by Clare Lydon
The pound was set in an industrial park, with a breakdown garage beside it, and an estate of identikit houses facing it across the main road. Beyond that were a few more industrial buildings, and in the distance were once-green fields.
The drive had been fairly quiet. Maddie had preferred to let music fill the air, rather than words. I was down with that. There was plenty of time to talk later.
Maddie jumped out, telling me she’d go and check if her van was here. I watched her walk to the main office, her normal bounce a little jaded. I couldn’t imagine what it was like watching another close family member go through what had killed your mum, and I could see she was upset. I hoped some food might perk her up. If we eventually got to the park in Bath to have our picnic before it shut. I checked my watch as Maddie disappeared into the building. At 7:30 pm, it was touch and go, but the food would all keep.
Minutes later, she was striding back to the car, a wry smile on her face. I couldn’t tell what that meant. She slammed the door a little too hard as she got back into Kermit. “Sorry, I hate it when people do that.”
I shook my head. “No bother. What’s the verdict?”
“It’s not here yet, but it should be back within an hour.” She clicked her tongue before continuing. “So we could either drive off and have a drink somewhere. Or we could have a picnic here. There’s a random picnic table over there.” Maddie pointed to a beat-up wooden table with benches attached. A classic table that had seen better days. It was nestled against an industrial fence, but it was private. “It’s not quite the park opposite my Royal Crescent flat with the sweeping views of Georgian architecture I was anticipating, but it would mean we don’t have to come back later or tomorrow.”
A loud growl filled the air and I raised an eyebrow. “Was that your stomach?”
She smiled. “It was. It’s telling me what I already know: I’m bloody starving. So what do you say? Picnic at the Pound? It at least has the saving grace of having alliterative qualities, even if it doesn’t quite have the charm I was going for.”
“Picnic at the Pound. Sounds like a straight-to-DVD movie.”
I laughed as Maddie spread out the food, the hilarity of Moroccan hummus, chicken yakitori and an antipasto selection against an industrial backdrop not lost on me. Luckily, I’d brought fizzy water, as the bottle of red wasn’t so welcome now that we both had to drive. We ate for a few minutes, both in need of sustenance, wrung out from the emotion of the day. It barely seemed possible that Gemma and I had completed on a new property this morning. So much had happened since then, it felt like it was a few days rolled into one. Maddie’s van, her house, meeting Amos again.
With food doing its work, I was eventually back on more of an even keel. I suspected Maddie was, too. She sat back with a sigh, and my gaze settled on her long fingers, currently battling with the wrapper from a packet of artisan sausage rolls. The packet was winning.
“Amos looks exactly as you said. I wondered if you were exaggerating, but you weren’t. How long have they given him?”
She took a deep breath before replying. “A couple of months, but I’m not sure it’s going to be that long. You saw him.” She gave me a sad smile. “It’s just so unfair, you know? I didn’t spend enough time with Mum before she died, so I don’t want to make that mistake with Amos. But still, it’s never enough, is it?” She shook her head. “Sorry. This was meant to be an uplifting evening, and instead here we are, eating amidst a backdrop that looks like it was lifted from an apocalypse movie.”
I gave her a bark of laughter for that. “Are we the lesbian superheroes come to save the world?”
“If I’d known, I would have taken better care of my hair today.” She swept a hand through her blonde locks, giving me a grin.
“It looks gorgeous!” Flamboyance flowed through my words. It was true, too. Maddie’s hair always looked like she’d stepped out of a salon. Apart from when it had that just-fucked look about it. I vaguely recalled that.
“Thank you.” She paused. “And thanks for today, I know it would have meant a lot to Amos that you came in and chatted. Most people don’t. I remember it happening with my mum towards the end. People don’t know what to say about death, and they certainly don’t know what to say to the person who’s ill. It’s like if they come to the house, they’re going to catch dying. I don’t blame people, but it’s a shame they desert you when you most need them.”
I nodded. “It’s a societal thing with death, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She put an elbow on the table and swept away some of the crumbs. “Did you mean what you said to him? That you’ll be there for me?”
I swallowed down. “Weirdly, I did. And believe me, that wasn’t something I’d planned on saying anytime about you.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ve hardly been a rock in your life. But I’d certainly like to carry on being in it again.” She looked me direct in the eye. “I never stopped missing you.”
Something heavy dropped from my chest and slid down to my navel, before settling there. A slick mixture of heat and emotion, of hearing those words drop from Maddie’s lips after all this time. I hadn’t been waiting for them, and yet, when they arrived, I felt like I had.
“Then why did you leave? You never told me. I asked you at the funeral, but you just said cold feet. But you don’t go out with someone for that long, share what we did, make plans like we did, and then simply disappear.”
A lorry carrying a parade of cars turned up, and Maddie glanced up. I turned too, but her van wasn’t on there. Back to what we were saying.
Maddie blew out a long breath, her gaze bouncing around the landscape until she settled back on me. She seemed to wrestle with her thoughts and words, chewing on them for a few more seconds before they came tumbling out.
“I know it made no sense, but it did to me at the time. I have a history of catastrophising, as you know. I nearly fucked up my finals. And I ran out on us after a year, didn’t I? But you were gracious enough to give me another chance.”
“I loved you,” I replied. “It’s what you do.”
She took a deep breath. “I know that now. The pivotal time I ran was to do with my dad. Do you remember I went to see him the weekend before?”
I furrowed my brow. My memory of that time was blurred. I shook my head. “I didn’t think you went anywhere until you did.”
“I went to see him in his new place. We had a few drinks, and he gave me his relationship wisdom. His twisted, fucked-up relationship wisdom.”
I sat back, regarding her. “Your dad. The same one who had so many affairs while he was married to your mother, he could write a whole sodding book about them?”
She nodded. “That one. The one who’s still sad, lonely and bitter. It goes to show that if there is a god, he or she has a very warped sense of humour. They kill off my mother who was a saint, and my uncle who’s got nothing but good running through his veins. Yet they keep alive my dad, who’s a waste of space.”
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “Why did you go to your dad for relationship advice? Isn’t he the last person you’d go to?”
“I didn’t go to him for that, I’m not stupid.” She paused and looked up at me, her cheeks flushing red. “Okay, perhaps I am stupid looking back on it. Or at least, I was. I went to see him because he asked me to. And he wanted some money, of course.”
“Did you give him some?”
She nodded. “He was still my dad, and I still had some hope for him back then. He’d started another relationship and I thought it had a chance. I liked his new wife, and they had a child. I wanted to see my half-brother.”
This was all news. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”
She dropped her head, then shook it. “I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know. Your life was so lovely and simple — loving parents, funny brother. It’s what I wanted. But my life wasn’t like that.”
“Your life was. You
r mum made sure of it.”
“But everybody said how much I was like my dad, and I guess I took that to heart.” She paused. “That weekend, I went to see him, and he was drinking and bitching about his relationship. And I realised then it was him. His relationships failed because of how he was, and it didn’t matter who he was with. He’d never be happy in a relationship. He told me to get out of mine. Told me I was like him. Told me not to trap myself in something that was likely to make me miserable.”
“And you believed him?”
“I was stupid. I didn’t believe him really, not in my heart of hearts, but he sowed the seed of doubt. And we were young. Who knows what would have happened?”
“We weren’t getting married. We were moving in together. People do it every single day and most of the world get along with it fine.”
“I know. I was overwhelmed with fear. I couldn’t tell Mum because she thought he was an idiot. She was right, of course. I couldn’t tell you, either. I was so confused. We’d been doing long distance for a while, and I’d survived living on my own. I thought that was a sign. I don’t know, I got cold feet and it was inexplicable and inexcusable.”
“And then you stopped calling, stopped emailing, stopped everything.”
“I can’t explain anything about that time. I think I went a bit loopy. Mum was so worried, and I avoided her, too, because I didn’t want to answer any questions. That’s the thing that really gets me. That I wasted a few precious years I could have been spending with Mum. I wasted them on drinking and on somehow trying to force myself into being more like my dad. Why, I have no idea.”
“I really can’t believe this is the reason you left me.”
“I know. I went to therapy to talk about it a while ago, and she seemed to think perhaps I wanted to feel closer to my dad, and this was my warped way of doing it. Of being more like him. Who knows? Plus my habit of thinking the worst and running. If it helps at all, I could tell the whole time I was speaking to her that she wanted to grab me by my shoulders, stand me up and shake some sense into me.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. All this time, I’d put it down to me, to something I’d done. When in fact, it was just circumstance and space. Plus some weird, random idea Maddie had in her head that she wanted to be like her dad. It was too surreal to even contemplate.
“What about now?” My words came out cold, almost slamming into the warm summer air. But I didn’t care.
“Now?” Maddie didn’t turn away.
“Yes. Are you still hung up on emulating something that should never be emulated? Or have you moved on to other worthless role models? Who’s next? Kim Kardashian? Donald Trump?”
Maddie took a breath before she replied. “Okay, I deserved that. I deserve it all, like I told you. And no, to answer your question, I’m basing my life on other role models these days. Ones that actually did something decent with their lives and didn’t go around creating havoc and pain everywhere they went. Like my mum. My nan. Amos.”
Her answer was too easy. “Are you still in touch with your dad?”
She shook her head. “No. That ship sailed a while ago when he did the dirty again on Lisa. I’m actually still in touch with her, more so since Mum died. We ran into each other one day and got chatting. I think that was why I wanted to be more like him at that time, because I liked his choice of partner, and that rarely happened. He seemed to like her, seeing as he got married and had a child. But it didn’t last, because it couldn’t, could it? She’s happy now, with a normal bloke.”
She swung her leg over the bench so she was sitting side-saddle, before turning to look at me. Really look at me. That look I knew so well. Intense. Scorched. Mine. “I’m so sorry for what happened all those years ago, it was all my fault. All of it. None of it was your fault, and I’m sorry I put you through pain.”
“You put me through more than pain. You ruined my trust in every relationship I ever had after that. I always thought people were going to leave, and so I pushed them away.”
She took my hand, and I let her. I couldn’t quite decide if it was the right thing to do or not, but I went with it. “I can’t change the past, nobody can. But I can change the future. These past few months seeing you again, they’ve been immense. I’ve never stopped thinking about you, but I knew I didn’t have the right to walk back into your life and expect everything to fall back into place. I’d never be that arrogant.” She paused, making sure I was listening.
I was.
To every single word.
“And look at you. You’re beautiful, smart, sexy and you’ve done so well with your business. I’m so happy to help you with your next step. But more than that, I’m thrilled to spend time with you, be with you, talk to you.” She cast her gaze to the floor, then back up again.
“I’ve dreamed about your voice so many times in the past decade. It was always one of my favourite sounds. Sometimes in shops I’d hear someone who sounded a bit like you and my heart would almost seize up, wanting it to be you so badly. But it never was.” A slight hesitation before she continued. “I knew you lived near Bath, and I’ve walked around this town so many times looking for you.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t find me, it’s not that big a place.”
“Maybe I was scared to.” She took my other hand in hers, and cupped them both like they were the most precious things in the world. “But I’ve found you now, and I don’t want to lose you again. Whatever you’re prepared to offer, I’ll take. Just so you know, I don’t expect you to fall back into my arms. I know I fucked up and rebuilding your trust is going to be a gradual thing.” Her gaze ran up and down my face, before she took my hand and kissed it gently.
A dazzling sensation swept through my body, from my head down to my feet. It was familiar, yet alien. Maddie used to put her lips against my skin all the time once.
But it was all so long ago.
“What do you say? Can we carry on and see where this goes? I want to put things right with you, so we can have a clean slate and move forward.” As she spoke, her gaze dropped to my lips and didn’t budge.
A whirlwind of emotion battled within me. I’d enjoyed having Maddie back in my life over the past few months, despite my initial misgivings. And yes, there was still a whole lot of push and pull where she was concerned, and I was pretty sure that wasn’t going away anytime soon. But moving forward with your life rarely involved going backwards, did it?
What I was also damn sure of was that, where Maddie was concerned, our relationship was never going to be platonic. I knew it now just as I knew it when we met all those years ago in our university bar. That she was someone who was going to play a huge part in my life, and cause me pleasure and pain, which always went hand in hand. At the age of 20, I knew relationships were a gamble. At the age of 34, I still knew.
But it didn’t stop my heart pumping so hard, I thought it might explode. It didn’t stop a shiver consuming me. And it didn’t stop Maddie’s lips from being the most prominent feature on her face.
I licked my lips before I replied, staring at hers, glistening in the dusk. “I think we both know we can never just be friends. We’re either together or we’re not. There’s no in-between.”
Her lips parted, startled, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t want there to be an in-between. I don’t want anything between us, Justine. All I want is you.”
Chapter 22
The following day, in what was soon to be our old studio, Gemma was instructing the class like the pro she was. We had ten students that week, and I’d spent the morning editing our Instagram posts for our Cake Heaven feed, which was the origin of so much of our new business. I was still amazed at how much people loved to watch cakes being decorated, but it seemed like it was an aspirational thing. Some people liked to watch the pros, and others were inspired by it and booked our classes to learn. It was a strategy that worked like a dream. Every week, we posted at least five new videos showing what you could achieve if you put your mind to it.
>
It was good to concentrate on something that wasn’t Maddie, because ever since our impromptu picnic at the pound, she’d been taking up a whole lot of brain space. When I woke up: Maddie. When I put the coffee on: Maddie.
It was almost so easy. Almost. Because ostensibly, she was everything I wanted. But at the back of my mind, there was always the history of us. Sitting and waiting, like a fox about to pounce, tail thudding against the ground. What would people say? More to the point, what would my mother say?
Everyone else seemed to be on-board. But they didn’t have so much to lose, did they? They’d never had their heart trampled by her, chewed up and spat out. That’s what I couldn’t get out of my mind. She’d seemed rational to me last time I’d put all my eggs in her basket.
I glanced up through the half-glass door and smiled as I heard laughter echoing around the studio. I wondered what joke Gemma had just cracked, and thanked my lucky stars I was able to do this for a living. I was in business with my best friend, and it was working like a dream. I had a home, and soon, I might be able to buy a house of my own. I had my health, I had good friends, I had so much in my corner. Could I risk it all on Maddie again? Could I put myself in harm’s way and this time, hope it swerved?
Chairs being scraped along the floor signalled it was lunchtime. I waited until everyone had left before I poked my head outside. “Coast clear?”
Gemma looked up from her phone and gave me a grin. “All clear.” She put her phone down and went through to the back, coming out with two mugs of coffee. I walked over to sit beside her at the bench. Together, we surveyed the worktops, knowing we’d have to clean this up before everyone came back in an hour. But we were skilled at it, and knew we could execute it in 15 minutes.
I sipped my drink. I didn’t really need any more caffeine this morning. “How was today? Anything interesting happen? How are our amorous ladies?”
Gemma laughed, shaking her head. She’d told me earlier in the week how two of the women seemed to have struck up more than a friendship, and if she were a betting woman, she’d swear they might have gone on a date the night before. “They’re being coy, but I think they did go for a drink after class last night. I’ve caught a few smouldering looks while they were making their American buttercream icing this morning.”
