by Clare Lydon
“You think we could?” Gemma’s face told me she was in doubt.
“It’ll only come true if you really believe.”
“Like Santa?”
I laughed. I knew Gemma still watched Christmas movies in May. “Yes, just like Santa.” I paused. “The thing is, I’d quite like a girlfriend and so would you. If either of us died tomorrow, friends and family would turn up, but we wouldn’t have a significant other. Someone to sit in the front bench and sob their heart out. Someone to prove we were truly loved.”
Gemma thought for a moment. “Maddie would turn up and be sad at yours.”
I slapped her arm. “Great, an ex from 10 years ago. I’m surprised my insides haven’t shrivelled up and died.”
“Maisy would come.”
“And bring her new wife and baby?” Maisy was my most recent ex, and we’d split up three years ago. “It’s fucking depressing. If I died, nobody’s life would be severely impacted. Nobody’s daily routine would change.”
Gemma prodded her chest with her index finger. “Er, hello? We work together on a daily basis. I think my routine might be a little altered.”
“You know what I mean. I don’t have a lover, a chief mourner. Someone to sit in the front row of the crematorium who’s not my parents or my annoying brother.”
“If you die, I promise to be in the front row crying buckets. Can you say the same, Mrs No Tears?” Gemma furrowed her brow to show how likely she thought that would be.
I put myself in the front row and screwed up my face. Gemma was dead, and I was at her funeral. “I’d totally cry for you.”
“You’re such a bad liar.”
She knew me too well. “But we need to sort the universe out. We need to make it love us and break the law.”
“I’m normally law-abiding, but I’m happy to break this one.” Gemma paused. “Just to be clear. We’re going to be more on the lookout for love so that when we die, we’ll have a chief mourner?”
“I’ve heard of worse reasons.”
A banging on the front door interrupted our conversation.
“Thank god for that. This conversation was getting weird.” Gemma left the room and came back moments later with the rest of the group, including James’s school friends, whose names I still hadn’t learned. One of them looked like a Dave, but I wasn’t going to christen him unduly. But there was normally a Dave. That was another law.
The energy rushed as people poured into the kitchen, the air filling with chatter and the creak of cupboard doors.
“Did you get any pink wine, Kerry?” A lady in pink asked that. Julie? Jenny? Janet? She was wearing a pink dress, with pink earrings and pink shoes. And she drank pink wine. I bet if she got her phone out, the cover would be pink. Her vibrator probably was, too.
Kerry fished the rosé from her wine fridge and pink lady gave her a grin the width of the M25.
A hiss of a lager can opening near me signalled Rob had found his stash of Stella. Maddie stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, Hercules mewling around her feet.
“Drink?” Rob asked, holding up his can.
Maddie nodded. “That’d be great.” Her eyes caught mine briefly, then she looked away.
What was it about being around her? She drew me in and repelled me all at the same time, like some kind of magnet gone wrong. It was more than a little confusing. I wanted to run, yet I wanted to stare.
I picked up my glass of Pinot Grigio, moving to the back door. I stepped out into the garden, lit by the glare of the kitchen light. It looked a little overgrown, a sign of how ill James had been. When he was alive, he’d been a keen gardener.
I took a huge gulp of air and tipped my head up to the inky sky above. I could make out a couple of stars, but that was it. Even in the Somerset countryside, light pollution put paid to that.
The back door creaked open and I looked up to see Maddie, cigarette in hand. She grimaced as she stepped onto the patio. “Do you mind?” She gestured with the fag in her hand. Without waiting for my answer, she put down her can of Stella, and placed the cigarette between her lips.
“Yes, I fucking do,” I wanted to say, but didn’t.
Instead, being English, I smiled and nodded. It appeared whether I minded or not, she was out here with me, lighting her fag.
“Can you see Orion’s Belt?” Maddie stood beside me, a heady mix of musky perfume and her. She still smelled the same, and it took me right back to when we were dating. The same thing happened whenever Justin Timberlake’s ‘SexyBack’ came on the radio. It had been our song. Whenever I heard it, no matter where I was or who I was with, I always thought of Maddie. The song took me back to happier times when all we wanted was to take on the world, side by side. Was it the same for her, or had she squelched every part of us from her memory bank when she’d walked away?
“Too cloudy.” I kept my gaze pointed upwards. Out of the corner of my eye, Maddie’s cigarette burnt orange in the darkness as she took a drag.
“Remember we used to stargaze at uni?”
Did she really think I’d forgotten? “Of course. You showed them to me. You were a secret stargazer, eager to share your knowledge.”
She laughed. “I was a bit of a nerd, wasn’t I?”
“A sweet nerd.” For a moment, I forgot I was mad at her. Maddie Kind. Only, she hadn’t been all that kind in the end.
A few seconds went by as we stared upwards.
Then Maddie spoke. “Shit thing to happen to James.”
Stupid thing to say. “Yep.”
“You think he’s looking down on us?”
“Are you saying you think James is in heaven?”
Maddie chuckled. “I don’t know about heaven, but maybe he’s… somewhere?” She paused, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out her packet of fags and offered it to me.
I stared, then took one. I’d given up smoking seven years ago. Yet something about tonight, something about this moment felt right to smoke. We’d smoked like chimneys when we were students. If I had to add up the amount of time Maddie and I spent smoking, chatting, holding hands and looking up at the stars… well, it would run into days, maybe weeks.
“If you are looking down,” Maddie said, inhaling like a pro. “Here’s to you, James.” She raised her cigarette. “And by the way, it was a fuckwit move to go and die.”
I smiled at that.
Maddie fixed me with her stare. Even in the moonlight, the whites of her eyes bored into me. “But we’ve all pulled fuckwit moves in our lives, haven’t we?”
I let her statement linger in the air like a waft of stale perfume. “Some more than others.”
She looked down briefly, and took another drag on her cigarette. She stared straight ahead.
“I can’t believe you still smoke. Even with all those warnings on the pack. I gave up seven years ago.”
She shook her head. “I don’t as a rule. Only when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
“Apparently, you do.” She paused. “I know it’s a bit late in the day, but I’m sorry about everything, Jus.”
I coughed. Maddie was apologising. At one stage in my life, I had wanted nothing more than for Maddie to turn up at my door and beg for my forgiveness. I’d wanted it for a good year, and my response would have changed every few months.
From months one to three, I would have screamed at her, cried, and then probably ended up in bed.
From months four to six, I would have punched her in the face, screamed and then probably ended up in bed.
From months seven to nine, I would have cried, wailed, got angry and ended up in bed.
However, by month ten, and certainly by the time the year was up, I would have told her to do one and slammed the door in her face.
But now, we were on year 10. That was 122 months since she’d vanished, like the best type of magician ever. My response after so many years? I was sad, but nothing more. No wailing, punching or crying. Because it didn’t matter. We were different peopl
e with different lives now. Even so, still being in the same proximity of Maddie left me exposed.
“You should be.” I turned to face her. “Are you going to fill me in? On why you vanished without a trace?”
She turned her face skywards again, blowing out smoke in a straight line. “Cold feet. Fear of commitment. Among other things.” She paused. “I saw our future flash before my eyes and it scared the shit out of me.”
“So you just upped and left? Didn’t I deserve a little more than that, having been your girlfriend for nearly four years?”
She nodded. “You deserved it all. And I, stupid shit that I was, deserved nothing. That’s what I got. I think that’s what I believed, so I thought I’d commit it to a self-fulfilling prophecy before it actually happened.” She paused. “If it makes any difference, I’ve regretted it every day since.”
A ball of anger hurtled up my system. All this time I’d wondered why, worried about what I’d done, and it turned out to be just a classic fear of commitment? Just Maddie and her belief that things wouldn’t work out? If I hadn’t wanted to slap her before, now I truly did. I refrained, though. We were still at a wake. I kept my hands by my side, even though my left fist was clenched so hard, my nails were going to leave marks on my skin. I took a deep breath before I responded.
“And how’s life worked out for you since then? Have you committed with someone else?”
She shook her head, throwing her cigarette butt on the floor and grinding it under foot. “Nope. I don’t think my attitude changed for quite some time. When that’s the case, you give off vibes. Women came and went. And now, well, other things have become more important.”
I held up my hand. “I don’t need to know details.”
“There’s been nobody since you. Not in the same way.” She paused. “How about you? I don’t see a ring.”
“I’m sure James kept you up to date with my love life.” I was getting snarky again. But then, I wasn’t going to tell her the truth. That she’d ruined me with her lies, and now trust wasn’t high on the list of things I was good at. I’d mastered many things in the intervening years: beef wellington, tarte tatin, painting a ceiling without falling off a ladder. But, since Maddie, trusting someone with my heart had proved beyond me.
She shook her head. “Not really. James was protective of you, of how I’d treated you, and I understood that. So we stuck to safer topics, and let that one lie.”
“It still seems surreal he’s gone.”
“I know,” she replied. “He was my link to you lot, and I treasured it and him. He used to try to persuade me to come along to the uni get-togethers,” Maddie added. “He told me you’d be fine with it, seeing as it was quite a few years on.”
“So why didn’t you?” I wouldn’t have been fine with it.
Maddie shrugged, taking another slug of her beer. “I never thought I had the right. I thought I’d have to get your written permission, and talking to you after all that time seemed like a big ask. So I never came.”
“But here we are,” I replied. “James had an extreme way of getting us to talk, in the end.”
“He did.”
Maddie cleared her throat before she spoke, turning her gaze fully on me. “I hope this isn’t a one-off, though. I’d like to come along for drinks next time, but only if you’re cool with it.”
The question dangled like a spider web between us, glinting in the moonlight. If I walked anywhere near it, I’d be caught in her web. Maddie’s web.
Because of that, my feet stayed rooted to the spot.
Yes, it might be 122 months since she walked out the door, but it didn’t mean I wanted her to walk right back. There was a protocol here, and thankfully, Maddie was acknowledging it.
Would I ever be cool with it? I looked down at the cigarette, still unlit in my hand. I wasn’t the same person she’d left a decade ago, and that showed it.
Would I be cool with Maddie walking back into my world? My initial reaction was: not in this lifetime.
Chapter 5
The phones at Cake Heaven were going batshit crazy this morning. This normally happened after an episode of the ‘Great British Bake Off’. I was pretty sure our business would have thrived without that show working its magic, but with it on our side, we couldn’t fail.
Last night’s episode had focused on sugar-free cakes, which we weren’t about to offer a class in. That was a fad that would pass, we hoped. People wanted to still eat cake, but they didn’t seem to realise the alternatives also contained calories. Sugar wasn’t the demon it was branded, and it was one of the five pillars of Cake Heaven. The others being eggs, butter, flour and nuclear-strength coffee. I’d been slugging back coffee all morning while I decorated my dummy cakes that were going to be used in our new window displays.
“Why are the phones ringing off the hook when I really need to get these cakes done this morning?” The question was to Gemma, who’d just come in from the wholesalers, and was currently hauling industrial-sized bags of sugar and flour on a metal trolley.
“That’s not a bad thing.” Gemma dropped a bag of flour onto the aluminium shelves that lined the back wall of the kitchen.
Our space in Bristol had been perfect when we’d started, and I still loved the kitchen, mainly due to the giant roof lantern which flooded the room with sunlight. In fact, even when it was chucking it down, I still loved baking with the rain falling on the panes overhead, the drama of the weather fuelling my work. The first kitchen I’d ever seen with a skylight was in Maddie’s mum’s house, and I knew then I wanted that in my future. I chewed my cheek at the thought of Maddie. Not this morning.
The only downside to our current location was we were quickly outgrowing it, and so we were in a dilemma: should we move the whole show to a new premises, or should we open up a second site and split ourselves in two? It was a question Gemma and I had been pondering for a while, but we still hadn’t found anywhere perfect for either scenario.
For now, we were plodding along as if nothing was wrong. Gemma was all for branching out, but money was a sticking point. I was naturally more cautious than her; as too, it seemed, were the banks. We were pretty sure it was because we were women in our thirties and they thought we were going to have kids and bugger off any minute. I’d never realised how sexist the world was until I started my own business and it hit me full in the face.
“How’s it going?” Gemma put her bag on the stainless-steel work surface and let out a sigh, before walking to the coffee machine and pouring herself a coffee from the pot I’d made half an hour ago. “You want one?”
I shook my head. “I just had one and I need to keep on, I’m in flow.” Our photographer, Chrissy — super-talented and super-gorgeous — was coming in to photograph the new tiered cakes I was showcasing for a class we were about to offer, called Super-Hot Cakes. The class was set to feature all the latest decorating techniques, including perfect drip, along with edible feathers and sails. We also showed students how to make salted caramel buttercream, along with the boss of icing: Swiss meringue buttercream. Gemma or I took all the shots we needed for social media, but when it came to the website, we relied on Chrissy, who worked for cash and a side of cake.
This dummy cake was for show purposes only and after being photographed would sit in our window. I had an edible cake ready to feed Chrissy when she got here, too. That one was vanilla sponge, Swiss meringue buttercream interior and chocolate ganache on the outside, topped with home-made chocolate truffles. My stomach rumbled just looking at it.
Gemma gave me a smile. “You’re bloody good at those, you know. Those sails look incredible. Shame I can’t have any with my coffee.” The ‘sails’ were pink Candy Melts spread and set over bubble wrap to create a waffle effect; and vanilla Candy Melts set into wide shards with multi-coloured sprinkles.
“It wouldn’t taste very good.” I returned her grin. “This one’s nearly done, two more after this.” I glanced up at the clock. 11:15 am. Two more hours until Chri
ssie turned up after lunch. It should be plenty of time.
“One other thing.” Gemma put down her coffee. “I take it you haven’t checked your phone this morning?” Her tone made me look up. When I saw her face, I stilled.
“No. Why?”
“You know Maddie was still at Kerry’s when we left, the morning after the funeral?”
I nodded. We’d left soon after we woke up, as we had a property to view. Plus, the last thing I’d wanted was to have breakfast with Maddie. “I do.”
“She helped Kerry out with a particular task.” She paused. “Of driving her to the chemist to get a pregnancy kit. Apparently, Kerry had just assumed her period was late because of all the stress of James dying.”
“Understandably.” The blood drained from my face as my mind connected the dots.
Gemma sucked on the inside of her cheek. “The upshot is, she’s very much pregnant. With her dead husband’s baby.”
“Oh my god.” I dropped the piping bag I was holding, washed my hands and went to retrieve my phone. When I picked it up, I smeared icing on the screen. Like I did every single time.
Sure enough, there it was in our WhatsApp group. A message from Kerry telling us she was just over three months pregnant. Of all the people to break the news to, it’d been Maddie. The day after her husband’s funeral. “Fuck me, poor Kerry. First James, now this. Why is she only just telling us?” It’d been three days since James’s funeral, and those days must have seemed like years to Kerry after this news.
Gemma gave a small shrug. “I called her. She said she just needed time for it to sink in. Plus, she’s been staying with her parents since she found out, so she’s had support. Her mum’s taking her away to a spa hotel this weekend — that was planned all along. But when she gets back, she’s going to need our support more than ever.”
“Three months, though. Did she not think she might be?”
“She said she was putting off testing, she didn’t want to know. She and James managed a final hurrah together, but she was convinced the treatment would have buggered up his sperm.”