The Wedding Pact

by Isla Gordon

  Flynn hesitated, and that was all the confirmation she needed. Poppy picked up her bag, and the remainder of her coffee.

  ‘We have kissed, but not since you and I started seeing each other,’ Flynn said, wanting to be as honest with her as he could, now. ‘Are you … ’ he started, and then stopped himself.

  Poppy turned, her eyes narrowed. ‘Am I what?’

  He needed to ask, and he loathed himself for it because it was what he’d accused August of only caring about. ‘Are you going to do anything with the information?’

  ‘Am I going to do anything with the information?’ Poppy repeated back at him, her voice full of scorn. ‘What do you think, Inspector Morse? Do you think I’m going to tell on you to your landlady? Flynn, we’ve seen each other a handful of times over the space of two months, let’s just leave it as something that was over before it started, okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ he answered. Flynn hung his head, ashamed under her gaze. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but he knew he had to. ‘When did you stop liking me? Was it after that time you came to the flat, when we first kissed?’ When August had been in her recording booth the whole time?

  ‘I didn’t stop liking you,’ Poppy explained, her eyes flicking down, refusing to let him see the hurt in them. ‘I was genuinely into you; I always have been. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not annoyed by this other side of you. It felt deceitful, to me, and to other people.’ Poppy went to walk away and then turned, saying, ‘Not everything I did was a lie, Flynn, in fact, hardly any of it was. But importantly to us, as much as I liked you, I could see you liked her.’

  He looked up at her with surprise and was about to protest but the words caught in his throat.

  She held her hands up, stopping him from trying. ‘You and her, and that fake life you’ve created – I saw the wedding photo you’d turned to face the wall, I saw the anxious looks you’d cast up and down the street in case of any neighbours watching – that’s a lie you two need to figure out what the hell you’re doing with. Are you just going to pretend to be married for life, and never live your actual lives?’

  Flynn left the cafe a good half an hour after Poppy had. He’d stared into his empty coffee cup, whirling her words around his head. It was over before it started, that was certainly true. Was he sad about that? Of course. Was he Yui-level sad? Of course not.

  The thought of Yui, in fact, had him pining for their life together, to be back in Japan, back near his family, back where he didn’t have to lie and pretend, when he wasn’t completely shattered from his job all the time. Because he really was completely shattered, from everything.

  He walked home, slowly, allowing the drizzle to fall on him.

  Poppy’s words whirled about in his mind. She wasn’t wrong. He could keep trying, denying, lying, and acting. But the truth was that everything came down to August, and it was time he faced that fact with his eyes open. He’d fallen for her, and he needed to see her, because he was sinking.

  Chapter 56

  August

  Back at their home on Elizabeth Street, August had been sitting on the wall in the rain since returning from her run. She was cold, goosebumped, and her lips had turned blue.

  She hadn’t wanted to hurt Flynn, of course she hadn’t, but how could she have kept this to herself? Calling Poppy an icy bitch was probably a bit of an overstep, though. But August had developed a deep friendship with Flynn over the past months of living together, and if Poppy thought she could waltz in and light a stick of dynamite in their world she wasn’t about to stand for it.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’ someone asked, and she turned, expecting it to be Flynn. Instead she faced Abe, who was looking at her with concern.

  He was holding a shopping bag and wearing a baseball cap to shield his eyes from the rain, and he stepped over the wall to her, putting the bag in a puddle, concern causing him to remove his coat and place it around her. ‘You’re frozen, come inside.’

  She tried to find words but instead her teeth chattered, and for a moment she lost herself in the warmth of Abe’s coat, the smell of him, and the kindness of his face.

  He led her inside and into her flat, and she thanked him. She headed for the shower, in the hope that the steaming water would wash her worries away. It didn’t work, but it did at least warm her up. When she emerged a little later in dry clothes and with a little more colour to her lips, she was pleased to see Abe still there, sitting on her sofa, with two piping hot cups of coffee before him.

  He stood up when she entered the living room. ‘I hope you don’t mind me staying,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘But you made me a coffee when I needed it a few weeks back, so I wanted to return the favour.’

  August sat down on the sofa, and he sat next to her, their proximity something neither could ignore. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Abe glanced at her. ‘Do you want to talk about it? About why you were sitting outside in the rain in November, looking so down?’

  ‘Um … ’ she really did want to talk about it. August wasn’t good at keeping things bottled up. But how much could she say to Abe, really? ‘Flynn and I just had a bit of an argument, that’s all.’

  Abe shifted in his seat, and when she did the same it caused their knees to touch lightly. It was almost imperceptible, but not quite. Neither of them made any move to pull them back apart. August’s breathing slowed a little.

  ‘I’m sure everything will be okay,’ said Abe, his voice quiet.

  ‘I’m sure it will too. I just don’t know if I did the right thing or not at the moment. And then I said some horrible things.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s not fun when that happens in an argument. But I’m sure he’ll know it was just in the heat of the moment.’

  There was something about the way he said ‘heat of the moment’, how his voice cracked, how they met each other’s eyes for a second. But then he angled himself away, reaching for his coffee, and the spell was broken.

  August leaned forward and drank from her cup too. ‘Mmm, this is perfect, thank you. And thank you for stopping me from catching pneumonia out there.’

  ‘Of course. It’s the neighbourly thing to do.’

  ‘How’s your mum?’

  ‘She’s okay. Not getting any worse, which is good, but I worry about her more over the winter months. Whether she admits it or not I think she needs me quite a bit, which is partly why I keep coming down from London at the moment.’

  It hung in the air, his mention of ‘partly why’. It hung suspended within this heavy tension that surrounded them, with him thinking she was a married woman, and her caught in her own lie. August couldn’t bring herself to ask what his other reason might be, as she was afraid in case it was her. She was also afraid to ask in case it wasn’t. Instead she said, ‘If I can help, in any way, you can always call me and I’ll go and check on her?’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, with a smile. She felt a compulsion to lean her head on his shoulder, and she decided to go with that feeling. August felt Abe flinch under her touch, but he didn’t move away. It felt good to be close to him.

  ‘It’s the neighbourly thing to do,’ she murmured.

  With the coffee warming her from the inside, Abe from the outside, and the rain falling gently beyond the window, August was lulled into a sense of calm. So much so that she jumped when the door to the flat opened.

  Flynn walked in, his shoulders hunched and his hair wet. She shifted away from Abe a moment too late. Flynn’s eyes swept across the two of them, and it stopped him in his tracks.

  Chapter 57

  Flynn

  Abe stood up, fast, and nodded at both August and Flynn, looking flustered, before making his way out of the apartment. But Flynn had seen them snuggled together. He’d seen how August was taking comfort from their argument in his arms. And he knew it could have all been different if he’d just admitted what was going around his mind earlier. That’s not to assume she would have ‘picked him’, of course, but perhaps
he would have been able to live his life with a bit more clarity. As it was now, he felt so far below the murky surface he could think of only one way out.

  ‘Are you two … ?’ Flynn asked August.

  ‘Me and Abe? We’re just friends.’

  ‘Does he know about us?’

  ‘No.’

  There is no us, Flynn’s own words echoed back at him, and he could tell by the tiny frown that crossed her face that she was remembering them too.

  ‘Have you seen Poppy?’ August asked, walking around the sofa to face him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’ August held her breath.

  Flynn moved away from her and towards the sofa, where Abe had been, his mind full of the image of the two of them together. Once again, he felt the weight of his exhaustion. He was just exhausted. He put his face in his hands, sighing. ‘You were right, it’s over between me and Poppy.’

  ‘Oh, Flynn.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, though it actually did. ‘She’s not going to tell Mrs Haverley. But perhaps you need to decide what you want to tell her son, if you’re thinking of getting involved with him.’

  She bristled. ‘I told you, we’re just friends, and I don’t need your advice on what I should think about.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, the clouds fogging up his mind again in a way he hadn’t meant them to. ‘You don’t need my advice, and I don’t need this right now. I’m so tired, of work, of lying, of failed relationships, of having to look both ways every time I leave the house in case I need to concoct some new fabrication about us.’

  ‘I’m tired too,’ said August, raising her voice a touch. ‘You don’t think I want us to just live like normal flatmates? You don’t think I hate seeing you overworked and used? You don’t think I hate lying to everyone? I thought living here was the answer to all my problems, like it would be the start of something amazing, and I’m so gut-wrenchingly disappointed it’s not working, Flynn.’

  It wasn’t working anymore. That was the truth of the matter, the only truth in all of this.

  ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Poppy,’ August added.

  ‘It’s not just about Poppy. Or Abe.’ Flynn rubbed his face. ‘It’s everything.’ He took a moment. When had it got so bad? And how could he get out of this? His head was full of confusion over his feelings for August, annoyance about Poppy and that whole deceitful relationship, stress from work, and this marriage lie was just too much on top of everything else.

  Sighing, August said, ‘I never forced you into this.’

  ‘I never said you did – you’re the only one who’s ever been fixated on that. But … ’ pausing, Flynn stood, and he looked hard at August. He took in her face, her everything, committed her to memory, along with all the thoughts of what might have been. Then he said, ‘I think we need some time apart.’

  A tear fell onto August’s cheek. She swept it away quickly, her mouth set in a stiff line. She sighed, clearly frustrated with herself. ‘I never thought I’d cry in this house, and now I am. Because of you.’

  ‘Good,’ he said.

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Yes, good. Because if you’re crying, you’re living, you’re feeling something and it’s real. Ever since we moved in here it’s been such an endless masquerade ball that I often don’t even know when you’re being the real you.’

  ‘I’ve always been me around you,’ August stated.

  ‘Have you?’

  She took a deep breath, and then crossed the room to him, slowly, with her eyes locked on his. When she reached him she took a moment as if she, too, were capturing his image. Then she nodded, just once, and put her arms around him, though he was damp from the rain. They held onto each other for a moment, the rope holding them together on its last threads.

  Chapter 58

  August

  As August had always done, when she had big life decisions to make, she sat on the wall in front of what was now her home. Wrapped in warm clothing to shield her from the late November frost, she tried to use the breathing exercises from her yoga class to focus on what she needed to think about, one thing at a time: how to fix her friendship with Flynn, her tangled feelings for Abe, her need to come clean, especially to Callie, dear Callie, oh and the small matter of her career, which she kept pushing aside.

  She and Flynn had barely spoken since their showdown, so she didn’t know quite what he was thinking in relation to them having time apart. He seemed so busy with work that to be honest, she barely saw him anyway.

  ‘Hello, August,’ came a female voice. Welcoming the interruption, August opened her eyes to see Mrs Haverley.

  ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘It’s a bit cold out here, isn’t it, Mrs Haverley. Is everything okay?’

  ‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Mrs Haverley insisted. ‘Are you well? You look burdened, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just … I’ve been trying to muster up some motivation for the next steps in … my career, nothing interesting.’

  ‘Would you like to come up and talk it through?’ Mrs Haverley offered, and August almost fell off the wall. She’d never been invited up to Mrs H’s before. Let alone been invited for chit-chat. But …

  ‘Okay … ’

  At the top of the stairs, after a slow ascent, Mrs Haverley opened her door. ‘Come on in, I was experimenting earlier and trying to make eggnog but I made an awful mess and gave up.’

  August had assumed Mrs Haverley’s flat would be pristine but formal, like a room in a manor house inside a Jane Austen novel. What she actually found was a layout similar to her own apartment, but with smaller windows ever so slightly tilting towards the sky. White walls and pale grey furnishings, vases with fresh lilies, well-thought-out accent pieces like a small sculpture here and an appliance there, a huge TV and a wall full of Andy Warhol art prints.

  It seemed that Mrs Haverley’s old-fashioned ways didn’t extend to her living quarters, where she was, apparently, a thoroughly modern Millie!

  ‘Can I give you a hand with the eggnog?’ August asked, knowing nothing about the drink.

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Haverley. ‘Let’s just have a glass of Advocaat instead.’

  August took a sip of the custard-like alcoholic drink while Mrs Haverley directed her to a round table under one of the windows, where they could see for miles. Mmm, Advocaat was tasty.

  ‘How’s the world of theatre, these days?’ Mrs Haverley asked. ‘Did anything become of that audition you were preparing for when I performed the inspection on your apartment?’

  August shook her head. ‘No, I messed it up. Better luck next time, I guess.’

  ‘What is next for you?’

  ‘I don’t know, really. Ultimately, I still want to do acting, and there are a lot of things I could do to help me get there, but my ego took a bit of a bruising. So to be honest I’ve been stalling.’

  ‘So you aren’t pursuing your career at all at the moment?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say at all, I just also wouldn’t say … much.’ Rather like when she lived in London, really. And rather like when she’d first lived in Bath. Dear God, she hadn’t come up here for a scolding.

  But it was as if Mrs Haverley observed the barriers and backed off, ending that topic of conversation with, ‘When I’m faced with a lot of things I could do, I find it sometimes easier to focus on one small change at a time.’

  That was true. August’s mind drifted while her gaze lolled through Mrs Haverley’s room, pausing on cute photos of Abe throughout the years. She thought about what would be the easiest, most immediate step she could take, and it was obvious really. She could certainly put herself out there more than she had been, and follow up with contacts she’d made over the years. She could start to reach out and make links with like-minded people, put herself out there rather than hiding away.

  Perhaps when she got back to her flat she’d do something she’d been meaning to do since arriving in Bath, really. She’d update her socia
l profiles, make her Instagram public, find some fresh new people to follow and connect with, maybe even update her headshots with the help of Bel’s photography skills (and she’d pay her, nothing like investing money to force August’s hand into taking action).

  She would install those proper soundproofing tiles she’d bought off Amazon after the whole listening-to-Poppy-snog debacle.

  She’d build a repertoire of characters and make a demo reel.

  Easy steps. But at least they were steps, and they made something sparkle inside her.

  ‘Did you mention once that your grandmother lived in Bath?’ Mrs Haverley asked. She closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the drink while August was thinking.

  ‘I did,’ said August. ‘She lived not far from here, actually. At the bottom of the hill and round a bit, there’s a cottage, painted yellow, loads of trees around it.’

  ‘I know the one.’

  ‘She lived there for years – certainly my whole life and for a long time before that I think.’

  August observed Mrs Haverley staring at her, her eyes sharp and curious. It was a similar look to the one she’d given to August all those months ago at the open day, like she’d started to take notice. ‘Your grandmother lived in that cottage?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied August. ‘She used to bring me up this hill so many times. I even came in this house once, when I was really small, because she wanted to drop something in to a friend of hers. It must have been before you moved in.’

  ‘What was her friend like?’ Mrs Haverley asked with a smile.

  ‘To be completely honest, Mrs H, I don’t remember anything about her. I was too spellbound by the house itself. That I remember every detail about.’

  ‘What was your grandmother’s name?’

  ‘Pearl. Well, no it wasn’t, it was Penelope but for some reason we all called her Pearl,’ August laughed then, thinking about names. ‘And for some reason I want to say her friend who lived here was called Windy Day, but that can’t be right.’