The Pact

by Dawn Goodwin

  But the guilt was still there and the self-recriminations. He knew she was hurting and much of it was down to him. So making sure she remained a part of his life – and Jemima’s – was important to him, not least to alleviate his own guilty conscience.

  Besides, she had been his best friend for so long. He still found himself thinking of things he wanted to tell her, sharing jokes he knew she would laugh at, buying her quirky things she would like.

  And then there was Gemma, who was proving difficult to navigate. He knew she wanted Maddie as far away as possible. He had told her numerous times that Maddie was not a threat, that his feelings for her were based more on their history than on any possible future, but she still felt threatened. Part of it was because of how brilliant Maddie was with Jemima. She was a natural mother with every child she met. Gemma had to work hard and it looked like work most of the time. He would never admit this to anyone, but he sometimes wondered if Gemma actually even liked Jemima. She spent more time taking her to classes and crèches than cuddling and playing with her. But then he made up for it with silly games and story-time every day. If he could give up work and be Jemima’s full-time parent, he would, but then he wouldn’t be able to afford to keep Gemma in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. That beauty cost money to maintain – and he was happy to spend it because a happy Gemma was a happy house.

  Maddie was a lot lower maintenance in the beauty stakes, but much harder to please emotionally. Gemma’s tastes may be material, but they were easy needs to meet. Maddie wanted something he couldn’t provide – and for a man who liked to fix problems, that became untenable. If only he could combine the best of both women into one, he would be a happy man.

  Late last night Maddie had called him. He had been downstairs loading the dishwasher and catching up on Question Time when his mobile rang. She hadn’t said very much and what she did say he struggled to understand because she was laughing and sounded absolutely hammered. This was unusual in itself. She wasn’t much of a drinker. There had been someone else with her – a woman with a throaty cackle of a laugh, who was swearing like a football hooligan in the background.

  He had to admit, he had felt a little jealous. He hadn’t heard Maddie laugh like that in years.

  He’d tried to talk to her, but she’d gabbled at him and hung up. He’d been about to call her back but the baby monitor had burst into life as Jemima started to grizzle and he’d rushed upstairs to settle her before she woke Gemma.

  But he thought about it now as he sat in his daughter’s impossibly pink bedroom, with the smell of nappy cream in his nostrils, tinged with sour milk from where she had thrown up on him a few minutes ago when she drank too quickly from her bottle. He finally had what Maddie had always yearned for, but it was with someone else. And all he wanted was for Maddie to find a happiness of her own, to move on from the sadness that had engulfed her all these years, but at the first sign of her doing just that, he found he was jealous.

  It used to be him that made her laugh like that.

  But he also knew Maddie inside and out. The woman he’d heard in the background with the filthy mouth and smoker’s cackle didn’t seem the kind of person Maddie would befriend for long. She was a bleeding heart for anyone with a sob story, but she was also very practical.

  Jemima shoved her teddy in his face, interrupting his thoughts, and he laughed and tickled her. She really was his entire world. Gemma could be as difficult and high-maintenance as she wanted to be if it meant he had a few more of these little creatures running around the house.

  At that moment, Greg realised he was happier than he had been in years, but a cloud hovered in the distance all the same. A Maddie-shaped cloud that rumbled with his self-reproach. If he could just find a way of helping Maddie to find some contentment while still keeping her in his life… That’s what the flat was about – close enough that she could still enjoy Jemima, but just far enough for Gemma to be comfortable and so that his happy family wasn’t thrown in Maddie’s face all the time.

  He would call Maddie later and check in on her. She would likely have a huge hangover after the state she was in.

  He chuckled to himself. She was terrible with hangovers, always had been. Gemma didn’t drink much at all – too many calories apparently.

  Jemima was pressing a book into his hands now. He took it and she curled up in his lap again and rested her head against his chest. He kissed her head and began to read about lions and tigers and bears.

  ‘Greg!’ Gemma hollered up the stairs. ‘I’m going to yoga!’

  ‘Have fun – take your time!’ he called back.

  ‘Mummy’s gone, yay!’ he said in a whisper to Jemima and winked. She popped her thumb in her mouth and gazed at him adoringly.

  *

  It felt like hours had passed as Maddie tossed and turned, at times lying as still as possible so that her head wouldn’t thud and her stomach wouldn’t writhe. Apart from the occasional lurch to the bathroom, she remained buried, every now and then sticking a foot out of the covers for cool relief. By 3 p.m. she was feeling a little more human, so wrapped herself in her duvet and shuffled to the couch, grabbing a banana on the way. She’d read somewhere once that they were good for a hangover. Potassium or something. She turned on the TV and stared at some adverts for Bingo and online betting, before turning over to Netflix to search for some of the shows Jade had mentioned last night.

  Some of her recommendations did not appeal to Maddie at all – what the hell was American Horror Story all about? – but she gave Stranger Things a go and before long had binged three episodes. Getting up to grab her phone and a large bag of salt and vinegar crisps, she sent Jade a message through Snapchat:

  Sitting under a duvet binge-watching Stranger Things! It’s brilliant! Had a fun night last night. Feel horrible today though.

  She didn’t expect Jade to read the message straight away, let alone reply, but a message came back immediately.

  Good choice! Also feeling rough. Good laugh though! What episode are you on?

  They spent the rest of the afternoon messaging back and forth, and it helped Maddie feel better. It struck her as bizarre that Jade was directly above her and yet they were having a conversation online as though they were hanging out in the same room. This was what friendships were like now, weren’t they? Maddie could see the appeal. It was easier to be funny, eloquent, charming and confidently opinionated when you weren’t looking someone in the eye. Maddie found herself saying bolder things in the Snapchat messages, throwing in a swear word or two, offering opinions that in the past she wouldn’t have dared say out loud in case she was judged, criticised or ridiculed. Greg was always telling her to be careful what she said so as not to offend. She could think what she liked but should never say it out of good manners.

  Jade was different. Part of it was that she was still quite young, a millennial, while Maddie was supposedly a baby boomer. The irony in that was not lost on her. Jade had said last night that she was 28 – ten years younger than Maddie, but it felt like much more. She was opinionated and still believed the world owed her everything while Maddie had learnt that the world owed you nothing and never played fair.

  The idea of female friendship was something that Maddie had effectively missed out on until now. After meeting Greg when she was a teenager, he quickly became Maddie’s best friend and they married young, fresh out of university and starry-eyed with hope and ambition. As the years of their marriage unfolded, any girlfriends she may have had all but dissolved away as she invested her entire being in him, their business, their family, to the point where she had few people she could call a friend now.

  She thought about the people she had in her life and it painted a depressing picture. Her father had left when she was very young and her mother had died when Maddie was at university. Her old friends were all married, a few divorced, all with families of their own and living spread out across the globe. It had been just her and Greg for so long. He had been her entire existen
ce.

  For Maddie, this was a chance at a new start. She realised that she had never truly been independent before. As she sat, still in her pyjamas, eating custard creams out of the packet at 5 p.m., she felt suddenly liberated. She had gone from living with her mother to flat sharing at university to living with Greg. There had been no time for discovering who she actually was herself, in her own space. She had always shared space with Greg, had him to look after her, manage her life for her, make her decisions. Her mother had taught her to have an independent spirit, but the luxury of having someone shoulder the responsibility for you was addictive.

  And now that could change. She needed to change her mindset. Her impending divorce was an opportunity rather than a failure. Jade had come along at the right time too, despite their clear differences. She thought about how independent Jade was – a single mum, living alone, making her own decisions – and she wanted a bit of that. And of course, there was Ben.

  Of course she wanted Ben.

  As if she knew what Maddie was thinking, Jade’s next message was a video of Ben laughing into the camera while she spun him around, her ponytail like a propeller, and Maddie’s heart expanded like a balloon as she listened to his fits of giggles, saw the sheer, childish joy on his face. Maddie replied:

  That is adorable! I could eat him up! Is he home?

  She put the phone to her chest and shuffled further down the couch under the duvet, trying not to cry. The phone vibrated again in her hand and she expected another message from Jade, but it was a call.

  Greg.

  She hesitated, then answered.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hey you. How was the head this morning?’

  ‘My head?’

  ‘Yeah, you sounded pretty toasted last night.’

  Maddie had no recollection of calling him last night.

  ‘And who was that laughing in the background?’

  A vague memory was teasing her, the two of them calling Greg, but she couldn’t remember what they had said to him or even if they had said anything at all.

  ‘I’m sorry, we were just hanging out, drinking wine and then things got a bit silly…’

  ‘Who were you with?’ His voice had an interesting edge.

  ‘The woman who lives above me. She’s really nice, has a three-year-old son called Ben.’

  ‘Maddie, don’t—’

  ‘I’m just making friends, having some fun. That’s all.’

  ‘She sounded a bit… you know, not our kind of person, Mads…’

  ‘And what kind of person is that?’ Annoyance clipped the edge off her words.

  ‘You know what I mean. You’re just being obtuse now.’

  ‘No, actually, I don’t know what you mean. Are you referring to immaculately made-up women who shop in Waitrose and think a good night out is two slimline gin and tonics before an early night? Women like Gemma, maybe?’

  ‘Hey, what’s got into you? I’m just worried about you.’

  She was uncharacteristically annoyed at him now. How dare he imply that Jade was not worthy? So she may be a bit crass, did everything with the volume turned up high and wore clothes that were a little cheap, but she had also been kind, welcoming and fun to hang out with last night. He didn’t know her, hadn’t even met her.

  Maddie wanted to shock him, make him see she didn’t need him anymore. What would Jade say to him right now? ‘I think the days of you having the right to worry about me, tell me what to do, or have anything at all to do with me were over when you decided to shag your PA behind my back, don’t you?’

  Then she hung up on him.

  Her head was pounding again and she could barely breathe. She had never spoken to Greg like that before. If they had argued in the past, it had always been with voices barely raised above conversational, with Maddie offering an opinion and him telling her she was wrong or dismissing her outright. She felt at once rebellious and brave, then immediately foolish and immature. This was Greg, after all. He knew her better than she knew herself. She could picture his face now, the way he chewed on the inside of his lip when he was perturbed or rubbed at the back of his neck when he was uncomfortable.

  She called him straight back and before he could speak, said, ‘I’m so sorry, it’s the hangover. I don’t know what came over me.’

  But it was Gemma’s icy voice that replied. ‘He’s not here, Madeleine.’ She was the only person to call Maddie by her full name since her mother had died and it set Maddie’s teeth on edge every time.

  ‘Oh, I was talking to him two seconds ago.’

  ‘Jemima needed him. She wanted a cuddle from her daddy.’

  ‘Right.’ Maddie’s throat felt like it was closing up. ‘Ok, well, tell him I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sure,’ Gemma replied and hung up. Somehow Maddie knew she wouldn’t pass the message on.

  Maddie sent Jade another Snapchat, telling her what she had said to Greg, but omitting that she had called him back to apologise. Jade replied with a ‘You go, girl!’ and a punching fist emoji, followed quickly by:

  Remember the pact. I’ll kill yours if you kill mine.

  Maddie giggled and replied with the laughing emoji and a thumbs up.

  THEN

  ‘I really want to do this, Maddie. I want us to do it together. I think we’d make such a great team.’

  My back is cold against the chair. Greg has left the kitchen door open and the draught is blowing through to where I’m sitting at the breakfast bar. This flat might be small and cheap, but it’s cold in the winter. But then Bristol winters can be so biting. This is our second winter at Bristol University together, where we share a student flat with two med students, Michael and Bryan. Greg and I share the biggest bedroom, Michael has the box room and Bryan has moved a bed into the lounge, meaning that Greg and I spend a lot of time sitting at the breakfast bar rather than being able to slob out on the couch, especially since Bryan parties hard and sleeps long. I have no idea how he will pass his course, but that’s his problem.

  I pull my dressing gown tightly around me. ‘But a business degree? It sounds so… boring,’ I say.

  ‘Our own business, Mads! Think about it, how amazing it would be. No bosses; no rules. All our own. You and me together. I need someone with a good business head and you’re so smart, especially with figures and money and stuff. Look how well you keep us three in line with the budget for this place.’

  ‘There’s a big difference between running a company and working out whose turn it is to buy toilet rolls.’

  All I’ve ever wanted to be is a political journalist after watching Kate Adie on the television, a bulletproof vest strapped to her chest as bombs went off behind her. Now Greg is trying to convince me to change my degree. He has an idea for a business and he wants us to do it together.

  ‘It’s your dream, Greg, not mine.’

  ‘It could be yours too. Come on, Mads, you want to do journalism, but it’s so competitive. You don’t know how long it’ll be before you get a firm job offer. At least with a business degree you’ll have something concrete, something real, and with my dad willing to invest in my idea, we can build something for our future together. You can still write in your spare time, like a hobby.’

  ‘And we could break up tomorrow. Then where will my supposed career be? How would that work with our joint business?’

  ‘Maddie, I love you. You’re not going anywhere; I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, you and me. For the long haul.’ He drops to his knee on the cold linoleum floor and grasps my hand in his. Despite my annoyance, my pulse bubbles as I realise what he’s doing. ‘I want us to be a partnership. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me? After we graduate, I mean, and get the business going and stuff. Not right now.’ His words are tripping over themselves, but his eyes are alive and dancing. ‘I want us to have the world. The big house, loads of kids, posh cars in the driveway, the lot. What do you say?’

  Not the most romantic of proposals, here in our draughty kitch
en wearing dressing gowns and thick socks, but I feel like someone has opened a bottle of champagne in my stomach, all fizzing and popping and gurgling.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll marry you!’ I shriek and leap at him, knocking him backwards onto the floor. I kiss him hard, then pull back. ‘Wait a minute, loads of kids? How many are we talking? That could be a deal-breaker,’ I say.

  ‘Well, at least four surely? Two each,’ he says, grinning.

  ‘Hmm, ok then. Two each,’ I say and kiss him again, just as Bryan wanders in in his boxer shorts.

  ‘Take it elsewhere, you two. I’ve got a hangover,’ he says with a groan.

  *

  We did take it elsewhere and we did get married. I changed my degree and we started the business as equal partners after we graduated. Then, over the years, as my focus on the business waned when our marriage was hit with blow after blow, my shares slowly dwindled along with my independence, spirit and will to live.

  5

  Sunday. A day of rest. But that’s what she did yesterday.

  Maddie wandered from room to room, then did another lap since the flat wasn’t very big. She opened the curtains to the garden and considered the little puddle of vomit still on the lawn. Grabbing a big bowl from the kitchen, she filled it with water and went outside to slosh the puke away.

  It was the first time she’d been in the small, enclosed garden. She peered through the wooden fence, but couldn’t see much of her neighbour’s garden on the other side, but what she could see looked neat and brightly coloured. She still hadn’t met her neighbour. Perhaps she should go over there today.

  Maddie’s little patch was completely in shade and she wrapped her arms around herself in the chill morning air. There was a square of grass, muddy and worn in places, and something that was trying to be a flowerbed along the fence on one side. A washing line ran from the back fence to the door, with a few broken pegs swinging forlornly from it. Spiderwebs glistened in the weak autumn sun, like tiny insect trampolines, and broken pots were stashed in one corner. Growing anything here would be a challenge. It was not, as Greg had put it, a ‘sun trap’.