The Wedding Pact

by Isla Gordon

  August couldn’t decide which of the two rooms she’d actually rather sleep in when she moved in.

  Oh, she could see it now, sort of, if she blocked out all of the other people milling around.

  Would August be heartbroken if she didn’t get the flat? Probably. And she knew it was her own fault for getting so caught up in the fantasy as soon as she heard about one of the apartments becoming available. She’d poured way too much hope into something that now seemed far more out of her control than she imagined. Sure, she could try and dazzle the landlady. She could even offer to pay over the monthly rental asking price. Well, she couldn’t really afford that at all, but she would find a way, temp more hours, sell online acting workshops on the side. She could even ask a higher price from whoever she sublet the spare room to, perhaps, if she added some extras on the side, such as housekeeping being included. They could even have the master bedroom.

  Her thoughts were running away with her and she knew she needed to centre herself and come up with ideas to stand out from the crowd before it was too late, so she moved back towards the front door of the flat, imagining herself walking in again for the first time, and all the excitement and motivation she’d felt.

  Standing in front of the partially open door and trying to block out the noise, as if she were about to enter from stage left to a crowd of adoring fans, August heard hushed voices outside. She moved over a little in case the door was about to swing open into her back, and in doing so glimpsed the landlady, huddled on the landing with her son, Abe, the grumpy greeter.

  August tried not to listen. She really did. But in the same way as trying not to think about laughing can cause you to laugh, her attempt at not listening meant her ears became hyper-sensitive.

  Could she have moved away? Yes. Should she have moved away? Of course. Did she move away? As if. You see, she’d just overheard something that rooted her to the spot.

  ‘So what would make you happy, Mum? What kind of person would you be willing to have live here?’ Abe asked, exasperation apparent even in his low voice.

  ‘I just want a nice, dependable couple. Married. And young.’ Her voice was stubborn and firm. August raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You can’t be that specific, Mum, that’s not how it works. Please tell me you haven’t been turning people away for that reason again.’

  ‘It’s my house, I should be allowed to decide who lives here. I want someone who will be around for a long time, I don’t want ancient people who’ll be carted off to the funeral parlour in six months. I don’t want flighty singletons coming and going at all hours, moving in and out, bringing home their sexual conquests.’

  Wow. The landlady was a tough cookie. August stayed silent, though her heart was sinking like an anchor in the ocean.

  Mrs Haverley continued. ‘I don’t want somebody constantly ringing on my doorbell asking me to fix this, and fix that. A nice couple will be able to maintain the place by themselves.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Abe replied.

  ‘Well, it’s a good bet,’ snapped Mrs Haverley. ‘And that’s what I want. Married. Solid. Dependable. I’m too old to have to deal with anything else.’

  But August knew she would be in it for the long haul. She wouldn’t be moving in and out. She could handle maintenance on her own (or at least she’d rope in Bel and give it a good go). She’d be Mrs Haverley’s ideal tenant, if only she could see past her lack of a husband, or wife. It was just so outdated, and so unfair.

  August heard Abe sigh, in a way that indicated this was a bigger conversation he’d had with his mother many times. He then said, ‘Well, there must be twenty or so people in there, and quite a few are couples. I showed a couple up here only about ten minutes ago, have you spoken to them? Short girl and dark-haired chap?’

  Now hang on, thought August. Were she and Flynn the short girl and the dark-haired chap? Her eyes darted to other couples moseying around and they certainly seemed to fit that description the most closely.

  Mrs Haverley sighed one of her resentful sighs again, and said, ‘No, and I suppose I’d better go back inside, otherwise this blasted morning will never end.’

  August tiptoed away from the door quickly. An idea was forming in her mind, a spark that hadn’t quite had time to burst into flames, but was thinking about it, reaching out ready to ignite. But she needed to find Flynn.

  Spotting him by the window in the master bedroom, she started towards him and then paused. ‘Oh, crap,’ she whispered, realising she had some backtracking to do. No, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t ask him to do this. Could she … ?

  But if she didn’t … it would be game over.

  Chapter 10

  Flynn

  Flynn walked away from August, shaking his head. Luckily, he didn’t think the landlady had heard August basically shout to the entire room that he was a mess – which had been her fault – but even so, he felt self-conscious. He really needed to make a good impression and stand out in front of all these people … and not because he looked like he had a problem getting a cup of coffee safely to his lips.

  He’d enjoyed chatting with August this morning – in fact it had been quite the tonic he needed after the past forty-eight hours – but it was definitely time to cut ties. He hadn’t missed the faraway look in her eyes when she spoke about the house, the history, what it meant to her this morning. She wanted to build on those memories, she wanted to be happy, and although part of him wanted that for her, she had a home already. He didn’t. He could step back now, but for what? A stranger?

  In normal circumstances he would be that person. He would take himself out of the running. Acts of kindness keep the world turning, right? He just didn’t have the luxury to do that this time. The cold hard truth was that if he didn’t find a place to live today – and being a Sunday he wasn’t going to have a lot of luck using an estate agent today – then who knows when he would next fit in a house-hunt.

  Though, looking at all these people, the whole thing might be a moot point anyway.

  And then suddenly, there she was again.

  ‘I need to speak to you,’ August hissed, leaning into Flynn and putting her hand on his upper arm.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he took a step back. ‘For all I know you have another coffee stashed, ready to lob on my crotch and tell everyone I wet myself.’

  ‘Nothing like that,’ she smiled sweetly and shuffled closer again. He eyed her with suspicion. What was with the fluttery eyelashes?

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ August replied, taking her hand in his.

  What on earth was happening now? ‘Are you trying to flirt with me to get me to back off the flat? It’s not going to work. Have you seen this place?’

  ‘Yes, it’s beautiful, come with me and I’ll show you it from a different angle.’ August gripped his hand even firmer, and he saw her teeth grit through her smile.

  Flynn shook his head and tried to pull his hand away. ‘August, I’m sorry, I know you want the flat, but I really need a fair shot at it too—’

  ‘Please, give me just one minute. Please.’

  The way she looked at him, a sincerity in her eyes, is what made him follow her. If she hadn’t dropped the bravado, and the gentle rivalry, for a second, he might not have relented, and all that happened after would have been nothing more than a what if.

  So he followed August as she led him briskly back through to the balcony off the snug. She stepped out into the sunshine, pulling him after her, and closed the metal-rimmed glass doors behind them.

  Outside the light flooded the balcony, the only shade coming from a few swaying branches of the large oak tree opposite. Here at the back of the house, they were looking down on a private, compact green park which Flynn guessed was for use by the residents. How he’d love to sit out there with a beer on a hot summer’s evening after his first week at his new job …

  August leaned over the balcony, looking above and below as if checking
for other sunshine-dwellers or open windows, but finding everything closed.

  ‘Are you … planning to push me off the balcony?’ he asked her.

  She turned to Flynn and spoke in hushed tones. ‘What if I told you there was a way we could seriously increase our odds at renting this flat?’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes. We. We both want to live here, and you’d be looking for a flatmate anyway, right?’

  ‘And so would you.’

  ‘And so would I,’ she agreed. ‘I think we should move in together.’

  ‘August, this feels like a trap. What are you talking about?’ Flynn didn’t mean to sound annoyed; it was just the tiredness catching up with him, but he really needed to get back in there and get to work with whatever he needed to do to secure this as his new flat.

  But to his surprise, August shook her head. ‘This isn’t a trap. I’m serious. I can’t get it on my own. I need to move in with you.’

  ‘Why?’ Flynn asked. ‘For all you know I could be a serial killer.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No. But I’m sure Ted Bundy would have said the same thing if you’d asked him. In fact, I think he did. I could be a stranger who followed you into that coffee shop and mirrored everything you told me you were doing today.’

  She paused. ‘Why are you trying to convince me you’re a murderer?’

  ‘Probably because I’m too polite to imply you might be one.’

  ‘I’m not, I swear.’ At that moment, she seemed to spot something out of the corner of her eye, somebody coming into the room behind the glass doors.

  August laced her hand into Flynn’s again, swivelling him to face the small park, and rested a head against his upper arm. Flynn mused that to anybody looking at them from within the snug, they must be the picture-perfect image of a happy couple.

  On the balcony, Flynn side-eyed this suddenly, strangely, tactile creature. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I will explain everything, just kiss my hair.’

  ‘What?’ he started to pull away and August smiled up at him, adoringly.

  ‘I’m really sorry about the shirt thing and all the stuff I said, but just act with me,’ she said through her gritted teeth. ‘Please. Trust me.’

  Flynn sighed. ‘Um … ’ He leaned over and rested his cheek for a moment on her head in a way that he hoped was affectionate-looking. He did not kiss her hair like she asked, because even that was one step too far into what-the-hell-was-going-on-here-ville for his liking. Nevertheless, he still felt her hair, soft against his face, the scent of banana and coconut drifting into his thoughts. Their hands entwined. ‘So what the hell is going on?’

  ‘This place is perfect, right?’ she said, her voice softening.

  ‘It is really nice – the best place I’ve seen so far this weekend.’

  ‘And we both want to live here. Me because it’s been a lifelong dream, you because your life has just turned upside down and you need somewhere to call home as soon as possible. Am I still right?’

  ‘You are … ’

  ‘We can’t afford to live here long term on our own, we’d have to get a flatmate.’

  Flynn nodded. That certainly seemed likely. ‘So you think we should live, and apply, together?’

  ‘It makes perfect sense to me. I mean, you have no other friends in Bath.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  August chuckled. ‘You know what I mean. You, and probably I, would end up advertising and then sharing with a stranger anyway. So … ’

  ‘Better the devil you’ve known for five seconds … ’

  ‘ … than one you’ve known for zero!’

  Flynn glanced down at their hands, still clasped together. ‘But what’s with the amateur dramatics?’

  Chapter 11

  August

  August glanced back behind her. A minute ago, from the corner of her eye, August had spotted the landlady and her son wander into the snug and look towards the balcony doors. Now, the landlady was still there, talking to her son and looking irritated at what he was saying, but watching August and Flynn with interest.

  Was this idea too out there, even for August? She could almost sense her grandmother chuckle at that. In parallel, she could almost sense her mother pursing her lips in disapproval.

  No, it was fine, it was essential. This was nothing more than an acting role.

  Time to delve even further into character. August dropped Flynn’s hand and wrapped both arms around his waist, smiling up at him with as much fake love as she could muster. ‘I know this is really weird,’ August pleaded through her smile, keeping her voice low. ‘And I am so sorry for man-handling you, but I know how we can have a good shot at landing this apartment. And believe me, if you don’t follow my lead, we will not be living here.’

  Flynn studied her face for a moment, as if guarded. Perhaps he had a girlfriend and felt uncomfortable. But before she could question him, he seemed to shake away whatever thoughts were mulling, and turned to her, wrapping his arms around her too, their bodies close together, and their faces looking directly into each other. ‘Go on,’ he coaxed.

  August lost her words for a second, distracted by the intimacy. She cleared her throat. ‘I overheard something, from the landlady. She was talking to her son and she really only wants to rent to one type of person, or people: a couple. A married couple.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s legal,’ Flynn replied, a small laugh escaping.

  ‘Well, it probably isn’t, and I think her son’s been trying to tell her that, but the fact is that’s what she wants, she’s already been turning people away, and us arguing with her might make a point but it won’t get us in the door.’

  ‘Why does she want a married couple?’

  ‘Something about stability and not wanting fickle singletons coming and going and moving in and out.’

  ‘I’m beginning to see where this is going,’ Flynn said, noticing the landlady in the snug for the first time, and how August was still nestled in his arms.

  ‘We’d just need to pretend we’re married for the tiniest amount of time.’

  ‘Whooooa,’ Flynn laughed and on seeing that the landlady and her son had left the snug, he dropped his arms and took a step away from August. ‘Pretend we’re married? I thought you were going to say pretend to be a couple.’

  ‘It’s the same thing!’ August cried.

  ‘It’s not the same thing at all. If we tell her we’re a couple we can then tell her we’ve split up the next time we see her. If we tell her we’re married that’s a whole different … everything.’

  ‘It’s just semantics,’ August said, waving his concern away. And even if it wasn’t that easy, she’d find a way to make it work. It would be fine. ‘Have you seen how much interest there is in this place? There are other couples in there right now trying to prove they’d make the best tenants. We need to fit the bill, exactly.’

  ‘But … married?’

  ‘Yes. Married. It has to be, because she’s not going to want just a couple who might split up and move out. She wants people who are dependable, solid, that’s what she said.’

  ‘But what if we aren’t in it for the long haul? What if I don’t like my job and decide to move out in six months? What if you decide to move on?’

  ‘I am in it for the long haul,’ August said, certainty in her voice and in her heart. ‘I will not move out; I won’t let her down. And if you need to move on that’s fine, we can handle it, and I’ll have proved myself as a great tenant by then.’ She didn’t want to plead with him, but every part of her was in fact silently begging him, this virtual stranger, to help her.

  Her grandmother’s hand. The feel of it inside her own flashed into her mind at that point, out of nowhere. Being a school child, climbing this hill with the woman who had meant more to her than anyone in the world, who had looked after her, homed her in the holidays, especially after her parents’ messy divorce and subsequent leaving of her dad, told her stories and explained how t
o grow up. And the memory of that warm hand, skin soft from years of thick cream applied daily but wrinkled like the soft folds of worn leather, now tingled against her palms. August turned her face away from Flynn for a moment and looked out across the gardens.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked her.

  ‘Nothing,’ August answered. It wasn’t fair to lay what she was really remembering on him. Eventually she said, ‘Just that I’d be willing to give you the bigger room … So what do you think?’

  Chapter 12

  Flynn

  What did he think? He thought the whole idea was utter madness. He thought he was wasting time even being out here with her at this moment. He thought he had it all figured out before he’d even left Japan, and that everything was going to be easy.

  Who even was this girl, and why would he get himself involved in this? Flynn stifled a yawn as he processed his feelings, the exhaustion of moving hemispheres, battling jet lag, flat-hunting, feeling anxious about starting a new job in the morning, all weighing down on him. It would be nice to just have a home sorted. Even if he had to stick it out in the hotel for another couple of weeks, knowing he wouldn’t need to try to book flat viewings into his evenings was pretty tempting.

  But this wasn’t him; he wasn’t one to take chances and get mixed up in hairbrained schemes.

  ‘Come on,’ August cajoled at that exact moment. ‘I know you have an adventurous streak, you just moved here from Japan, for crying out loud.’

  A memory of Yui hit him like a sucker punch, again, the image of her face before him, her eyes disappointed, her lips exhaling a sigh. I was never adventurous enough for you, Flynn thought.

  Perhaps … perhaps he should take more chances. Perhaps he should throw caution to the wind from time to time. What would he tell Yui if they spoke, if he didn’t? ‘Oh, I had the opportunity to have a great home but I didn’t want to take a chance on it not working out.’