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Chapter 2

Anna

We turn our heads and I think I might have just found my first girl crush. She’s beautiful. Her skin is fresh and lightly tanned, her nose perfectly symmetrical, her cheekbones razor-sharp, and when she smiles, she draws you in. Her blonde honeyed ponytail hangs from the back of a baseball cap, and she has a figure I’d kill for. She’s dressed from head to toe in white, wearing trainers, skintight joggers and a sports T-shirt. Nike might have created its tick logo in appreciation of her. I know in an instant Margot is going to hate her.

I open my mouth to speak but Margot beats me to it.

‘Hello,’ she says. ‘You must be our new neighbour?’

‘Yes, I must be,’ the woman replies cheerfully.

‘I’m Margot, I live opposite.’

‘I’m Anna,’ I add. ‘I’m on your right.’

Margot is eyeing the woman up and down, desperately searching for something to critique. She has her work cut out for her.

‘Oh, I was wondering who lived there,’ the woman continues, looking at Margot’s place. ‘The sun shines directly into your bedroom at this time of the morning and I kept seeing a figure moving about behind the shutters.’

Margot blushes, a rarity for her.

‘I’d have done the same,’ she assures Margot, sensing her embarrassment. ‘It’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it?’

‘A house-warming present,’ Margot says, holding out her gift.

‘Oh that’s so sweet of you,’ she replies, reading the presentation box, which is labelled ‘I love chocolates’.

‘It’s wine,’ Margot corrects. ‘Chateauneuf-du-Pape, 1976. I always say you should never scrimp where wine is concerned.’

‘Such a shame, as it gives me terrible migraines,’ the woman says apologetically, but accepts it regardless. ‘My husband, Brandon, enjoys a glass of anything, so thank you. It’s very thoughtful.’

I sense this is not the reaction Margot hoped for. Meanwhile I feel ashamed of my humble offering. Someone who can fit into the clothes she’s wearing is unlikely to touch pastries with a bargepole. As I move to hide them behind my back, she offers a theatrical gasp.

‘Mince pies?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I reply, almost apologetically. ‘They’re vegan. No sugar, but you’d never know.’

‘Christmas really has come early.’ She grins. ‘Oh, where are my manners? Come in, I’ll make us a coffee and we can treat ourselves. I’m Liv,’ she adds as she leads the way along the hallway.

It’s the first time I’ve been inside this house, and it’s stunning. Everything in the kitchen is decorated in grey and white tones except for the dark brown herringbone flooring. I assume she’s yet to unpack her electricals or crockery until she slides back a concertina false wall to reveal them. Margot and I perch on two of ten stools that fit comfortably around an island larger than most sheds.

Behind us, bifold doors have been opened to let in fresh air from an unusually mild December day. They overlook a generous garden and the fields that surround most of the houses in this cul-de-sac. Outside is another seating area, a huge barbecue and a tall brick chimney. Next to the swimming pool is a summer house.

‘Tea or coffee?’ she asks as she plates up our mince pies.

‘Tea, please,’ I reply.

‘Espresso, if it’s not too much trouble,’ says Margot, knowing it likely will be. She’s eyeing up a coffee machine the size of a suitcase on the worktop. ‘Is that a Sage Oracle?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Liv shrugs. ‘I don’t drink the stuff, so all coffee machines look the same to me.’

‘So what brings you to Lower Ignis?’ I ask.

‘Village life,’ Liv says. ‘After a decade working in private banking in London, our priorities changed when we had the kids.’

‘How many do you have?’

‘Four-year-old twins, a boy and a girl. Oh, and the cat. It was during my maternity leave that Brandon and I started planning our great escape.’

‘So you’ll commute each day?’ asks Margot.

‘Oh, no. The city and I, how did Gwyneth Paltrow once put it? Ahh, “consciously uncoupled”.’

I have no idea what she means. ‘So what’ll you do now you’re here?’

‘A lot of yoga and Pilates, if all goes according to plan.’

‘Well, the village community centre holds weekly sessions if you don’t mind sharing a room with OAPs,’ Margot informs her. ‘I went once myself but it smelled of cabbage.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t explain myself.’ Liv smiles. ‘I’ll be opening my own wellness studio in the new year.’

‘Oh,’ says Margot. ‘Well ... good for you.’

Her smile is as fake as her nails.

‘How about you girls?’ Liv asks. ‘What do you do?’

‘Nothing as interesting as opening your own studio,’ I say. ‘I make jewellery from home and sell it online and to independent stores. And my husband, Drew, is a delivery driver.’

‘Oh, I love jewellery that’s not mass-produced,’ says Liv. ‘Handcrafted pieces are always so much more personal, aren’t they?’

I spot Margot slowly covering her Pandora charm bracelet with the palm of her hand.

‘I’d love to see some of your designs,’ Liv goes on. ‘I have some fashion influencer friends who love championing fresh designers.’

Imposter syndrome strikes and my face reddens. ‘They’re probably not that good.’

‘I’m sure with a little more practice you’ll get better,’ says Margot.

‘And how about you, Maggie?’ asks Liv. ‘What do you do?’

‘It’s Margot.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Liv replies.

I’m not entirely convinced Liv didn’t say that on purpose. And if I’m right, I think I like her already.