A small orchestra is supplying the music. Elegantly dressed footmen are expertly handing around tall flutes of champagne from silver trays.
Despite the spectacle, most of the people there, even the women, only have eyes for Mary.
I can see in their hard glares that the women resent her. They’re envious of her beauty, of the way she so effortlessly attracts the attention they themselves desire.
With the men, it’s a mix of hard and soft, dazed stares. Those who flatter themselves they have a hope of conquest. Those who recognise their own complete submission to her charms.
Mary ignores them all. She can’t deal with all this hate, all this unasked-for love for her.
Only one person in this whole room matters to her. He’s with his parents, the owners of this grand house, and organisers of this ball.
They want him to meet another girl. Someone of an equivalent station in life. There are so so many girls who would be overjoyed to have him as a husband.
He’s hardly danced with any of them. He’s shown little if no enthusiasm when he has. Yet he’s danced with Mary countless times, scandalising everyone they know. Particularly as he’s left no one in any doubt that he’s overjoyed to be with her.
They’re arguing again about her. His mother is close to tears. His father is red with rage behind his vast expanse of white whiskers.
The sense of hate hangs across the room, as tangible to Mary as the cloud of cigar and pipe smoke. It’s not just his parents that loathe her, that wishes she would just disappear from their lives.
The older couples simply fume silently, wondering what the world is coming to, unable to comprehend the fall in standards that has held them all in such good stead.
The women, they know how she’s achieved it, they whisper amongst themselves. Any of us could do it, of course, if we were only prepared to lose ourselves and commit the unthinkable.
For the men, it’s that confusing mix of emotions again, this time the mix of love and hate; she thinks she’s too good for me, does she?
Mary doesn’t have one single friend in the room.
And yet she’s happy.
Because she has him.
*
I’m abruptly brought back to reality by a ferocious scream.
‘Fiona? No, it’s you! It’s you, isn’t it?’
Jackie is a whirlwind of massed hair and scratching talons as she throws herself at me.
‘I know it’s you, I know it’s you!’ she shrieks.
I’m backing off and defending myself as best as I can, worried I’m going to be returning Freak’s masterpiece with shredded skin and torn stitches.
‘Jackie, Jackie! Stop, stop!’
There’s not much point in making out she’s crazy, that I’ve never met her. Jackie knows all about Fiona.
The best I can hope for is that I can persuade her that it’s not actually me in here. But I can’t see her believing a word I say.
‘Yes, it’s me!’ I shout back, fending off a few more attempted scratches at my eyes. ‘And why do you know that, Jackie? Because you used Fiona to steal Jase off me!’
Admitting that it’s me seems to surprise her a little, as if she were expecting more of a fight. She pulls back a little like an exhausted wrestler, using the opportunity to gulp down lungfuls of air.
‘Look at me Jill! You’ve seen what’s been happening to me! Why shouldn’t I take the chance to be beautiful again?’
She doesn’t have to order me to look at her. I can’t help staring.
Her hair’s a mass of clumps tied together, like it’s all going to start falling out unless it’s held in place with lace, string and clips. Her face is warped, heavily lined, with deeply set eyes. She’s wearing a heavy duffle coat with a large hood that, when she pulls it up, leaves her face in heavy shadow, making her look all the more like she’s some hideously deformed creature from Greek mythology.
I’m not angry with her anymore.
‘I don’t understand,’ I say quietly. ‘I thought you were my friend.’
‘You saw the photos of how I used to look, at my house. I used to be pretty, didn’t I? Had friends, boyfriends too, just like you! I just wanted to feel beautiful again! And Jase; well, he was just a boy wasn’t he? He couldn’t resist Fiona. And yes, I couldn’t resist either, once I’d remembered how nice it was to be wanted once again!’
‘There were other boys. Why not them? As Fiona, you could have had anybody! It didn’t have to be Jase! You saw how good we were together!’
‘Good together?’ She chuckles, but her face simply grimaces. ‘Oh come on, Jill! I saw you with him, remember? Always bickering, finding things to argue about! You weren’t really happy with him! And you weren’t making him happy!’
That’s not true – or at least, that’s what I’m just about to furiously declare when I start thinking – is it? I can’t think of anything like that happening between me and Jase; but am I just remembering the good times, forgetting the bad? I mean, we might have had a few trivial arguments – who doesn’t, right, no matter how much they’re in love?
‘But why do you still look like this?’ I quickly say, changing the subject a little. ‘I don’t understand; I’m helping Freak, I’m doing what he wants me to do!’
I’m desperate for an explanation not just because I’m worried for Jackie, but because I also want to make sure anything like this doesn’t start happening to me. Freak can be pleased with you one moment, highly displeased the next. And I’m not always sure why.
‘Because you’re not doing everything that he wants, idiot!’ Jackie fumes. ‘You’ve only just started!’
Wow, Jackie really knows how to go out of her way to turn you against her, even when you’re feeling sorry for the way she looks. You know what? I’m tempted to tell her I could save myself a lot of bother and let her just stay like this.
‘Hah!’ she says, with a cackling guffaw. ‘Even though you’re Fiona, Jill, I can tell what you’re thinking; that peeved little expression of yours, where you’re mouth pouts, and you frown as if you’ve just caught the whiff of a bad smell.’
‘Okay, so you tell me,’ I snap. ‘What am I thinking, eh?’
‘You’re still kidding yourself that you can avoid this, aren’t you little miss pretty?’ She waves her hand in front of her face, like she’s a magician who’s going to instantly restore her beauty. ‘And you can; but only if you do exactly what Freak wants!’
*
Chapter 33
When I slip back into the shop, a grinning Freak is waiting for me.
‘So, how’d it go? Being Fiona’s an experience no woman should miss, right?’
‘Yes, yes, it’s certainly way beyond anything I’d imagined,’ I admit, wondering how much I should tell him about the way I’d managed to tap into the real Mary lying beneath Fiona’s beautiful façade.
The freaks are already rushing everywhere about me, helping me shed my garment. They could give a Formula One team lessons in how to coordinate their actions so that everything happens quickly, smoothly and without fuss. Once again, Freak has the decency to turn away for the brief moment that I’m naked.
‘And you didn’t see Jase?’ he asks, like he already knows the answer.
‘No, he wasn’t around; and I didn’t go looking for him.’
I feel a slight twinge, a tightening of skin, on the right side of my face. Glancing in a mirror, I’m horrified to see that it’s once again taken on all the aspects of a botched plastic surgery operation.
‘But…I was just getting used to being her,’ I say hurriedly, realising that I’ve somehow earned Freak’s displeasure, that it’s somehow connected with Jase. ‘I’d…I’d be interested in seeing how he reacts to seeing her again.’
Suddenly, my face is fine once again, such that I??
?m even beginning to doubt that it was really partially deformed. Had I just caught myself reflected in an aged and slightly warped mirror?
‘You’re too kind, you realise that?’ He smiles. ‘How many girls wouldn’t relish the chance of getting their own back on a boy who’s hurt them badly?’
‘There’s Cath to consider,’ I point out. ‘She’s a friend, and she might end up getting hurt.’
I look back towards the mirror, dreading the return of the deformity to my face. Fortunately, nothing happens. I look fine, and I once again wonder if I hadn’t been imagining it all along.
Freak chuckles, like toying with people’s emotions is a game, a huge joke.
‘Oh come come, Jill! Are you telling me that your friend Cath is such a delicate thing she can’t face off a little bit of competition?’
‘Competition? Fiona’s an all-out assault of ravishing beauty; I couldn’t compete against her, remember?’
‘So you’re saying that just because it happened to you, it would also happen to Cath? I’m sure she wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed by your lack of confidence in her looks and abilities!’
‘Still, Fiona’s a force to be reckoned with, we both know that.’
‘You were just unlucky. Jackie – dressed as Fiona, of course – probably just happened to catch your boyfriend at a point when your relationship was at a particularly weak point. It happens. You might have had a slight argument you’ve forgotten about now, but at the time it just gave Jase enough of a push to kid himself he was just trying to teach you a lesson. Or perhaps he was a little miffed that you weren’t showing him enough attention, with the same results.’
Once again, I find myself thinking back, going over the silly little tiffs I’d had with Jase. Perhaps, come to think of it, there were the odd, brief fall outs. Times when neither of us would give way, and obviously over something ridiculously petty, as I’ve now forgotten what any of the disagreements were all about.
‘I bet you he’s learnt his lesson,’ Freak continues. ‘So Cath’s relationship is perfectly safe; you just don’t want to admit that you played it all a bit wrong with him. Just think; if he gets sight of a disinterested Fiona once again – who makes it plain she’s not the slightest bit interested, of course – he’ll know for sure that she’s never coming back to him, rather than living in hope that they’ll get back together. If he’s still longing after her, what sort of harm do you think that’s doing to Cath’s relationship with him, right?’
‘I’d be doing her a favour, you’re saying?’
‘Well, you’re the one saying that; but yes, I’ve got to admit it sounds reasonable enough.’
He grins amiably.
‘So, if you enjoyed being Fiona; are you going to want a try being her again?’
I nod.
‘Yes, definitely!’
He beams, his whole face sparkling with pleasure. He obviously thinks he’s persuaded me to do what he wants.
Me, I’m not quite so sure about using Fiona in the way he wants, whether it’s for Cath’s benefit, or me getting my own back on Jase.
But I definitely want to find out more about Mary.
*
Chapter 34
When I turn up at Freak’s shop early next day – it’s a Saturday – he rewards me with the highly-pleased, beaming grin he’d given me when I said I’d enjoyed and was looking forward to being Fiona once again.
‘Love the hair,’ he says, reaching out to touch my hair like he’s the campest hairdresser in town.
I’m puzzled, as I didn’t bother doing much with my hair this morning, just letting it hang loose over my shoulders. Hey, if I’m going to be the glamour-puss Fiona, what’s the point, right?
As he caresses my locks, Freak expertly uses the flowing movement of his hand to turn my head slightly, ensuring I catch a glimpse of myself in a nearby mirror.
At first, I’m not even sure it’s me; all that glowing hair, reflecting the light as if I’m the star of a shampoo commercial. Thick, lustrous, curling in waves in all the right places – all the things a shampoo ad assures you could be yours, while somehow never quite living up to its promise.
Now, though, I’ve got it all.
I can’t hide my look of surprise, or my delight.
Freak look’s every bit as pleased as I do.
‘Amazing, isn’t it, how a little bit of extra confidence can make us shine like a brand new person?’
‘It’s incredible!’ I admit. ‘I’ve never, ever been able to do anything like this with my hair before!’
I wonder – should I just try…
‘You know,’ I say, exaggeratedly admiring my tumbling tresses in the mirror, ‘perhaps I don’t need to be Fiona today after all!’
Alongside my reflected image, I see Freak frown – and the lustre in my hair instantly dims. I smile knowingly, and both he and my hair abruptly brighten once more.
‘Hah! A joke, yes?’ he chuckles. ‘Good to see you’re in such a good mood this morning!’
So, if I really needed any confirmation, earning his good intentions towards me really is dependent upon me being Fiona.
What else is he wanting, though? It’s seems like it’s connected to Jase, obviously.
He wants me to make him jealous? But why? Why would he take any pleasure in that?
It doesn’t make any sense – does it?
*
Walking out as Fiona, it’s a similar experience to yesterday – all leering, love-struck gawping, or envious, hate-filled glares.
I head to a secluded corner of the park, where I know hardly anyone ever goes. I sit down on the grass – and I wonder what it was like to be Mary.
It’s a time earlier than the ball; quite a time earlier.
I’m in the same house, though I only know that because I’m Mary – there’s absolutely no similarity to the grand ballroom and the small, damp rooms I’m presently making my way through.
The walls are painted, a faded blue at best or, more often, a dingy light brown. Rather than grand halls and staircases, these are low, incredibly narrow corridors, or steps tightly winding up through spaces as tightly confined as a large chimney.
It’s all backstairs, or downstairs; Mary’s a maid.
Far from the rich, velvet and lace ball gown she was wearing in my earlier vision of her, she’s now dressed in simple, black and white garb, her hair tied up under a demure cap.
She’s trying to hide her beauty. An odd thing, you’d think, but she’s clever, she’s fully aware what happens to attractive maids who catch the eye of any man from upstairs. An unwanted pregnancy, swiftly followed by an irate dismissal, as if they’re the only ones who’ve done anything wrong.
Unfortunately, it’s a beauty that can’t be hidden.
That sharply elegant nose. Those sparkling eyes, with irises like exploding suns. The smoothly curved chin, suspended above a gloriously white neck.
Fortunately, it’s a beauty that doesn’t just engender lust, but also love. A beauty that stimulates the kind of desire that must always and forever be fulfilled, for life would seem shallow without it. It’s a beauty that must always be close to hand to be admired and treasured, its absence intolerable and ultimately disheartening.
Joshua, the eldest son, falls in love. Every time he sees her, whether she’s serving at meal times, moving through the corridors with fresh linen, or cleaning a room, he feels the most incredible surges of pleasure rushing through him.
The way she moves so smoothly, so quietly, almost delicately. The way her face catches the light, such that the light seems to be coming from her, as if she’s partly angelic. The way she laughs, tinkling and happy, despite her lowly station.
She’s like no woman he’s ever seen before. No one can compare to her.
He wants to be near her, at e
very opportunity he can manage. He conjures up excuses to be in a room she’ll be attending to, even, at times, heading downstairs beneath the grand home; bringing up some trivial matter, or making the kind of request or order the butler would normally pass on.
It’s obvious to everyone what’s going on. He thinks he’s hiding it; but any fool can see how his eyes constantly follow Mary.
‘You be careful my girl; you’re playing with fire!’ the cook warns Mary, believing without a shadow of a doubt that she’s the one at fault.
‘I hope you realise that your behaviour is unacceptable to everyone in this entire household?’ the butler similarly warns her.
The other maids begin to avoid her. They’re jealous of her power over the handsome Joshua. Unlike his brothers, unlike the master, he no longer flatters and flirts with them anymore.
He’s in love with a maid; and that could be dangerous for all of them. As soon as his Lordship and her Ladyship begin to realise what’s happening, they’ll take their fury out on anyone close to hand.
Mary doesn’t know what to do. She can’t help it; she can’t help that Joshua has fallen in love with her.
She thinks about leaving. But there’s nowhere else to go. No matter where she applied for a job, they would want to know why she no longer wished to work in such a grand house.
One day, in her incredibly small bedroom, she finds an expensively wrapped gift waiting for her beneath her pillow. She’s anxious, yet also curious.
She unwraps the present carefully, making sure she doesn’t tear the paper, intending to rewrap and return it as soon as possible.
Inside, there’s a gorgeously constructed box. Its marble and enamel inlays make it a work of art in its own right.
Inside the box, she finds the most amazingly beautiful gloves she’s ever seen; pristinely white, and of the smoothest, softest leather.
They’re even more beautiful than the innumerable pairs of gloves she’s seen carelessly draped over the dressers in the bedrooms of her Ladyship and her daughters, or their visiting guests.
She can’t resist trying them on.
Later that night, she boldly makes her way up the grand staircases. She heads towards the floor containing the main bedrooms.
Quietly, she steals into Joshua’s room.
Joshua wakes as he hears the door click back into place.
In the dim light coming in through the window, he sees that it’s Mary.