‘Hiya!’
Madison stood on the cobbled street outside, slightly unsteady, her eyes bright with drink, but she looked tired to Fiona – no, not so much tired as drained. Dominic stood next to her, one arm possessively threaded through her own.
‘Oh my God! You’re here! Come in, come in!’ Fiona hiked up her smile and stood back from the front door, trying to paper over her annoyance with an excess of brittle enthusiasm.
She had been planning her Christmas/housewarming drinks for the past month and the details had obsessed her – cooking the food, choosing the right wine, inviting the guests. Her excitement fizzed like champagne. She had never been sole hostess of a party before. She had never even lived alone before.
Madison was now three hours late, and furthermore, she’d promised she was coming alone.
‘Hi, Fee!’ Madison sang out, shaking herself free from Dominic’s hold in order to embrace her, enveloping her in the cold arms of her red swing coat, and her hug was sudden, quick, very hard, as though she was being rescued from a sinking ship rather than greeting a friend she’d seen less than ten days ago. She looked around the flat’s hallway – ‘Oh, isn’t it cute?’
‘Thanks – I really love it.’ Fiona brushed off her sense of misgiving. ‘It’s college accommodation, usually for visiting academics. I was lucky to get it.’ She opened the bottle bag, smiled. ‘Ooh, fizz, thank you …’ She paused, aware that Dominic hadn’t spoken or moved. ‘Hi, Dom, how’s it going?’
In the six weeks he’d been dating Madison, Fiona had quickly realised that she and Dominic Tate were never going to be friends. She’d discovered that any conversation she raised provoked cutting, sarcastic responses masquerading as friendly banter.
It wouldn’t ordinarily have mattered – Madison had always had idiosyncratic tastes – and usually Fiona would have simply avoided him, made plans to see Madison on her own. But it wasn’t working out that way, because lately, whenever she made arrangements to meet with Madison for drinks or a curry and a catch-up, somehow he was always there.
The last time she had met Madison at her Clapham flat, he had called by unannounced with a bottle of wine and flowers; claiming to have forgotten Mads telling him that Fiona was coming over, dominating the conversation and starting to yawn heavily around nine o’clock, a cue for Fiona to leave.
When they’d met at Fiona’s place in Cambridge, he’d called Mads’ mobile, with some story about his grandfather having collapsed and his car breaking down – he needed Mads to meet him in Essex and take him to the hospital.
‘There’s no one he knows within a hundred miles that can drive him? He can’t get a taxi?’ Fiona asked, astonished. She’d only just opened a bottle of wine.
Madison shrugged. ‘Well, yeah, but he probably needs support.’
‘Is he close to his grandfather?’
‘I dunno. Probably.’
She should have let it go. Mads liked him, Mads wanted to be there for him. It was none of her business, she thought, watching Madison pack up her overnight bag and head back out the door to her car.
But a hint of suspicion persisted. The next morning she rang and asked Mads how the sick patriarch had been.
‘Oh, I never saw him. They’d discharged him by the time I arrived and taken him home. Dom says it turned out to be nothing.’
‘Is that so?’
By the time she and Mads ran into him ‘accidentally’ in the bar at the South Bank Centre after a concert, her suspicions had hardened into hostility.
Madison affected to take these overt manipulations at face value, but Fiona wondered. She suspected, in her heart of hearts, that Mads didn’t believe them either, not really, but somehow the idea of being contested, of feeling fought over, did something for her on a fundamental level that no considerations of friendship or common sense could allay.
‘Hello, Fiona,’ Dom ground out through gritted teeth, as though being gracious in the face of some offered offence.
‘Let’s go in,’ Madison cut in, steering Fiona back into the hall. ‘I need a glass of something.’
They emerged into the little living room, where a dozen or so people stood around or sat on the bowing sofa or mismatched chairs while low music played. Some of them, like Anneka, Fiona’s old roommate, and Ken, a senior lecturer at the Archaeology department, knew Madison quite well already and greeted her, and Fiona left them there, though not before asking them what they wanted to drink.
‘A beer,’ said Dom shortly. He stood ramrod straight behind Madison and did not look at Fiona.
‘I’ll have a glass of white, please,’ said Madison. ‘Where should we put our coats?’
‘Just throw them on the bed,’ she called back from the kitchen, busying herself pouring out a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
She thought Mads might follow her into the kitchen, so was not surprised when she stole in behind her after a few minutes.
‘Anything to eat?’ she asked. Her voice was slightly slurred. She had gravitated to the open back door and was peering out into the foggy yard.
‘Yeah, there’s crisps and dips,’ said Fiona, bent over the beer bottles chilling in the fridge. ‘There might still be some crusty bread and cheese left out on the table.’
Madison frowned. ‘I thought you were cooking.’
‘I did cook,’ said Fiona, trying to keep her voice even. Madison’s defection had hurt her. ‘I cooked hot food earlier. It all got eaten.’
Madison let her back rest against the wall, her eyes downcast. ‘Sorry, Fee. I know I said I’d come by and help. I just couldn’t get away. I had to …’
‘So, the party’s in here?’ Dominic had appeared behind Madison. He still wasn’t smiling. In fact, watching him, Fiona had the sense of a prison guard escorting a criminal to a court hearing.
‘Apparently so.’ Madison rolled her eyes, seemingly indifferent as to whether he could see this or not, as Fiona passed out the drinks.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ said Fiona, suddenly unable to bear either of them for a moment longer. ‘Need to go and do the hostess thing.’ She raised a half-hearted smile and scurried out with a bottle of wine in her hand.
‘Fiona!’ said Anneka, her face flushed with alcohol, gently clasping her hand in passing and pulling her down next to her on the ancient sofa. ‘Stop rushing about. Sit down for a minute and relax. You are making my head spin.’
‘We’ve hardly seen you,’ said Liam, her partner.
‘Sorry, I know, but I’ve been so …’
‘But all is done. Everyone is fed, everyone has a drink. Now you can join the party. Where is your drink? Please tell me you have something to drink.’
Liam had stood up and sourced a clean glass for her, lifting the wine out of her unresisting hands. ‘She does now.’
‘Oh, thanks, guys …’
She glanced sideways, through the open kitchen door. Within, Madison was hissing loudly at the stone-faced Dominic, gesturing and pointing sharply into his face with her wicked purple gel nails.
‘Leave them to it,’ murmured Anneka.
Liam merely scowled, scratching his ginger curls. ‘I’m getting a bad vibe off that guy,’ he muttered.
‘How’s work?’ asked Anneka, keen to change the subject.
‘Oh, really good! I’ve been asked to present a paper at …’
Suddenly Mads was in the hallway, catching Fiona’s eye and jerking her head towards the door with the emphasis of a command, gesturing with her vaper. Her coat was back on.
‘Excuse me,’ Fiona said, feeling bullied and defeated. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
She followed Madison out on to her own front step. After the warmth of the house, she felt cold in her thin blouse and wrapped her hands around her arms.
‘Yeah?’ she asked Madison. She felt a hot flare of resentment. Already her first party in her new home was being bent and warped into another platform for Mads’ dysfunctional relationships, for her … for her grandstanding. ‘This had better be good.’
Madison was silent for a long moment, as though wondering how to proceed.
‘I’m sorry, I really am,’ she said. ‘I know I’m being a rubbish friend. I meant to be here hours ago, I did, but he … he was waiting for me at the house after work, wanting to talk about our relationship, and I just … I just couldn’t get rid of him.’ She darted a look at Fiona, and in the darkness her eyes were little more than tiny points of light. ‘He’s … so intense. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Finish with him,’ said Fiona. ‘Obviously. He’s stalking you. I told you this.’
‘I tried …’ said Madison. ‘That’s what I’ve spent my whole fucking evening trying to do in the pub. But he just won’t accept it … it was all, I’m running away from our problems, from my issues …’ She shot Fiona a glance. ‘I know you’ve never liked him …’
Fiona shrugged helplessly. ‘He’s never liked me …’
‘… but he was different in the beginning …’
‘No, he was always the same, he just hid it better.’ Fiona sighed in exasperation. ‘He’s a proper psycho. How do you get in these situations, Mads?’
Madison didn’t answer, instead putting her vaper in her mouth and inhaling.
And the Yeats quote that Madison herself often used came into Fiona’s mind: It’s certain that fine women eat/A crazy salad with their meat.
For Mads, crazy salad always seemed to be the dish of the day.
‘What do you want to do?’ asked Fiona.
‘I want us to turn the music up,’ said Madison. ‘And have a proper dance.’
‘I can’t play the music any louder.’ Fiona cast an apprehensive glance up the brick wall, to where yellow light glowed out from an upstairs window. ‘I’m not supposed to have loud parties, annoy the neighbours, you know … they’re very strict about it. It’s the only downside about having college-owned accommodation.’
‘That doesn’t sound much fun.’ Madison gestured contemptuously, then overbalanced and staggered backwards against the wall, giggling. Fiona realised she was quite drunk. ‘Fine.’ She turned her head, gave Fiona a misty smile. ‘You know, I just wanted to say congratulations, Fee. It’s a lovely flat. Just perfect for you.’ She lifted the vaper to her lips, sucked in, and then reached into her coat pocket. ‘Listen. I’m going to call a taxi.’
‘You don’t need to leave, Mads. You know, if you want him to leave …’
‘Hello, ladies,’ said Dominic, appearing not out of the front door, but instead out of the narrow alley at the side of the house.
Fiona flinched, startled. What had he been doing back there?
The answer came to her instantly. He had come out of the back door and lingered in the little alleyway in order to eavesdrop on them both.
‘What do you want?’ asked Madison coldly, turning to glare at him. ‘I already told you, you’re leaving or I am. Since you’re not leaving, I’m going home. Don’t try to stop me.’
Dom turned to Fiona. ‘You know, could you give us some privacy, please?’
The request was perfectly neutral, almost civil, but radiating out of him there was a sense of stifled, barely controlled rage. Fiona threw an alarmed look at Madison.
‘It’s all right,’ said Madison, with a weary wave. ‘Go back to your party. I’ll ring you when I get in.’
‘I’m asking nicely,’ said Dom to Fiona.
Fiona ignored him. Who the hell was he to order her around outside her own home? ‘Are you sure?’ she asked Madison.
Madison nodded. ‘Yeah.’
Reluctantly, with a last warning glance at Dominic, she went in – but she didn’t shut the door after herself.
Her guests were inside, but as she passed back into the living room, she heard a man’s voice coming from outside.
‘GIVE ME THAT FUCKING PHONE!’
It cut through the music, and everybody seemed to freeze.
‘Fuck off!’ screamed Madison. ‘Fuck off before I call the police!’
With a sudden crash the living room window shattered into pieces, glass falling on to the little table with its burden of nibbles and drinks. Anneka shrieked, and Alex, a friend of Fiona’s from work, leapt up, his hair and back full of sharp slivers.
Fiona was running outside, a couple of the men with her, including Liam. Mads was alone, sobbing, her coat ripped, her phone clutched in her shaking hand.
Dominic Tate was already running, his back retreating up Saxon Street into the darkness. From upstairs, Fiona noticed with despair that the neighbours were opening their windows, peering down to see the source of the fracas. The disapproval in their lined faces was intense.
Oh my God, she thought. Am I going to get kicked out of this flat now?
She had to pull herself together. Her own fears would have to wait. Madison was in trouble.
‘Mads, are you all right?’ she asked. Liam was already calling the police, talking urgently into his mobile.
Madison nodded, still tearful, but composing herself. ‘Yeah. He didn’t want me to get the taxi.’ She sniffed. ‘He grabbed my phone and I pulled back and he went to punch me and his fist went into the window.’ She brushed her fallen hair out of her eyes. ‘He ripped my coat, the bastard.’
Her mascara was running down her face, and she swiped at it with her fingers. ‘Still, I think he got the message. I reckon I’m rid of him now.’
Fiona bit her lip, her eyes searching out the top of the street.
She wasn’t so sure.