by Jenny Oliver
Maddy untied the string and opening the flaps gasped when she saw inside a complete set of Walter’s books, hardback, first edition. Carefully opening the cover of the first in the series, she saw he’d inscribed it, To old dreams and new adventures. The door will never be closed for you, Maddy.
‘Oh Walter, that’s lovely. Thank you.’ she said, tracing the ink with her fingertip.
Walter was coming back in, followed by his chauffeur who actually looked like perhaps he might have been quite looking forward to sitting in the car and reading the paper. ‘Yes, whatever, don’t make too much of it.’ Walter said. ‘Just– Well– Yes– Ok. Martin, go and have something to eat and be jolly.’ He ushered the chauffeur into the flat, ignoring Maddy’s thank yous as best he could.
More people from the apartment block arrived and then at ten-thirty Mack and Betty and the others from the bar appeared. ‘Closed early,’ Mack boomed as he found Maddy in the kitchen where she was desperately piling more food onto serving plates. The canapés were being devoured quicker than she’d thought possible. People were scooping stifado out of little paper bowls and someone had polished off the fish leaving behind just a dish of garlic breadcrumbs. ‘Didn’t want to miss this.’ Mack said as he slapped down a bag full of cheap Russian spirits and helped himself to a glass of red from the side table that Maddy had turned into a makeshift bar, ‘Is that Rollo?’ he asked. ‘Christ, what are you doing here old man?’
Betty twisted the cap off the bottle of Christmas Spirit that Mack had brought with him and pouring a slug into a glass handed it to Maddy. ‘You look like you might need this.’
‘Thanks.’ Maddy said, gulping down the firewater.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit of a bitch to you.’ Betty said, pouring another glass for herself.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Maddy coughed, the liquid burning her throat.
‘You were just so perky and eager.’
‘Yeah, honestly, don’t worry about it.’ Maddy waved a hand.
But Betty carried on regardless, toying with her tongue stud as she spoke, ‘And so innocent. Like, I couldn’t believe someone could be that naive without it being an act.’
‘You can stop now, Betty, thank you.’
Betty sniggered and then spying Hugo, who was lounging against the French windows, muttered, ‘Blimey, he’s a piece of all right.’ And grabbing the bottle of Christmas Spirit, headed his way.
‘Sterling work, Maddy.’ Walter said, sidling up beside her and nabbing a miniature Yorkshire pudding off the plate she was holding.
‘Maddy can I do anything to help?’ Margery appeared on her other side, looking as if she’d polished off a good portion of the sherry.
‘No, I’m fine, honestly. Have you two met?’
Walter stepped forward, ‘No, haven’t had the pleasure, I’m Walter Brown.’
Margery giggled at his outstretched hand and said, ‘And I’m a bit squiffy.’
‘Marvellous.’ Walter squeezed his way past Maddy, pushing her back so he could stand closer to Margery. ‘So what is it that you do Margery?’
Maddy rolled her eyes as she watched him loop his arm around Margery’s waist and with the other hand pluck a glass of champagne from the bar and take a sip.
‘Since I retired–’ Maddy heard Margery say as they swayed together out into the living room. ‘I spend a lot of my time writing letters of complaint.’
‘Margery, you sound exactly like my type of woman.’ Walter drawled.
After Maddy had topped up all the canapés, opened more wine, popped more champagne, she leant with her back against the sink and watched as everyone around her chatted, laughed, drank, some even danced. Outside it was snowing lightly like a pattern of lace in the midnight sky. It couldn’t have gone better.
But no matter how much she tried to enjoy it, Maddy couldn’t forget the fact that her dad hadn’t arrived. Every time the doorbell went her breath caught but it was never him.
The one time she convinced herself it might be him, dashed over to the door when she saw a black cab pulling away in the street, held her breath as she turned the latch, she was surprised to find Ella’s Max standing in the hallway instead.
‘I came to check–’ he started, then peering round the door said, quite astonished, ‘Are you having a party?’
Maddy cringed, ‘Yeah. Sorry! I know this is your flat.’ She held her hand up to her forehead. ‘Sorry.’
‘Absolutely nothing to be sorry about, darling. There’s nothing I adore more than a party.’ Max said, strutting inside. ‘Nice work with the tree.’ he added, before heading over to the makeshift bar.
The last of the guests left at two in the morning. Margery and Walter seemed to have sloped off together much earlier in the evening. Maddy, who was checking outside every ten minutes to see if her dad might be about to ring the bell, had just caught the cream Rolls as it slipped away.
Hugo, Rollo, Max and the girl group were going on to some club somewhere and tried to persuade Maddy to join them but she shook her head. By that stage she had finally admitted that her dad wouldn’t be coming and just wanted to go to bed.
As they kissed her goodbye, thanked her for the party, told her to look them up next time she was in London and wished her a Merry Christmas, Rollo suddenly turned back and said, ‘Oh Maddy, sorry I forgot, Ed said to tell you he’s coming in on the red eye. Had a business meeting yesterday in New York. Wanted you to go to his tomorrow. Don’t know why he didn’t text you himself, but–’
‘Because he doesn’t know my number.’ Maddy said slowly.
‘That’d be why.’ Rollo laughed.
‘He’s been in New York?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I think it was just for a day, sorting some shit that had hit the fan with one of his acts.’
‘So he hasn’t been in his office?’
‘Not the London one.’
‘And he wants me to go tomorrow? For Christmas?’
‘Maddy, I can’t keep repeating myself. I’m hammered. I can barely see you. I have to either keep drinking or pass out, there can be none of this in-between stage. Ok? Go to him tomorrow, you’re invited. Blah blah blah. Great party, great food. You know actually, that’s what you should do – keep the singing as a hobby but blimey, I’d pay to eat your cooking.’
‘Really?’ Maddy said, distracted from the thought that her dad hadn’t listened to her tape, hadn’t got her invite or her apology and still he wanted her to go for Christmas Day.
‘Yeah. These–’ Rollo said, leaning forward to nab the last mini spinach pie, ‘… these have star quality.’ When he popped the pastry into his mouth she heard the filo crack against his teeth. ‘Amazing. Ok, I’m off. Sure you don’t want to come?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Your loss.’ Max shouted from the hallway, and they all fumbled out into the snow and the waiting taxi.
The news about her dad created such a flutter of excitement in Maddy’s tummy that she couldn’t go straight to bed. Instead she cleaned up, loaded the dishwasher, thought back over the evening and without the cloud of worry about her dad, took a moment to enjoy the memories, wondered what Walter and Margery were getting up to and then decided she didn’t want to know. Opening the French windows she pulled over a chair and sat looking out at the snow-covered patio with a shot of Christmas Spirit and the remains of the bowl of stifado. Spooning the stew into her mouth, savouring the flavour, she wondered if Rollo was right, maybe this was another path? Her cooking another possible dream?
As she was picturing her name in lights above a chic little restaurant a male voice pulled her out of her reverie. ‘Hey.’
Startled, she looked up to see the guy from the balcony next to hers.
‘Sorry I didn’t make it to your party. I had a work thing–’
He looked different without his baseball cap on. His hair falling forward almost over one eye. He looked like he’d just got in, wearing scruffy jeans but a smartish navy shirt and was clearly freezing st
anding out on the balcony.
‘That’s cool. Don’t worry.’ Maddy shook her head. ‘Enough people came, I wasn’t billy no mates.’
‘Yeah I didn’t think you would be.’ He laughed, he had amazing teeth she noticed, and when he leant forward so his forearms rested on the lip of the balcony she studied his face, the shadow of stubble, his eyes sort of sleepy but bright, bright blue like the sky at home in summer.
‘You didn’t?’ she said.
‘Well you seem to have managed to get all of this lot talking.’ He nodded towards the windows of the other flats. ‘That’s a miracle. I got a leaflet the other day about starting up a committee for the block.’
‘Oh god.’ Maddy made a face. ‘What have I started.’
‘I know. I hold you personally responsible.’
Maddy laughed. He smiled, looked down at his hands clasped together in front of him and then back up at her from underneath dark lashes.
‘Are you going to play your guitar again?’ he asked.
‘I wasn’t going to.’ Maddy shook her head. The snow had started to fall again, drifting softly down and disappearing as it touched her skin.
He nodded.
‘Do you want me to?’ she said after a moment.
He smiled, shrugged. ‘Yeah. Yeah actually I would.’
Maddy felt herself blush, a bit nervous, excited. ‘I’ll erm– go and get my guitar.’ She nodded back towards the flat.
‘Ok. I’ll go and get a sweater.’ he said, pointing inside.
Maddy stood up to go back in but paused with her hand on the doorframe, ‘You know, there’s still loads of wine and beer, not much food, but some, if you, you know, maybe wanted to come–’
‘Yeah.’ He cut her off. ‘Yeah that would be really nice.’
‘Ok, well. See you in a second. Flat three.’ Maddy smiled.
‘Ok. Right. Yeah. I’ll be right there.’ he said, running a hand through his hair and then nodding as his mouth spread into a big wide grin.
Maddy backed up a couple of steps and then as soon as she was out of view bolted to the mirror to check her reflection, frantically combing her hair with her fingers, rubbing her cheeks then running to get some lip gloss from the bathroom.
When the doorbell went she bit down on her bottom lip and scrunched her eyes up tight with excitement. This was the dream. The parties, the people, the friendships, the snow, the possibilities.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and pulled open the door.
CHAPTER 43
ELLA
Ella smiled her way politely through Christmas lunch. The mistral hadn’t blown the rain away, it was still pouring. The drains had flooded and there was a truck outside the window pumping out the water as they ate.
The food was beautiful. Pink lobsters with pots of melted butter that dripped onto their chins as they ate. Then red mullet wrapped in vine leaves and garlic infused rice. Followed by Christmas pudding, at their granddad’s request, lit and flaming when it was brought to the table. But Ella hardly tasted anything she ate.
Distracted, she watched Dimitri across the table chatting happily with her mum and gran while she half-listened to a story her granddad was telling. Behind Dimitri she could see the fibre optic angel sparkling and candlelight flickered over the nativity.
When Ella stood by the door later in the day, her granddad having a snooze in his armchair, Dimitri outside helping the guys with the drain, her mum came over and rested her hand on her shoulder. The feel of her so close was something Ella hadn’t realised quite how much she’d missed. The smell of her perfume, the same Penhaligon’s that Ella would sneakily dab a drop or two of behind her ears when she was small.
‘So you’re going home tomorrow?’ Sophie said.
Ella nodded.
‘I’m going to miss you.’
Ella kept her eyes focused on the rain, and the men as they battled with the torrents of water streaming over the road.
‘I’ll come and visit.’
‘It’s not the same.’ Her mum sighed. ‘I feel like I’ve just got my daughter back.’
Ella laughed. ‘Maddy’ll be home soon.’
‘You could stay you know.’ Sophie said, following Ella’s gaze over to where Dimitri was having a hectic looking discussion with one of the workmen, the rain battering them as they shouted above the noise.
‘I don’t belong here.’
Her mum shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
When Ella didn’t say anything her mum added, ‘Surely belonging is just a matter of where you’re happy?’
‘It’s not that simple.’ Ella said with a shake of her head.
‘Ella honey,’ her mum tucked a strand of Ella’s hair behind her ear. ‘Things are as simple as you want to make them.’
CHAPTER 44
MADDY
As Maddy cycled through the snow to her dad’s flat in Battersea she tried to quash her nerves by remembering the night before. Her evening with Leo, the boy next door, who had nearly choked on Christmas Spirit but then sat up with her talking till dawn, listening to her as she played the guitar, telling her about how he was going to South by Southwest music festival in Austin and awkwardly asking her if she might want to come along. She’d never been to America she’d told him. He’d looked surprised. She’d told him she’d never been anywhere. He’d been everywhere. And when he told her stories they painted pictures in her mind like bright patterned quilts and she found herself wanting to go every place he’d been.
And then they’d slept side by side on the charcoal velvet sofa and in the morning he’d smiled when he’d opened his eyes.
The memory made her skin tingle.
But as she docked her bike and struggled through the snow in her inappropriate ballet pumps that she’d worn because they were pretty and it was Christmas, no amount of reminiscing could counter the anxiety of what was to come. What would Veronica do when she saw her? What would Maddy say to her dad? The invitation she’d been so excited about last night in the stark morning light seemed impossible, the day could only be one of awkward, polite chitchat and narrow-eyed glares from Veronica.
By the time she’d walked up the steps to the front door, Maddy was practically shaking. She’d had to grip onto the front garden railings because she was struggling to walk in her shoes on the icy pavement. She hadn’t had enough sleep, there was a touch of a hangover and she’d managed to work herself up into frenzy about the day ahead. She pictured herself being pulled aside by Veronica and reminded acidly that she’d warned her to keep away.
The snow was getting thicker and heavier, Maddy’s hair was wet, her face frozen. Her toes had gone numb in her thin leather pumps and as she reached for the doorbell her foot slipped on a patch of ice on the top step making her fall forward and bash into the front door with a thump.
It opened as she was scrabbling around on the ice trying to stand up, but as her shoes had nothing to grip she kept slipping, unable to right herself.
‘Madeline?’ She heard Veronica’s voice, saw her stiletto clad feet from where she was bent double on the doorstep.
‘Yep, hang on. I’ll be–’ But Maddy’s feet just slid back and forth on the step, the thin soles of the ballet pumps unable to get purchase.
She felt Veronica reach down and take hold of her arm to help her up, but as she tried to yank her forward Maddy slipped again, grabbing onto Veronica’s hand for support. The next thing she knew she’d hauled Veronica down on top of her and they were lying in a heap in the snow.
‘Ah merde!’ Veronica’s face was inches from Maddy’s. So close she could see the lines around her mouth from smoking, the mascara on her eyelashes, the foundation on her skin. Smell the heady mix of Chanel and cigarette smoke.
‘Oh god I’m so sorry.’ Maddy put her hands over her eyes as Veronica pulled herself up using the doorframe as support, thick flakes raining down on them. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ Veronica said flatly, wiping the snow from
her trousers and rubbing her elbow where she must have fallen on it.
Maddy tried and failed once again to get up and in the end just slumped against the stair rail. ‘I’m really sorry. It wasn’t meant to go like that.’
Veronica didn’t say anything.
Maddy looked up at her, ‘I know you hate me.’
Still Veronica didn’t reply, just stared impassive, irritated.
‘I’ve just got myself really nervous about seeing you,’ Maddy went on, felt the tiredness of no sleep make her eyes sag heavy. ‘And worried about what you’re going to say.’ Then she looked down at her feet and shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have worn these shoes, and I’m just really sorry, I suppose. God, look I’ve ruined your trousers.’
‘You haven’t ruined the trousers, Maddy.’ Veronica sighed.
Maddy put her face in her hands again. Closed her eyes for one blissful second, imagined the white all around her was the duvet not the frigid snow. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Madeline–’
But Maddy couldn’t stop, she felt nauseous and exhausted, and cutting Veronica off moaned, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t come here sooner. I’m sorry that I got so cross about the audition, I just– I made such a fool of myself at it. It was so embarrassing.’ Then she paused, traced a line in the snow with her finger and said, ‘I’m sorry for what I did to your lives.’
She looked up at Veronica who was staring down at her, one eyebrow raised. Maddy couldn’t tell if it was a look of pity or disparagement. Then she heard the music in the background – her tape recording of White Christmas playing on the machine. Glancing past Veronica and into the hallway she saw on the side table her jiffy bag, her invite on the cream notelet, her apology.
‘They couriered it over from the office and he has played it non-stop since he got back.’ Veronica said as she took a cigarette out of her case and lit it.
Maddy swallowed.
‘You have a lovely voice.’ Veronica added, her hand going back to rub the bruise on her elbow.
‘Thank you.’ Maddy said quietly. She felt the cold of the snow seep through the bum of her black skinny jeans. More flakes were falling as she sat there, the sun picking up the flecks as they swirled in the breeze.
