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  I glanced over at Maddie, who was nodding intently at Daniel. I lowered my gaze to her left hand. No rings. And then I mentally slapped myself.

  For fuck’s sake, Justine, it doesn’t matter whether she’s got a ring or not.

  My thoughts were interrupted as the funeral cortege crept up the pristine tarmac. It stopped in front of the thick wooden main doors, now flung open. A polished mahogany box glinted through the glass, but none of it seemed real. I was still waiting for James to amble across the car park, telling us it was all a big joke. Imploring us to get down the pub, make his a pint, and none of that poncey expensive stuff, either.

  Maddie’s laughter split the air just as Kerry got out of the car, and everybody nearby turned to glare at her. Maddie’s cheeks turned puce.

  I looked towards the coffin, and to Kerry. Her face pensive, her dress lemon yellow, her fair curly hair falling all around her face. So far, she was holding it together.

  Emotion swelled in me. Maybe I would cry today. If anybody deserved it, it was James.

  Chapter 3

  The wake was being held in a nearby rugby club, and as Gemma swung her car into the crowded car park, she swerved to avoid two other funeral guests, missing them by a whisker. When she cut the engine, she let out a noisy breath that told me it’d been a little too close for comfort.

  “Fuck me. Killing two of the funeral guests might have been a bit hard to explain.”

  Inside, the space reminded me of the many sports club bars we’d visited when we played hockey at university. This one had worn-in carpets and far too much pine, but the saving grace was the gallons of light let in by the large windows which overlooked the playing fields beyond.

  Even better, outside was a deck scattered with picnic tables, and the patio doors were thrown open, inviting people onto it. Just before the bar, a buffet was already laid out, featuring sandwiches, pork pies, cake and crisps. Funerals and carb comas went hand in hand.

  An arm around my shoulder squeezed tight, and I turned to see Gemma, with Maddie walking up behind. Maddie had come to the funeral on her own, which was brave. Just like Gemma’s lipstick.

  Seeing her again, my heart suffered a mini-tremor. I still wasn’t used to her being this close.

  “Drink?” It was a rhetorical question. I turned, walking to the crowded bar and ordered a large white wine without pausing for breath. I didn’t even care it was Stowells. Any port in a storm.

  When I turned to get Gemma’s order, I was grateful Maddie hadn’t followed. “I wish I could just focus on James and not her.” Easier said than done. “You want a cider?”

  Gemma nodded, rubbing the small of my back. “Please.” She paused. “And you can focus on James — just decide to. Plus, Maddie doesn’t look like she’s here to cause trouble.”

  “She never does though, does she?”

  Rob arrived at my side. “Pint of Peroni, pretty please, favourite friend.” His tie was already off, his jacket discarded.

  “Where were you? We waited and then were told you’d got another lift from the crematorium.”

  Rob looked down at the ground, wincing as he brought his eyes level with mine. “Don’t shout at me, but I got a lift with Maddie. She didn’t know where the rugby club was, so I offered. We can’t ignore her all day, can we?”

  I creased my brow. “I’m going to try.”

  “How was the drive?” Gemma took her cider from the bar.

  Rob paused before replying. “It was fine. Illuminating.”

  I bet. “How so?”

  He picked up his pint and we followed him to a table near the patio doors before he continued. “She seemed lovely and genuinely contrite for what happened in the past. Plus, she’s having a tough time at the moment with family issues.” He held up her hand. “And yes, before you start talking about karma turning up and biting her on the arse, I know she deserves it.” He cocked his head. “But, I dunno, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Water under the bridge and all that.”

  “Not enough water yet for me.” Maddie might be a scientist heading up a treatment centre for breast cancer. She might be hailed in many quarters for her good deeds. She might be a philanthropist of the highest order. It didn’t make any difference to what had happened and the way I felt.

  Rob shut up.

  Gemma put a hand on my arm. “We’re on your side, remember? Team Justine all the way.” Then she punched the air like she was in a John Hughes film.

  “We’re not at university anymore,” I countered, enjoying her show of solidarity nonetheless.

  “We’re always at university,” she replied.

  Rob nodded, holding up his pint. “Team Justine too, natch.”

  I smiled. I could always rely on my oldest and dearest friends. “Thanks. It’s just taking some getting used to, her being back. Today isn’t what I expected.”

  Rob shrugged. “We’re at James’s funeral. Sometimes life isn’t what you expect.”

  A chair being pulled back made us all look up.

  And there was my past, standing in front of me again. All 5ft 10 of her. Her jaw was still square and strong; newsreader reliable. She still had that same golden skin that travelled for miles across her body like the Sahara Desert. Plus, her eyes still shone that weird soft grey, with flecks of gold.

  No, sometimes life wasn’t what you expected.

  “Mind if I sit?” Maddie’s gaze jumped hesitantly between Gemma and I, while she gave Rob a smile.

  Rob was already an ally for Maddie. Traitor.

  Gemma held out a hand. “Of course.”

  Jesus, her too?

  And then Kerry was beside us. “Gem, can you come and give me a hand with the cake? James left specific instructions and if you’re there, the cake-maker, it’s far less likely I’ll drop it.” She paused. “Actually, could you come too, Rob, just in case we need brawn as well as brains?”

  I wanted to scream “Not now Kerry!”, but it was her husband’s funeral, so that wasn’t allowed. Instead, Gemma threw me an apologetic glance and Rob followed.

  And then it was just Maddie and I. She had a few more wrinkles, but not even one grey hair. She’d aged beautifully, because that’s how Maddie did life.

  “How are you?” Maddie pulled her shoulders back, and her gaze skittered around my face, never quite meeting my eye. She wasn’t brave enough yet. Instead, she ran her index finger up and down her bottle of San Miguel, and smiled as two elderly ladies swayed past the table, one of their ample bottoms banging against the wood.

  How was I? I was trying to ignore the pace of my heartbeat, the rush of blood currently flooding my cheeks.

  “I’m good.” I dragged my gaze to meet hers. Then I held it firm. “It’s been quite some time.” That was the understatement of the year.

  “It has.” She nodded at her own statement, sucking on her top lip, a habit I remembered from old. Just like that, I got a flashback to our final year at uni in Bath, when Maddie had worn the same concentrated look all through her finals. The same look that told me she thought she was going to fuck up. She hadn’t. She’d got a first.

  “James told me you’re a bigwig in cakes these days, which I have to say, was a surprise.”

  Just when had James had time to do that? “From beyond the grave?”

  She smiled. That hadn’t changed: her smile was still electric. You could use it to power a room and still have sparkle left over. I pushed down a wobble and tightened every muscle I had. With Maddie, I needed a strong core.

  “We met up for lunch a few times. Occasional beers after work. He kept me up to date on everything.”

  This was news. “He never said.”

  Maddie gave me a sad smile. “You know James.”

  Evidently not.

  She flicked her gaze to me, then looked away abruptly. I did the same. Outside, a woman in a yellow top was laughing at something her friend had said.

  Sitting here with Maddie, my capacity to laugh had completely disappeared.

  I
looked around. Kerry and Gemma were fussing over the buffet, clearing a space for James’s massive cake in the shape of a rocket. It had been his dying wish, so Kerry had honoured it and Gemma had made it. James had said you get a special cake for a wedding, but nothing for a funeral. They didn’t look like they were going to rush back and save me anytime soon.

  I ground my teeth together, searching for something to say, but my mind was blank.

  “Still living near Bath?” Maddie asked.

  I took another slug of wine. “Just outside. I’ve got a little house in one of the villages.”

  “So we’re not living that far apart,” she said. “I’m doing up a flat in the city centre.”

  A stab to my gut, then the knife twisted a little more. “You live in Bath?” Last I heard Maddie was living in London. London I could cope with. London was far enough away. But Bath? That was my manor. But what had I expected? That Maddie would observe a no-travel zone?

  She nodded. “Sort of. Moved back about six months ago. I’m a property developer and there are a lot of opportunities here. I lived in London and Spain for a while, but I always had a soft spot for Bath when we lived there in our uni days, so I decided, why not? I’m mostly living in Bristol at Mum’s old house, but crashing in the Bath flat when I need to.”

  There was me thinking I was safe, but no. Bath wasn’t a big city; while Bristol was where I worked, and only a handful of miles away. We were bound to run into each other sooner or later.

  She sat back. “I’m not doing this to make you feel uncomfortable. That’s the very last thing I want to do.”

  Fucking James. Were you allowed to think that at someone’s funeral? I wasn’t sure, but it was beyond my ability to stop. All this time, and James had been in contact with Maddie. Had Kerry known this the whole time, too? Had everyone been meeting up with Maddie? Had they gone on holiday together, thrown parties without me?

  “So you know I live in Box?” Had James revealed it all? Given her my street and house number?

  She shook her head. “Not until just now. The place we’re doing up – and where I’m staying occasionally – is in the Royal Crescent.”

  “Of course it is.” That came out just as snarky as I intended. The most salubrious address in Bath, and Maddie had a flat there.

  “It’s not glamorous like you’re thinking. When I’m there, I’m living among the dust. My blow-up mattress is far from living the high life. On the plus side, the commute is a synch. On the down side, the planning is taking forever, seeing as it’s a listed building and we can’t sneeze inside without asking the council.”

  I wasn’t interested in small talk with Maddie. I downed the rest of my wine and stood up. “Well, this has been lovely, but I need a refill.”

  I spun around and rushed to the bar, getting another wine, trying to quell the shake of my limbs, the rush of my blood.

  There was a murmur around the room and I turned to see Kerry and Gemma walking slowly across the carpet, carrying a cake almost as big as them. A bright purple rocket that held more than a hint of the phallic about it. Was this James’s message from beyond the grave, telling us he was actually gay all along? That brought a smile to my face.

  Nothing would surprise me today.

  I walked over to my two friends. The cake now safely deposited, both stood back to admire it. Up close, I could see the intricate work that had gone into the small planets surrounding the rocket, as well as the flames shooting out the bottom, and the image of James waving from the cockpit.

  That actually floored me, and I put a hand on Gemma’s arm. I’d seen the cake in its early guises, but Gemma had taken it home to finish it off. “It’s amazing, Gem. Did you cry making it?” Silly question, she was crying now.

  Whereas my tear ducts were still unused, bone dry.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  I squeezed her arm. “James would be very grateful and proud.” I paused. “Either that, or he’d have cut into it already before we had a chance to take photos.” I got my phone out immediately and did just that. Our Instagram feed deserved this one, and I got it before any damage was done.

  “Thank you, Gem. James would love it.” Kerry blew her nose into a tissue, before grabbing a glass of wine from the buffet table and raising it. “Everyone!” she shouted, snagging the room’s attention in an instant. She put a hand on her diaphragm before she spoke. “Just to let you know, this cake was James’s dying wish. A strange final request for a rocket cake, but that was James — unique to the last.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Wherever you are, honey, I hope you love it, just like I’ll always love you.”

  My legs almost buckled when she said that, but instead I gripped my wine glass tight. I heard sniffles, and turned to see Maddie dabbing her eyes. Anger flared inside me.

  I still hadn’t cried, and it was all because of her.

  Chapter 4

  We walked back to Kerry’s house after going for a Chinese meal in the village. My brogues dangled from one hand. They’d been a pain point all day, and I’d decided to take charge.

  It was dark as we turned into her Bristol housing estate, but still warm enough for short sleeves. Neat rows of houses, white picket fences, paths up to freshly painted front doors, perfectly slanted roofs. I’d always laughed about such places when I was growing up, yet now I was developing a soft spot for them. Everything had its place in a setting like this, and when I’d arrived last night, I’d found it comforting. I always did when I visited Kerry and James.

  Now just Kerry. That was going to take some getting used to.

  Gemma had her arm through mine, and kept telling me how much she loved me and our business. We’d taken the leap and opened our cake school, Cake Heaven, five years ago. After a rocky first two years where we struggled to balance the books, we were now considering moving to a bigger space because demand for our classes was growing every month.

  “I wish someone gorgeous would walk into one of our classes — a woman for you, and whoever for me. People think bisexuals have the pick of the land, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I just want to meet someone I get on with. How fucking hard can it be?”

  I kissed Gemma’s cheek, laughing as I always did about society’s view of bisexuals. That they were greedy and unfaithful. Gemma couldn’t be further from that unfair stereotype. She was gorgeous and anybody would be lucky to have her, whatever their gender.

  “But it’s the law of averages, isn’t it?” I turned to Gemma. “The first building block in your life is your home. The second is your relationship. The third is your career. And the law states that you can’t be happy with all three at once, otherwise where’s the drama?”

  “That’s a shit law.”

  “Agreed, but it’s a universally acknowledged one. We’re both doing well in our careers and home, but not so much in love.” I paused, fishing out Kerry’s key that she’d given me at the restaurant. We were the first to arrive back, the rest still not having made it as far as her road.

  “Look at Kerry, she’ll confirm it. Her and James were going along just fine. Picture-perfect house.” I pushed open the red front door and walked into the lounge. “Matching decor, good jobs, and they loved each other. The universe ignored them for a while, letting them have their fun. Then, bam!” I snapped my fingers. “The universe did a stock take, had a conference and gave James cancer.” I flicked the lights on. The kitchen was just as we’d left it the night before when we’d stayed over to support Kerry, the wine we’d brought with us lined up on the counter. “Now, she’s got a house that’s paid off, a job she enjoys, but no husband. You can’t have it all.”

  “You’re a doom-monger tonight, you know that?”

  “Just calling it how I see it.” I got the corkscrew out and opened a bottle of Shiraz, before grabbing a bottle of Pinot Grigio from Kerry’s fridge. Her cat Hercules stirred from his favourite place by the kitchen window, and walked around my legs, meowing as he did. I bent to pet him, but as soon as I did
, he ran away. Cats.

  “So you’re seriously telling me I can’t have all three?” Gemma frowned, fiddling with her hair again. She had so much hair spray on it, I swear it hadn’t moved all day. “That’s bullshit. I know plenty of people who do.”

  “Maybe you only think they do. They probably don’t.”

  “Your mum and dad for a start. They love each other.”

  “But neither of them likes their jobs.”

  “Your mum does.”

  My mum worked at Marks & Spencer’s. She loved her workmates, but she hated her management, describing them all as “a bunch of eejits.” She tended to slip into her natural Irish brogue when it came to them. Dad had told her to stop working if she wanted, but she liked being needed. Now both her children had left home, that only happened at her job. So she stayed.

  The real reason she kept it was because she enjoyed having someone to chat at all day — customers or workmates, she wasn’t fussy. Also, she loved the discounted food the staff got. Every time I went home, she proudly showed off her latest bargain to me. “Will you look, Justine,” she’d say. “Two chicken breasts in a mustard and cream sauce for 99p. And it was £3.75. Now that’s a saving!” Mum lived for those moments.

  “She likes bits of it; my dad hates his. But he’ll never leave, because he understands the universal law. He’d rather have a wife and a roof over his head than have a satisfying job.” My dad was a plumber, and as he always told me, nobody wanted to stick their hands down toilets for a living if they were honest. He did it because he liked the freedom it gave him. Plus, he liked that people paid him handsomely for sticking his hands down their toilets.

  Gemma fixed me with her disbelieving stare as she thought about it. “That doesn’t fill me with hope for the rest of my life, seeing as I love my job and my flat.”

  “Maybe we should try to flout it this year. We both love our jobs, we both like where we live. So let’s see if we can outsmart this law.”