Page 101 of Such a Good Couple
It was only around 5 a.m. Spanish time but call times on this shoot were very early and the message blueticked almost immediately. She pictured him in the make-up trailer reading Drew’s words: ‘no doubt there will be some gossip in some circles about how autobiographical it might be’. Three dots appeared to show Fionn was typing and then they disappeared again.
Maybe he’ll just be supportive, like I always have been?Then she saw him go offline and a sinking feeling dragged away her optimism.
She sighed and typed:
Maggie: If we are strong in our marriage any speculation in the press will be irrelevant. It’s art, not a confessional.
More dots of typing and then more nothing. It was so unfair ofhim to leave her on ‘read’. To ignore all the amazing things the email said.
Then a FaceTime from Fionn came through. She wiped her face, in case there were signs of the biscuits she’d just been eating, then hit ‘accept’.
Fionn’s grinning face filled the screen; he had tissues tucked around his collar – she’d been right, he was in make-up.
‘Hey!’ he said, speaking quietly. ‘Sorry for the delay there, I was just waiting for the make-up artist to step out. I read the email! What a reaction! I’m so glad he’s aware of how insanely talented you are!’
Relief swept through Maggie.
‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘I guess I was a little nervous that you’d be worried about … eh … parallels to our actual life …’
Fionn laughed. ‘Don’t worry, only dopes will be thinking that! And sure look, unfortunately we both know that people will say shit no matter what. All that matters is that the people in our lives know us and know that anything said in the press or on gossip sites is utter shite. The main thing is that you are going to be staging your first work inyears! And inNew York! I cannot wait to see it! And Cate Blanchett! That would be insane. It’s just so exciting. I’ll be working less next year, you’ll be working more. It’ll balance out. And we can all be based together in New York. We’ve always wanted to do a year in New York! There’s so much to look forward to. I love you, Maggie.’
A few minutes later, Maggie said goodbye and hung up. She felt close to tears. She knew this was a turning point: they were getting back on the same page. It felt like the old them, like back when they were in their twenties and thirties, when they had been on parallel paths. She thought of how he’d read drafts for her and she gave him notes before auditions. They’d had a shared world. They’d both loved theatre and storytelling so much that most nights, with rollies and glasses of red winein hand, they’d stay up at the kitchen table discussing and dissecting the art they were making. This year ahead would be just like that again.
She was so delighted at how the thing she’d been angsting about had been a complete non-issue that she barely even registered as she went to the press and pulled out more bars and jellies. She was feeling so good, she deserved to celebrate. The girls would be up soon; she needed to eat and get rid of it before they appeared.
CHAPTER 25
In the early light of the crisp Saturday morning, Annie eased the front door closed behind her. Just beyond the garden gate, smoke billowed; Clara’s engine was running. Annie stuck the bottle of non-alcoholic prosecco she’d grabbed from the house under her arm and pulled her wool coat around her, even though it didn’t come close to closing around her bump. Little Beanie, who they’d learned at the big scan was a girl, was asserting herself more with every passing day, it seemed. At twenty-three weeks, she now gave Annie indignant little kicks if Annie had the temerity to sit in a way that the baby didn’t like, and each night when Rachel came in from her studio she’d murmur to the bump, holding it with both hands trying to coax a poke or prod from beneath the taut skin. Meanwhile Annie would silently fret about what the hell she was going to do. Have a platonic three-way co-parenting relationship with her ex and the woman she was secretly in love with? It seemed hopelessly farfetched.
Annie hurried to the car and hoisted herself into the passenger seat. Clara blew some hurried kisses in Annie’s direction and pulled away from the path.
‘Easy now.’ Annie held the handle above her head as the car jolted over a couple of speed ramps. The balloons that Clara had already blown up floated around in the back seat.
‘I know, I know. We have precious cargo but I really wanna get in before Maggie and the girls wake up to get the kitchen all set and decorated.’
Annie held up the Nosecco, beaming. ‘I’m so excited to surprise her. So handy that you’ve a set of keys now.’
‘I know!’ Clara agreed, turning left and taking the coast road that would bring them all the way to Maggie’s house. They had concocted their plan late the night before after Maggie had sent them the producer’s email. Maggie’d been waiting so long to explore her own career, it deserved to be celebrated.
By the time they pulled into a space, the sky had lightened.
Annie got out and gathered the lengths of ribbon, pulling the balloons from the back of the car while Clara grabbed the haphazard cake she’d thrown together.
Clara opened the front door of the Miavita house as quietly as she could and Annie waited while her friend poked her head in the gap to listen out for any signs of life inside.
Clara turned back to Annie with a gleeful smile. ‘Fab! They seem to be still asleep!’
Annie followed Clara down to the kitchen, trying not to knock things over with the bobbing balloons. They set to work arranging plates, decorations and glasses for the toast. When everything was ready, they debated going up to wake Maggie.
‘I think it’s more fun to let her come down thinking nothing’s going on!’ Clara replied
‘Yeah,’ Annie agreed. She stood still, trying to listen out for any movement overhead. The house seemed preternaturally quiet and Annie started to feel a slither of apprehension. Clara was snapping pics of their celebratory breakfast and Annie busied herself, tweaking the position of the place settings to try and stamp out her disquiet.
The pregnancy was definitely affecting her mood – she was finding she could get quite heightened about the slightest thing. She moved to the kitchen island and started transferring the used cups and glasses in the sink to the dishwasher. She also fished out a few screwed-up wet sweet wrappers from aroundthe drain and pulled out the bin drawer, only to find an unnerving sight: lots and lots of wrappers. Crisps and chocolate bars and empty cereal boxes and packets of crackers.
‘Clara,’ she whispered, indicating the detritus.
Clara took a look. ‘It’s just a bin, Annie.’ She shrugged.
