what have you done to your hand, babe? It’s bleeding.’
Maggie tried to take hold of Tommy’s hand but he pulled it sharply back as he pushed his way out of the coffee shop, his blue eyes narrowing. ‘Just leave me alone, Maggie. Do yourself a favour and leave me a-fucking-lone.’
‘Tommy! Wait … Tommy …’
It was too late. He’d gone.
Maggie let herself into the house, her thoughts filled with worry. Worry for Harley. For Tommy. For Nicky. For her mother. So many people to worry about. But anxiety wasn’t getting her anywhere. Action, not fear, changed things – yet she didn’t know what to do, and this feeling of helplessness made her feel weak; vulnerable. It made Maggie Donaldson feel scared.
Maggie was relieved to find the house was quiet for once, though the cool silence of the Donaldson household also emphasised how void of warmth and love it also was.
Lying on her bed, she looked around her bedroom. Her room had been the only safe haven in the house when she was growing up. As a child she’d tried to leave the chaos on the other side of the white panelled door.
There was a tiny tap on her door and Maggie knew immediately who it was. It was her mother. Since Maggie was a child her mother’s knock had never got any louder or softer. To Maggie it was a heartbreaking reminder of her mother’s acceptance of her situation. A small, non confrontational – without any strength behind it – knock. Maggie hated the sound of it.
‘You holding up, Maggie love? You seemed a bit quiet in church.’
Maggie sat up and took her mother’s hand as she came to sit next to her. She smiled warmly.
‘Well you know Mum, it’s kind of hard to get a word in edgeways with Father Maloney chatting ten to the dozen. Maybe next week I’ll tell him to keep it down a bit when he’s doing the Holy Communion, give me a chance to have a chat.’
Sheila chuckled, and it warmed Maggie’s heart to see her mother genuinely smile, with her eyes lighting up in support.
‘How’s Harley?’
It touched a raw nerve with Maggie. She physically retreated, letting go of her mother’s hands and clasping them in her lap. Her shoulders slumped as her body reflected her feelings.
Sheila Donaldson noticed the change in her daughter and immediately felt uneasy, wishing she hadn’t brought the subject up. The hush in the room was too much for Sheila to bear and she blurted out a clunky apology, desperate to see her daughter stop hurting but also desperate for Maggie to forgive her for letting her down.
‘I’m sorry to bring Harley up but I can’t stand to see you moping around. It ain’t worked out the way it should, but she’s okay.’
Sheila bit her lip. It wasn’t coming out the way she wanted it to. What she really wanted to say she couldn’t express. Now she’d lit a fire and Maggie’s face had turned hostile. Sheila could see the infamous Donaldson temper boiling under the surface of her beautiful daughter’s skin.
‘Moping, Mum? I haven’t lost my brolly on a rainy day. Harley’s been shacked up with Gina for the past year and looks like she’s stepped out of a bleeding workhouse.’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Maggie. Nicky’s been making sure things are okay.’
‘I love him Mum, but I have a feeling the only thing Nicky’s been making taking care of are his nostrils. Just leave it. Please.’
Guilt tended to make Sheila say the wrong thing to her daughter. ‘Why are you getting so mad at me? I covered up and I’ve kept my mouth shut all through your pregnancy. I helped you as much as I could.’
Maggie saw the pleading in her mother’s eyes, wanting her not to cause any rows. ‘I’m mad at you because I don’t know who else to be mad with. None of this is normal, Mum. It isn’t normal that I can’t have Harley to stay here. It isn’t normal that I have to keep her a secret to keep her away from harm. And it isn’t normal that I’m thinking of giving her up.’
‘What? … Maggie, no, listen there must be some other way.’
‘Well you tell me what it is then – because I’ve racked my head and I can’t think of a way out. Apart from running away, that is.’
Sheila’s face drained of colour. ‘Maggie, no. You can’t do that. You can’t leave me … what would I do without you?’
Maggie heard the panic in her mother’s voice. She didn’t look at her but gave her mother the answer she needed to hear. The answer which she’d been telling her since a child.
‘No Mum, I won’t leave you. I’ve always promised you that, but I can’t let Harley have the life I had. I love her too much. She deserves so much better. She deserves to have a childhood.’
Sheila stared as the tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks. She was about to lean forward to give her daughter a hug but she stopped herself, unsure how to comfort her. It was rare for Maggie to ever cry and it made Sheila feel very uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do or say, Sheila got up and left the room, leaving Maggie sobbing her heart out.
Soho, London. Eight Years Earlier.
‘Maggie, get yer fecking arse down here. If I get to the count of one and you’re not here there’ll be trouble.’
A moment later Maggie stood opposite her father. She smelt the whiskey and saw the remnants of white powder around his nostrils.
‘Did you not hear me calling you?’
‘I did Dad, but unless I had a firecracker up me bum I wasn’t going to make it by the count of one.’
Maggie stared at her Dad, hoping he wouldn’t see her knees banging together as they trembled in fright whilst she held his steely gaze.
‘But you never tried did you?’
‘No.’
‘No. Because you’re too big for your fucking boots, ain’t that right?’
Maggie shifted her gaze and spoke quietly. Mentally bracing herself for what was about to happen. ‘No Dad, I never tried because I knew I couldn’t get down in time. I also knew whatever I did would be wrong and you’d find a reason to punish me anyway.’
Max Donaldson’s face expanded as he blew out his cheeks, enraged by Maggie’s front. He disliked his daughter so much. She had an answer for everything. And she looked at him as if he’d just fallen out of a dog’s arse.
Raising his hand, Max brought it down on his daughter’s face, knocking her over to the side and causing a huge red welt to appear. Maggie scrambled up and headed for the back door. She wasn’t going to stay around for trouble. She’d learnt it was best to run.
The back door was jammed, and Maggie had to pull on it hard, giving her father
