot with his fingers. His hands were now filthy, but he’d managed to begin to reveal what could have been small straw decorations attached to the top of each slipper.

  ‘Well, whatever was done with them, we don’t need them,’ Max declared. ‘Throw them away.’

  ‘Ah, I’m not so sure throwing them away would be such a good idea, miss.’

  As the man speaking pushed his way through the circling men to draw closer, Max almost jumped back. He could have been a ghost, with his white face and hair. But it was only a mix of plaster and dust coating his clothes, skin, beard and wild hair.

  ‘Which is why, when we found ’em, I said we should let you know, like, miss.’

  ‘Why bother me with these?’ Max snapped irritably. ‘Why would I want to know you’ve found an old pair of shoes?’

  ‘Ah, see miss, it’s on account of where they were found, see?’

  ‘No, I don’t see!’

  ‘Well, they’ll have been put there for a purpose, see? They’re a charm miss, to keep the witches away; to stop them, or their spells, coming in down the chimney.’