‘Maggie!’
The door was pushed open, sending her staggering forward, and then Duncan was in the room and holding her, and Nick was behind him, eyebrows raised, observing the specimen, and ‘Evil wee bastard!’ was coming out her mouth, and Duncan, ill-advisedly, was going, ‘Now, Maggie,’ and she was rounding on him, on Duncan, on the only man she had ever or would ever love, spitting at him and trying to punch his face.
When she woke, the light had faded. She was in their bed, lying on her side facing the window and the green velvet armchair where Duncan sat looking at her. When he saw she was awake, he got up and came and sat on the bed and put his hand to her hair.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Okay.’ Her mouth was so dry it was hard to speak.
‘Water?’
She nodded.
He disappeared into the en suite, and she heard the gush of the tap – he always ran it for her because he knew she liked water that was nice and cold. And then he was back with not just the glass of water but a cool cloth for her forehead.
She struggled upright, holding the cloth in place. ‘Thanks. You’re so good to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for going mental. But Nick . . . he was . . . he shoved my belly, he tried to hurt the baby, and then he . . . I think he was going to push me over the bannisters!’
‘Nick just wanted to feel the baby kick. And of course he wasn’t going to push you over the bannisters, you silly bugger.’ The smile he gave her was very gentle. ‘He was worried you might fall. He tried to grab you because he was worried . . . You know that’s where Kathleen . . . that’s how Kathleen died. She fell over the bannisters.’
Maggie nodded. But she wasn’t to be deflected. ‘It’s no big surprise that he resents me. He gets at me all the time. But this –’
‘Gets at you?’ Duncan was smiling, like there was no way this could be true.
‘He said I had a face only a mother could love. He knows about Ma, I’m guessing? What she did to me?’
Duncan’s face fell. ‘Well, yes, I told him about that, but – are you sure, Maggie? Are you sure he said that?’
‘I’m dead sure.’
He sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. That was – really crass of him. He was probably just joking around with you, or trying to. I’m afraid he can be a bit gauche. Teenagers . . . well, we both know how obnoxious they can be.’
‘This isn’t just normal teenage badness. Nick hates me.’
Duncan shook his head.
‘He wants to hurt me.’
‘Oh, Christ, Maggie!’ He grabbed her hand. ‘No. Of course he doesn’t! You’re making something out of nothing here! Nick’s a good lad! Ask anyone. Ask Carol and Steve –’
‘Aye, Carol’s a fully paid-up member of the Nick fan club, right enough. But she hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. He’s – he’s –’ And then she was gulping for air, and Duncan was calming her, rubbing her back.
‘Breathe. Just breathe. Slow and deep. Imagine . . . imagine you’re standing by a cool mountain stream. Maybe that stream we paddled in, in the Eildon Hills – remember? You were being a right grumpy bastard because you were too hot and I was walking too fast, and you flung yourself down by the stream and told me to go on – “you sadistic fucker”, I think were your exact words – and you’d just die there? And I made you paddle in the stream, even though you were convinced the fish would nip your toes. Think of that. The water’s so clear you can see every detail of every stone. And there’s the tinkling sound it makes as it flows off down through the valley . . .’
She shut her eyes and went back there.
She was holding Duncan’s hand and watching the water swirling round her bare feet and thinking to herself that this was what it felt like to be happy.
Duncan was the only person who had ever been able to calm Maggie down. It was like, when he touched her, he was connecting her physically to a different world, a world she hadn’t even known existed until Duncan had come into her life, a world where there was happiness and warmth and most of all – and this was something she could hardly even believe – love.
Love, but not just love in general.
Love for Maggie McPhee.
She opened her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘No. No need.’ He held her close. ‘You’re safe, you know. No one’s going to hurt you and no one’s going to hurt our baby. I won’t let them.’
She choked on a sob.
He went on soothingly, ‘Don’t you think this stuff with Nick . . . don’t you think you could be projecting your fears onto him, your fears about bringing a child into a world that’s hurt you so much?’
All she could do was shake her head.
She thought of Nick, and his face as he said how much he was looking forward to being a big brother. She had come up against mental bastards like him in the system – the real headcases, the ones that looked at you with those ice-cold eyes, and you knew there was nothing there, nothing at all, nothing human you could appeal to.
She opened her eyes, stared right into Duncan’s face, willed him to listen as she said, ‘Nick hates me and he wants to hurt me.’
He sighed. ‘He doesn’t. He really doesn’t. This is just the trauma of what happened to you when you were a kid, coming back now you’re about to be a mum. And the pregnancy hormones, making you hypervigilant and ultra-protective of your unborn child. It’s nature’s way of ensuring the safety of a pregnant woman, I suppose. Making sure they avoid any dangerous situation by making them a bit . . .’
‘Paranoid?’ she suggested, her lips twisting round the word.
And suddenly she wanted to hit him again.
Her hands made fists under the covers.
But he smiled at her, her wonderful Duncan, and how could she even have begun to want to hurt him?
She made her fingers relax, and smiled back at him, and said, ‘Maybe.’
He got into bed beside her and spooned her, pulling her close into the warmth of his body. And for a while, five, ten minutes, it was fine. It was good.