Chapter 10
The Ballad of Rock Bottom
(and Mild Dehydration)
Hayley
“Allbymyseeeelfffffff…”
The lyrics burst out of me like a tragic battle cry, wobbly and echoing just enough off the hedges, to sound like the maze itself is harmonising with me.
I’m slumped defeated on the gravel, legs stretched in front of me, back against the hedge, which, frankly, is probably the closest thing to a boyfriend I’ll get this century.
I don’t even notice the prickles or the hedge-burn right now, but I’m sure I’ll feel it later, which, come to think of it, is exactly how I handle most men.
Ignore the warning signs. Regret it quietly.
I hiccup, raise my empty goblet like I’m proposing a toast to the gods of spinsterdom, and commit to the last line with my whole chest, off-key, slurred, but passionate.
Somewhere deeper in the maze, a bird squawks, abrupt and accusatory, like even it’s embarrassed for me.
By the time I’ve wrung every last syllable out of “anymooooore,” I hear a voice.
“JESUS CHRIST!”
I freeze.
Not a hedgehog. Not my subconscious. Not even Derek the Judgemental Hedge.
Tyler.
He’s standing at the edge of the clearing, hair tousled, breathing hard, eyes wide, looking for all the world like he’s just sprinted through a gauntlet of rose bushes and mild emotional trauma.
His gaze sweeps over the scene: me, legs splayed, shoes off, hair escaping its braid like it’s trying to flee the situation, mid-tribute to Celine Dion. Wine glass clutched like it holds the meaning of life.
“Okay, Bridget Jones,” he pants. “Let’s pause the solo concert and the existential meltdown.”
“I am not having a meltdown,” I slur, with all the dignity of a woman serenading a hedge deer. “I’m having a wine break. In a historical hedge maze. Like a normal person.”
He walks over slowly, like I’m a startled animal or a hungover raccoon.
“You’ve got twigs in your hair,” he says calmly.
I swipe blindly at my head. “They’re. Decorative.”
He bends over in front of me, hands on his knees like he’s about to reason with a child. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“You were supposed to be my partner,” I shoot back, not caring that I sound desperate.
Tyler sighs. “I got delayed. Long story. There was a duck. And a very determined bridesmaid. But mostly a duck.”
I narrow my eyes. “You left me to be seduced by shrubbery, Tyler. Derek the Hedge was one song away from carving our initials into his bush.”
Tyler’s mouth twitches. “As long as that’s the only bush he was carving into…”
“TYLER!”
He shrugs, entirely unrepentant, and I have to bite back a laugh because of course he went there.
He glances at the ground, then, wordlessly, lowers himself beside me with a grunt and a knee-crack that brings me deep, petty satisfaction.
We sit in silence. Him, still catching his breath. Me, trying to act like I wasn’t just serenading the scenery.
“I swear to God,” I mutter, “if one more couple giggles near me, I’m going to apply for residency in this maze and haunt future weddings.”
Tyler chuckles. “There was a lot of frolicking. Too much. At one point, I think a couple were legitimately trying to conceive behind a peony bush.”
“Of course they were.” I sigh. “Everyone’s glowing and giggling and in love, and I’m out here with twigs in my hair and pigeons who’ve seen more of me than any man has in two years.”
“Two years…?” He raises his eyebrows.
I shoot him a look that could strip paint.
He mimes zipping his lips.
“I didn’t think this would be my life,” I say finally. “Thirty-four, single, drunk in a maze. Don’t get me wrong, it’s on brand, but it’s also… not what I imagined.”
He leans back on his hands beside me. “What did you imagine?”
I shrug. “Not this. Not standing on the sidelines making jokes while everyone else is building their lives. I thought I’d be… I don’t know. Sorted. Settled. Happy.”
The words hang there, too bare, too honest.
“I’m just tired, Tyler,” I say defeated. “Tired of pretending I’m okay with it. Tired of being the sidekick in everyone else’s love story.”
He’s quiet. Then, almost under his breath, he says, “You’re not the sidekick.”
I turn to look at him. “How do you know?”
He’s staring ahead. Not smirking. Not sarcastic.
For a long moment he doesn’t say anything, and I start to wonder if I’ve finally broken him. Then he shifts slightly, as though the words have landed somewhere he wasn’t expecting.
“I know more about you than you think,” he says at last, voice low.
I blink. “What?”
His jaw tightens. “Ben talks about you.” A pause. “Your…adventures.”
“Oh, fuck me…”
“They’re not all bad, I promise,” he says rather reluctantly, half laughing. “He mentioned how you were there for Lily when her mum died. When she didn’t get that job last year. How you took her to Butlins just to cheer her up.”
He pauses.
“Why Butlins, Hayley? My God, you could have chosen anywhere else.”
“Would you believe me if I said…?”
“Actually, never mind. I think it’s safer not knowing.” But he continues “He told me about the therapist you helped him find. The Alice in Wonderland tea party you organised for his niece’s birthday party.”
I blink. “Holy fuck. Does Ben love me?!”
Tyler laughs. “No, princess. But maybe he should. You walk in a room and people feel better. That’s not nothing.”
I look at him, stunned. “Is that… a compliment?”
He shrugs. “Don’t get used to it.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Okay, your turn. Is this the life you thought you’d have?”
He lets out a low breath. “Not even close. I’m thirty-six. I thought I’d be married by now. Well, more likely divorced, but still… figured out. Not the guy sprinting through a hedge maze trying to make up for being a dick.”
“You? Tall, dark, and built like a Jane Austen wet dream with a gym membership? How do you cope?”
He doesn’t rise to it. Just stares at me.
I groan. “Sorry. I did it again. I don’t mean to be a bitch, it’s just… look at you. Have you seen you?”
“It’s not all sunshine and six packs, Hayley,” he says. “Even you’re not superficial enough to think looks are everything.”
“They help.”
“Then what have you got to complain about?”
“Umm… HELLOOO?”
He grins. “Okay. Maybe this isn’t your finest moment.”
“In the spirit of honesty…” He hesitates, then continues. “How much do you know about me?”
“Black sheep was mentioned,” I confess. “And something about making swords… out of boats?”
Tyler lets out a short laugh, them seems to catch himself. “That sounds about right. Did Lily tell you that?”
“Umm…”
“No, I don’t build swords out of boats. I swear your best friend never actually listens to me.”
“In Lily’s defence,” I say, “you do look like someone who would swashbuckle.”
I laugh quickly, as if that might erase the image of a ship, a complete lack of shirts, and a frankly unhelpful amount of plundering.
Tyler laughs with me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Can I be honest about something else?”
I nod.
“You scare the shit out of me.”
The words hang between us, sudden and raw.
I blink, startled, unsure whether I should laugh, cry, or crawl under a hedge and never emerge.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Cheers?”
“No, I mean it,” he says. “You’re real. You say what you mean. You make people laugh and feel things and… yeah. That’s terrifying.”
We fall quiet again.
Then, slowly, without ceremony, he drapes his arm around my shoulder.
I lean in. Just slightly.
But enough.
We sit like that a moment longer. A little too close. A little too something.
Then, softly, he asks, “You alright?”
Oh no.
Not the concern. Not the voice. The gentle, real one that hits me straight in the chest like I’ve been drop-kicked by a marshmallow.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Hayley.”
I look away. The wine is hitting hard now. I can feel the maze spinning as the tears arrive.
“I just needed a minute,” I say, wiping at my face. “A stupid, dramatic minute to realise I’m not Cinderella at the ball. I’m one of the drunk mice in the corner, off-key, off-brand, using a slipper as a microphone and heckling the fairy godmother.”
He snorts. “That’s a new one.”
I shrug. “I’m not the girl who gets the prince. I’m the girl they pair with him ironically, for laughs, who ends up ugly-crying into her wine, arguing with a hedge named Derek.”
Another pause.
“You want a medal for that pity party?” he asks, gently.
I blink. “No. I want a kebab. And probably a bucket of water.”
He laughs, rising slowly to his feet.
“For what it’s worth… I wouldn’t have let you stay lost. Even if it was hilarious listening to you sing like a drunk karaoke banshee.”
I smile, despite myself. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me in a shrubbery.”
He extends his hand.
“Come on, milady. Let’s go collect our token of love before the pigeons call the RSPB.”
I pause, staring at his outstretched hand and something low in my chest twists, not unpleasant, just certain, like this was always going to happen.
I take his hand and haul myself upright with a groan. “Tell me about the bridesmaid and the duck.”
Tyler chuckles. “Only if there’s wine. And a legally binding agreement you’ll never sing Eric Carmen again.”
I squint at him. “I thought it was Celine Dion?”
“Yeah,” he says, lips quirking. “Her version’s better… but don’t tell Eric.”
That does it, the laugh bursts out of me, catching me off guard, like I wasn’t ready to find him funny yet. And now I’m smiling, because maybe, just maybe, this maze didn’t swallow me whole after all.