1
The box was heavy in her arms as Maddie Lowe slid the key into the front door and pushed it open. The door swung back hard against the wall, leaving a dirty mark on the crisp white paint that she would only notice later. A bruise on the wall marking the day she moved in. She could hear Greg huffing and puffing behind her as he struggled into the main entrance hall of the small block of flats with more boxes.
Maddie hesitated in front of the open door, despite the weighty box in her arms.
‘Are you waiting for me to carry you over the threshold or something?’ Greg said behind her with a chuckle.
She flinched at the inappropriate joke.
Maddie stepped into the flat and dropped the box at her feet, her back aching as she straightened up.
‘Thank God it’s not on the next floor up. Looks like the lift is broken.’ Sweat had broken out on Greg’s forehead. ‘Where do you want this?’
‘Um…’ Maddie looked around the empty open-plan living space. It looked deceptively spacious with very little furniture in it. Everything clean and sparse, a blank canvas on which to start anew.
‘Anywhere, I guess,’ she replied around the stone lodged in her throat.
Greg headed towards the kitchen area and thumped the box down in the corner. ‘Look, Maddie, I…’ He rubbed at his hair and she wanted to reach out and still his hand, tell him not to do that, that it was thinning there and he would only make it worse.
Instead, she said nothing. His thinning hair was Gemma’s problem now.
An awkwardness filled the space between them, hanging off the end of his unfinished sentence as he pained over what to say next. In the end, she bailed him out again, saying, ‘It’ll be lovely with some plants and bright curtains. Some furniture is being delivered on Monday. A few nice cushions…’ She looked around at her new home. The first place she would have lived in entirely on her own.
‘I hate bloody cushions, but you can have as many as you like now.’ This time he didn’t laugh at his own joke.
‘Right. Well, the next time you come, it will be much more homely, I’m sure.’
He chewed at the inside of his lip. ‘That little garden out there is nice,’ he said, nodding towards the sliding doors on the far side of the room. ‘Could be a bit of a sun trap. You could grow herbs or vegetables maybe.’
Maddie remained rooted to the spot.
‘Right, well, let me get the rest of these boxes in.’ He scurried out and she sighed, looking at the postage stamp of grass outside, so different to the large, landscaped garden she had left behind.
She followed Greg back into the corridor.
A few more trips to the van Greg had hired and Maddie’s meagre belongings and bags of clothes were stashed in the flat, taking up a depressingly small amount of space.
Greg looked around, hands on hips and his legs firmly planted. ‘There we go, all done. Do you need a hand moving these boxes around?’ His eyes darted to the door.
‘No, thanks. I’ve got it from here.’
‘Right, well, I’d better— oh, I nearly forgot!’ He disappeared out to the van again and returned with a glittery gold gift bag, which he held out to Maddie awkwardly. ‘Um, Gemma sent you a housewarming gift, something for your first night in your new home.’ His eyes didn’t quite meet hers as he handed it over.
‘That’s… very kind of her, thank you. I’ll, er, open it later, I think.’ His phone chirped a text alert in his pocket and he looked at it briefly before putting it away again.
‘You should get going. Gemma will be wondering where you’ve got to.’
‘Yes, right, that’s her now. Well, enjoy your evening and call me if you need anything. Anything at all.’ He leant forward as if to kiss her, then hesitated awkwardly, before retreating backwards towards the door while waving at Maddie with both hands, like a politician on a meet and greet.
She watched him go, suddenly not wanting him to leave her there alone. Despite everything, she’d rather he stayed.
She closed the door and turned to survey the room. The air smelled like fresh paint and new carpets. Greg had dragged some mud in on his shoes and it sat on the new beige carpet, taunting her in its filth. He had never been any good at wiping his feet.
The silence was imperfect, peppered with the noise of cars from outside and the hum of the fridge in the small kitchen. But her pulse beating in her ears drowned much of it out. She swallowed around the stone still wedged in her throat, hoping to dislodge it before it brought the inevitable flood of tears. She didn’t want to cry today.
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.