*
As the pudding plates were cleared away, Maddie excused herself and headed down the corridor to the bathroom. She’d had more prosecco than she normally would and was feeling unsteady on her feet. The loo was in a tiny room hidden under the stairs and she noticed that they’d repainted it from what was once a citrus yellow to yet another shade of grey. As she sat on the loo, she had the awkward situation of staring straight at a canvas of Greg and Gemma, smiling and gazing at the camera, as though looking straight at her with her pants around her ankles. She got inexplicable stage fright and had to concentrate really hard to pee.
As she walked back along the corridor, she could hear Gemma and Greg talking in low but tense voices. She hung back and strained to listen in.
‘She’s doing fine, Gem,’ Greg was saying.
‘Is she? Is she though, Greg? From where I’m standing, she still depends on you for everything. And you are more than happy to oblige. But we need you here. I need you here.’
‘I can’t just turn my back on her. None of this was her fault.’
‘It was her fault! It certainly wasn’t yours – you’ve proved that! She’s unstable, Greg, you said so yourself. She looks like she hasn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks and the way she fawns over Jemima, it’s… well, it’s unsettling and weird after everything she went through.’
‘I want her in Jemima’s life. I owe her that at least. Please. She needs friends and I’m the only one she’s got. I can’t abandon her now.’
Maddie felt cold. Listening to them, the way they were making her sound like damaged goods, a fragile ornament with a crack in it, ready to split open any second, made her fizz with anger. And yet a voice in her head was saying they were right, that it was her fault. Even so, Gemma needed taking down a peg or two. She didn’t own Greg. Not yet anyway.
She was about to storm into the room when a little body came crawling into the corridor in front of her. Jemima giggled when she saw Maddie and shuffled forward at quite a pace to reach her. She sat up and reached out, and Maddie lifted her into her arms, all fizzing anger forgotten.
She breathed Jemima in again as she cuddled her, letting Jemima pull on her hair with tiny fists. Maddie wanted to leave with her, run away, grab a bag and board a plane. She could picture herself living in a little village by the sea, a tiny cottage with room just for her and Jemima, where no one could find them. Maybe they’d get a dog and they’d walk it on the beach, throwing a ball with one of those plastic thrower things, then they’d treat themselves to ice cream from a van, parked up by the beach regardless of the weather…
‘There you are!’
Greg was standing in front of her. Maddie hadn’t heard him approach. She’d been too caught up in her daydream.
‘She came to find me, I think,’ Maddie said quickly. Her pulse was racing.
‘Told you she was quick on her feet these days. Can I get you a coffee or something?’
‘No, thanks, I should be going. Leave you two to your evening routine.’
‘Really? You’re welcome to stay longer.’
‘No, no, best I leave you to it.’
He didn’t know that she had frightened herself with how real the picture in her head was. How touchable.
*
By the time the Uber dropped her off, her head was throbbing like a wound. She pushed closed the entrance door to the flats and leant against it for a moment, her eyes closed.
The door opposite her opened and a tiny old woman in a pale pink dressing gown emerged with empty milk bottles in her hands. Her grey hair was permed into tight curls, reminding Maddie of a stereotyped character from old TV comedies with her wrinkled hands and thick, round glasses. The woman pulled up short at the sight of Maddie blocking the way out.
‘Oh, hello,’ Maddie said with a smile. ‘I’m Maddie Lowe. I’ve just moved in, over there.’
The woman eyed her suspiciously.
The low thud of music erupted from one of the flats upstairs and the woman tutted under her breath in response and stared at the ceiling.
‘It’s a bit loud, isn’t it?’ Maddie said.
‘She’s a nightmare, that one.’
‘I can have a word if you like? Ask her to turn it down?’
‘You’d do well to stay away from her. She’s spiteful.’
She moved towards Maddie, who realised she was still leaning against the door. ‘Sorry, let me get the door for you.’ She pulled it open and the woman shuffled out in her slippers to deposit the empties just outside the door for the milkman. Maddie waited until she had shuffled back inside before closing the door again.
‘Well, it was nice to meet you, Mrs…’
‘Aitkens. Peggy Aitkens.’ She turned away from Maddie, then said over her shoulder, ‘You should be careful who you make friends with around here. There’s some rough sorts in these flats.’ Her eyes travelled upwards again.
Maddie frowned, decided that a spoonful of sugar might help. ‘I’m just over the hall there, so if there’s ever anything you need, please knock. I’m happy to help.’
The music upstairs intensified for a moment as a door opened, then slammed shut again, followed by footsteps on the stairs.
The old woman paled, her eyes darting to the stairs nervously, before she shuffled back into her flat. Maddie heard two locks turning and a chain being drawn.
She turned to see Jade rushing down the stairs, her coat on and her hair pulled into a rolled bun balanced on the top of her head like a doughnut. Her face was sporting quite a mask of make-up,
