And now Ive gathered my pennies and slipped out the back door, Edward declared to his brothers wife, a thin smile playing on his lips.
Margaret! Can you hear me? he shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway before he even crossed the threshold.
Im listening, came the reply, the womans eyes never leaving the tablet where she was sketching with a stylus.
Simon and his wife, along with their little girl, are asking for a room!
Margaret knew Simon well the younger brother of her husband, a restless lad two years her junior who seemed to have been born with a camera glued to his hand. He was the type who never left home without his DSLR, snapping everything, especially women, whose silhouettes he turned into art. He started out at the local newspaper, moved on to an advertising agency, and somehow wound up on a beautypage competition, which to him was a treasure chest of opportunities.
He didnt stop there. He filmed weddings, corporate launches, any gig that paid. Even at his own brothers wedding he couldnt sit still, darting around the bride, clicking away.
Margaret set her stylus aside, straightened up, just as Edward entered the room. She gave him a soft smile and met his gaze.
So Im giving the green light, she said.
His question about the guests lifted a weight off her shoulders. They lived by the sea, and everyone wanted a taste of their coastline. The cottage was modest, and they had only just begun building a guest house the previous year.
We need to finish the renovations, she reminded Edward, who wasnt exactly handy with a hammer.
Just a few details left, he replied.
When are they arriving? Margaret asked.
If everyones on board, Id say two weeks, he answered.
Good, let them come, she said.
Shall we take a walk? Edward suggested gently.
Too much work, she replied.
I understand, but perhaps
Margaret rarely left the house. She tended the garden at dusk when the heat softened, but most of her days were spent in that little studio, drawing, drawing, and drawing. She kept herself thin on endless diets, counting calories, then, in a fit of rebellion, overindulging, berating herself for the weakness, and starting the cycle anew.
Outside, the sea roared, roses scented the air, and a fluffy cat named Whiskers slept on the windowsill, flicking open an eye now and then at the gulls swooping past.
Edward left the room. Margaret rose, massaged her lower back, approached the scales, and sighed as the needle crept upward.
Again, she thought sadly, noting another halfkilogram. She glanced at the packet of biscuits shed brought to her studio that morninghalf already gone.
Maybe one more, and thatll be it, she mused, her hand reaching for the pack, then pulling back in shame. She sealed it and carried it to the kitchen.
Margaret worked from home, illustrating books, so her output was the only thing expected of her. Edward, who had launched his own advertising firm five years earlier, drifted between meetings, never really at home. Hed started by buying printing equipment for business cards, then a camera, hiring artschool students, then graphic designers, copywriters, and gradually building a modest agency of fifteen staff and a handful of freelancers. The business thrived; when they moved south for the summer, the lady of the house where they were staying offered to sell her plot. Edward shrugged it offhe was absorbed in his workbut Margaret saw an opportunity.
She fell in love with a 20acre plot on a gentle hill, though the land was a bit rough. After consulting her father, who sent the money, Edward conceded that something had to be built. Within a couple of years they had a threeroom cottage, and when guests arrived they decided to add a tiny guest house.
Even though Margaret and Edward had married before Simon, their daughter Olivia was the same age as Clara, Margarets niece. Simon had long been a bachelor, but hed finally agreed to marry after meeting Clara.
At the start of summer Margaret sent Olivia to stay with her mother. Fiveyearold Clara was due to start school soon, and Margaret wanted the girls to meet, so she told Edward shed be back quickly and asked him to look after the guests. She covered the tablet with a protective film so no one could peek.
Ill lock the door, Edward joked.
Calmly, Margaret flew to the city. Two days later Simon arrived with his wife and little Clara.
Wow! Clara exclaimed, having heard countless stories about her uncles house but never seen it.
Thats Margarets work, Edward said proudly, gesturing toward the garden.
The garden was a wild tangle of pear, hazel, apple, and plum trees, barely tamed by the occasional mower.
Olivia, look up therethats a cherry tree, Edward called, pointing to a lofty branch.
Olivia sprinted over.
Lovely place you have, Simon remarked, dragging his suitcase toward the guest house.
Whats inside? Clara asked.
Edward spent an hour walking the grounds, pointing out each tree, before they all descended the hill and entered the main cottage. Seeing Margarets studio door ajar, Edward stepped in. Olivia, acting as hostess, peeled the protective film from the tablet and lifted her stylus.
Stop! Edward said firmly. Thats offlimits.
He took the stylus, placed it on a shelf, and warned,
And you really shouldnt be in that room.
Olivia bolted out, the film snapping back over the screen. Edward shut the door tight.
Is your wife still as Clara teased with a sardonic grin.
Edward winced; he knew Margaret wasnt a supermodel and didnt want to compare her to Clara, who had once been a fashion model herself. He chose his words carefully:
Not everyone can be as slim as you,
Clara smirked,
But we shouldnt talk about it.
To stay thin you just eat less, Clara blurted.
I get it, Edward agreed, Margaret has tried every diet, counted every calorie, but
Eat less, Clara repeated.
Realising his hint had missed the mark, Edward blurted,
Dont say that about Margaret.
Clara rolled her eyes, sighing, Just eat less, thats all. Dont be a pig.
Edwards face flushed with embarrassment. Hed grown weary of the models who prided themselves on looks theyd been handed, never earning them, always searching for faults in others.
The next day, as promised, Margaret returned with Clara. Edward met them, sighed, and embraced Olivia. The little girls cheeks were rosy, her lips plump.
Grandma, Margaret said, protecting her.
Shell be fine. A few days of running and swimming and shell be right as rain, Edward reassured.
How are our guests? Margaret asked.
Theyve gone down to the sea, will be back soon, he replied.
They didnt starve, did they? Only pizza? the lady of the house asked, opening the fridge.
No, Clara cooked something, they didnt go hungry,
Margaret changed into an apron and said,
Ill make lunch.
An hour later the guests returned. Clara stayed silent, but her eyes watched Margarets every move. She wasnt just unhappy with Margarets looks; she also disapproved of Olivias appearance, though she kept her criticism to herself.
Margaret laid out a hearty meat casserole, fresh salads, fruit, and two pies. The children ate eagerly, but after ten minutes Clara snapped at Olivia,
Dont eat so much, youll end up as round as Clara.
By then Olivia and Clara were already outside, but Edward had heard everything. His face reddened with fury; he was about to speak when his daughter burst in,
Daddy, daddy, can I go up the hill?
The guest house sat at the bottom of a slope that led up to the very plot Margaret had bought, the hill now thick with hazel and wild vines. Morning birdsong replaced any need for an alarm clock, a sound Edward once found irritating but now cherished.
Take Olivia with you, Edward suggested.
Olivia ran to Clara, extending her hand,
Come on, Ill show you the nest, theres a cliff and rocks too!
Clara turned to her mother, then glared at Margaret, and, choosing her words deliberately, said,
I dont keep company with pigs.
Edward lifted Olivia, told her to go find her mother who was watering the roses, and watched the two girls dart away.
He turned to Simon, whod been sitting with his wife and Olivia,
You insulted my daughter, calling her a pig,
I didnt! Simon protested.
You stayed quiet, as did your wife, Edward said slowly, shifting his gaze from Simon to Clara, then to Olivia. You all called my girl a pig.
Claras cheeks flushed. Simon had nothing to say; hed indeed stayed silent. Edwards stare hardened, and he stepped out onto the porch.
That evening Margaret set the table. Simons family arrived, expecting an apology, but they behaved as if nothing had happened. Margaret, the gracious hostess, prepared a superb dinner. Simon praised the food, Edward echoed his compliments. Clara, feeling full, slumped into a chair. Margaret fetched tea and the little cakes shed asked Edward to buy.
Clara snatched a cake, cut off a slice of cream, and began to eat; Olivia did the same. Margaret reached for a piece but, recalling a promise to herself, set it aside. Clara noticed, smiled, and in a low voice said,
To stay thin you just stop eating.
Edwards hand struck the table hard. The sudden noise made Clara startle, her eyes widening at him.
Go for a walk, Edward told Margaret.
She gathered Olivia and stepped outside, leaving the house quiet except for the clinking of cutlery.
He returned to Simon, his brother, and said,
This time you hurt my wife.
Thats not true! Simon replied.
You were silent when she and he glanced at Clarasaid my wife was fat.
But she is, Clara defended herself.
At that moment Edwards palm pounded the table again; Clara jumped. He turned to Simon,
First you called my daughter a pig.
Stop it! Simon shouted, finally realizing the heat of his brothers anger.
And now you called my wife fat, telling her to eat less.
Shes right, Clara snapped back, looking at her husband.
I wont let my home become a battlefield, Edward said, his voice dropping.
Fine, apologise, Clara sneered. Im not at fault for her size.
Edward stared coldly at her, then slowly, so the words landed, said,
You may stay the night, but youre leaving at dawn.
What? Simon shouted.
And thats because Im right! Clara wailed. Shes fat, and your daughter is too!
One more word Edward rose, braced his hands on the table and warned,
One more word and youll be out of my house right now.
Clara leapt from her seat, fled to the guest house, with Olivia close behind.
Ive said my piece, Edward told Simon, whose silence spoke volumes about his wifes nature.
At sunrise, after skipping breakfast, Simons family hurried to the door. The scent of blooming magnolias lingered in the air, and the sun began to scorch the garden.
Where are they going? Margaret asked Edward, wiping the table with a kitchen towel. Didnt you like the guest house or my cooking?
All good, Edward replied, pulling the curtain tighter.
What now? Margaret fretted, settling on the edge of a chair.
We could go to the beach, spend the whole day there,
He suggested.
The brighteyed Clara, thrilled, dashed to her room, returned in a swimsuit with a huge inflatable ring sloshing in her arms. Her laughter rang through the house.
Im ready! she declared, marching toward the door, humming a cheery tune.
Not so fast! her mother called, hurrying to change.
Edward felt a pang of sadness; hed missed his brother for years, hoping the girls might become friends. Margaret, ever practical, approached him.
Weve packed water, fruit, towels, and sunscreen, she said, loading a large beach bag.
Perfect, lets go, he replied, shedding his coat and, for a moment, pretending the family argument was a distant memory.
Within five minutes they were descending the hill, heading for the sea. The southern sun beat down more fiercely, while the salty breeze carried the scent of seaweed and promises of a brighter day.
