Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella (2 page)

“Hey,” Betty snapped. “Lake’s the only one allowed to call me that.”

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically. “Can we please go back to London, where we belong?”

“Aye.” Betty gave Rachel the evil eye. “Send her back. She’s too stuck up to fit in here.”

“So,” Harry said loudly to ward off a counterattack from his business manager. “Got any suggestions on how to get her alone?”

“Well, it just so happens that I do.” The look on Betty’s face was pure mischief. She was clearly up to something, but Harry was too desperate to let it worry him. “Saturday afternoon, Magenta is going into the old mine to take some pictures. She’ll be alone. I reckon you should make a picnic and surprise her there.”

Huh. That wasn’t a bad plan. He looked at Lake, who shrugged. “I wouldn’t take relationship advice from Betty either,” he said, making Betty grin with pride.

“That’s my boy,” she told him.

“So where in the mine is she taking photos?” Harry asked.

Betty gave him a toothless grin. “I can’t rightly explain it. Best if you pick me up on Saturday and I’ll show you the way. There are a lot of mine entrances; it’d be easy for you to go to the wrong one.”

“It’s a deal,” he told her.

“Idiot,” Rachel said.

Lake just grinned.

2

After Harry’s visit, Magenta’s day really took a nosedive. Every time Kirsty was anywhere near her, she nagged her to spend time with Harry. It had gotten to the stage where Magenta was planning to lock her boss in the storeroom in order to get some peace.

Then, just when she’d managed to get Kirsty to leave the topic alone, the door opened and in walked Harry’s designer sidekick—Executive Barbie. As usual, she was scowling. Magenta didn’t need Harry’s genius IQ to see that the woman didn’t want to be stuck in Scotland. With a fortifying breath, she plastered on her fake smile and faced the woman.

“Can I help you with something?”
Please say no. Please say no.
She wasn’t in the mood to deal with yet another person’s issues.

“I’m Harry’s executive manager of operations, Rachel.” She said the title as though she was announcing her royal heritage. Magenta kept her face carefully blank. Didn’t Harry have less than ten employees? Bet that made “executive managing” a whole lot easier.

“Magenta,” Magenta said, because it seemed rude not to give her name.

“I know who you are.” Rachel folded her arms over her designer business suit and tapped perfectly manicured nails.

The woman was wearing five-inch stilettos. No wonder she was grumpy. Magenta would be grumpy too if her feet were killing her all day long.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping it would speed things along.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kirsty paying close attention to the conversation.

“What can you do?” Rachel gave a mirthless laugh. “You could stay away from Harry. That would be great. You could tell him plainly that you have no interest in him—which you clearly don’t—and send him back to London. Where he belongs. Where we both belong.”

Magenta clenched her fists. She did not like being told what to do. By anyone.

“I’m not keeping Harry here. Go back to London any time you like.”

“Oh, but you are.” Rachel pursed her lips in disgust. “He came here to talk to you. Unless you shut that down, he’ll stay here until it happens. He can be very stubborn.”

“Ha! Pigheaded, more like.”

Rachel stared at Magenta. “I want to go back to London. I don’t want to move the business up here. The only decent thing about this town is this lingerie shop.”

“Thank you,” Kirsty shouted from the back of the shop.

Magenta almost rolled her eyes.

“The people we need to deal with are in London. Not this backwater. This cultural desert. This haven for inbred—”

Magenta held up a hand. “I get it. Invertary bad. London good.”

Rachel frowned, then forced a smile. “We both know you aren’t interested in Harry. Whatever you two were to each other is in the past. And I think you’d like to keep it there. So why don’t you make that clear to him and we’ll all be happy?” She turned towards the door. “Think about it,” she ordered.

The door closed loudly behind her. Kirsty came up to stand beside Magenta. They stared at the door.

“I know who she reminds me of,” Kirsty said. “Remember in one of the X-Men movies there was a woman with an adamantine skeleton, like Wolverine? They fought. Wolverine won. Wolverine will always win, because he’s the perfect man.” Kirsty gave a wistful sigh as she pointed at Rachel’s back. “That’s who she is. She’s the evil version of Wolverine.”

Magenta stared at her friend for a moment. “Does your fiancé know about this unhealthy obsession you have with a superhero?”

Kirsty smiled. “You’re not going to do what she told you to, are you? She warned you off. Isn’t that like your version of a red flag to a bull? Shouldn’t you charge out there to spend time with Harry purely to defy her ultimatum?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am an adult. I’m not going to do something I don’t want to do in order to spite a crazy stranger. She’s Harry’s problem. I don’t want anything to do with either of them.”

“She is right about one thing,” Kirsty said. “Harry is very stubborn. If he wants to spend time with you, he’ll make it happen.”

“He can try.” Magenta stormed back to the rack she was cleaning.

“What is your problem, anyway? Why are you so set against Harry? You two used to be close. What did he do that’s so unforgivable?”

Magenta felt her stomach clench. “It wasn’t him. It was me. I said things that were unforgivable.”

“Harry seems to have gotten over it.”

“Maybe, but the reasons I said those things haven’t changed. Harry is better off far away from me. And I’m sure I’m better off without him in my life. If we try to reboot our friendship, we’ll only get hurt. It’s smarter to stop it before it starts.”

Kirsty eyed her keenly. “He hurt you.”

“No.” Magenta turned away from her friend. “But he could have. I stopped it before it got that far.”

She felt Kirsty’s hand on her shoulder, her touch gentle. “You loved him.”

Magenta stopped breathing. Kirsty Campbell was far too perceptive for her own good.

“Of course I loved him,” Magenta scoffed. “We were best friends.”

“No.” Kirsty shook her head. “You were
in
love with him.”

For a minute the pain of the past overwhelmed Magenta. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe. When she opened them, she shook Kirsty’s hand off.

“A stupid teenage crush. I grew up. I got over it. It’s time Harry got over the past too.” With that, she walked away from Kirsty. She was done talking about Harry.

After a long day at work, Magenta entered the flat she shared with her twin best friends to find the phone ringing.

“Don’t answer it,” she shouted, but it was too late. She could already hear Claire tell Magenta’s mother that she’d just come through the door. Great. The icing on the cake of death that was her day. She slipped off her boots, dropping in height by several inches, before holding out her hand for the phone.

“Sorry,” Claire, one half of her twin roommates, whispered as she handed it to Magenta.

Magenta pursed her lips. They paid extra for caller ID so that they would know who was calling before picking up. They paid extra so that Magenta could avoid her mother. Right now it was money wasted. She took a deep breath as Claire tiptoed away. Why she was tiptoeing was anyone’s guess.

“Mum.” Magenta felt her stomach tighten as the word came out of her mouth.

“Maggie, honey, I wouldn’t bother you, but I need a wee favour.” Her mother’s soft whine made Magenta cringe. As did being called Maggie.

“What do you want, Mum?” Magenta had to work hard to stop from biting out the words. Since leaving home when she was sixteen, her mother had called at least twice a day to “not bother” Magenta.

“I wouldn’t ask, but…” Her voice faded to a pathetic nothingness.

“What is it?” Magenta squeezed the words through clenched teeth.

“Mr Morrison put a note through my door about the hedge. He’s complaining about my side of it again. I don’t have the strength to deal with the hedge. It’s so much work trimming it. I’ve been meaning to find a teenager to come cut it for me, but I haven’t been well enough to get to it yet. I wondered if you would have a word with him.”

Magenta closed her eyes and tried to think of something calming. Anything calming. It didn’t work. Her mind was blank. Mainly she wanted to kick old man Morrison’s backside for leaving a note instead of waiting until her mother was home and dealing with her in person.

“Mum, he’s your neighbour. He’s right next door. I’m on the other side of town. I think you should talk to him.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that. You know how he gets. It would be best if you came over and dealt with it. You know I wouldn’t impose if I was feeling better.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve been feeling so faint this past week. I nearly passed out in the supermarket. Lorraine Buchanan had to fetch me a chair from the staff room. They made me a cup of tea, and Lorraine sat patting my hand until the dizzy spell passed. She’s such a lovely girl. I told her all about you taking care of me.”

Magenta almost choked on the words she wanted to say. There was nothing wrong with her mother. The woman made almost daily trips to the doctor and they’d never found anything wrong with her. Ever since their father had left when Magenta was nine, her mother had been “ill.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that the woman was barely fifty.

“Why don’t you phone Mr. Morrison? If you’re too weak to walk next door, you can make a call. You had enough energy to call me.”

There was a long sigh. “Aye, you’re right, sweetheart. I could probably call, but this has taken a lot out of me and I’ll need to lie down when I hang up.” She made that pathetic little mewing noise that made Magenta cringe.

“If you had enough energy to make one call, why did you make it to me instead of to your neighbour?”

She knew the answer already—she couldn’t make Mr. Morrison dance like a puppet on a string, but with a few master manipulations she could manage it with her daughter.

Her mother let out a little moan. The kind people make when feeling weak. The kind she’d spent years perfecting. “You are so much better at dealing with conflict than I am.” That whining voice went right through Magenta. “You’ve always been so good at standing up for yourself. Ever since you were a wee lassie and the kids in school made fun of you because you weren’t as smart as they were. I feel terrible that I was never well enough to help you with that, but you dealt with it great on your own. You may not be as clever as other folk, but you’re so good at dealing with people. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It was amazing how her mother could slice into her self-esteem at the same time as praising her. Magenta rubbed her temple to ward off the headache that was creeping up on her. Immediately she snapped up straight. She was doing it. She was manufacturing symptoms. She was turning into her mother. She let her hand drop to her lap.

“Fine,” Magenta said through clenched teeth. “I’ll come talk to the neighbour.”

“You’re a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re nothing like Grace; she doesn’t spare a thought for her mother. So selfish. But I can always rely on you. Your older sister may have the brains in the family, but you have other gifts.”

As usual, she never mentioned what those other gifts might be.

“I need to go,” Magenta said. “I’ll be over later.”

“Use your key. I’ll probably be lying down.”

Like that was something new. “Sure.”

“Love you, sweetie,” her mother said.

Magenta mumbled something and hung up. If her mother loved her, then she sure as hell didn’t like the way love felt. It was a nasty emotion. Like slime oozing through her veins.

“Sorry,” Claire said from the stove, where she was cooking dinner. “I didn’t think before I answered the phone.”

“Never mind,” Magenta told her. It wasn’t her friend’s fault that her mother drove her mad.

“I printed out those forms for you.” Claire used her wooden spoon to point to the papers on the tiny dining table. “You keep putting it off, but we both know you’d love to become a caving instructor. It’s time to get on with it and get that qualification.”

Magenta forced a smile as she reached for the paperwork. “You know me. Procrastination is my middle name.”

“That’s why you need friends like us.”

“I’ll take these to my room and I’ll fill them out after I deal with my mum.”

“Don’t forget. I’ll be checking. You’ve been dreaming about running a caving business for years. It’s time you turned that dream into reality. If you don’t get your bum in gear you’ll be working for Kirsty until you’re ninety.”

Magenta faked a laugh as she headed to her room at the front of the house. Once inside, she shut the door and leaned against it. She looked at the forms in her hand. The words jumped and wobbled, as they usually did. She smothered a frustrated scream. She didn’t need to be able to read the form to know the requirement. Her caving mentors had told her about the written exam.

After one last look at the paperwork, she ripped it into tiny pieces before putting it in the bin. She should never have mentioned her dream to the twins, because that’s just what it was—a dream. It would never be reality. Not for her. Not for a woman who was too stupid to even finish school. A woman who struggled to read a simple form. No. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. Dreams were for other people.

With a heavy sigh, she changed into jeans and boots before heading off to deal with her mother.