The ‘him’ in question didn’t appear to be with them.How did he get out of this sterile little shindig?Lindy looked around, checking out the rest of the group. It was pretty much all couples, about thirty-five in total. They’d been described as the ‘first wave’ (another unfortunate call back) of Monteray residents. The initial phase of the development was more or less complete, but over the next months, and then years, more and more enclaves would be added to accommodate the ‘mass suburban retreat’, as it was described in the Monteray pitch.
‘They definitely need a better copywriter,’ Lindy’d laughed when Adam had read this to her. ‘Middle-class people don’twantto be reminded that we’re on the run from real-world problems. We want to think we care while never having to engage directly. A far more accurate tagline would be ‘Monteray Valley: A Shelter from Reality’.’ He’d laughed. It gave her a pleasant buzz whenever they had a good moment. Which then gave her a pang of sadness. Cataloguing the good ‘moments’ in her marriage?Yikes.
In the expansive open-plan kitchen-cum-dining-cum-living-room, Esme carried on with her Monteray Valley spiel.
‘Everything you could possibly need is located here in the retail block.’ A sheet of dazzling blonde hair swung forward as Esme bent to indicate it on the large model displayed on a plinth before her. ‘The coffee-bean roasterie. The organic grocer’s, the artisanal mustard shop, the butcher’s, the chocolatier, the fudgery – we know many of you are coming from a more urban setting and are used to having access to high-end products. We provide that for you here, without you ever having to leave the compound.’
‘It’s either very convenient or completely sinister,’ Lindy muttered to Adam, who was standing beside her feverishly thumbing his phone.
‘OK enough from me.’ Esme clapped her hands together. ‘I encourage you to take a look around the house, get a feel for what’s going to be not only your new home, but your newlifeand your new neighbours – I’m here if you’ve any questions.’
‘Adam Zelner?’ A toned-to-within-an-inch-of-her-life mum of the yoga-babe variety had strayed in front of them and was trying to contain her excitement.
‘Rachel! So good to see you.’
‘Oh my God, this is so crazy! Are you living here?’ Yoga Mum took a sip of her glass of bubbles.
‘Yeah!’ Adam had cranked up the trademark 100-watt grin. ‘You are too! What are the chances? It’s all so exciting, isn’t it? The last two weeks have been awesome – a completely new vision for family living. They’re paying me to say that! Though I did not know that the view out here in Monteray would be so good.’ He winked, to Yoga Mum’s practically orgasmic delight.
Lindy observed the exchange and tried to remain impassive. She was always amazed at the effect Adam had on women – it had to be the accent. An Irish man would never have pulled off this display. But somehow the American accent and the American polish and the Americanteethmade it work.
Yoga Mum drained her glass. ‘Better refill.’ She giggled. ‘See you at the organic grocer’s, I guess. Sooo good to know someone already.’
‘Definitely.’ Adam grinned.
‘I might see you there too,’ Lindy abruptly cut in. ‘I’m Lindy, Adam’s wife.’
‘Oh! My God!’ A nervous titter escaped Yoga Mum. ‘I didn’t see you there … I’m so sorry.’ Her verbal flailing was mildly satisfying given she’d just been conversationally fluffing Adam.
I don’t care about the flirting but at least acknowledge I’m standing here!Lindy itched to say.
‘Rachel and I met at the Tubecon in London a few months ago,’ Adam offered languidly.
‘I knew Adam had a wife, of course. I just didn’t recognise you. I mean, why would I? Cos you’re never on the channel,’ she hurriedly added. ‘You’re so lucky you’re not on camera, you don’t have to make such an effort. You get the easy bit, following the talent around.’ Mercifully, Rachel concluded her small talk fumbling before Lindy’s already crappy mood could dip lower. ‘Well, nice to meet you too,’ Lindy replied in a clipped voice.
‘We’re having a party soon,’ Rachel blurted. ‘It’s my son Fielding’s fifth birthday in a few weeks. Please come! Bring Max! I’ll be sending out invites.’
‘Great,’ Lindy said blandly. Not particularly wanting to be left alone with either Yoga Mum Rachel or her own husband, she decided to exit before the other two beat her to it. ‘I’m going to check out the rest of the house, start imagining my life of “unprecedented luxury”.’ She hauled up a smile and plunged decisively into the giddy crowd.
People never put her and Adam together when they were out. Lindy insisted it was due to what she called their ‘hotness disparity’. Which Adam thought was a joke. And Lindy did not. ‘They think your wife will be some really put-together, forehead-as-smooth-as-a-car-bonnet blonde stunner, and then I appear with week-old hair, face sagged to my tits, tits sagged to my knees and manky leggings.’
Lindy moved through the chic-though-blank, impersonal living space which had strong ‘first-class lounge in the airport’ vibes. She was careful to keep her gaze adrift, never alighting anywhere lest someone catch her eye and try to engage. Everyone looked nice, she observed. Attractive couples with the kind of style and sheen that a healthy income bestowed.
The kitchen-living-dining area occupied one half of the enormous ground floor. The other was given over to two more rooms and a generous hallway tiled in rose-veined marble and boasting a huge staircase sweeping up to the next storey of five in total. She pulled out the book from her neat little Mulberry shoulder bag to guide her. No PDF brochure for Monteray Valley – the house specs and imagery had come printed on a thick-grade paper bound in a navy cover with the gates to the compound embossed in gold with the wordsMonteray – Living but Betterunderneath. The rooms on either side of the hall were referred to as the ‘cosy adult den’ and the ‘play and learning zone’.
Lindy leaned in to check out the play and learning zone, which was fully stocked with the kind of tasteful kid gear that Lindy saw on Insta but couldn’t imagine using in real life: a tepee in ‘oatmeal’, a suspended wicker hammock chair, wooden train sets and shelves of tonally cohesive toys and books. Was that a sunken trampoline?Mad shit.
Lindy, spotting an opportunity to hide from potential small talk and more of Adam’s ‘meet the fans’ phoniness, eased the door to the hall closed behind her. She crossed the plush carpet – carpet! In a playroom! – and, after first assessing that the bolt in the ceiling could take her weight, climbed carefully into the hammock chair. The front windows, occupying nearly one entire wall, looked out onto the two-car driveway and the five other identical houses on the curve of crescent A. In their own version of this house, they would be giving much more storage to toys than this ‘zone’ afforded.
Toys were the tools of their trade. When they’d first looked at the slender navy lines that demarcated their future home on the plans for Monteray Valley, they’d been able to make certain stipulations on the design for theirs, and Adam had opted to put a second structure in the back garden to warehouse the enormous quantities of toys involved in Maxxed Out and accommodate a fully functioning sound stage. Incredibly, this still left room for the above-ground heated swimming pool with retractable cover.
The top floor would also be given over to the Maxxed Out empire. The builder had created further studio space up there for filming the endless YouTube videos and TikToks – though they still hadn’t completed the soundproofing of a studio and sound-engineering booth for Maxxed Out’s planned expansion into audio. Another thing for the snag list she was compiling for the builder. He still hadn’t replied to any of her texts – very unMonteray. Lindy’s office was on the fourth floor, as well as a shared office space for Jamie, the managing director, and whatever unfortunate digital-marketing graduates were working with him at any given time.
What to do with the play and learning zone?Maybe I could put a reformer machine here?From the look of the crowd out there, the female population of Monteray were in very good nick. Keeping up with that would be a full-time job on top of her full-time job.
The windows were off-putting, though. It’d essentially be an exercise-terrarium, placing her thirty-six-year-old bod on display for the neighbours. Plus, incredibly, it was almost too big for just a home workout studio. The houses were American rich-person reality-TV proportions each set on large grounds with pergolas, water features and neat landscaping. Some of the top-tier ones had elaborate grottos.
I could quit my job, finish my psychology training, get some curtains and set up a therapy room in here.Letting some other poor dope deal with Maxxed Out was a fantasy she often played out in her head. No more working like a dog on strategy and merchandise or budgets and legal issues. Or being the buzz-wrecker when their plans and ideas didn’t match the Maxxed Out ethos or bank balance. The business of fun was surprisingly unfun when you got down to the brass tacks.
