The Goodmans

by Clare Ashton

  “You were there?”

  “Tiff opened the front door and looked furtive, but I could see through the house to you in the garden.”

  Maggie chilled inside as she remembered. She’d stayed for a week at Tiff’s, inviting Richard round every day for support.

  “It was everything I feared,” Juliette said, barely a whisper. “You and him together. It was everything we fought about, everything that terrified me.”

  Maggie wracked her brain. “But we were nothing back then. He was kind and concerned, but we were not together.”

  “You were sitting on a blanket in the garden, side by side. He was smiling at you, his face full of awe and love. You didn’t look well and how my heart grieved. But then he asked you something. You nodded and he gently and lovingly laid his hand on your tummy.” Juliette stopped. “It killed me seeing that.”

  “But didn’t Tiff say? Didn’t she explain?”

  “No. She looked apologetic then let my fears eat away.”

  Maggie got up and walked to the window trembling. “You realised the other day, didn’t you? When I told you that I’d only kissed Richard a year later when we married.”

  Juliette nodded, as devastated as when they’d argued at the house. “Until a few days ago, I still hated you. Less over the years of course, but until that moment I was hurt like you. When you admitted you didn’t immediately fall for Richard, I realised Tiff had lied to you, and it all disappeared. All of it. Thirty years of hurting and hating you. Gone. If nothing else comes of this, I’m grateful to be relieved of that hate, because it’s not something I ever wanted of you.”

  Maggie stood stunned. What an impact three little words had. “She’s at Alex’s.” That’s all Tiff had said to Maggie. Her friend with the shaved head, appearing so distraught. “I think she’s at her ex’s.” And it rode on the back of so many of Maggie’s insecurities, she believed it with little question. And when Juliette’s belongings disappeared, she knew for sure.

  “Oh God.”

  Maggie sank onto the window seat, head in hands. Images of their past swirled inside – the arguments, Juliette’s old lovers, their circle of friends, Maggie’s insane hormones and vulnerability – a heady cocktail of passion and friction.

  “They all wanted you didn’t they,” Maggie gasped. The beautiful French post-graduate then researcher, the one who turned heads when she walked in the room. Elegant and beautiful even in her cheap student chic, everyone desired Juliette. When they walked into a bar, hungry eyes would feast on her, no matter how obvious a girlfriend Maggie made.

  “You never believed me,” Maggie said. “I told you to stay away from them, but you dismissed me every time. You told me I had nothing to worry about.”

  She felt Juliette take her hand. “Because there was nothing,” Juliette said. “I wanted only you. I wanted my Maggie. My beautiful Maggie.”

  She held down a sob as Juliette stroked her cheek and Maggie lifted her gaze to see a tear-streaked Juliette kneeling before her.

  “Don’t you see how poisonous that atmosphere was?” Maggie whispered. “No matter how good your intentions, that constant threat took its toll. And then,” Maggie could hardly breathe, “it broke us.”

  Juliette closed her eyes and her lips twitched with grief. The sight hit Maggie square in the chest and she clutched at her heart. It was unbearable. If ever she had reason to warn Abby from love then here it was – two of the strongest women, reduced to tears and heartache for a lifetime.

  She struggled to her feet and walked away from the sight of Juliette, as fractured as Maggie had been all those years ago.

  “Maggie, wait,” Juliette pleaded. “This isn’t why I told you.”

  She didn’t listen. Maggie stumbled from the room, feeling for the walls as she lurched along the uneven floor. She clattered down the stairs and stumbled into daylight.

  It was shocking to find the world in glorious sunshine – smiles on people’s faces, baskets of flowers hanging from every shop. It was obscene that existence was coated in bright civility.

  Maggie blinked in the bright light and staggered down the road, her breath laboured and chest heavy. She stopped for a moment to recover and stared down the street. The coloured town houses and city gate blurred rainbow in her tears and she swiped at them to clear her vision. Shapes of cars became distinct and people recognisable as men, women and children. Then, in the distance, two became more recognisable still.

  Maggie’s heart seemed to stop when she saw Jude and Abby. Jude held her friend’s hand, begging her, consoling her. Abby shook her head and Jude lifted her chin to look her in the eye. Nothing was unusual about that sight, but the brief kiss they shared was new, and when it deepened into passion it removed any doubt from Maggie’s mind.

  Chapter 38.

  The fan of playing cards shook in Abby’s hands, again.

  She drove her elbows into the top of the kitchen island in a desperate attempt to steady her nerves. She couldn’t rid herself of the sight of Maggie’s distraught face. They had been too far away to hear, but it was obvious Maggie cried “no” over and over.

  “Oh fuck,” Abby said, as her hands fluttered again.

  Celia’s fingers curled over the top of the cards. “Come on, dear. We can do this. Don’t make me come round there and cuddle you again.”

  Abby smiled. Her surrogate grandmother sat opposite, perched on a stool, a feat that had required the aid of both Jude and Abby.

  “Right,” Jude said, striding into the kitchen. She flicked her hair from beneath the collar of her woollen coat. “It’s time.”

  Abby’s shoulders sagged. “I feel awful. We should have gone to her.”

  “No. I was not having a scene in the middle of town with Maggie.”

  Abby noticed Jude was calling her mother Maggie again. She always did when there was distance, and this rift was the worst they’d suffered, and then some.

  “I’ve called Dad and she’s home alone. I want to talk to her in a civilised way, not have her yelling for all of Ludbury to hear. She and Eli may thrive on public dramatics, but I don’t.”

  Abby nodded sadly and Jude seemed to hesitate.

  “Go on, dear,” Celia said. “It needs to be done. And good luck.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her first?” Jude asked.

  “No. It’s Maggie who needs to do a lot of talking. Besides, this is between you and your mother. I’m not getting in the middle of that. I value what short life I have left.”

  Jude put her arm round Abby and she buried her face in Jude’s chest.

  “Are you going to be OK?” Jude asked.

  Abby mumbled something into Jude’s jumper. She couldn’t even hear it herself and only succeeded in making the jumper warm and moist around her face. She wished she could go to sleep. It was cosy in Jude’s bosom.

  “Can I stay here?” Abby mumbled.

  “I wish you could,” Jude replied, stroking the back of her head before pulling away. “OK. I’m going this time.” And she walked towards the door. She peered back one last time towards Celia. “Look after her,” she said, then disappeared into the dusk.

  Abby breathed in, then out for a long, long time.

  Celia’s eyes flicked above her cards. “Enviable lung capacity, Dr Hart. Now play your card.”

  Abby wasn’t even sure what they were playing. Honeymoon Bridge? That’s what Celia had called it. The game seemed unfeasibly complicated in Abby’s state, but she suspected Celia hadn’t kept it simple for that reason – to make her concentrate on anything other than the sight of Maggie up the street, with a look of pain that tore into Abby’s soul while simultaneously scaring the crap out of her.

  The cards started flapping again.

  “Are you sure it’s worth this?” Celia said, a sparkle in her eyes betraying she knew the answer very well.

  Abby put her hand down and grinned, unable to hide the gooey feelings inside. “Every day Jude makes me smile. Every day I fall in love a
little more, even though I think that impossible because I’ve adored her for so many years. This is better than anything I let myself dream.” Abby sniffed and hot tears brimmed. Her hands started to shake. Her mouth dropped. The trembling extended down her arms and Maggie’s face appeared once again in her head.

  The attack was stifled by a sharp needle-like jab to her scalp, short but acute enough to make the eyes water.

  “Ow!” she moaned. When the tears cleared and she could focus again, she found Celia frowning over her glasses with a brown hair thrust forward, pinched between finger and thumb.

  “What the…?” Abby said, rubbing her head where the hair had happily been. “What did you do that for?”

  “You’re not having one of your panic attacks,” Celia snapped. “Now concentrate.”

  “Couldn’t you think of a better way?”

  “Better? How?”

  “Gentler. Avoiding pain entirely if possible.”

  “Maybe,” Celia shrugged. “I didn’t have time to think.” She smiled, naughtily. “Now play a bloody card.”

  “OK,” Abby said through gritted teeth. Shit. She had no idea what was going on. “What are trumps?”

  “Spades.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the tricks already won. “Hang on. No they’re not. It’s hearts.”

  “Good girl,” Celia said. “Now, mind on the game.”

  Abby scanned her hand and the additional card turned up on the island. She was not in the mood for cards. Not in the slightest. How was she meant to focus on strategy when her family was tearing itself apart? Her heart began to thud. Would Jude be there already? She hoped, despite everything, that Jude would go easy on Maggie. It was normally Maggie’s ferocity that burned brightest, but Jude was showing a resilience that surpassed even that.

  Shit. Her hands were shaking again.

  “Ow!” she yelled. That was worse than the first time. Celia sat grinning, three hairs pinched between her fingers.

  “For the love of God, think of a better way.”

  “Lack of time again,” Celia shrugged.

  “Well take a moment,” Abby whined in consternation. “Have a good think about that gentler approach.”

  “All right.” Celia gazed to the heavens. “It’s pulling hair, strip poker or getting stoned. Those are your options.”

  Abby stared at Celia. “You’ve never…? Do you play strip poker with Desmond?”

  “Now there’s an idea.” Celia looked over her glasses with the most salacious grin Abby had seen. “I wipe the floor with him at cards. I’d have him in his undies in no time.”

  “Good to know. Let’s leave the strip poker.”

  “Which leaves you with hair removal or drugs.”

  Abby slumped. “OK. OK. I’m concentrating.”

  Which, of course, she failed to do, and she would lose several more hairs before the night was through.

  -

  Richard came to the door of the Goodman residence, his drooping jowls betraying his knowledge of Jude and Maggie’s brouhaha.

  “Hi, Dad,” Jude said sadly.

  “Hello, love.” He drew her into his chest. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Your mother’s in the living room. I’m afraid she won’t listen to me, but I think you and Abby make a terrific couple.” He squeezed her tight. “I have my worries, every parent does, but you will only have support from me.”

  “Thank you,” Jude said, filling with relief before having to baton it down in preparation for seeing her mother.

  Richard retreated up the fire escape to the attic and looked down one last time before disappearing inside.

  Jude stole herself and entered the house. She hung her coat on the hooks in the hallway, like she’d done thousands of times, all the way back to childhood, but this time it felt like an intrusion in a stranger’s home and she felt impertinent for hanging it there without invitation.

  She took hesitant steps into the dim room, lit only by the failing light outside. Maggie sat on a sofa beyond, staring into the garden, her back straight, posture impeccable, hands on her lap. It irritated Jude. She recognised her mother’s stance: self-righteous, unbending, impossible.

  Jude persevered and slowly approached. She sat on the sofa alongside, close enough to converse but the distance telling. Her mother didn’t react. She stared into the garden and they sat in silence, the heavy tock of the grandmother clock marking the awkward passage of time.

  “Mum, please,” Jude whispered.

  Maggie at last turned towards her. Her face was in shadow, barely visible in the dying light.

  “So you’ve decided you’re a lesbian.”

  The virulence of it was like a physical blow and Jude had to compose herself. “You can throw that at me if you like, but I will not take offense.”

  “Get used to it. People will fling it night and day.”

  “Come on, Maggie. I’ve had a lesbian best friend and pansexual brother. Do you think I’m going to be offended by that?”

  Maggie’s look was defiant. “What do you think you’re doing? Why are you interested in women now? Of all the times.”

  “Because of Abby.”

  “Really? It’s not sheer bloody mindedness?”

  Jude laughed, not altogether pleasantly. “No.” She wanted to add. “Bloody mindedness would only occur to you.”

  “Then what is it? Was Bill’s desire for you to settle down so traumatic it’s suddenly turned you into a lesbian? Has he put you off men for life?”

  “Come on,” Jude said. “No, I haven’t suddenly turned into a lesbian.”

  “Then what are you? Really?”

  “Someone who wants Abby. She’s in love with me, has been for many years, and now I love her.”

  Maggie’s gaze was withering. “All of a sudden?”

  “Perhaps, I was more attracted to her, to women, than I realised,” Jude replied, finding Maggie’s questions bruising but in no mood to take the punches.

  “And not men after all?”

  “This doesn’t negate every relationship I’ve had with a man. Neither does having loved men take away from my love for Abby. I don’t know what that makes me. Ask Eli,” Jude said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “But I do love Abby.”

  Maggie glared at her. “Regardless of what you are, you are still the last person Abby should be with.”

  Every word was deliberate. Every syllable dripped with venom, and the verbal strike made Jude twitch.

  “How could you?” Maggie rasped. “When you leave, you will destroy her.”

  “What makes you think I’ll leave?”

  “When have you ever stayed?” Maggie fired back. “You’re in your thirties and haven’t shown a serious attachment to anyone.”

  “That’s not fair. I was mad about Dan and I lived with Bill for Christ sake.”

  “You bunked there during the week. And as soon as he proposes, you take flight and in the blink of an eye you’ve moved on.”

  “There were issues,” Jude offered, her confidence faltering. “I admit, I wasn’t fair to him. But it’s nothing like that with Abby.”

  “Then what is it like?”

  This was brutal. With every question Jude flinched. She was laid bare and vulnerable to her mother’s expert attacks.

  “I’m in love with her,” Jude said. “Deeply in love with her. Perhaps I always was. It’s difficult to tell where friendship ended and passion began, but I love her more than anyone in the world and it feels right.”

  “Like life would end without her?” Maggie fired.

  “Yes.”

  “Like she’s the heart that makes your body thrive? Does she fill your head every waking hour? Do you dream a whole life ahead relishing even old age together.”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “So imagine she feels the same. And now imagine crushing her when you take all that away.”

  Jude winced, imagining it so vividly she was swayed for a moment by her mother’s potent argument.

 
; “Abby needs you like no-one else,” Maggie growled. “Which is why you shouldn’t do this. When you break up, she will have nothing.”

  “I will never leave her,” Jude struggled to say. “I have always taken care of her.”

  “Is that it? Some kind of chivalrous duty? Noble Jude to the rescue?”

  “No,” Jude hesitated. “I did feel some obligation when I realised she loved me. I didn’t know what to do. But now? I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

  “You’ve no idea. You haven’t a clue what it’s like.” Maggie fixed Jude with a burning stare. “That life. Always having to watch your back. Not able to hold hands without checking who’s watching? Will someone shout obscenities? Will they hurl a brick at Abby’s head, just because she loves a woman? I held a friend as she bled to death on the road because her existence affronted a fragile male ego. And then,” Maggie’s laugh was a hideous blend of despair and hate, “others you call your friends will stab you in the back in the name of love too. Are you really ready for all that?”

  Jude felt like she was being beaten back by Maggie’s attack.

  “For all the apparent progress of rights and marriage equality,” Maggie continued, relentless, “the large and dark underbelly of the world will not rejoice in your relationship. It will make it harder every step of the way and you could lose your lives because of it.”

  “Enough!” Jude leaped to her feet. “I cannot change this. I’m in love with Abby and she’s in love me.”

  The disdain on Maggie’s face was clear.

  “I don’t care if this is harder,” Jude said. “I don’t care if I have to watch my back. I do believe things are getting better, but even if they don’t I couldn’t choose another way.”

  Maggie was intransigent.

  “Abby has been a part of my life since I was eighteen,” Jude said more softly. “I thought I knew everything about her and loved it all. But every day, I find something new to adore and,” Jude stopped, the love for Abby building inside so that tears threatened, “there is no-one else for me. There never could be. That I’ve had such a friend, I’m eternally grateful for, but that she should be the love of my life,” Jude had to swallow to keep her voice even, “I’m the luckiest person alive.”