A Bit of Earth (28 page)

‘They never give it back anyway, however good you leave it.'

‘I was kind of counting on it.'

Jo rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Madeleine. You're just so trusting. We won't get it back. Anyway, I just wondered, have you got any boxes or anything spare?'

‘You can have this. Keep it.' It was a big black rigid bag on wheels with an annoying little tag saying ‘Metropolitan'. Metropolitan. As if! It had been £19.99 in a catalogue-returns shop in Crawley. ‘I kind of hate it and I don't want it any more.'

‘Are you sure? Don't you need it?'

‘You know how I've been trying to shed things.'

‘OK. Thanks.' Jo wheeled it away. Madeleine could hear the case bump downstairs and away out of her life. Hooray!

But once she had gathered all her books, and retrieved all of her things from the other rooms in the house, she found that she could have done with that bag. Too late. She would have to go scrounging round some shops for cardboard boxes. They would all have been taken already. Or worse, she might have to buy some of those giant stripy nylon bags at a pound shop. Just what she didn't want to do. She hated the way people were always buying those bags, and then managing to get rid of them, and then buying them again.
There must be something she could use … The curtains! Down they came, the red and white spotty tab-top curtains she'd made herself. The very thing. She shook one out flat on the bed, put the other on top of it for strength, and then bundled everything in. She tied the tie-backs together to make a rope to gather it all at the top. There. All she needed now was a very stout stick to hang it on, and a very strong shoulder to put it over, and she could be off to seek her fortune. She texted Max to say she was ready. They were going to watch the play. The next day they would be off to stay with his parents on the Isle of Wight for a week (she wasn't quite sure why, except that they could stash their stuff there). After that, they would leave for Seattle.

They took rugs to sit on, and an extra one for Felix in case it got cold. Judy opened the hamper straight away. She had plastic champagne flutes and elderflower cordial (not fizzy) for Felix, who had edged himself closer and closer to her, until he was almost sitting on her lap. Guy had brought the wine. He wondered if they would have a little changeling boy in the play. After what had happened to Felix that afternoon, he hoped not.

Judy had brought as many lovely things as she could think of that could be eaten silently. Erica had brought honey cakes. Jon stretched out on one of the rugs next to her. Judy thought that he was taking up too much space. How dare he just pitch up like this and interfere with her plans? Erica stretched out her long legs next to him. They could be the winning contestants in the Longest Legs in the World competition. Guy sat morose and forgotten on Erica's other
side. Damn, thought Judy, damn. And Jemima hadn't shown up at all. Erica seemed to be laughing at everything that Jon said. It was all very annoying. Sometimes Judy felt very alone.

‘Oh, look at that moon!' said Jon. He raised a glass to the new moon, and smiled as though he had been responsible for hanging it over the greenhouse roof. The play started.

Then Judy heard a small familiar voice behind her whispering, ‘Sorry, sorry.' She turned away from the tedious Greek lovers and there was Jemima, tiptoeing her way across other people's picnics. She gave her a tiny wave and a smile. Oh dear, she looked all red-faced and puffy-eyed. Judy made a space between herself and Jon, and poured Jemima a glass of fizzy wine, hoping that it wouldn't make matters worse. She saw Jon offer Jemima a Camel Light and Jemima accept it.

‘Aunty, I don't really smoke,' Jemima whispered, dragging deeply.

‘Nor do I,' whispered Jon. ‘It's just occasionally I feel as though I should buy some Duty Free. I walk past it all so often.'

‘Oh, do you like travelling?' Jemima asked.

‘Do it all the time. I love it.'

‘Sssh,' said someone in front of them. Judy would have said ‘sssh' too if she hadn't been so pleased to see Jon turn his attention away from Erica. But Erica didn't seem to care. She was eating a honey cake. By and by Quince and Bottom exited. The first act finished.

‘What was wrong, best niece?'

‘You can't say that, Aunty!' Jon and the wine certainly seemed to have cheered her up.

‘Actually it's awful. I was meant to be going travelling with my friend Tasha this summer. I've got all the money saved up and everything. Anyway, she texts me today and says there's a problem. We were going to book the tickets tomorrow. I've been researching all these different deals. Anyway, I text back “What problem?” And then she rings me and says that she wants to go to Mexico with her dumb boyfriend instead, but get this, I can go with them if I like. She knows I won't say yes. So that's it. No summer. Mum won't let me go by myself – she says it's the other side of the world, and I don't really want to go by myself anyway.' She started to sniff. ‘Everybody I know has already got all their plans made. They're all sorted. I really wanted to go …'

‘Go where?' asked Judy.

‘South (sniff, sniff) America.'

‘I'll come with you,' said Judy. ‘I don't expect you want your aged maiden aunt along, but I'd love to. As long as we can go to Chile. But I'm sure you don't want me …'

‘Aunty, I'd love it. It would be so cool. Let's do it!'

They clinked glasses.

‘Of course your mum will have to approve your travelling companion,' said Judy, pouring them more wine.

Thom and his mate Will were watching the play, or kind of watching. They were smoking and looking at the sky and swigging from bottles of Becks. They looked across and paid attention whenever somebody pretty or scantily clad came on. This was quite often. Thom still had major designs on Phoebe Enright. During the second interval he slipped backstage, which was not easily done, but he took his
reporter's notebook with him as a prop and a means of gaining access.

‘You shouldn't be back here,' said Moth. ‘You can't come backstage during a performance.'

‘Press,' said Thom. ‘I just wanted the view from the wings, or of all these wings. How do you think it's going?'

‘Bugger off,' said Moth. He smiled at her, but it did no good. Behind the rude mechanicals, Titania was adjusting her costume.

‘Hey, Phoebe! How do you think it's going?'

‘Very well, thank you,' she said without even looking at him. Her costume seemed to be a little tight around the arms, the wings had been slipping, but not enough for anybody else to notice.

‘Would you like to expand on that? I'm writing a piece.'

‘Don't you think it's a little crass to be backstage before the show is even over?'

‘So what happens afterwards, party for cast and friends?'

‘Just cast and friends,' said Peaseblossom.

‘What the hell is “Peaseblossom”, anyway?' he asked. He turned to Cobweb. She was wearing a sparkly grey crocheted poncho over grey velvet shorts and a little black vest.

‘Tell me, Cobweb, do you think there is a role for fairies in today's society?'

Cobweb gave him a tight little smile. ‘Look, Thom, we don't want to talk to you.'

‘How about a drink together afterwards?' he said, looking only at Phoebe.

‘Go away,' said Peaseblossom.

‘Yeah. Fuck off,' said Cobweb. And they put themselves between him and their queen.

‘Two minutes!' somebody yelled.

He sloped off, back to where he had been sitting. Will had disappeared, leaving a pyre of empties. He was all alone. Sod it. He might as well just go home.

Felix drifted off to sleep in the final act. His head was in Judy's lap. She put the extra blanket over him. ‘Have sweet dreams,' she whispered. With gentle fingers she stroked a kiss onto the curve of his cheek.

Erica poured some more wine for Judy, herself and Guy. Jon and Jemima had been quaffing it; they had taken their own bottle and were keeping their own glasses topped up.

‘Thank you,' said Guy. ‘I wonder what the badgers make of all this.'

‘I expect they're hiding. Let's go and see.'

Erica got up, and Guy did too. Judy caught his eye and gave him a smile that meant she would look after Felix. Erica led the way, then Guy caught her hand. He had known that it was brown. Now he felt how warm and smooth it was too. Her long fingers entwined around his. They walked together into the green and lilac dusk, down to the stream.

‘Erica, Erica. I feel as though I haven't seen you until now.'

‘I was here all the time.'

It was enough. It was a beginning.

Eventually the sound of applause called them back.

Felix was half awake as the play reached its end. He sat up for Puck's closing lines:

Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

‘What does it mean, Judy,' he asked, ‘“restore amends”?'

‘It means,' she said, ‘that they will try to make everything all right.'

I would like to thank Victoria Millar, Alexandra
Pringle, Sarah Lutyens, Susannah Godman, Mary
Morris, Jessica Leeke, Holly Roberts and Arzu
Tahsin for their help and encouragement.
Thanks also to John Dean for the mystery
plant anecdote.

Rebecca Smith is the author of two other novels,
The Bluebird Café
and
Happy Birthday and All
That.
Born in London, she lives in Southampton.

The Bluebird Café
Happy Birthday and All That

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

First published in Great Britain in 2006

Copyright © 2006 by Rebecca Smith

The moral right of the author
has been asserted

All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
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‘Morningtown ride' by Malvina Reynolds © 1959 Amadeo-Brio Music Inc.
(Administered by MCS Music Ltd). Reproduced by permission. All Rights Reserved.

A. A. Milne, ‘Disobedience', from
When We Were Very Young
© A. A. Milne. Published by Egmont UK Limited, London and used with permission.

Ella Fitzgerald ‘I Gotta have My May Baby Back', written and composed by Floyd Tillman © 1949 Peer International Corp., USA; Peermusic (UK) Ltd., London. Used
by permission.

A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library

eISBN: 978-0-7475-8588-6

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