Maddie looked down at the gift bag dangling from her hand. She realised she was holding it away from herself, like it was malodorous, tainted in some way. She sank to her knees on the soft carpet and slowly opened the bag. Buried in layers of absurdly pink tissue paper was a small bottle of champagne, a box of expensive-looking chocolates, a rose-scented candle and a white hand towel monogrammed in gold with the initial ‘M’. She gripped the towel to her face and breathed deeply, then shoved it back into the gift bag.
For a moment, her chest felt tight, like a held breath just before you break the surface of the water, lungs aching as your brain shouts at you to inhale. She pushed to her feet and stashed the champagne and chocolates into the almost empty fridge next to the bottle of milk she had bought on their way here. The rest of the groceries – cereal, bread, biscuits, grapefruit – stood on the countertop, still in bags.
Maddie felt rooted to the spot, unsure what to do or where to start.
A cup of tea would help. A cup of tea could fix anything.
*
Tea and a chocolate digestive later and Maddie felt moderately more stable, albeit still with a tight band around her chest. The boxes were littered around the room haphazardly and she knew that if she stared at them for any longer, she would give up before she had even started, so she forced herself to her feet and opened the nearest box, marked ‘Kitchen’ in scrawled green Sharpie. New plates and cutlery, still with the labels stuck to them; cheap and cheerful mugs from the supermarket; her baking trays and cake tins, because apparently Gemma wasn’t much of a baker, so wouldn’t need them. Maddie had left her slow cooker behind after Greg suggested Gemma would use it to cook family meals. Maddie used to love cooking for him. But it was hard to make a dinner for one in it, so it made sense that Gemma should keep it.
Once the kitchen was arranged, Maddie moved into the bedroom, hanging the new curtains, putting the fresh sheets on the bed that was delivered yesterday. The sheets were bright and floral, completely at odds with the masculine, navy blue patterns that Greg had always favoured in their old bedroom.
Once done, she stepped back and looked around her again. God, it was all so pathetic. From her bedroom window, she could see the parking spaces for the flats, her white Fiat 500 sitting in its designated space next to a motorbike, and beyond that the busy road, cars flying past, people going about their weekend chores, runners sweating into the pavement and dogs pissing on lampposts. All so normal and yet so alien, like she was seeing it all for the first time. This being on her own would take some getting used to. For now, she closed the curtains, blocking everything out.
*
Hours later, Maddie had showered the move off her skin, donned clean pyjamas and was propped up in her new bed with the box of chocolates and bottle of champagne. She had no champagne glasses, so would make do with a mug.
She started making a list in her head of everything she still needed to get. Lists always made her feel better, more in control. Kitchen scissors; doormat; bedside lamp; champagne glasses… Then she laughed out loud, the noise obscene and intrusive. How many parties was she planning to throw that she thought she needed champagne glasses any time soon?
The cork shot from the bottle without much persuasion. Maddie stared into the bubbles, then set the mug down on her new bedside table without tasting it.
She used to like a drink now and again, but she’d stopped when advised to and hadn’t had much since. Surprising, considering everything she had been through. You would’ve thought she’d have been driven back to it.
She had no television yet or broadband, so she stared at the blank wall in front of her.
Wall art. Another thing for the list.
It was too quiet. The air sat heavy around her, expectant, like it was waiting for her to do something. Then a siren wailed in the distance, building in crescendo before fading. She sipped unenthusiastically at the champagne and took a bite from one of the chocolates. Turkish Delight. It tasted like soap in her mouth. She spat the half-eaten chocolate back into the box, washed the taste down with the champagne and picked the next chocolate along.
Before long, she had taken just one bite from every chocolate in the box.
Maddie snatched up the box and threw it hard across the room where it hit the bare white wall with a slap.
She stared at the spilled chocolates, willing herself to leave them, let them squish into the carpet. She didn’t care. But in the end, she got up, cleaned up the mess and climbed back into bed.
Her phone chirruped next to her, making her jump. A text from Greg.
Hope you settled in ok. Enjoy your first evening in your new home. Let me know if you need anything. Greg x
If his girlfriend thought it strange that he was still so much a part of Maddie’s life, she had never let on to Maddie in so many words, but Maddie could imagine the conversations that went on behind closed doors. It wasn’t that Gemma resented Maddie or felt threatened as such. After all, what was there to feel threatened by exactly? No, it was pity Maddie saw in Gemma’s face when she looked at her. And annoyance – like she was the stubborn five pounds in weight you couldn’t shake after the summer holidays. There for now, but you were hopeful it would eventually disappear without too much of a struggle.
Maddie couldn’t blame Gemma really. She’d be
