by Dawn Goodwin
As she turned to leave, something tiny and furry on the stairs caught Maddie’s eye. Her breath hitched, initially thinking it was a mouse. It was too big surely. Please God, not a rat. A little kitten maybe? Crouching, frightened, in the corner? She approached it gingerly with her hand outstretched, but it didn’t move. She gently stroked its dark grey fur. It felt synthetic under her fingers. It still wasn’t moving and Maddie had the sickening thought that she had just stroked a dead cat before she realised with an embarrassed chuckle that it was a soft toy. She picked it up and glanced up the stairwell again, then rested the toy on the side of the stairs so that anyone coming down would see it. Her heart leapt absurdly at the thought that a small child lived somewhere in the building.
Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
*
It seemed odd that the car park for the supermarket was so empty. Maddie parked in a space right outside the entrance and climbed out. It was cold. Only September and yet autumn seemed to be setting in pretty quickly.
Then she realised her mistake. It was Sunday and the store wouldn’t be open for some time yet. She returned to her car and sat in the still warm interior, mulling over what to do next. Maddie had lived in this area of Teddington for years now and knew that not much would be open apart from coffee shops and newsagents. Why had she forgotten what day it was?
She immediately had an urge to call Greg and tell him about her silly mistake. He’d tease her and they’d laugh about it. In fact, she could pop in on him. Any excuse if she could go and see little Jemima. The house they’d lived in for most of their marriage was only a few streets away. Maddie’s new flat was almost in his back garden. That was one of the reasons she had agreed to this new arrangement. She picked up her phone to call him, then hesitated.
A text would be better. She sent him a quick message saying she was at a loose end and could she come and say hello to Jemima. The response came back quickly.
We’re just having breakfast. Maybe another time? G x
She put her phone back in her bag, immediately regretting sending the message. She needed to start being independent, to forge her own path. Yet here she was on day one and sending him messages. He had picked his side and she had to live with that.
Annoyed at herself, she got back out of her car, locked it and walked towards the High Street in search of a cup of tea.
Cardboard cup in hand, she walked past the closed gift shops and restaurants to the playground. It was already buoyant with lively toddlers and exhausted dads, their hair on end and nerves jangling as they helped small bodies onto the climbing frame and pushed swings on autopilot, their partners left at home to enjoy the luxury of a lie-in while Dad was on duty. Maddie sat on the bench and took it all in. The excited whoops from a boy dressed like Batman as he flew down the slide; the gentle smile on the face of a little girl as she sat in the swing seat with her doll in her lap, legs dangling, her father yawning and stretching in between pushes.
Maddie knew nothing about the level of exhaustion reached by a parent of a small child, but she’d spent a lot of time on this bench over the last few years, observing, living vicariously, wishing she could be that worn out, itching to reach out and touch the wriggling, warm bodies playing around her.
A woman was struggling to get her pushchair through the gate to the playground. Maddie set her tea down on the ground at her feet and jumped up to help, holding the gate for the woman while the pushchair reversed in. The woman was shorter than Maddie, no more than five foot, and her peroxide-blonde hair was scraped back into a scalp-pulling high ponytail that highlighted her dark roots. Maddie caught a whiff of cigarette smoke as she passed, mumbling her thanks.
Maddie looked down into the pushchair to see a little boy of about three years old clutching a Matchbox car in each fist, his eyes wide and tears standing out on his ruddy cheeks. He had a knitted hat pulled down low over his eyes.
Maddie returned to her seat and retrieved her tea while she watched the woman lift the boy from the pushchair and give him a shove towards the climbing frame. The woman then leant casually against the fence and pulled her phone from her pocket.
Most of the children were oblivious to each other as they clamoured and jumped around. The little boy seemed lost, unsure what to do with himself. Then he climbed up the steps of the slide, perched at the top and let his car slide all the way down to the bottom. He smiled, followed it down on his bottom, collected it up and repeated the process happily for a while.
Maddie watched mesmerised, enjoying the mundane yet satisfying repetition of the boy’s activities.
After a while, the boy dressed as Batman wandered over just as the car landed at the bottom of the slide for the umpteenth time. Batman reached down, grabbed it and ran off towards the swings. The boy on the slide looked confused, his eyebrows knotted together, then angry. His cheeks turned puce and he started to scream.
His mother finally looked up from her phone, swore under her breath and said loudly, ‘What is it now, Ben? You’re really testing my patience this morning.’
The boy gulped through his tears and pointed a shaking finger at Batman, who was now happily driving the car in the dirt below the climbing frame.
‘Use your bloody words and tell me what’s wrong, Ben. Otherwise, we’ll have to go home. I can’t be doing with your tantrums today.’ Her words were sharp, exhaustion weighing down the syllables.
Ben cried harder.
‘Right, that’s it. We’re going,’ the mother said, her temper flaring. She shoved her phone into her back pocket and stormed over to the slide. ‘Come down here right now.’
Maddie’s heart broke for Ben, who was now distraught and only cried harder. Everyone had turned to stare, apart from Batman who resolutely played on with the pilfered car.
Maddie got to her feet and approached Ben’s mother. ‘Um, excuse me?’
She turned towards Maddie, her eyes flaring. ‘Look, he’s not having a good day, ok? No need to butt in.’
Maddie held her hands up in surrender. ‘I know. It’s just… um… that boy over there took his car. That’s why he’s crying.’
The woman looked over at Batman, then back to Ben, before marching straight over to Batman and demanding that he hand over the car. Batman’s dad was standing to the side of the playground, scrolling through something on his phone, but upon seeing Batman being told off by a stranger, he weighed in too.
Sensing that the situation was getting uncomfortable, Maddie threw her now empty cup in the bin and headed back to her car.
*
The handles of the plastic bags cut into her hands as Maddie struggled into the flat. One of the bags snagged on the handle and the plastic tore open, spilling apples, ginger and shampoo onto the floor.
Muttering under her breath, she put the other bags down, then went to retrieve the produce rolling around. As she stooped to pick everything up, she heard the entrance door open over her shoulder.
Maddie looked up and immediately recognised the woman from the playground, now reversing into the foyer with the pushchair.
‘Oh!’ Maddie said. The woman turned sharply.
An apple rolled next to her foot and she bent to pick it up before handing it to Maddie.
‘Thanks,’ Maddie said and smiled. She looked down into the pushchair and saw that Ben had both cars clutched in his tiny fists again. ‘So, you managed to get Ben’s car back then?’
‘What?’ The woman narrowed her eyes at Maddie.
‘The car? I’m sorry, I was in the playground this morning. I was the one who told you that Batman had stolen his car?’ Maddie realised what she must sound like.
The woman stared at her like she was an exhibit in a zoo, then smiled cautiously. ‘Oh, right, yeah.’
‘Hi, Ben,’ Maddie said, crouching down. ‘Cars are your favourite, I guess? Say, I don’t suppose you’ve lost a little fluffy kitten, have you? I found one on the stairs this morning. It was…’ She looked over at the stairwell, but the
soft toy was gone.
The woman followed her eyes, then turned back to her with a frown before slowly backing away with the pushchair.
Maddie got back to her feet and followed her, saying enthusiastically, ‘Can I help you up the stairs with the pushchair?’ She could hear the desperation in her voice and hated herself for it.
‘No, thanks, we’ll be fine. I manage all the time on my own. Fucking lift never works.’
Maddie flinched at the expletive. ‘I don’t mind. In fact, I insist.’
The woman glanced around her, as if hoping for back-up. Before she could object, Maddie put her hand on the bottom of the pushchair between Ben’s tiny feet and lifted it from the floor. The woman had no choice but to lift the handles before Ben was tipped out of his seat.
Maddie could hear herself jabbering away as they climbed the stairs to the first floor. ‘My name is Maddie Lowe. I moved in yesterday. Just me… on my own… long story. Anyway, if you ever need help or a babysitter for Ben, just knock. I’m in Flat 2. Happy to help. I love kids. Of course, I know you don’t know me, but I’m very reliable.’
They’d reached the top of the stairs, but the woman made no move to head towards either of the doors in front of them. Maddie realised with embarrassment that she probably didn’t want to let on which flat she lived in, considering the rambling mad woman standing in front of her.
‘Anyway, nice to meet you. Bye,’ Maddie said and quickly headed back down the stairs.
Just before she reached the bottom, she heard the woman say above her head, ‘Maddie, was it?’ Maddie looked up the stairwell to see her leaning over.
‘Yes, it is,’ she replied, pathetically pleased.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Jade Tingly.’ She smiled briefly, then disappeared.
*
Jade sat on the floor, tidying away the toys that Ben had flung around the room earlier during his tantrum. So someone had moved in downstairs. Not a total surprise. She’d seen the decorators coming and going for the last few weeks.
Jade thought about the woman she’d met. Maddie Lowe. She seemed a bit highly strung, nervous maybe, and desperate to make a good first impression. Actually, when she had spoken to Jade in the playground, Jade had thought her a bit of a nosy cow. The kind of woman who would feel nothing about telling you exactly where you were going wrong with your child.
But thinking about it now, perhaps this was fortuitous.
Time would tell, though.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She reached over and grabbed it. The message was brief. She didn’t reply straight away. She needed to think up an appropriate response, come up with a viable excuse. Enough to put him off but also keep him keen.
She got to her feet and headed towards the kitchen. She could do with a cigarette. Ben had been annoying all day and she was glad of the peace and quiet now. She had a bottle of cold wine in the fridge that had her name on it for tonight. She planned to sit on the couch, find something to watch on Netflix and finish the bottle. Maybe see if Deon wanted to come over. He’d have forgiven her for last night by now.
The middle of her foot landed on something sharp and she screeched. A Matchbox car lay on its back like a stuck turtle, the wheels spinning. Ben and his bloody cars!
She grabbed the car and launched it at the wall. It fell short and bounced under the television stand. Jade limped to the couch and sat, rubbing the sole of her foot where the car had left a hot red mark on her pale skin.
Now she really did need that drink.
*
Greg Lowe sat in the rocking chair, cradling his daughter in his lap. She was buttoned snugly into fleecy pyjamas covered in frolicking unicorns, a dummy in her mouth. Occasionally she would suck half-heartedly on the dummy as she nodded off, but as the minutes ticked past, the sucking slowed and the dummy began to dangle from her ridiculously red lips.
Greg gazed at her in awe. The smoothness of her skin and the tufts of white-blonde curls that refused to be tamed, the tiny nub of a nose and impossibly small fingernails.
The story he was reading her had long since finished, but still he sat, gently rocking back and forward in the chair, not wanting to break the bond by putting her in her bed.
Maddie would love this. He could imagine them fighting over who would read her a story, both of them desperate for one last cuddle. He felt bad about not letting her come over that morning, but as soon as he’d mentioned the text to Gemma, she had made her feelings clear, saying in an arctic hiss, ‘You spent all of yesterday with her. You don’t need to see her today as well.’
‘Greg!’
He shifted his gaze over to where Gemma now stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her artificially modified chest.
‘You’re spoiling her! I’ve told you not to let her fall asleep in your arms. She’ll expect it all the time. Come on, enough now. And take that dummy out of her mouth.’
Greg sighed. ‘I’m coming.’
Gemma tutted and stalked off, leaving a puff of disappointment behind her.
Greg sneaked one last kiss onto his baby girl’s forehead and gently tucked her into her bed with a smile, leaving the dummy within easy reach of her fingers in case she needed it.
3
When the rest of Maddie’s new furniture was delivered on Monday, she was still in her pyjamas and dressing gown, her shoulder-length brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail and her teeth furry and unbrushed, despite it being 11.30 a.m. The delivery men made no comment, merely came in, unpacked the furniture and left with a signature to say that all of Greg’s purchases were now safely installed in Maddie’s new home.
Sitting on the stiff new couch made her feel pathetic. She gathered up all of the leftover packaging and shoved it into black bin liners. Leaving her front door open, she carried the bags out of the main door to the communal bins at the side of the building. As she returned, she was met by a thin, pale man standing with his foot propped in her door. She pulled up short.
‘Hi.’
‘Oh, hi, I figured you were outside,’ he said in a quiet voice.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Um…’ He ran his fingers through dark, scruffy hair, looking awkward. ‘I saw your door open and that door open—’ he pointed to the outside ‘—and then your door started to swing shut and…’ He shrugged.
‘Oh, thanks. I would’ve been locked out.’
‘Yeah, I figured,’ he said. He still had his foot in the door.
Maddie shuffled past him back into her flat. ‘Thanks,’ she said with an embarrassed smile.
He shrugged again and wandered away. With a backward glance, he said, ‘I’m Luke. Flat number 3,’ and nodded at the stairs.
‘Maddie,’ she said in reply. ‘Flat number 2 obviously.’
He smiled and disappeared.
That brief interaction seemed to sap the strength out of her and since she had nothing to do and nowhere to go, she took herself back to bed.
*
On Tuesday, an engineer arrived to install her broadband and phone line. He avoided eye contact when she answered the door, still in her pyjamas and dressing gown at 12.15 p.m. Another signature and he was on his way.
She sat on her stiff, new couch and logged into the Wi-Fi with her laptop, immediately looking up Greg’s Facebook page. The smiling, happy faces and jaunty status updates made her feel bilious, so she returned to bed, pulling the covers over her head.
She had no reason to even get up on Wednesday. No deliveries. No calls. So she didn’t. She ate a stale doughnut and immediately regretted it. She opened her laptop while propped up in bed, logged into her Netflix account and scrolled through her list, but it was mostly Greg’s choices and some others she didn’t remember adding. Then she realised this was now Greg and Gemma’s account. She deleted all the programmes that were clearly Gemma’s choices in a sudden fit of childish rebellion and burrowed back under the covers.
By Thursday she couldn’t avoid how hungry she was, but the milk in the fri
dge had turned and the vegetables were limp. She considered getting dressed and going to buy more, but ordered Uber Eats instead and ate Thai food in bed, marvelling at how you didn’t need to ever leave the house these days and trying not to drop noodles on her new duvet cover. Greg would be horrified and Gemma probably hadn’t eaten a noodle since 2003, which made the food taste even better.
She received a text from Greg that evening asking if she still had access to their old Netflix account and knew she’d been busted for deleting Gemma’s romantic comedies.
On Friday afternoon she managed to get herself out of bed and onto the couch, although still with her duvet on top of her. She created a new Netflix account for herself and was midway through a binge session of Gilmore Girls, wishing she had a Luke Danes in her life to bring her food and coffee, when there was an insistent knock on her door. She wasn’t expecting any more deliveries and certainly not any visitors. She felt a sudden burst of joy at the thought that Greg had come to visit, then horror at what he would think when he saw her. She hauled herself over to the door and said, ‘Hello?’, patting at her greasy hair before putting her eye to the peephole.
‘Maddie Lowe? I have a delivery for you.’
Her heart fell as she unchained the door. Pulling her gown tight around her neck, she opened the front door to see a delivery man obscured by a large bunch of flowers.
‘Here you go,’ he said, handing over the arrangement. He looked her up and down briefly, then said, ‘Hope you feel better soon,’ before heading back out of the door to the street.
Maddie realised she must look like an invalid. Shame washed over her. What if it had been Greg? Was this what she wanted him to see? He’d seen her in worse states though. She went to close the door just as a pair of blindingly white trainers and skin-tight white jeans descended the stairs.
It was Jade, shrugging into a denim jacket and chewing on a Twix, her hair once more pulled into an eye-watering ponytail. She looked up and said, ‘Nice flowers. They look expensive. Secret admirer?’ She looked brighter today, less haggard than the last time Maddie had seen her.
