The Magpies A Psychological Thriller

Thirteen


Jamie twisted the wire and popped the cork, watched it bounce off the ceiling, stuck the foaming bottle-top in his mouth then poured himself a glass. He kissed Kirsty with champagne-flavoured lips. She held out her own glass.

‘It’s apple juice for you, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, it’s so unfair. Nine months teetotal. I can’t believe it.’

‘Longer if you breastfeed.’

‘God. Don’t remind me.’ But as she said it, she grinned. She hadn’t stopped grinning since the test confirmed her instincts. Apart from five minutes on the way home, when she had sat on a wall on the edge of the park and pondered the enormous changes that were about to happen in their lives. She thought about money, work, sleep, her social life, her figure, and then she dismissed it all and the grin returned. This was what she wanted, more than anything else in the world. She was going to be a mother. What’s more, she was going to a be a damn good mother. And she was with a man she loved, and she knew Jamie would make a fabulous dad. He had always talked about wanting a daughter, a little girl who would look up to him for love and protection, until she became a stroppy teenager, and if she was anything like Kirsty – who made her parents’ lives a misery for about four years – she would be a nightmare. But that was a long way off. And anyway, Kirsty and Jamie were going to be friends with their kids. They would be proud to bring their friends home; they wouldn’t have any secrets; they would talk openly about sex and drugs and all the other things that drove wedges between parents and children.

Kirsty smiled at her own naiveté. And then, sitting on the wall with football-playing boys looking on, she burst into tears. Big, fat, tears of happiness and relief. She could forget about Lucy and Chris now. She could forget about all the bad shit in her life (apart from Paul – she would never forget about Paul) because she had something wonderful to focus on.

‘I guess a son would be cool, as well,’ said Jamie now, guzzling champagne. ‘We could play football, and computer games.’

‘You can do that with a daughter too.’

‘Yes. Actually, I don’t care what we have. Hey, maybe it will be twins. One of each. That would be excellent.’

‘Don’t push it.’

Jamie kissed her again and ran his hand over her tummy. It was perfectly flat now, but soon it would start to bulge. He couldn’t wait. There was something so sexy about pregnancy. Right now, he felt so proud of himself. OK, so any idiot could get a woman pregnant – and you only had to turn on the TV on any weekday morning to see exactly how many idiots did manage to make women pregnant – but it was a great feeling to know that he was capable of doing so too. He felt immensely virile and potent. He was helping propagate the species – he felt like beating his chest and making Tarzan noises. Right now he felt like the luckiest man alive, and he wanted to celebrate.

‘Let’s have a bath,’ he said. ‘And then I’ll take you out for a meal.’

They ran the bath and stripped off amid the swirling steam. ‘I’m sure your boobs have grown already,’ Jamie said, as Kirsty settled into the water.

She shook her head. ‘You wish.’

‘Well, they will grow won’t they? God, there’s so much I don’t know about pregnancy and babies. I’ll have to look it up on the net. Soon we probably won’t be able to fit in the bath together.’

‘No. I’m going to get really fat and stay fat and turn into one of those earth mothers. In fact, we’ll have to buy a new, extra large bath because this one won’t be big enough for me. I’ll look like a Buddha, with breasts like water melons.’

‘Fantastic.’

They roared with laughter, and Jamie leaned forward quickly to kiss Kirsty, sending a wave through the water which surged up and splashed over the side of the bath.

‘Oops.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just kiss me.’

‘So does being pregnant make you feel sexy?’

‘Hmm. Although when I get bigger it’ll be awkward.’

‘We’ll have to try out some new positions.’

‘Hmm.’

He shifted forward and went up onto his knees. As he did this he slipped and banged his hip against the side of the bath.’

‘Ah!’

Kirsty laughed. ‘What a smooth operator.’

‘Hey, you won’t be able to criticise me in front of our child.’

‘No. I shall always have to refer to you as My Hero.’

They laughed again, and immediately heard three loud bangs which echoed through the bathroom.

They stared at the floor.

‘Oh my God, Lucy’s got her broom out,’ said Kirsty. Normally she would have got upset, but today she found it funny. It made her laugh even more loudly, provoking more banging.

‘The witch is banging her broom,’ said Jamie, making a v-sign and aiming it at the floor. ‘She can’t stand the sound of other people’s happiness.’

‘Miserable witch,’ said Kirsty. Then she said it louder: ‘Miserable witch.’

The bangs that followed made Jamie and Kirsty fall silent, staring at each other. BANG BANG BANG. It sounded as if the broom was going to come through the floorboards – and worse, the banging was accompanied by an ear-shredding scream.

‘Oh my God.’

‘She must have heard us.’

‘I thought you meant her to.’

‘Well…’

It didn’t seem so funny any more. Jamie looked at the back door. He had a horrible image of Chris storming up the steps and smashing down the back door, which was only made of thin wood. The scream had made his blood run cold. Suddenly, he wanted to get out of the bath and get dressed.

He stood up and grabbed his towel. He looked at the carpet. There was a big wet patch around the edge of the bath. He imagined he could hear Lucy breathing beneath his feet. He knew she would be standing there, looking up at the ceiling, and, ridiculously, he felt vulnerable in his nudity. He dried himself vigorously and as soon as he was dry enough he pulled on his underwear.

Kirsty stood up. Water rolled down from beneath her breasts over her belly and dripped from her pubic hair. Jamie saw her touching her tummy and smiled. Why was he allowing himself to get so stressed out? He should calm down, chill out, enjoy this momentous day. There were more important things to think about than their neighbours.

‘We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?’ Kirsty said, still standing up in the bath, the water level descending slowly from her calves to her ankles, swirling down the plughole. Jamie imagined the water pouring through the ceiling onto Lucy’s head, soaking her comically, and he smiled.

He bent and pressed his cheek against Kirsty’s warm belly. ‘Of course we are.’

The Cinnamon Tree was their favourite Indian restaurant. It was situated in a quiet backstreet, just a ten minute walk from the flat. It was a small restaurant which hadn’t changed its decor since the early eighties, but the food was fantastic and cheap – or good value, as Kirsty preferred to put it.

It was a Wednesday, and the restaurant was only half full. Jamie and Kirsty took a table in the corner beside an enormous rubber plant. They ordered drinks – lager for Jamie, sparkling mineral water for Kirsty – and samosas for starters.

‘I wonder if you’ll develop any weird cravings later on,’ Jamie said.

‘Maybe. One woman at work had a craving for Cadbury’s Creme Eggs. She ate about six or seven a day. She suffered terribly from morning sickness as well.’

‘Hmm, I wonder if there was a connection.’

‘I’ve read about women who have cravings for coal or wood. I’ll probably just crave pizza and ice cream. And curries, of course.’

‘And what kind of curry are you craving tonight?’

‘Something mild I think. Vegetable korma with pilau rice.’

‘Sounds good. I’ll go for something a bit spicier.’

Their drinks arrived and Jamie drained a third of his pint in one go, gulping it down thirstily.

‘Take it easy, Jamie.’

‘Sorry.’

‘You’ve been drinking an awful lot recently. You won’t be able to carry on like that.’

‘I know. We won’t be able to afford it for one thing.’

‘Are you worried about the cost of having this baby?’

He shrugged. ‘I haven’t had a chance to think about it yet. But no – I’m not too worried.’

‘I’ll have to go part-time, and nurseries around here are so expensive.’

‘We’ll be fine. There are people a lot worse off than us who get by.’

She touched his hand. ‘I’m so glad you’re so positive about this.’

‘Why, did you think I’d be unhappy?’

‘No. I knew you’d be pleased. It’s just that with all that’s been going on, I thought you might think the timing was bad.’

He placed both his hands over hers. ‘Kirsty, we wanted this baby. That was understood from the moment you told me you’d stopped taking the pill. God, we could worry about the timing all our lives, and there’d always be something to make us want to wait. As far as I’m concerned, now is the perfect time. I don’t want to sound like a drippy git, but I want us to be a family.’

She smiled. ‘You do sound like a drippy git.’

‘Ah well, sod it. Sometimes, a man’s got to be drippy.’

The samosas came, along with a large pile of poppadoms, and they began to eat.

‘This is gorgeous, isn’t it Jamie?’ There was no answer. ‘Jamie?’

He was staring over her shoulder at the door, a samosa held in front of his open mouth.

‘Jamie, what is it?’

He spoke quietly. ‘Don’t look over your shoulder, but guess who’s just walked in.’

When somebody said, ‘Don’t look, but,’ Kirsty was, without fail, compelled to look.

She wished she hadn’t. ‘Oh God. I don’t believe it.’

Lucy and Chris came in through the front door and Chris spoke to the nearest waiter. They were directed to a table over the other side of the restaurant, close to the kitchens. They didn’t look over at Jamie and Kirsty. Jamie thought they looked a little tense and on edge. Maybe they weren’t used to eating out. Something about they way Chris studied the menu; the way that Lucy was ever-so-slightly overdressed for this modest backstreet Indian: it pointed to the fact that they weren’t sure of the etiquette or the rules. They were more used to dining at home.

‘Do you think they followed us?’ Kirsty whispered, leaning across the table, not taking her eyes off her neighbours.

Jamie shook his head. ‘No. It’s got to be a coincidence. I mean, this is the local Indian, after all. Most people who live around here come to this place. Although they don’t look like they’ve ever been here before.’

Chris was looking around, apparently studying the decor, and he looked straight over and caught Jamie’s eye. Jamie immediately broke contact, fixing his vision on the tablecloth.

‘They’ve seen us,’ he said, and Kirsty looked over to find both Chris and Lucy gazing back at her.

‘Shit. Did Chris look surprised to see you?’

‘No. No, he didn’t. Not at all.’

They let that fact sink in. Kirsty glanced over and saw that the waiter was standing by the Newtons’ table, taking their order. Then Lucy stood up and followed the waiter out to the kitchens.

‘What’s she doing?’

‘God knows.’

‘Do you think she’s friends with them?’

‘Maybe she’s an undercover health inspector.’ He laughed. ‘Actually, I expect she’s asked if she can see the kitchen, so she can make sure everything’s hygienic.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘Of course. Some people are really paranoid about that sort of thing.’

Kirsty sighed. ‘We’re supposed to be here to celebrate my pregnancy, and to get away from our neighbours, and here we are, looking at them, talking about them as always. You know how some people only have one topic of conversation – their children or their pets or their job – and everyone finds them really boring? Well, that’s us – except we go on about our neighbours.’

‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’

‘No. Don’t be silly. We’ve started eating now. And I’m not going to let them drive us away. No way.’

‘That’s the spirit.’

He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. She did have spirit. That was one of the things that had first attracted him to her. He had been out with weak girls before, girls who lacked that spark of defiance, that ironic glint in the eye that marked Kirsty out. He knew that Kirsty would never let anyone walk all over her. She wouldn’t take anything lying down. She was strong – and right now he needed someone like that. Because there were moments when he felt like giving up, and in those moments he looked at his girlfriend and drew strength from her. He honestly didn’t know what he would do without her.

‘Kirsty,’ he said, tentatively. ‘Now that we’re having this baby, do you think that, well, that we should get married?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Is that a proposal?’

‘I don’t know. It’s a question.’ He paused, looking into her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. ‘It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe it would be the proper thing to do if we’re going to have a child.’

‘Proper?’

‘Yes. Or is that horribly uncool of me?’

She laughed, then stopped and looked at him. He’d been drinking champagne and lager. He’d had an intensely emotional day. But the way he was looking at her…

‘Are you serious? Absolutely? One hundred per cent?’

‘One hundred per cent.’

‘I don’t know if it’s the right reason to do it – because it’s proper.’

‘Kirsty, the reason I want to marry you is because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s it.’

She took a bite of poppadum, swallowed it, took a sip of her drink. ‘OK then.’

He looked into her eyes, trying to work out if she was being serious. ‘Is that a yes?’

‘It sure is.’

He got up, came round the table and hugged her, kissing her, tasting spices on her lips. What a day. He looked over at the Newtons – Lucy had come back from the kitchens, and she and Chris were sitting staring at each other, their lips not moving, no conversation between them – and he thought, F*ck them. Nobody can make me unhappy. Not now. Not tonight. He was drunk and sentimental. He thought: I’m having a child, I’m marrying the woman I want to be with forever. I’ve built my nest and nobody – nobody – is going to spoil it.

Just let them try.

‘There are conditions, though,’ Kirsty said, as he sat back down. ‘I don’t want a big ceremony. We’ll do it at the registry office, just us and a couple of witnesses. I’m not interested in that big so-called fairytale thing and, anyway, everyone would think it was a shotgun wedding. I know our parents will be upset, but, well, to be honest I don’t think they expect us to ever get married anyway. So they won’t really be missing out.’

‘Your dad will probably be pleased to save the money.’

‘Perhaps. And, anyway, it’s our day. I don’t want every aunt and uncle and second cousin I’ve never met gawping at me as I stumble up the aisle with my bump.’

Their meal arrived. It smelled delicious. Jamie dipped naan bread into his curry and took a bite. It was so hot it made his nose run. That was a good sign. If an Indian didn’t make his nose run it was too bland. When the waiter had brought the plates over, Jamie had asked for another pint of lager and a jug of water for Kirsty. They arrived now, and Jamie took a big gulp. He was so happy.

‘Who will we have as our witnesses?’ he asked through a mouthful of rice.

‘Heather for one, I guess. We could have had Heather and Paul.’

‘I know.’ He tutted sadly.

‘Even if he woke up tomorrow, we don’t know what sort of state he’d be in. It might take him months or years to recover. He might never recover, Jamie. You have to accept that.’

‘No. He will. I know he will. God, if he was here now he’d already be arranging a mental stag night for me, with strippers and handcuffs and lamp-posts and lethal quantities of alcohol. Instead, I’ll probably be at home with a nice cup of cocoa.’

‘Yes, and you won’t be getting married with a hangover, looking and feeling like shit.’

They fell silent, each lost in thoughts of Paul, and continued eating.

‘So who are we going to ask to be our witnesses?’

‘We could always drag a couple of strangers off the street.’

Jamie had an idea. ‘Hey, why don’t we go to Gretna Green? That would be really cool. It would be a really funny thing to do, don’t you think?’

Kirsty looked thoughtful.

‘What do you reckon? Will Heather be upset if we don’t ask her to be a witness?’

‘To be honest, I don’t know if she’d want to do it anyway. It might upset her too much. But yeah, Gretna Green’s an excellent idea. Something to tell our kids about. And I’ve never been to Scotland before.’

‘It’s a beautiful place.’

They beamed at each other over the table.

‘This is fantastic,’ said Jamie.

‘I know.’

‘And you’re pregnant.’

‘You’re right.’

‘And we’re going to get married.’

‘Bloody hell.’

Jamie paid for the meal, leaving a big tip for the waiter, and they stood up. Jamie wobbled a little, the alcohol sloshing around inside him. He looked over at Lucy and Chris, who had just started their main course. They seemed to be concentrating hard on their food so they wouldn’t have to look over at Jamie and Kirsty.

‘Wait here,’ Jamie said.

‘What are you . . ?’

Jamie walked across the restaurant and stopped by Lucy and Chris’s table. ‘Good evening,’ he said, looking from one of them to the other.

They didn’t respond. They just stared at their plates and carried on eating.

‘Enjoying your meal?’ Jamie asked. ‘The food’s very good here, isn’t it?’

Chris suddenly looked up and, to Jamie’s surprise, he smiled. His mouth was full, making the smile look grotesque, his cheeks bulging. ‘It’s delicious,’ he said, showing Jamie a mouthful of rice.

Feeling a bit sick, Jamie turned to Lucy. ‘Are you enjoying it too, Lucy?’

She put her fork down and said, ‘You’re drunk. And you’re embarrassing yourself.’

‘Embarrassing myself? I don’t think so. How could I embarrass myself in front of you two? After all, we share our most intimate moments with you. And I have every right to be drunk.’ He held on to the back of Lucy’s chair and leaned forward. ‘We’re having a baby.’

Lucy and Chris didn’t react. Jamie interpreted this as a stunned silence.

‘Yes. We’re pregnant. And who knows – maybe you’ve got the moment of conception on your PC.’

The waiter appeared by Jamie’s side. ‘Is everything alright here?’ he asked.

Jamie put his arm around the waiter’s shoulder and breathed beer fumes all over him. ‘Everything’s fine, mate. In fact, everything’s fantastic.’ He released the squirming waiter, said, ‘Bon appetit,’ to Lucy and Chris and staggered across the restaurant to Kirsty, who looked more embarrassed than he’d ever seen her, her cheeks flushed pink.

‘Come on,’ she said sharply, pulling him out into the fresh air. She turned to look at him. ‘What did you say to them?’

‘I was just telling them that everything’s fantastic.’ He kissed her. ‘Everything’s f*cking fantastic.’