After seeing her face magnified on the big screen, she was acutely aware of every flaw. Her make-up might be immaculate, but her eyes were faintly bloodshot in the corners, as if the imperfections of real life were trying to creep through.
With a weary sigh, she yanked off her tiara.
Her dress suddenly felt too tight, like a straightjacket. She fumbled with the zip, huffing when it got stuck halfway. Tugging harder, she groaned when it refused to budge.
Not here, too.
With a loud sigh, Greta flopped back onto the bed, crushing the rose petals beneath her.
She lay there staring up at the ceiling as the evening’s events tumbled through her mind.
It took a while for her eyelids to shut, and she wondered if she’d wake up in Mapleville or back in Longmill.
But, right now, Greta didn’t really care. Because loneliness wrapped around her so tightly, sleep offered a welcome reprieve.
Chapter 22
GRETA’S EYES WEREcrusted from last night’s make-up. Her evening dress was wrapped so tightly around her legs she felt like an Egyptian mummy. She kicked her legs to release them.
For the briefest moment, she was disappointed to find she was still in Mapleville. Shouldn’t she have woken up back in Iris’s coffee shop by now? She’d expected the awards ceremony to be the final act, the curtain call to send her home, but the overpowering scent of Maple Gold in the hotel room told her otherwise.
She glanced around, taking in her luxurious surroundings. The vast bed would fit at least six people lying side by side, and the carpet was as soft as cashmere. The dressing table curved like a polished mahogany coffee bean. Yet it all felt impersonal, even ostentatious.
Come on, Greta. Lighten up. Enjoy this amazing place.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the tightness in her calves from standing in heels all night. Her stilettoes lay on the floor.
Spotting a note that had been slipped under the door, she padded over to pick it up.
I didnt want to wake you. Fancy a family game of minigolf in the park with me and Lottie this morning?
Love Jim x
The invitation lifted her mood. After the extravaganza of yesterday’s award ceremony, spending a normal day with her family was exactly what she needed.
Somehow, the dress she’d slept in overnight unzipped effortlessly, as if elves had popped in to grease the zip. She found a selection of pastel dresses and shoes waiting for her in the wardrobe.
By the time Greta had showered, dressed, eaten a croissant she’d discovered on a tray in her room, and arrived at the park, she felt more like her best self again.
Jim and Lottie were already waiting for her on the mini-golf course. Lottie was dressed in her pink plaid skirt suit and held a bright pink golf ball in her hand. Jim stood beside her wearing a white polo shirt and cream slacks, casually twirling a club between his fingers. ‘Hi.’ He waved with a welcoming smile on his face.
Greta gave each of them a hug, holding on for longer than she intended to. ‘I missed you both so much last night. I tried to reach you, but there were too many people around.’
‘That’s okay,’ Jim said, kissing her forehead. ‘We know you were busy, and we’re so proud of you.’
‘You’re an inspiration, Mum,’ Lottie added, squeezing Greta’s hand.
They were things her family would never usually say, and Greta relished the words, holding them close.
She teed off first, watching as her ball soared through the air, toward a miniature windmill. It clipped the edge of a sail, bounced off, and then dropped straight into the hole. ‘Hole in one,’ she cheered, throwing her arms in the air.
Jim lined up his shot next, sending the ball sweeping across the turf. It disappeared into a pyramid and emerged on the other side, wobbling briefly before also sinking into a hole. He smiled and performed a bow. ‘Your turn, Lottie,’ he said. ‘Keep up the good work.’
Lottie stepped up, her eyes sharp with concentration. She sent her ball straight through a clown’s mouth. It bounced off the edge of the course before she scored a hole in one, too. ‘Luck must run in the Perk’s family,’ she said with a triumphant smile.
As the three of them moved from one hole to the next, their shots landed with precision each time, as if the universe was helping with their aim.
After a while, Greta leaned on her club and examined her scorecard. ‘Why can’t we lose?’
