The Goodmans

by Clare Ashton

  That really wouldn’t do. She couldn’t bear to see this good man cry. “Go on,” she said. “Be gone with you. Go and cuddle Caroline or read a book.”

  “Maggie.” The petulant look was back. There, she had her excuse.

  “Good day, Richard,” she said, shutting the door in his face, albeit very softly.

  She ambled back to her coffee and sofa, a little of her vexation relieved by Richard’s company. The poor sod. She would always be grateful for his presence. There never existed a more patient and supportive man.

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Richard,” she yelled.

  She wrenched the door open ready to chastise, but the words died on her lips because there stood Juliette.

  The woman seemed taken aback by the ferocity with which Maggie opened the door. Then she smiled. “Hello, Maggie.”

  Like their last meeting, all Maggie could do was stare. That smile, a pinch of the lips in the corner of her luscious mouth. The intensity of her hazel irises. The delicacy of her jawline. The proud shape of her cheekbones. Her eyes smouldered with smoky makeup and with her raven hair swept back and long black coat she looked like a Gothic queen.

  “Muh,” Maggie said. She hadn’t the slightest idea what she’d intended, but that is what issued. She drew herself up. “So.” Her face twitched with more customary disdain. “Still trying to pull off the dark, sultry look?”

  Juliette raised an eyebrow and the taunting pinch of her smile became keener. “Yes.” And by that she didn’t mean simply yes. It conveyed so much more. Yes, I am. Yes, it works. Particularly on you.

  “Hmmph,” said Maggie. Not knowing what she’d meant by that either.

  “I come in peace, Maggie.”

  Maggie was tempted to say, “Well you can peace off,” but Richard could hear them from the attic. “Well… Well,” she said instead.

  “I was meeting Selene and Eli this morning for a tour of the town. I’m calling early to see if we can clear the air a little.”

  Maggie stared. She clenched her teeth. If she had to put a name to what she was doing she would have called it being bloody stubborn.

  “Would you like to overcome our differences, or should we air our dirty laundry out here?” Juliette suggested, her head tilted provocatively.

  “Very well,” Maggie said, her nose in the air. “Come in, if you must.”

  “Thank you. Very gracious of you.”

  And Maggie didn’t know if Juliette said it with irony or genuine understanding, or, it was entirely possible, that she’d delivered it so perfectly to be exactly equivocating, which annoyed Maggie more.

  Juliette smiled again. “I’m not trying to tease you, Maggie.”

  And that she’d read Maggie’s mind was even more aggravating.

  Maggie marched into the house leaving Juliette to shut the door and hang her own coat. She took refuge in the kitchen and the noise of water filling the kettle.

  “Coffee or tea?” Maggie yelled.

  “Café, s’il vous plait,” came the velvety voice from the doorway, much closer than Maggie had anticipated.

  Juliette leaned against the frame, her arms crossed beneath her bosom. Her charcoal cashmere jumper looked as soft as the cleavage it left bare. It was a garment and shade that suited Juliette to perfection, enhancing the glow of her skin and plunging her eyes into mesmerising pools of seduction. And that was before Maggie inadvertently checked out her bum. Juliette carried off jeans with a sophistication unattainable for an Anglo-Saxon and had maintained her trim figure.

  “Do you still do yoga?” Maggie said, attempting conversation and distraction.

  “You think I’ve kept in shape?”

  Shit.

  “Just trying to be polite.”

  “How unusual.”

  Damn it, this was worse than talking to Richard.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t come to spar with you.”

  Juliette laughed and Maggie couldn’t help turning round. That sound. It had been so long since she’d heard that joyful sound. It had a more mature timbre but the same sense of fun.

  Juliette had always had a kind laugh, her face rejoicing in humour with warmth for others. When some people laughed, it seemed unnatural, as if their face was unused to the emotion and on the verge of cracking. Not Juliette. It was what Maggie had first fallen in love with. Incredible, intelligent Juliette was intimidating in tutorials, but Maggie had commented something humorous and unusually self-deprecating one day and elicited that mirth. Juliette had looked at her with a softness in her eyes and a laugh that betrayed a good heart and warm soul, and Maggie had melted.

  Of course, it had all soured.

  “Please,” Maggie said gently. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a coffee. Do you still take it black?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Juliette replied in kind and she quietly left.

  They sat on opposite sofas, both nursing mugs and staring down the garden.

  “So,” Maggie inhaled. “You are a mother.”

  “Clearly.” The knowing smile was back.

  Maggie wished she’d not started the conversation that way or with that topic, but being Maggie she didn’t stop now. It had nagged at her since Juliette’s arrival and the revelation that Selene was her daughter. “I would never have predicted it.”

  “That isn’t fair,” Juliette said, and her eyes betrayed vulnerability. “I always wanted children, but not at any cost. I wanted a family of my own and my partner’s, not to defer to a man about them, not to worry that my children could be taken from me by their father in name only.”

  Maggie sipped her coffee, feeling a small, it was very small, pinch of guilt.

  “So,” Maggie tried again. “Who did you find? Were you impregnated by a miraculous lesbian and have the perfect marriage and family?” Maggie knew she was being unreasonable as the words tumbled out.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “So, a partner who wasn’t afraid of being left out of biology plus a donor.”

  Juliette flinched and the little nugget of guilt inside Maggie grew.

  “I will tell you, because Eli is marrying Selene and you need to know her family.” Juliette stared at Maggie with a sad defiance. “I had Selene with a good friend. His name is Martin and he is a lecturer at the Sorbonne. We raised her together, sharing a flat when she was a baby.”

  “Really?” Maggie’s tone was unmistakably insinuating.

  “We shared a flat, not a bed. He is gay. I am gay. It was never a possibility. Unlike some.”

  Maggie’s guilt disappeared in a puff of smoke as furious flames kindled inside.

  “Don’t you dare,” Maggie growled.

  She breathed out noisily as she calmed herself. “I just find it odd.” Maggie tilted her head in defiance. “After all our issues, you turn up decades later blithely saying you are a mother. You were so adamant to make a baby with the one you loved.”

  “I do love Martin,” Juliette replied, her face stony. “He is a much cherished friend and someone I trust more than any lover.”

  “And what do they think? Do you expect your lovers to accept your cosy family, to play mum to a child who isn’t theirs, as you were so loathed to do?”

  “No, I do not.” Juliette’s face coloured. “Some had close relationships with Selene and still do, although I have been single for many years and it has not been an issue.”

  Maggie clenched her teeth and stared hard at the buddleia growing in the garden wall. This had been so contentious for them. Yes, they’d bickered about almost everything under the sun, but this? This issue had torn them apart.

  “Just,” Maggie shook her head. “After all our problems I can’t believe you, of all people, have a child with someone virtually random.”

  “And I can’t believe you, of all people, ended up with a man. C’est la vie.”

  Ouch and, Maggie had to admit, touché.

  “Maggie, please.”

  Juliette looked a
ffected and the wall around Maggie’s heart wasn’t impenetrable.

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “This was bound to come up. Everything considered.”

  Juliette nodded. “I know. Believe me, I didn’t come here to make trouble.”

  “You could have fooled me yesterday, brandishing that bloody photo.”

  “I was surprised at your views. But I won’t mention your history to your children again.” Juliette stared into her coffee and Maggie recognised contrition when she saw it.

  Maggie sipped at her drink and furiously searched her brain for a less contentious subject.

  “The photo,” Juliette started. “You heard about Mike all those years ago?”

  Maggie twitched. “Yes. I went to his funeral.”

  “Good,” Juliette said quietly.

  “And Tiff,” Maggie asked, “did you keep in touch with her?”

  Juliette slowly lifted her gaze and met Maggie’s eyes. She hesitated for a moment, then without looking away said, “For a while, yes I did.”

  “I always assumed you’d shack up with her or your ex. Tiff was always trying to get into your knickers,” Maggie snorted. It hurt even though she said it with derision.

  Juliette hesitated again. “Yes she was.”

  “Ha!” Now that was a change. “You always denied it. You said I was being paranoid.” And Maggie had never doubted she was right. There were no shortage of women who wanted Juliette. It had all contributed to their strife.

  Juliette nodded a touch. “You were right, Maggie.”

  Maggie’s sarcasm fell from her face. “What did she do?”

  “She waited a few weeks after we’d split up. Granted she was patient, you may say calculated. Only then did she show her interest.”

  Maggie tried to recall. Tiff, supportive when they’d split up, had been strangely absent afterwards. Then she’d surfaced weeks later, tail between her legs. “You turned her down?”

  “Yes.” Juliette said, her eyes fixed on Maggie’s. “I may have been wrong about Tiff’s intentions, but I wasn’t about mine. I had no interest in anyone except you, Maggie.”

  It was a good job Tiff had disappeared a long time ago. A very good job. Maggie had very unkind thoughts at that moment.

  “Maggie?” Juliette voice was quiet. “Do you know where I went when I left?”

  “Yes.” Maggie gulped. “Your fucking ex’s.” Another woman so intent on bedding Juliette. They probably fucked the same night Juliette walked out. Maggie couldn’t breathe. She felt as raw as the day Juliette left.

  “Did Tiff tell you?”

  Maggie nodded, unable to speak.

  “I wondered,” Juliette said. “How long did you wait before loving another?”

  Maggie flushed with indignation. “Do you mean after you left?”

  “Yes.”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “I know it sounds impertinent, but please tell me. How long did you wait before you moved on with Richard?”

  Maggie glared with fury.

  “Was it hours?”

  “How fucking dare you,” Maggie spat. “You left me. After that, it’s no fucking concern of yours what I did.”

  “Days?”

  “I’m not doing this.”

  “Weeks, months–”

  “A year,” Maggie shouted. “A year is what it took. I married Richard a year later.”

  “And to fall in love?”

  “Fuck you.” Maggie stood up ready to leave.

  “Please.” Juliette’s plea wasn’t one of cruelty, Maggie could see that. She was ashen, not a scorned women twisting the knife.

  Maggie relented, wishing an end to the subject. “I kissed Richard for the first time when we exchanged our vows. There was nothing before that.”

  “Thank you,” Juliette whispered and she dropped her gaze. “Thank you for indulging what must seem a very cruel question.”

  The pain was evident in Juliette’s voice. If Maggie had hoped her answer would mollify, it had no such effect. Her adversary looked devastated, and it was the first time Maggie let herself acknowledge their breakup had crushed Juliette too. A breakup still hurts the one who leaves.

  But Juliette had still fucking left. At the most vulnerable moment of Maggie’s life, she’d left. So Maggie did too, out into the garden.

  Chapter 27.

  “Beloved mater!” Eli shouted from the patio.

  Maggie wiped a tear and blinked away the rest that threatened. She turned from the river and waved to him with an energy that overcompensated for her mood.

  “You’re up,” she hailed and she marched up the lawn with excessive enthusiasm.

  “We’re going on a tour of the town with Selene’s mother. You must come too.”

  “Oh.” Her brave face waned. “No. You carry on without me. I’m sure Juliette would appreciate time alone with you.”

  “Nonsense. She needs to get to know my formidable mother better while she’s here.”

  “I think we can spare her that,” Maggie said, unable to keep the regret from her voice.

  Juliette appeared at the doorway, her face pale and eyes swollen. It could have been mistaken for morning puffiness, but Maggie knew better. She could read the sorrow in the way Juliette approached them, her steps more tentative. She gazed at Maggie with a harrowed expression, reflecting the same feelings which had flooded Maggie while she’d stared at the river. Maggie’s fury had burnt itself out, and she was left exhausted in the smouldering ashes.

  Juliette’s lips twitched in a brave smile. “Please come, Maggie. I would welcome your company.”

  It was debilitating seeing Juliette bruised and vulnerable. Maggie had always found it so. Juliette was such a strong, principled and intelligent woman, it would undo Maggie when she was exposed. Maggie’s whole being wanted to reach out and soothe her even after all these years.

  The same feeling persisted as they all walked out together, up the hill alongside the pale ochre walls of the church lands. Maggie walked arm in arm with Eli while Selene and Juliette lingered a little way behind. Maggie kept turning back, the wounded Juliette a constant draw on her being. It was strange looking at her, many years older but essentially unchanged.

  Good God. Juliette was the mother of a grown woman. It seemed impossible. At the same time she was a lecturer, a heart-breaking siren and an in-law to be. Her persona changed from one moment to the next. Maggie could look at her with almost impartiality and see Selene’s mother – someone to organise the wedding and dote on the bride. Yet, when Juliette caught her eye, she transformed into the sensual woman Maggie had loved with passion. It was impossible to reconcile all the people that were Juliette. Another blink and she was a mother again.

  There was an enviable tenderness between Juliette and Selene, mother and child caring for each other. It was a bond Maggie and Jude had never managed to nurture, and the pain of that realisation began to fester inside Maggie.

  She tutted at herself. She had Eli, her boy, on her arm. She smiled at him – her one and only, and thank God it was just the one, Eli.

  “They’re incredible aren’t they?” he said, smiling back.

  “By that, do you mean defy belief?” It was a catty thing to say, and her heart was no longer in it.

  Eli laughed all the same. “Why do you hate Selene’s mother? Did she shit in your soup at university?”

  “I don’t hate her. And don’t be vulgar.”

  “I’m the product of nature and nurture.” He smirked. “Either way it’s your fault.”

  “Impertinent little shit.”

  He beamed, highly satisfied.

  “No, I don’t hate her,” Maggie said, looking away. And it was with a coolness inside that she realised she didn’t detest Juliette any longer. It was frightening. She’d been surviving for so long on feelings of injustice, that she wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was difficult to rage against someone who was so obviously affected.

  “No,” she said. “Not anymor
e.” And they walked on.

  At the churchyard, Eli took Selene’s hand with the glee of a child and hurried away to show the skeleton carvings on the tomb.

  Juliette ambled beside Maggie, past the church and over the land that cascaded down towards the river. The grass was still deep green with vigorous growth and the orchard golden with leaves and ruby jewels of fruit nestled within. The landscape was beginning to warm in the mid-morning sun, and the full palette of autumn colours was vibrant on the hillside beyond.

  “This is a beautiful spot.” Juliette sighed with pleasure at the sun. It seemed to warm her through and a gentle smile suffused her face.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Maggie said, although she didn’t know why. “I think it the best in Ludbury.”

  They wandered down the hill, through the long grass which divided the ancient orchard in two and towards the courtyard.

  “And this.” Juliette beamed. “This is incredible.”

  They’d stopped beneath the archway into the brick courtyard.

  “Georgian I’d guess?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “My favourite architectural style,” Juliette continued. “There’s something so pleasing about the dimensions and simplicity while at the same time it’s never too plain.”

  “You must be in heaven in Ludbury,” Maggie replied.

  “Very much so. I have been walking aimlessly around your town gawping at the Tudor buildings and Georgian town-houses. I’ve missed English architecture, you know.”

  Maggie didn’t know what to say at the allusion to the past. Juliette’s enjoyment of the present seemed too fragile to indulge in a memory.

  “Do you remember our little flat?”

  There, Juliette had said it.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Maggie replied.

  “I loved our Gothic building by the park. The bathroom up in the tower. The creaking stairs to our room. It should have housed a princess.”

  Maggie smiled. It was an innocent and naïve reflection, almost childlike and utterly compelling because of it.

  “Or perhaps,” Juliette continued, “the ghost of an insane woman wronged by her husband.”