Page 47 of Such a Good Couple
Maggie felt the buzz of her phone on the towel beside her. She picked it up and rolled onto her stomach. She shaded her eyes to see the screen. It was a Google notification. She would never be telling the girls that she’d set up notifications for the keywords ‘Finn + Strong + Wife’. She tapped the link that had come up.
SPOTTED: Finn Strong’s Wife Bravely Bares All On Vacation While Husband Cosies Up To Reclusive Director.
Maggie swallowed with some effort. Her throat had immediately clenched. How did the paps get her without her noticing? She continued to scroll down, despite the swelling dread in her chest. She didnotwant to see these pictures, but she also had to see them. She had to know how bad it was.
And there she was ‘bravely baring all’ as she bent to apply sun block to Essie. The rolls, the billowing flab of her upper arms, her cellulite. Maggie sucked in a breath and scrolled further. A few pictures down were shots of Fionn and Edwin Ensel walking together in the dunes, deep in conversation.
Why in the fuck did they put her front and centre in this article?I’m a nobody here.
She knew the answer, though. There was one thing that was more clickable than movie stars, and that was women’s bodies on display, particularly ones considered anything less than perfect. Shaming women even when it was packaged up as some warped feminist body positivity was just irresistible. She could see the comments section was teeming with the thoughts and input of the people who avidly consumed these things. She would not be reading those comments. It took everything but, thankfully, a modicum of sense prevailed. She clicked out of the article.
She rolled over and sat up to pull on her sleeveless linen dress. She scanned the beach in both directions and swivelled to check the dunes behind. Scattered all around them, other holidaymakers were grouped around colourful parasols, but she couldn’t see anyone who looked like they were wielding a zoom-lens camera. Of course other tourists could’ve supplied the pictures. This had happened before with that crowd-sourced blind item Instagram account. Pictures of Fionn bringing Dodi to the ER for a broken finger had once surfaced and the internet people had lost their minds about what an ‘amazing’ dad Finn Strong was. Sheesh, the bar was on the floor for men. Maggie reached for the top that matched her dress, to cover her arms.
‘Are you getting dressed?’ Annie asked her.
‘No, just putting this on, just chilly.’
‘Chilly?’ Clara’s eyes remained closed. ‘Are you joking? It’s boiling!’
‘Ha. Yes, I know. Sorry, I meant covering up for the sun. I don’t want to look like a bloated boiled ham at this party tonight.’
‘You could never,’ Clara said firmly. ‘Okay, distract us with some of the celebs who are coming tonight so I can mentally prepare myself for not fawning too hard.’
‘Well, there’s the Coen brothers, obviously. Maybe Penélope and Javier …’
‘Oh it’s just “Penélope and Javier”, is it?’ Annie frisbeed her hat over, teasing.
The sun had dropped to just above the horizon when Maggie got back to her room to change. It was just gone 7 p.m. According to Brody, Fionn would be there at 8 p.m. He’d probably arrive at about the same time as the other guests. The snacks Maggie asked for had been laid out neatly on the coffee table and she swiftly gathered them into her suitcase which she transferredto the floor of her closet. She surveyed the haul. Pretty good. Doritos, Cheetos, Butterfingers, Snickers. She picked up the share-size bag of peanut M&Ms and pinched a corner to tear it open. Crouching by the wardrobe doors, she ate a big handful , and then another and another. The crunching down over and over again was so immensely satisfying, and a deep sense of calm took over her mind.
I’ll just have one bag and that way I won’t be eating at the party.The thoughts of eating in front of all the tiny, doll-like starlets did not appeal. However, in what felt like seconds, the bag was empty and she’d started in on the second one. As she shoved the food into her mouth, a force seemed to take over, pushing her to eat more and more.
She remembered this feeling well. There came a point in every binge when something else would assume control and she didn’t even feel like it was her doing it anymore. It wouldn’t even matter if she liked what she was eating, it was just out of her hands somehow.
She opened more packets. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and then Doritos. She wiped her hands on the floor to get rid of the orange dust from the chips. She worked at a Snickers, her jaws feeling oddly fatigued, though when she surveyed the amount of wrappers when she finally stopped, it made sense. She felt a straining from inside and the sensation that the last of the food was piled right up to the back of her throat. She gathered all the rubbish and stuffed it in a zip compartment of her bag. She’d go for a walk tomorrow and find a public bin.
She checked the time and realised with a dull shock that she’d been eating for twenty minutes straight. Fionn would be here soon. She needed to get on with the routine before he came barrelling in on her. She headed to the bathroom. She only had half an hour but she was going to have a shower right after she was finished and was confident the smell of the soap andshampoo would mask any lingering odour.
CHAPTER 13
Annie, tugging at the dress she was now convinced was too short, made her way to Maggie’s room twenty minutes before the first party guests were due to arrive. Her phone was pressed to her ear to listen to a voicy from Rachel. Annie had only now had the energy to give her the update. For the first two days, Annie was just grateful to be with Clara and Maggie who didn’t need any explanation – they already knew every scrap of Annie and Conor’s life to date. But she needed to tell Rachel because she knew when she got home, it’d be Rachel helping her pick up the pieces more than anyone.
Jesus, darl. Even just Rachel’s voice soothed Annie a little. I am so sorry this has happened. I really don’t know what to say. I can think of some things that’d probably be really bad to say. Like … Conor’s an idiot. And a shit. And, I dunno, is there some comfort in not having gotten pregnant with him after all? If he’s changed so much? Is any of this remotely comforting to hear? I’m sorry if I am making you feel worse. Listen, anything you need at all, please tell me.
Annie stopped outside Maggie’s room to dash off a quick reply, reassuring Rachel that she wasn’t making anything worse and promising to get back properly after the party.
Inside, Maggie was pulling out a garment bag that bore the day’s date and time.
‘You’re so lucky.’ Annie made her way through the lounge area to perch on the little sofa where a couple of days ago she’d felt so hopeless. Her mood had not improved. ‘You don’t even need to decide on what to wear, it’s all done for you.’
Maggie threw an exasperated look at her. ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. For a start, the stylist can’t seem to get it through her head that I’m not some size zero waif. Like, who the fuck can wear this?’ Maggie rooted in the bag and extracted a floor-length chiffon dress in the most gorgeous crimson with delicate straps.
‘Youcan wear it, Maggie!’ Annie was unnerved. This distorted view of her body was definitely not a good sign, given Maggie’s past.
‘Please don’t, Annie,’ Maggie said, shaking her head grimly. ‘I know what I look like, thanks.’
‘Maggie, I am serious, you know. Hollywood is messing with your head if you don’t realise that you are not far off waif-like.’ Annie flashed back on the restaurant toilet from a few nights ago and felt the pull of anxiety.
Meanwhile, Maggie grimaced and pulled the delicate straps off the hanger. ‘Of course Hollywood is messing with my head. These actresses … they’re on juice diets or coke and, a lot of the time, both. Just standing in their vicinity is excruciating. You’ll see what I mean.’
