Nigel couldn’t wait for this comedy of errors to end---he was exhausted. So much had happened in the past couple of months starting with his awful break-up with Deanna, Thom’s increasingly hostile behavior, Trevor’s violent outbursts, and now Maggi’s emotional break-down. He was at Glaston Hall to record an album with his band but it felt more like he was monitoring the inmates at a lunatic asylum. Maybe he should have gone back to Bilston all those months ago. The urge was so strong to get the hell out and leave this bloody nightmare behind, he had to force himself not to run out of the house and head straight for home.
He reluctantly joined the others in the dining room for a buffet style breakfast, keeping to himself while everyone else argued and speculated over Metal Urge’s upcoming album release and the inevitable meeting with the members of Beastrage. Brad asked Nigel to join him for a game of billiards, but he politely declined and went to his bedroom, pulling the drapes closed, and stripping down for a long, hot shower to relax his aching muscles. He stared at his weary reflection in the mirror, and felt an overwhelming desire to be in a shoddy, smoke-filled club belting out “Creeper,” not caring about anything or anyone, totally focused on the loud music and where the night would take him when the show was over. He wondered if he would ever feel that carefree or unencumbered again. Suddenly the prospect of becoming famous seemed unattractive and intrusive. The band members would live their lives under a public and media microscope, forced to spout clever quotes during endless, probing interviews after which their words would be published out of context for the sake of selling magazines. Nigel ran his fingers through his layered, blonde-tipped hair---another of Trevor’s brilliant ideas---and sighed deeply. He picked up the phone, sprawled out on the bed, and dialed his parent’s number, filled with an overwhelming need to hear their loving, and reassuring voices.
Chapter 12
There wasn’t much left in Maggi’s room to pack so Nigel was able to easily secure it on the back of his motorbike seat. He didn’t really want to make the trip but it was necessary. Considering all that had happened at Glaston Hall, he did think it best that she leave for London as soon as possible. Although Trevor had been quiet and subdued, Nigel believed the maniac could go off like a ticking time bomb at any moment. When he arrived at the B & B it seemed as if no one was there. All the lights were off and it was unnaturally quiet. While he unstrapped the small bag of Maggi’s belongings, the cottage door opened and she greeted him with a timid smile.
“Where is everyone?” Nigel asked as he entered the silent front room.
“Mr. Langley had a town council meeting to attend and I’m the only guest,” Maggi told him as they trudged up the narrow stairs to her room. She led him inside her room and shut the door. Nigel handed her the bag which she sifted through before stuffing it into her suitcase and snapping the lid closed. “Thanks,” she said, turning to face him. She was wringing her hands and struggling not to cry but when he smiled sympathetically, she crumpled on the bed and began to sob.
He looked around unsure of what to do to comfort her, resentful at being forced to do something even though the situation had little to do with him. He grudgingly sat on the bed and put an arm around her trembling shoulders. “You’re doing the right thing, Maggi,” he said, realizing how patronizing that must sound. She slipped her arms around him, nestling her face against his neck, still crying. He felt her tears dampening the neckline of his T-shirt as he pulled away and cupped her chin, lifting her face, “Does Trevor know you’re leaving?”
She nodded and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe her eyes and nose. “I called him before you came.” She hesitated and started to cry in earnest once again. “I told him I never wanted to see him again.” She covered her face with her hands, her narrow shoulders shaking with the weight of her grief.
“Listen, I know it must hurt, but it's probably for the best,” he said, patting her arm like one would do to comfort a crying child.
She looked at him, her blue eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Nigel had the insane urge to kiss her trembling mouth. He started to get up but Maggi placed her hands against his chest and pushed him back on the bed. She held him down and kissed him with a hunger that shook him to the core. Rearing back she pulled her blouse over her head, releasing large, firm breasts which swayed tantalizingly near his face. Pulling her down on top of him, Nigel let desire take over as he lost all sense of time. All of the troubling, negative vibes of the past weeks were washed away. All thoughts of Deanna crying forlornly on the phone, Thom going mental over the tiniest vocal mistakes, and Trevor's mad face filled with murderous rage faded from his conscious mind as Maggi’s practiced moves drove him right over the edge into sweet oblivion.
When they finished in a tangle of sweaty limbs and hoarse, frantic cries, Maggi rolled off of him, moaning softly as he kissed and stroked her back. She turned over and pulled him close for a long, passionate kiss before laying back to gaze placidly at his face. As she ran her fingers down his cheeks and over the beard stubble on his jaw, the look in her eyes was far away as though she was someplace else with someone other than him. Nigel pulled her hands away and lay back down, placing his hands behind his head. He sensed that it had been Trevor who pleasured Maggi tonight and that didn't really surprise him.
They rested next to each other saying nothing, wondering what this unexpected turn of events would lead to, if it led to anything at all.
Chapter 13
Rain was pouring down in frigid sheets as Deanna left the shelter of the London Underground station. She had to run a couple of blocks to her doctor’s office where she thoroughly shook the rain drops from her umbrella before entering the waiting room. This was her second visit after the doctor insisted she be there in person to get the results of her blood tests. His unarguable resolve worried her considering the nausea and vomiting still persisted, and if anything, seemed to be getting worse. A nurse finally called her name and led her back to a small room, directing Deanna to remove all of her clothing, and handing her a cotton gown to put on for the examination. She wondered why the doctor needed to examine her. That made her anxiety level rise even more.
It felt like hours had passed before the doctor came in smiling brightly and asked how she was feeling. He was a nice looking East Indian man with pearly white teeth that contrasted sharply with his cocoa colored skin. Although his smile was warm, she felt an ice cold chill sweep over her body. After a few moments of awkward silence, Deanna admitted to him that the symptoms had been worse than ever that morning, especially after she ate a boiled egg along with her toast.
He nodded and opened her file before turning to face her. “We ran a complete battery of tests and you are a bit anemic, but the reason for your nausea is that you are pregnant, Miss Darmody.”
Deanna stared at him and shook her head. “That’s impossible,” she said a little too loudly.
“I’m afraid that the tests are conclusive,” the doctor replied gently.
“But I was on…I mean, I am on the pill,” Deanna stammered.
“It could be that you forgot to…,” the doctor began but Deanna butted in, beginning to feel almost panic-stricken.
“I never forgot my pills. I swear I didn’t.” Her voice cracked, and she tried to clear her throat but the clog of tears made it impossible.
The doctor looked at her sympathetically and handed her a tissue. “These things happen sometimes, especially on a low dosage hormone pill like the one you are taking.”
She wiped her eyes and looked at the doctor. “How far along am I, Dr. Sahani?”
He consulted the chart and told her approximately nine weeks.
“I never missed a period,” she said softly.
He asked if her periods were lighter than usual and very short. She nodded, and he assured her that was completely normal this early in the pregnancy. He stood and asked her to lie down on the examining table. He called the nurse into the room, and she helped Deanna get her feet into the stirrups. The doctor push
ed and prodded Deanna’s belly, pressing his ice cold stethoscope against it before sitting on a stool, and pulling on sterile gloves. Tears ran down the sides of her face, dripping onto the crunchy paper that covered the uncomfortable pillow bunched under the back of her head as he probed her insides. He rolled away and pulled off the gloves. “Everything seems perfectly normal, Miss Darmody. We will get you scheduled for an ultrasound and a follow-up appointment.” He was writing on a prescription pad when he heard Deanna sob, “I’m only 20 years old.”
The doctor felt his heart go out to her but couldn’t help but wonder why these young girls were having sex outside of marriage in the first place. If she was like the countless others he had seen in recent years, the father was nowhere to be found, and the responsibility was completely on the girls, and their parent’s shoulders. In this case the poor child was American and had no family in England. He took a deep breath and pulled open a drawer, removing a business card. He handed her the prescription for prenatal vitamins, and the card, squeezing her hand gently. “There are options, Miss Darmody, if you so choose.”
****
Deanna sat numbly in class, hearing nothing the instructor said, completely focused on the unwelcome intruder feeding off of her body like a parasite, making her sick and feeble. She couldn’t hate Nigel but she could hate the result of their sinful actions. Looking at the card the doctor had given her, she felt even more resolved to rid herself of the invader who threatened to destroy her life. After class she rushed to find a phone box and called the number on the card. A woman answered the phone and asked Deanna who had referred her in a clipped, formal accent. She gave her Dr. Sahani’s name. The woman set up an appointment for her to come in for a consultation the following afternoon, and Deanna thanked her profusely before hanging up and bursting into tears. She was so tired of crying and moping around like some insipid female character in a bad romance novel. Maybe she could hate Nigel. The cruel, selfish bastard certainly deserved it.
The hotel would have to do without her tonight because she couldn’t face another evening of dealing with demanding, often rude, hotel guests. After she called in sick, she looked in the refrigerator but ate nothing, thinking that starving the creature nesting in her womb would be like a martyr’s act of contrition. Lying in her dark bedroom she wallowed in self-pity and loathing remembering how she had decided not to pursue Nigel only to fall willingly into his treacherous arms the first time he flashed a smarmy smile her way. He got what he wanted and she got pregnant.
So much for her neat and orderly life.
She longed to call her parents, but she didn’t want to upset them or destroy the trust they had placed in their “good little girl.” In a few days this nightmare would be over and quickly forgotten. She would never see that cowardly prick, Nigel Guilford, again. She hugged her pillow, bringing memories of the precious hours spent in this very bed with him unbidden and unwanted into her mind.
At exactly what moment had she conceived his child?
There was a sickening jolt of guilt deep in her gut. Who was she trying to kid? She loved Nigel---she always would. This was his baby growing inside her; a child conceived in love, at least on her part, and she could no more kill her baby than she could kill herself. She cupped her belly and whispered “I’m so sorry” over and over before getting up to fix a bacon and cheese omelet with assorted vegetables thrown in to create a healthy meal for her baby. She poured a large glass of milk and sat down at the small kitchen table, eating the delicious tasting omelet in a few bites, praying fervently that she could keep the food down. As she finished the glass of milk and poured another, she rubbed her tummy, begging her child to forgive its horribly self-centered mother for her unbelievably evil thoughts earlier that day. Everything happened for a reason; at least that was what she had always believed. This child was her fate.
Deanna dialed the number on the business card and left a message with the office's answering service to cancel her consultation for tomorrow afternoon. She dressed quickly and went outside to hail a cab. She wanted to take her baby to the bridge where she had spent her last afternoon out with Nigel, and most likely just hours before their child’s conception. She knew it was beyond sentimental; still she wanted to celebrate her change of heart in the place that never failed to restore her soul. Today she would share that special place with her baby just as she had once shared the calming effects of the magical bridge with its father.
****
Nigel and Maggi stood in the cold morning air in front of the bed and breakfast, each feeling a bit awkward after their passionate night together. Maggi had insisted on taking the train back to London, and he had grudgingly agreed, still worried that Trevor would somehow find her and harm her. He settled on the seat of his bike, and looked at up her, unsure of what to say. She nodded, understanding that neither of them knew what was going to happen, if anything, in terms of a relationship. Nigel wasn’t sure why he felt so guilty and anxious; it wasn’t the first time he’d slept with a woman since his break-up with Deanna, but Maggi was her best friend. He let out a breath, the air turning white around his face in the misty, subdued sunlight. It was obvious why he was uneasy; he felt he had cheated on Deanna. The fact remained that he and Deanna were no longer together, and hadn’t been for over two months so why did he care? It was maddening. He just wanted to get away from this whole bloody mess once and for all.
Stepping closer to the gleaming motorbike, Maggi leaned down and kissed him, embracing him lightly. “Call me,” she murmured in his ear.
He smiled and nodded as she backed away from the bike. Nigel revved the engine and sped away, his back tire fish-tailing and spraying up clouds of dust and gravel around the wheels of his roaring motorbike.
“Call me?” Maggi laughed out loud. How lame was that? She wasn’t even sure she wanted Nigel to call her. He'd been so kind and understanding and totally amazing in bed, but was that a legitimate reason for them to see each other again? Maggi hugged herself tightly realizing it wasn’t just from the cold morning air. She hurried up to her room and looked out the window imagining how Deanna would react if she knew that her old friend and her ex had slept together. How would she feel if Deanna slept with Trevor? She'd want to kill Deanna, that’s how. “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive” ran through Maggi’s mind over and over like a funeral dirge. She fought hard to ignore her conscience which insisted she call her old friend and come clean.
“No,” she said defiantly. “Maybe I do want to see Nigel again and that’s none of her business. She’s the one who broke it off with him. She told me herself before I left for Glaston Hall.” Tossing her dark brown hair over her shoulders with an insolent flick of her hands, Maggi finished packing and glanced in the mirror to check her make-up. A smug look had settled over her features like a spiteful mask, and she looked away immediately. Maggi Atwell never felt guilty---especially when she had done nothing to feel guilty about. Deanna and Nigel weren’t together anymore, Trevor was a psychotic train wreck, and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him so why not enjoy the well-endowed Nigel Guilford for a while? It was just for kicks until something better came along for the both of them.
Maggi called a cab and waited outside in the damp, frigid air hoping the elements would help to clear her head of any negative self-doubt and something she would never admit to: shame.
Chapter 14
Trevor waited until dinner was over on the last night of Metal Urge’s stay at Glaston Hall to inform them that they would be playing a gig at the Hammersmith Odeon, a well-known rock music venue located in London. It would be a heavy hitter showcasing both of his metal music giants. Metal Urge would share equal billing with Beastrage, who had released their first album roughly six months before.
The members of Metal Urge felt certain that the Beast’s record hadn’t done nearly as well as theirs would. Beastrage's first effort had barely made the top twenty on the charts, but it was rumored that due to the overwh
elming success of Metal Urge’s self-titled single, their album could easily debut in the top ten. Despite their excitement at the prospect of playing the Hammersmith, they all felt slightly uncomfortable at meeting and playing a gig with the members of Beastrage so soon after the unexpected triumph of “Metal Urge.” Still, they whole-heartedly agreed that it would be a great honor to share the stage with the band that had inspired them to forge ahead as a heavy metal group.
Satisfied that there would be no major blood-letting, Trevor excused himself to make the final arrangements for the bands to meet in two night’s time allowing the band members a day to rest and recoup upon their return to London.
****
Nick Ramsay, the metal mouthpiece behind the Beasts’ ear shredding vocals, answered the phone and inclined his head towards a second phone inviting Piper Howlen, the Beast’s drummer, to listen in on Trevor Hampton’s phone call. Both men listened as he tried to sugar-coat the cold, hard truth that Beastrage would be the opening band for the five yobs from the steel mill town of Bilston who called themselves Metal Urge. Neither Nick nor Piper was surprised given the fact that every time they turned on the radio the song “Metal Urge” blasted out of the speakers and right into their disillusioned faces. It was inevitable but still it rankled, although they had to admit “Metal Urge” was a bloody good song.
Nick gave Trevor a hard time just for the fun of it before hanging up and shrugging at the look of indignation on his band mate’s face. Piper snatched up his jacket and left their flat without a word. Shaking his head with amusement at his mate's jealous behavior, Nick knocked back a shot of Jack Daniels and smacked his lips. It seemed that the leathered lads were a tight unit and smarter than they looked, not to mention their singer had an incredible voice which soared to inconceivable heights of raw emotion and power. They were a tough act to beat, or to follow, and so what? Beastrage had made some serious dosh. Each and every one of them were living a better life than they would have lived working in the roaring steel factories of Sheffield making cutlery for the masses, eventually dying with a few fingers or even a hand missing from industrial accidents. Nick could relate to his brothers from the industrialized Black Country wastelands and their desperate desire to escape the belching smokestacks poisoning the sky, and the residents.
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