The Wedding Pact

by Isla Gordon

  ‘No, I don’t think so, we can bump out the details with the wedding itself. So, beach wedding, summer?’

  ‘How about September? Less busy, still good weather?’

  ‘Or October? Still sunny but a nice chill in the air?’ suggested August, to which Flynn nodded. ‘Did we allow kids?’

  Flynn shrugged. ‘Sure. Did we have regular cake or one of those cheese tower cakes?’

  ‘Both. Was it religious?’ They looked at each other, religion not having come up before. ‘Are you religious?’

  ‘To be honest, not really,’ he admitted.

  ‘Me neither,’ she said.

  ‘And we said no prop rings?’ Flynn asked.

  ‘No rings. I can always claim I lost mine,’ replied August. ‘It won’t take the neighbours long to realise I’m a loser. Ha!’

  Flynn made a note on the pad that August was a loser. ‘Shall we just say the reception was on the beach too?’

  ‘In a marquee?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Okay. How many people did we have? A hundred?’

  ‘If we did, then ninety-five of them would be your guests,’ said Flynn. They settled on keeping it smaller, around fifty people.

  ‘That’s probably enough, don’t you think?’ August said, stifling a giant yawn.

  ‘I think we have everything covered, at least for now.’ It was late. Flynn put down the pad of paper, so ready to call it a night. ‘Quick test; where did we honeymoon?’

  With droopy eyelids, August smiled. ‘Edinburgh, and then the Outer Hebrides, and we got there by sleeper train from Cornwall. Did we have kids at our wedding?’

  ‘We did. Who proposed?’

  ‘I did. Actually, we both did. What was the name of the beach we got married on?’

  That stumped him. ‘ … Waterloo Beach?’

  ‘Watergate Bay,’ she corrected.

  He had one last question. ‘And what’s the grand masterplan?’

  August stood up, did a cat-like stretch, and started off towards her room. ‘It’s waaaay too late to get into all the intricacies of that. But in a nutshell, I wasn’t entirely joking about the Tony thing. I’m going to be on the stage one day.’

  And then she saw something that made her stop in her tracks, and Flynn in his.

  Chapter 25

  Flynn

  ‘Oh my God,’ August and Flynn said in unison.

  August looked at her bed, all completed, all ready to be slept on except for one thing.

  Flynn looked at his own bed, all comfortable and inviting and tempting him to call it a night and climb in, except for one thing.

  The two of them turned at the doorways of their bedrooms and faced each other, wine-stained mouths agape.

  ‘I didn’t buy the mattress,’ August declared, crestfallen. She must have just completely forgotten to pick it up from the Ikea warehouse section. It was those bloody tealights that had distracted them.

  Flynn was equally dumbstruck. ‘I don’t have any bedding.’ How could he forget bedding? It was literally Bed 101. It just hadn’t occurred to him in the slightest when they’d been making the shopping list.

  One bed with a mattress, but no pillows, duvet, blankets. One bed with pillows and a duvet, but no mattress to put them on.

  Suddenly they were both talking at once.

  ‘I’ll go back to the hotel,’ said Flynn.

  ‘No, no, I’ll go and stay the night at Bel’s,’ answered August, seemingly happy to give him her bedding for the night.

  ‘It’s getting really late, please. You stay here. You take the bed and all the toppings. I’ll kip on the sofa, or maybe the floor, it’s fine. I can use a sofa cushion for a pillow and … it’s not cold so I don’t really need a blanket.’

  ‘That sounds awful, and you wouldn’t even fit lying down on this sofa,’ August said, shaking her head. ‘You take all the bed and bedding and all that jazz, and I’ll sleep on the armchair under my dressing gown.’

  It had been such a long day, and their bloodshot eyes betrayed how tired they both were, overwhelmed by the enormity of moving into a new home, and both a little woozy from the wine and excitement comedown. They breathed for a moment, silently, staring into each other’s eyes from across the living room, wondering if they should do what they both wanted to do.

  It was August who took the plunge, raising her shoulders in defeat, and said in barely more than a whisper, ‘Shall we just both sleep in the bed?’

  Flynn struggled with what to do. A big part of him wanted to just give her the bed and find somewhere else. It was the only right thing to do if he wanted her to feel completely at ease with him.

  ‘Stop battling with yourself, I know you aren’t taking advantage,’ August yawned and stepped into her room, coming out a moment later clasping her huge, warm-looking duvet in her arms. ‘It’s just one night, we’ll both stay fully pyjama-d, and no spooning.’ She stopped en route to his room. ‘Are you okay with this? Not just because of this chivalrous, Mr Darcy thing you’re doing, but for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?’

  Flynn softened. Maybe it was only a big deal if he made it one. He knew he wasn’t going to do anything untoward to her, and she seemed confident he wouldn’t either. He was also certain she wasn’t about to try it on with him. ‘I think I’ll be far more comfortable with you than either of us will be sleeping on that armchair,’ he admitted.

  ‘Great,’ she dumped the bedding on his bed and went back to her room. ‘I’m going to put on my most nun-ly PJs now, and I think you should do the same. Then I’m going to wash this makeup off my face, so get mentally prepared for that. Then I’ll see you in bed. Darling.’ August walked off towards her bedroom, leaving Flynn to stand for a moment, wondering if he even had any PJs.

  Remembering a long pair of joggers he owned, he pulled them on quickly, adding a clean T-shirt to cover his chest, and then made the bed. By the time August returned, he was already in, snuggled down in a state of bliss, his reading glasses on and a copy of an old Stephen King novel on his lap. He looked up as August entered, not taken aback at all by her makeup-free face. Not even a little bit.

  She regarded him. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I like your glasses.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Flynn felt himself blush, just a little. ‘Also, we appear to sleep on the same side.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry,’ he said, gathering up his things. ‘I’ll move over.’

  ‘Stay where you are,’ she waved him back down and walked around the end of the bed before sliding under the covers. ‘I really don’t care where I sleep. Whoooooa, this bed is so comfortable.’

  ‘I like your jim-jams.’

  ‘Thank you,’ August replied, looking down towards her long white PJs, adorned with a hundred hot pink flamingos. ‘You can borrow them any time you like.’

  August and Flynn bid each other goodnight, sleep rolling in towards them both as soon as the light was off.

  ‘By the way,’ August said. ‘I twitch just before I go to sleep. Don’t be alarmed.’

  Flynn smiled into the darkness. ‘Okay, I won’t be.’

  A few minutes later, August spoke again, her voice drowsy and light. ‘Flynn?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm?’ he replied.

  ‘Do you have a girlfriend, somewhere?’

  Flynn’s eyes fluttered back open and he turned his head to face the window. Before he could answer she spoke again, saying, ‘I’m not hitting on you, I just want to know if I’m sharing a bed with another girl’s man, and I want her to know I’m sorry.’

  ‘No,’ he murmured after a moment, after Yui’s face had started to fade away from his mind again. ‘There’s no girlfriend.’

  August didn’t reply, but before he could ask her about her situation in return she spasmed a huge twitch, snorted, rasped the words, ‘By the way, I also snore,’ and had rolled over into a deep slumber.

  And with that, Flynn turned on his side, his back to August, and did the same.

  Chap
ter 26

  August

  The following evening, Bel popped over for a post-work cuppa, to check out August’s new place, and new flatmate. Two cups, and half a packet of custard creams later, and Bel was just finishing off the latest gossip about her dental nurse, Kenny.

  ‘ … And so now, Kenny’s decided he is completely in love with the new receptionist, Mark, and is showering my patients with free toothpaste samples just so he has an excuse to keep going over and getting more.’

  With that, the door opened: Flynn was home.

  ‘Is this him?’ Bel said, her eyes sparkling, and the two of them stood up and took a step towards the door.

  In walked Flynn, dashing in his suit, his shirt untucked and his collar loose, his dark hair swept casually to the side.

  ‘Welcome home, hubby, I’d like you to meet someone,’ August chuckled.

  Flynn scanned the two of them for a microsecond, appeared to assess the situation, and stepped forward with a big smile, sticking out one hand to shake Bel’s and throwing his other arm around August. ‘Hello, I’m Flynn, August’s husband.’ And to August he said warmly, ‘Hello, sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh—’ August started, realising Flynn mistook Bel for a neighbour. She turned to face him, to explain, just as he turned to plant a kiss on the side of her head.

  The result: Flynn kissed August. On the mouth. They both pulled their heads back instantly, surprised and unsure where to go from there, until August untangled herself, a blush on her face, and said, ‘Flynn, this is actually my friend Bel.’

  ‘Your friend?’

  ‘Not a neighbour. Bel. I told you about her. She knows we aren’t married.’

  Flynn composed himself. ‘Yes, yes of course, I’ve heard lots about you, Bel, it’s nice to meet you … I’m sorry.’ He turned back to August, flustered. ‘I didn’t mean to just lunge at you. I was going for your head.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said August.

  ‘He was going for your head, Aug,’ teased Bel, and August laughed it off but she could still feel the imprint of Flynn’s lips on hers. He’d felt soft, with a tiny whisper of end-of-day stubble and faded aftershave.

  ‘Right,’ Flynn said. ‘Well, I’m going to go and change out of this stuffy suit and hide my shame in the shower for a few minutes. Bel, will you stay for dinner so you can see I’m a perfectly normal guy and not someone who’s coercing your best friend into ill-timed kisses?’

  ‘I believe you,’ Bel said. ‘She speaks very highly of you. But maybe next time, because I need to get going. Nice to meet you, Flynn.’

  ‘And you, Bel,’ he waved a goodbye and went towards the bathroom, turning to mouth ‘I’m so sorry’ to August on the way past.

  Once he’d closed the door, Bel gathered up her things, plus one custard cream for the road, and walked with August to the door.

  ‘You two are kissing already?’ Bel hissed.

  ‘Just that one time, and it was an accident,’ August proclaimed.

  ‘He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘He’s very nice.’

  Bel nudged her towards the bathroom. ‘I think you should go and join him for that shower.’

  August thwacked her friend and pushed her towards the door. ‘Would you shut up and leave? I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  After she’d left, August leaned her back against the door and breathed out. She listened to the sound of the shower running inside the bathroom.

  Stop it, she scolded herself. Stop trying to picture what’s behind that door.

  Chapter 27

  Flynn

  Behind the door, Flynn was mortified. He’d kissed her. And he truly hadn’t meant to, but what if she thought he had? Why had he even done that anyway? Even if she was his real wife, there’s no law to say you have to plant one on her when you walk in the door from work, it wasn’t the fifties. He’d just had a spring in his step about coming home to his new house, that was all.

  The last person he’d kissed had been Yui, when they were saying goodbye. His last kiss with Yui hadn’t felt right, it hadn’t felt like their other kisses over the years. He’d been expecting it to feel like their worlds were crashing together one final time, like all the sadness and longing and farewells were being shown to each other through that kiss, but it had felt cold. Like she’d already shut the door, and that this kiss was just a formality. Like returning a key.

  It was one of the saddest memories he’d taken with him.

  Now he couldn’t quite recall the feel of Yui’s lips. Only August’s.

  Chapter 28

  August

  It was the kind of late-summer early morning that you see at the start of a movie. A montage of joggers and cyclists passing by, the first leaves tinged with red on the trees, the sun casting a warm pool of lemon light below.

  August made her way down Elizabeth Street and curved through a few nearby lanes holding her brand new, lime green yoga mat.

  Inspired by her neighbour Callie, who she’d met on move-in day, August had decided yoga would be a great addition to The New Her. The new House-on-Elizabeth-Street Her. Also, practising yoga would be a way to focus and get her creative juices flowing, just like all the real actresses did.

  Because for the first time in a while, she didn’t feel like an imposter, but she felt like a real actress today; she’d had a call she’d been waiting for.

  A couple of months ago she’d auditioned for a role at the Roman Baths, playing a Roman woman in full costume, staying in character and chatting to visitors. And she’d finally had news to say she’d been accepted. It was only a couple of times a month, but it felt amazing to be a part of something like this.

  It was the house, she could feel it. It was already bringing her good luck and fortune and the promise of academy awards.

  Yes, yoga was very fitting to her new lifestyle. And there was a studio no more than a five-minute walk away that she was trying out for the first time today.

  The studio was situated within a small spa, and August was ushered through by the whispering receptionist to a room with amber-coloured wooden walls, candlelight and a water feature trickling in the corner, complementing the music that hummed softly.

  ‘Find a space anywhere, lie down and relax,’ the receptionist purred, barely audible. ‘Your teacher will be in shortly.’

  August lay her mat down next to a woman who was flat on her back, under a blanket and an eye mask, snoring softly. Unsure quite what to do with herself, August tried lying down and closing her eyes, but kept peeping to check she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t shape-shifted into warrior pose.

  This was lovely, she thought, settling in. What a find. August could see herself coming here every other morning to start the day, before heading to auditions and eventually a recurring role in a revered play. The reviews would say how the leading lady displayed such poise and clear skin and she would say in interviews that she owed it all to yoga.

  There was a snort beside her, followed by a cry of, ‘Oh, hello!’

  August turned her head to the side, where the woman beside her had lifted her eye mask and propped herself up on her elbow. Her heart sank. ‘Callie. Hi.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were a yogi too!’ Callie said, her voice seeming very loud against the serene quiet.

  ‘I’m not really,’ August confessed. ‘This is my first time; I’m just testing it out.’

  ‘You’re going to bloody love it,’ continued Callie, nudging the person on the other side of her until she too opened her eyes and looked up. ‘Pam, this is my new neighbour August, the one I told you about with the delicious husband.’

  Pam waved and closed her eyes again, thankfully. August really didn’t want to bring her ‘husband’ into this place.

  Was she going to have to find a new yoga studio now? she wondered. It wasn’t that she had anything against Callie, not at all, but this had felt like part of her new beginning, a sanctuary where she could be herself and centre herself, not a place outside her home to have to keep perf
orming.

  At that moment the teacher walked in, who said in the most soothing of voices, like cream blended with honey, ‘Good morning, friends. Time to let everything go and allow yourself to truly be you.’

  August let herself do exactly that, and for the next hour, through slow stretches and mindful challenges, she found herself sinking into a feeling of contentment. It was the same feeling she had that first night in her new home. Hello, me, she said to herself.

  As the hour drew to a close, the yoga teacher told them to pull their blankets over themselves for fifteen minutes of quiet rest. August allowed her mind to drift, her thoughts exploring the steps she could take and the doors she could open next. Perhaps it was time to find a local amateur dramatics group again. Perhaps it was time to put herself out there again for voice work and turn those ideas of converting the living room closet into a mini sound studio into reality. Perhaps it was time to—

  Beside her she heard, so faintly, the sound of a wobbly intake of breath. August opened her eyes and turned her head towards Callie, whose eyelids were firmly closed, though a single tear was escaping down the side of her face towards her ear.

  What should she do? Ignore her? Say something? Instead August reached her fingertips out and lay a hand over Callie’s, who jumped a little at the human contact before turning her palm upwards and squeezing August’s.

  ‘Sorry about the sniffles,’ Callie whispered to August as they rolled up their mats a few minutes later. ‘I’m getting better but there’s something about that time at the end when we’re all quiet, and all my thoughts and feelings come barging in.’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ August replied. ‘I’m all for a dramatic scene. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ Callie waved her away. ‘It’s a release in a way, and I’m glad to do it here rather than at home in front of Mum. I guess I’m just not quite over my divorce yet. But I’ll get there.’ She smiled, and they left the studio together.

  August squinted at the bright light and observed Callie for a moment while she got herself tangled up in the straps of her yoga mat bag. It didn’t take a genius to see that Callie was lonely.