Ready To Fall

CHAPTER ONE 

MADDIE

It was Melissa's fault.

If Melissa hadn't applied then I wouldn't have hidden in the bathroom waiting for Ryan to wander downstairs for his twelfth cigarette. I stared at the browning holes in the door where the screws to the lock had been. Tiny splinters were poking out and catching on the towels, the rectangle of paint brighter than the rest of the door. Footsteps walked passed, his shadow peaked under the lip of the door.

"I'll be ten minutes," he said, tapping the wood.

"No problem," I said.

The front door clicked.

We lived on the third floor in a small, and often cold, flat. The no smoking inside law gave me ten-minute bursts of privacy and alone time.

The bathroom window was ajar, waiting for me to look to the concrete below. I'd ignored the goosebumps on my arms as I stared ahead. I held my breath as I counted to 120. I stood on my toes and looked out the window. Ryan was lighting the cigarette, mobile in hand to scroll through social media, occupied for a moment. The coast was clear.

I left the bathroom, marching through the living room and out the front door. The temperature of the corridor hit my face as I looked both ways to see if Ryan had changed his mind, forgotten something, was walking back to catch me.

It was quiet. Satisfied I was alone, I crossed over to flat four, the welcome mat was sitting at an angle, telling me that the letter I'd been anticipating was hiding underneath. I stood on my doorstep and checked the mat all morning during Ryan's cigarette breaks. I lifted the mat by a corner, rising it in a way that it would fall back into place. Ryan wouldn't know the difference.

An envelope was tucked under it along with a twenty pence piece. I smiled. I pulled out the envelope, blowing off the tiny stones and debris that collected at the corners. I pocketed the twenty pence. I lowered the mat, angling it as it once was.

The letter was cold as I took it back to the safety of the bathroom. It was white, official with my name and address typed in the window of the envelope. Except I didn't live in flat number four. My fingers shook as I pried the paper from the sticky tape.

The logo at the top of the paper sent my heart into a somersault. It was an invitation to an interview next Monday. The role as an executive assistant at a private investor's company. Melissa had seen the ad when we were at work two weeks ago. I had declined to apply but she went and did it anyway. Now the paper in front of me was asking me to try something new. I was one of few shortlisted.

I read the instructions on confirming my attendance. I had to call the office and book in a time slot. I was back in work tomorrow, I could use the reception phone.

A smile crept onto my face. They wanted to meet me.

My heart raced with my mind as the time ticked by. I pushed the letter into the envelope and folded it in half. I slipped it down the back of my jeans, hiding it over my shirt. I looked out of the bathroom window. Ryan was sitting on the gravel, smoking.

In the bedroom, I knelt on the hardwood floor on my side of the bed. I reached for the familiar lip of wood before ducking my head underneath. It was dark and dusty. The wood moved when I pushed my fingernails between the cracks and I lifted it. I kept a shoe box under the floorboards for safe keeping. I placed the folded letter underneath the other papers and notes. I yanked the twenty pence out of my pocket and stacked it on top of the other coins I'd collected. It was astounding how much money lay on the streets, hidden in corners of shops and sofa cushions. The pile was growing. I needed to give it to Melissa again.

I slid out into the light of the bedroom and took a moment to tell myself that everything was going to be okay. This was an opportunity to move forward.

I left the nerves of the interview with the letter and checked the time. Ryan was on his way up. I clicked on the kettle.

Did I put the wooden slat back into place? Not that Ryan would look under there. As the water boiled, I checked, pressing my hand firmly against the wood. Everything was hidden.

What about in the bathroom?

I opened the letter in there. I stepped in to check for any rogue pieces of paper. Any indication the letter existed. I crouched and touched the white tiles, searching. There was nothing, only the warm marks where my toes pressed into the title.

The kettle clicked.

I rushed to the kitchen to prepare the tea. Dunking in the teabags and sugar, I filled the cups with water and milk. Ryan walked through the door as I stirred the drinks. Nicotine and dampness clung to his collar. His fingers were cold as he took the cup from my offering hand.

"Thank you," he said.

Ryan sat on the sofa, flipping open a newspaper. I watched him as I sipped my tea. His back almost turned, his blonde hair gelled to the side. He was working from home today. It was my day off from the doctor's reception. I worked three days a week.

It wasn't enough. The money was dwindling by our need for food or Ryan's need to suck smoke into his lungs. I stared at the back of him. I had three minutes to drink my tea and jump into the rest of my daily routine. A pile of washing needed ironing. Food needed to be cooked. It was a day like all others. A day where I looked at my boyfriend and wondered when he was going to disappear.