Now to fix this problem with Mark. Basically, all she had to do was point Maddie in his direction, wind her up and let her go. If Maddie messed it up, she was just a bit of collateral damage. No big deal.
Besides, Jade had put all the hard work into coming up with the plan for Greg. It was Maddie’s turn now. Ok, so a bit easier in that Greg was local and had that very handy nut allergy, therefore handing Jade a wiped clean murder weapon, thank you very much. But still, Maddie could put in some work now. The less Jade knew about it, the better.
But it needed to be done soon. Christmas was just around the corner and that would prove a tricky time in terms of the logistics concerning Ben. It was also Halloween soon. Mark would start making demands for trick or treating, wanting to see Ben for Christmas shopping, trips to see Santa Claus, all that shit.
Time to amp up the pressure on Miss Goody Two Shoes downstairs.
14
The only signs of her distressing, sleepless night were the purple rings under Maddie’s eyes, but her expert touch with a make-up brush meant she looked fresher than she probably should for a grieving widow.
And that was indeed what she was.
She hadn’t pushed Greg to get the divorce sorted when she found out about the affair. She didn’t know why; maybe because she had hoped that he would change his mind, even after Jemima was born. Perhaps deep down she had some twisted notion that he would come to his senses, grab Jemima and come running back to her.
It was thoughts like these that had kept her up all night, blaming herself, then absolving herself of all blame and pointing the finger firmly at Jade, then switching back to herself again. She’d tossed and turned as often as her mind had flipped and weaved, leaving her exhausted, drained and aching when she’d finally dragged herself upright that morning. The whiskey lingered on her cotton-wool tongue and in her brain, which felt like a hammer was chipping away at her skull.
When she had woken up this morning from what little sleep she had managed, for a second everything was like it had been. Then it had hit her, a body blow. He was gone. The realisation had stayed with her, followed her around as got dressed slowly and carefully, ticking away at the base of her throat like a muscle spasm.
She walked over to Greg’s – Gemma’s – house through the grey, drizzle-soaked streets.
It was about 9 a.m. Mothers with pushchairs pushed past her at high speed, leaving behind them clouds of expensive perfume as they rushed toddlers to swimming classes and music sessions and playgroups. Others walked slowly, catching up on text messages and Instagram, now that their kids had been safely deposited inside the school gates.
Maddie didn’t see any of them. She kept her hands in her pockets, her eyes averted, as her boots slapped the puddles.
The gates to the house were open and Maddie stopped abruptly, her breath hitching when she saw his car in the driveway. She swayed on her feet, then crunched over the gravel to the front door.
She hesitated with her hand over the doorbell, trembling slightly, then pressed the buzzer.
Seconds later the door inched open.
A woman with a helmet of grey, no-nonsense hair stood in the doorway.
‘Can I help you?’ Her voice had an unmistakable Surrey clip to it.
‘Um, hi, I was wondering if Gemma was in? I wanted to speak to her, pay my condolences…’ Her voice trailed off as she fought back tears – mostly of shame and revulsion, but to the bodyguard on the door it would look like shock and grief.
‘And you are?’
‘I’m Maddie, Greg’s… er…’
‘Oh.’ The look of distaste that passed over her face indicated that Maddie’s reputation certainly preceded her.
‘You must be Gemma’s mother? Nice to meet you. I wish it could’ve been under different circumstances. How is she holding up?’
Maddie’s unerringly good manners thawed the gatekeeper somewhat and the door inched open a little more. ‘Ok, all things considered. Come in out of the rain. I’ll see if she is up to seeing you.’
She closed the door behind Maddie and turned to go up the stairs, then said, ‘You can wait in the kitchen – and please don’t upset her.’
Maddie did as she was told.
Her eyes frantically scanned the kitchen as she perched on a bar stool at the enormous granite-topped island. The kitchen looked as immaculate as ever. No sign of fingerprinted bakery boxes or deadly cakes. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. The chalk outline of a body on the floor?
She had the sudden bizarre urge to giggle and actually clamped a hand over her mouth in case a titter sneaked out.
Maybe she was still drunk from the whiskey last night. She and Luke had finished the bottle in almost absolute silence and she had only vague recollections of dragging herself out of the deckchair and back down the stairs to her flat, his hand on the flat of her back, steering her carefully to her door. He’d left her then and she’d crawled under the duvet on the couch and stayed there, not even bothering to go to bed.
Someone had placed a large vase of lilies on the edge of the island, the flowers still new and tightly closed like pursed lips. Maddie hated lilies. Didn’t everyone? The vase was dangerously close to the edge and Maddie had to trap her hand under her thigh to stop herself from reaching out and knocking the vase onto the tiled floor.
What the hell was the matter with her?
She heard footsteps behind her and swivelled in the stool to see Gemma striding into the room, wearing a long black dress and sporting a pair
