EPISODE ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN
Dark and painfully
violent, shuddering sensations of shock pounded Maggie’s head
like sharp stones. Where was she? The
sadistic pulsation continued and a loud noise brought her closer to the
surface. She forced open her eyes and
the light was painful, then Daryl’s unsympathetic face loomed into focus. His voice ground her brains to mush like a
hammer.
‘Mum! Mum! Wake up!
We’re going to be late for school.’
She groaned, and her stomach lurched.
The violent shaking of her shoulder continued.
‘Daryl!’ she managed. ‘Stop doing
that. There’s a good boy.’
Daryl knew his mother was suffering from too much alcohol. He’d witnessed the same sort of thing on
several other occasions, though never before on a weekday when she was supposed
to drive them to school. And never as
bad as this. Could this have something
to do with the man who now occupied his father’s bed?
‘Mum!’ he persisted, raising his voice.
‘We have to go to school.’
Maggie felt Mike stir beside her. She moved
her heel sharply backwards and it came into contact with his shin. ‘Mike!’ she moaned. ‘Wake up!
I feel terrible. I just want to
die.’
Mike, determined not to let a little thing like a hangover get the better of
him, shook his head to test the pain. It
was bad, but nothing he couldn’t overcome.
He eased himself into a sitting
position, and was about to swing his legs out of bad when he realised he was
naked and didn’t want to embarrass Daryl.
He blinked hard several times and focused on the boy. His mouth felt parched and he desperately
needed a long drink of cold water.
‘Have you had breakfast’ he asked Daryl.
The boy answered him as if he was a cretin. ‘Of course we have. We’re waiting to go to school.’
Maggie moaned. ‘Please, Mike. Can you take them? I feel awful.’
‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘Daryl, my car keys are in my jacket pocket. The one on the floor. You and Hannah get in the car. I’ll put some clothes on and I’ll be down in
just a minute.’
Daryl scowled at Mike, then rummaged around Mike’s black leather bomber jacket
which lay in a crumpled heap with the rest of his clothes. The boy could feel anger expanding inside him
as he moved Mike’s underpants which lay on top of the jacket pocket. He pulled out Mike’s keys, gave his mother a
withering look, then shot out of the door.
Mike hurried out of bed and hastily threw on his clothes. Maggie raised her eyelids an infinitesimal
amount and saw the blurred outline of her lover.
‘Sorry, Mike,’ she groaned. ‘I just
can’t. See you when you get back.’
Mike coughed and spluttered, then hurriedly left the room without saying
anything. As soon as he had gone, Maggie
felt a shroud of nausea enveloping her like bad breath. She swallowed saliva quickly, but her mouth
was too dry and her stomach heaved agonizingly.
She knew she was going to be sick but it was too painful to move.
Suddenly it came in a rush, and she vomited copiously in the bed.
*
Ted looked up at the darkening sky which had been so clear and bright up to a
minute ago. He stopped pushing the pram
and tucked the blanket tightly around Tracey.
She gurgled and rocked her head from side to side.
‘You’ll be all right if it rains,’ Ted told her. ‘You’ll be all tucked up nice and dry.’
She looked at her father quizzically. He
tickled her under the chin and grinned
at her. She rewarded him with a sudden
and unexpected smile.
‘Did you smile at me?’ he said. ‘Donald
will be pleased.’
He continued walking along and pushing the pram on the periphery of the cricket
pitch. An elderly man stood in the
middle and threw a stick for his black Labrador. As Ted neared
the corner of the pitch, Donald suddenly appeared, striding towards him, and
grinning hugely. He rushed to look into
the pram, pressing himself close to Ted.
‘And how’s my little Miranda?’
It was their secret name for her.
‘I hope she’s not going to get confused over her name,’ said Ted.
Donald grinned at the baby. ‘She can
have two names, can’t she? Most people
have a second name.’ Donald focused his
attention on Ted. ‘So how was it for
you?’
Ted felt himself growing hot with embarrassment. ‘I don’t think...’
A pause. Ted stared at the black Labrador scampering across the cricket pitch.
‘What?’ Donald prompted.
‘I suppose you mean last night...with Bamber.’
Ted looked down at the ground, becoming flustered. ‘To be honest, I don’t think it’s right.’
‘Don’t be so hypocritical,’ said Donald, in a clipped tone. ‘You seemed to enter into it with
gusto.’ Donald chuckled to himself. ‘Your problem is you just don’t like talking about
things. Pretending they never happened.’
Ted sighed deeply and frowned. ‘Oh, I
don’t know. Why does life have to be so
complicated? Always.’
‘What’s up? This is not about last
night, is it? Something’s bothering
you. I can tell.’
‘It’s Marjorie.’
‘The wife from hell.’ Donald giggled,
then looked contrite when he saw the pained expression on his friend’s
face. ‘Sorry. What’s she done now?’
‘Lately she’s been getting loads of letters from estate agents. When I asked her about it, she told me it was
none of my business.’
‘Charming!’
‘Only not in so many words. So I steamed
open one of the letters.’
Donald laughed. ‘You sneaky rat. Mind you, I think I’d have done the same
myself. And?’
‘She’s been getting details of hotels for sale?’
‘Hotels?’
‘Yes. Small hotels. Bed and breakfast type places. I think she’s considering opening a small
hotel.’
*
Knowing he was still well over the limit, Mike had resisted the temptation to
take any chances, even though the children had urged him to put his foot down
because they were fifteen minutes late for school. He managed to drive exceedingly well, and
dropped them off without any incidents.
He began to relax on the return journey, knowing a cool glass of water,
or one of the children’s cold fizzy drinks, awaited him back at Maggie’s.
As he approached the roundabout at the top of Major Yorke’s Road, a Volvo
estate car in front of him braked sharply.
Although Mike felt he was in control, his reactions were slower than normal. He applied the brakes hurriedly, but wasn’t
quick enough and his car slammed into the back of the Volvo. It wasn’t a huge impact, but Mike knew it was
enough to have made a mess of the driver’s rear lights, and probably his own. Suddenly, the previous night’s alcohol binge
manifested itself in a dangerous way. It
gave Mike the effrontery to pass the buck.
This was obviously not his fault.
Just the other day, he had been listening to one of Jeremy Vine’s issues on
Radio 2, following newspaper reports in the Daily
Mirror, concerning an insurance scam when drivers deliberately slam on
their brakes so that someone goes into the back of them, and then make a false
claim for all kinds of damages to their person and other non existent
passengers.
So when Mike got out of the car to face the other driver, he was convinced it
was part of a scam. ‘What the bloody
hell d’you brake like that for?’ he yelled belligerently. ‘You trying to put in a false insurance
claim, is that it?’
The driver surveyed him calmly, taking in his unshaven appearance and the
bloodshot eyes. Unfortunately, Mike was
so angry, and convinced he was being conned, he staggered slightly, making
matters worse.
The driver smiled humourlessly as he took out his mobile and pressed a redial
button. As he waited for it to be
answered, he stared coldly at Mike and said, ‘I’m just going home off
duty. I’m a policeman. And I know when someone’s been drinking. There’ll be a patrol car along here
shortly. I’d stay put if I were you.’
A swarm of bees buzzed around in Mike’s head.
The scene was unreal. This
morning was a bad dream. And things were
about to get worse.
IN EPISODE 118
Nicky and Vanessa have to deal with moving house and bereavement at the
same time.