by Dawn Goodwin
He opened the door to a woman standing on his front step, who looked vaguely familiar. She was wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms and an oversized hoodie that was pulled up over her head, so he couldn’t quite make out her face. Her eyes were covered by large sunglasses, out of place on such a cloudy day. He immediately went to close the door on her, saying, ‘Nothing today, thanks’ in case she was one of those convicts selling tea towels or a Jehovah’s looking to discuss the end of the world while shoving a copy of The Watchtower in his hand.
‘Greg Lowe? I have a delivery for you.’
He hesitated. ‘Oh?’
Jemima gurgled in his arms, her tiny fists still clamped in his hair.
‘Ah, such a lovely baby.’ The woman leant into the doorway and stroked Jemima’s cheek.
Greg stepped back one pace, so that the woman was just out of reach. ‘Thanks.’
She shoved a small, white box at his stomach. Greg took hold of the box and looked back at the woman, but she was already walking away, her immaculately white trainers crunching across the gravel.
He frowned and closed the door. He gently lowered Jemima to the floor and she took off on all fours. Greg looked at the box in his hand. It was the kind of thing they put your cakes in at the bakery and, lifting the lid, that was exactly what was inside. A selection of four, small, delicious-looking patisserie cakes decorated with edible flowers and delicate icing. His mouth started to water just looking at them. He’d only had Gemma’s green smoothie so far today.
Oh, but the diet. Gemma would be furious with him if he brought these out after dinner. Just that morning, she had made him weigh himself in front of her and had tutted when he had only lost a pound. He hadn’t told her about the sneaky pint he’d had with Mike on his way home from work on Friday – or the bag of pork scratchings that he’d washed down with it.
He scooped Jemima up and tucked her into her highchair, where she continued to destroy the sticker book in front of her. The box had no message with it. It was just a plain white box.
Maybe Maddie had sent them. It certainly wouldn’t have been Gemma and it was far too feminine a gift for it to have been one of his five-a-side mates. There was a bakery down the road. Maddie probably had them sent from there – but why?
Unless it was because of what he’d told her the other day. He thought back to lying next to her again, the sheets wrapped around their legs, her cheeks flushed. She’d looked like the Maddie of old, before the pregnancies and the stress and the heartbreak. She’d looked like the girl he had fallen in love with. He’d been making her laugh by telling her about his disastrous attempt to deep-fry tofu last week for their dinner. She had said she thought he was fine the way he was and he had joked about maybe sneaking off to eat cake in his lunch hour when the lettuce and fresh air diet he was on got too much.
She must’ve sent these as a joke, something just between them. It was the kind of thing she would do. He smiled, feeling his stomach lurch like a boy with a crush on the girl next door.
Greg turned on the coffee machine, popped a strong espresso pod in the top and brewed a coffee, then sat at the table next to Jemima with his box of cakes and his cup.
Nestled inside the box like a cuddle were two slices of what looked to be a rich chocolate cake and two slices of vanilla and peach cake. He thought about getting a fork from the drawer, then just reached in with his fingers and grabbed the vanilla cake first, took a large bite and let the moist, delicious sponge dissolve in his mouth. Jemima reached out to grab the cake, but he moved it from reach. He wasn’t sure if cake and cream were good for babies. Peaches were though, weren’t they? One of her five a day?
Her hand reached out again almost instantly and this time he put a bit of the cake in her grasp. She shovelled it into her mouth with delight and he laughed. ‘I know! Cake is the dog’s bollocks, isn’t it? Don’t let your mother know I said bollocks though – or that I gave you cake,’ he said conspiratorially.
Before long, the slice was gone and Jemima was wearing cream from one ear to the other.
‘It would be remiss of us not to taste the chocolate too, don’t you think?’
He was sure Jemima nodded.
The chocolate was just as rich and decadent as he expected. The slice was gone in minutes, shared with Jemima to an extent, but mostly consumed by Greg.
For a second he considered eating the other two slices in the box too, but then thought better of it and got up to find somewhere to stash the box where Gemma wouldn’t find it. He could save them for later. She had another yoga class booked tomorrow evening and he knew exactly how he would spend the time while she was out.
As he got to his feet, his throat started to itch and he coughed a little, then a lot. Within seconds, it felt like a hand had reached up, shoved some razor blades down his throat and then begun to squeeze his neck so that he couldn’t breathe past the blades slicing the inside of his oesophagus. The pain and asphyxia caused spots to bloom in his vision. The spots swam in and out as he gasped for breath and lurched into the kitchen to the tap, hoping that perhaps some water would dislodge whatever was obstructing his windpipe.
But he knew what it was and he knew water wouldn’t help him now.
He hadn’t had a reaction like this in decades. In fact, since he was at school. But now that it was happening, he recognised the signs of anaphylactic shock. There must’ve been nuts in one of the cakes. He hadn’t tasted nuts though. And if Maddie had sent them, she knew how allergic he was and had always been so careful about it.
He stumbled out of the kitchen on weakening legs. He had a syringe of epinephrine in the bathroom cabinet upstairs, but he couldn’t remember when he last checked it or if it was out of date. It would have to do though, because he was starting to feel light-headed and he could hear himself wheezing as his throat closed up and slowly cut off his air supply.
He stumbled and fell in the corridor and had to drag himself up the stairs. His heart was racing, his eyes were streaming and he was properly terrified for the first time in his life. As he crawled up each Everest of a stair, his thoughts turned to Jemima, her beautiful little face and her delightful smile. The sound of her giggle and the way she opened her mouth and clamped her gums onto his cheek in her version of a kiss. Then he thought of Maddie, her face filling his brain. His eyes were streaming, but now with tears rather than from the exertion of trying to suck in air.
*
When Gemma opened the front door, the first thing she heard was Jemima screaming from the kitchen.
So much for calm and relaxation.
‘Greg?’
She threw her yoga mat down in annoyance. She’d only been gone a couple of hours and it sounded like all hell had broken loose. And she was thinking it wouldn’t hurt to go for a green tea with Emilia after their class; Greg could cope for a bit longer. In fact, lately she’d been thinking that Greg could cope much better than her altogether. He was so much calmer than her, so affectionate with Jemima. Gemma had to admit it annoyed her that he had adapted to fatherhood so easily. Greg and Jemima were like a little compact unit and she felt like the outsider most of the time.
Well, clearly something had gone wrong today.
She stomped into the kitchen and found Jemima in her highchair, tears streaming down her cheeks and leaving track lines in what looked like cream on her face. Gemma unclipped her from the chair and lifted her at arm’s length. She really didn’t want to get that white stuff on herself.
‘Greg? Where the hell are you?’ she shouted.
There was no answer. Grabbing a wet wipe from the pack on the table, she wiped Jemima’s face and gave her a brief cuddle before noticing the cake box on the table. That explained the cream then.
‘Greg! Where did these cakes come from?’ No wonder he hadn’t lost much weight this week.
Now she was really annoyed. Jemima was still screaming into her ear. All she could think to do to get her to stop was to grab a bit of the chocolate cake left in the box and hand it to
her. Jemima stopped screaming, her little body heaving in sorrow as she sucked on the chunk of cake.
Thankful the screaming had stopped, Gemma headed into the hallway to see if Greg was in the loo. Either he was hiding because he knew he had been caught in the act or he was on the phone in his office. Either way, she’d be having a word. Her mind switched to a few days ago, seeing his car at Maddie’s, knowing he had lied to her. Was this what it had felt like for Maddie all those years ago?
Gemma didn’t like it, not one bit. She would’ve happily killed him last night, sitting across from her at dinner like the cat who had got the cream, all while she was trying to figure out what was really going on between him and Maddie.
His office door was open, but he wasn’t inside. Looking up the stairs, she noticed a brown sock on the landing. There was a foot in the sock. Gemma slowly climbed the stairs, a frown wrinkling her brow. The foot was attached to a leg, which was attached to Greg, who was lying on the carpet. What she could see of his face was blotchy, his lips were blue and his eyes stared at nothing.
It took her a second to comprehend what she was seeing. Why was he lying there like that and why were his trousers wet around the crotch?
Her next thought was, Be careful what you wish for.
Then she started to scream.
*
Maddie sat at her laptop, trying to work her way through the logistics of creating a website to distract herself from her conversation with Peggy. But the website was proving more complicated than she thought. So much for the adverts telling her how quick and easy it would be.
Maybe she should call Greg and ask him for help.
No. She could call Luke though.
She moved the text box to the other side of the screen and began to fiddle with the fonts. Which one looked more professional? And would anyone notice?
Luke would probably know best. If she couldn’t figure it out soon, she might go and knock on his door. Maybe take a bottle of wine. She had started working on his books earlier and it was really good to engage her brain again. It would also give her a chance to talk to him about Jade and Peggy too before she confronted Jade about it. Best to have an impartial point of view before accusing someone. And she just liked spending time with him… the idea made her smile.
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her.
A Snapchat alert. That meant a message from Jade. Her stomach sank.
As well as watching YouTube videos on how to create a website, Maddie had been reading up on the latest social media tools too. She needed to know what was going on in the world if she was to start a business. She would need Twitter, LinkedIn and all those things. After years of ignoring it all when her mind was occupied with other things, she realised she needed to bring herself up to date now.
She opened Snapchat and pulled the message to the side without clicking on it – a trick she had learnt that meant she could read the message without Jade knowing she had seen it. It was a way of buying her time and she figured it could be useful, especially since Jade was in the habit of texting her repeatedly if she read her message but didn’t reply immediately.
The message read:
I’ve done my part. Now it’s over to you. You can thank me by repaying the favour.
Maddie frowned and read it again, then closed the app.
What did she mean? What had she done?
She chewed on the end of her pen, mulling it over. It must be something to do with Ben. Maybe she’d taken Maddie’s advice and found a lawyer or something.
Maddie pushed it from her mind and got up to make more tea. She’d add it to the list of things to talk to her about later.
13
Her phone was ringing, the insistent chime pulling at her, dragging her from sleep.
Maddie squinted into the semi-darkness. The television had gone into standby mode and a message scrolled across the screen. No connection. Moving in green letters across the charcoal grey background.
The phone stopped ringing, then immediately started up again as a voicemail came through.
Maddie sat up slowly and wiped the dribble from her mouth. She was on the couch under her duvet. She must’ve fallen asleep in front of the television. She had no idea what time it was.
The ringing stopped again, but Maddie knew it would just start up again until she listened to the voicemail. She had to figure out how to change that setting. She looked over to the clock on the kitchen wall, but couldn’t make out the time. Her eyes were still blurry with sleep.
Nobody called her at night.
That was the thought that eventually got her to her feet.
She dragged herself towards the kitchen where her phone was charging. It was 23h15, so she hadn’t been asleep that long. But it had felt like hours. She unplugged her phone and listened to the voicemail.
It was Gemma, but her voice sounded weird, all tight and raspy, like she had a sore throat. She was saying something about Greg, that he had been taken to hospital.
Her heart seemed to stop beating for an instant, then lurched into overdrive. She called Gemma back, both desperate to hear what she had to say while also wanting to put the phone down and crawl back under the duvet.
If Gemma was calling her, then it was serious. She thought about Gemma’s car driving away the other day.
The phone rang for what felt like an eternity, then went to voicemail. She left a rambling message and disconnected the call.
She pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter, letting her legs dangle and sway, her hands tucked under her thighs, waiting for Gemma to call back.
It was mere minutes before her phone rang again. ‘Hello? Gemma?’
The voice at the end of the line didn’t sound like the Gemma she knew. ‘Maddie, hi. I thought you should know. It’s Greg. He’s…’
Then she started to weep. Not ugly crying like Jade yesterday in massive, melodramatic gulps and wails, but a solitary keening sound that cut straight through Maddie.
‘Gemma, what is it?’
‘He’s dead, Maddie. He’s dead.’
Maddie felt the phone drop from her hand. It bounced on the countertop, landing face-up. The caller ID photo attached to Gemma’s contact taunted her. It was a photo of Gemma and Greg when she was pregnant, all bulging bellies and wide smiles.
She picked up the phone again, both to talk to Gemma and to not have to look at the photo again. ‘What happened? He was fine the other day.’
‘He ate some cake and the doctor thinks it had nuts in it.’
‘But he’s so careful with that.’ But was he? Maddie had been the careful one. She was the one who had made sure his epinephrine was in date, checked the ingredients on food labels, alerted waiters in restaurants. Then her mind made a leap she wasn’t expecting. Had Gemma done this? Because she had found out about them? No, she couldn’t have, surely. Maybe she only meant to frighten him, but hadn’t appreciated how fatal his allergy was.
‘It’s all because I put him on a diet,’ Gemma was saying around her tears. ‘If I had just left him alone, he wouldn’t have bought the cakes.’
‘No, you can’t blame yourself, Gemma. He is – was – a grown man. He knew he was allergic.’
‘What am I going to do without him?’ Her breath was coming in gulps now, like she was having a panic attack.
‘Gemma, you’ll be ok. Just breathe. It’s the shock. Where are you? Shall I come over? Where’s Jemima?’
At the mention of her daughter’s name, Gemma seemed to pull herself together a little. ‘She’s fine, she’s with my mother. We’ve just got back from the hospital. I just thought you should know.’
‘Please call me if I can help with anything.’
‘I will, thank you, Maddie. Goodbye.’
The line cut dead.
Maddie sat, staring at the phone in her hand but not seeing it.
Greg.
Gone.
How much more could she be expected to take?
*
Jade swigged
from the can, her eyes on the television but not seeing. Maddie had aired her.
How dare she? Anger fizzed and roiled in her stomach with the beer, acidic and bitter. She drained the can and opened another.
Maybe she should go down there, confront her.
But Maddie had started putting the chain on all the time, so she couldn’t get in with the key. She was smarter than she looked.
Jade would have to bide her time. Maddie would come knocking soon enough.
Mere minutes later and Jade was smiling into the tin still clasped in her hand. Someone was knocking on the door.
She got up, adjusted the smugness from her face and opened the door a crack, keeping the chain on.
Maddie looked bereft. Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail, her eyes were streaming and there was a vivid red line on her cheek, where a pillow was still indented on her face. ‘Oh God, Jade, I’ve just had awful news. I can’t be alone right now.’
Jade adopted a look of sympathy and opened the door wide for Maddie.
‘Sit, I’ll put the kettle on for you. It’s the shock, I think. You’ll be ok in a minute.’
‘I feel like I’ll never be ok again.’ She blew her nose loudly in a tissue clamped in her fist.
Jade frowned into the sink as she filled the kettle. She had expected Maddie to be upset, but this seemed a bit over the top. ‘You will. Give it a few days and the shock will wear off. It’s for the best.’
Maddie looked up sharply.
‘It was what we planned,’ Jade said. She pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge, unscrewed the lid and sniffed it. On the turn, but it would do. Just to be sure, she took a swig from the bottle. It tasted fine.
Maddie launched from the couch. ‘What do you mean, Jade?’ Her voice was like a slap.
Jade looked over at her, the milk bottle still poised in her hand. ‘You know what I mean.’ She nonchalantly finished making the tea, left the milk on the counter to sour even further and brought the mugs over to where Maddie was standing stiff and upright.
Jade handed her a mug, but Maddie didn’t take it from her. Jade shrugged and put it on the coffee table.
