Her eyes hovered over a range of salves and sprays. G-spot Gel, she read. Anal Relax Spray. In mounting desperation, she ploughed on. She was nearing the end of the catalogue when the handcuffs leapt from the page. A lurid shade of purple, they were fashioned from fake fur. Maggie shuddered. In all her life she’d never seen anything so naff. Still, needs must.
‘How about a pair of these?’ She turned to Moyra with a forced smile. ‘Just to start me off.’
‘Good choice,’ her hostess said brightly, ‘and a steal at eight pounds.’
Eight pounds? Maggie started in shock. You could get a pair of jeans in Primark for that. Not to worry, she consoled herself. That afternoon’s work would earn the agency a respectable fee, plus she could always give the disgusting handcuffs to Wilma.
Then she was struck by an awful thought: Wilma probably had a pair already.
FaceTime
Maggie was halfway through collating her report for the LoveBunny organisation when her mobile pinged.
She flipped it open. Saw a FaceTime call. Pressed ‘accept’.
Her daughter’s face appeared on the screen.
‘Kirsty.’ She suffused with a warm flush of pleasure. ‘What a nice surprise!’
‘Right.’ The small face looked pinched. ‘Whatever.’
Sharp intake of breath. Since she’d brought that boy home to visit, Kirsty’s calls had been thin on the ground. Maggie told herself not to worry. It was nearly a year, now, since she’d discovered Kirsty was cutting herself. That, and Colin’s repeated absences from school, had given her many a sleepless night. But all that was behind them now, surely. Her thoughts ran wild.
‘How are you doing, pet?’ was all she said.
‘Okay.’
‘Just “okay”?’ Maggie pressed.
There was a long silence, then: ‘I’ve missed my period, Mum.’
Oh, no! was Maggie’s immediate reaction. She had a mental picture of the girl in her class at school: her belly swelling under her uniform, the whispered asides before she was whisked away to some distant place, her parents’ shame.
‘How long?’ Her practical side took over.
‘It was due last Tuesday.’
‘And you’ve taken nearly a week to tell me?’ She couldn’t mask the reproach in her voice.
‘I’m telling you now,’ Kirsty retorted angrily.
‘I know,’ Maggie’s voice softened. ‘And I’m pleased you have. I take it you’ve been…’ she continued. Sexually active was what she’d have asked a client. She’s nineteen, for God’s sake, she cursed herself for her naivety. Of course she bloody has.
She changed tack. ‘You sure?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘Right.’ Pointless asking who was responsible. Maggie shuddered. Odds on it was that uncouth Shaz. On the other hand, she reasoned, Kirsty might well have multiple partners. It was a different world from the one she was brought up in. And her daughter was a student, after all.
No matter, her mind raced, all that was irrelevant now.
‘Might be an idea to see a doctor. The university health centre…’
‘If you’re thinking of the morning after pill,’ Kirsty interrupted, ‘it’s too late for that.’
‘Yes,’ she was forced to concede. ‘I can see that.’
‘I just thought I’d better tell you.’ Small voice.
Maggie’s heart lurched. At that moment, her only daughter looked so vulnerable. And she was so far away.
‘Do you want to come home?’ was all she could think to ask.
‘No.’
‘I could come down,’ she offered quickly.
Kirsty shrugged. ‘I’ll be okay.’
‘You sure?’ Maggie queried for the second time.
‘Positive.’ Kirsty didn’t at all sound convincing.
‘Ring me again tomorrow, will you, pet?’ Maggie wondered how she was going to get through the evening, never mind a whole day.
Kirsty nodded. ‘I’ll try.’ In the background, a doorbell rang. She looked over her shoulder. ‘Got to go.’ She turned back.
‘I’ll say night-night, then.’ Maggie mouthed the same words she’d repeated ever since her children were infants. Before they started school. Before George died.
A shiver ran down her spine. The previous year – the year her world imploded – she didn’t think life could throw anything else at her. Now she knew different. Talk about life turning in an instant? If her daughter was pregnant…if she wanted to keep the baby…Maggie’s mind seethed with conflicting images. And just when she was getting back on her feet…
‘Night-night.’ Kirsty’s voice broke her train of thought.
Then the line went dead.
VIII
You Can Tell Me
As she stole into the room, Maggie’s eyes took in the bank of equipment, the figure curled on the bed. At first glance, she thought Sheena Struthers was asleep, then she saw that the small body was shaking, the sound of muffled weeping percolating from beneath the swaddle of sheets.
‘Sheena?’ She reached out.
The figure started. ‘You?’
Maggie put a finger to her lips. ‘Shush!’
‘What are you doing here?’ Sheena whispered.
What indeed?
Earlier that day Maggie had conjured up a doctor’s appointment and driven across town from her job at Seaton to Foresterhill. Getting onto the ward was another thing entirely. Lacking Wilma’s silver tongue, the story Maggie had conjured up had failed even to get her past ward reception and she’d retreated, crestfallen, to the hospital cafe. There, she’d toyed with the idea of filching a staff uniform or swipe card, dismissed the notion as too dodgy.
She’d established that the ITU reception desk was unmanned outwith office hours and visitors buzzed straight through to the nurses’ station. Maggie resolved to return that evening. She’d dress in an approximation of what a plainclothes policewoman would wear; nothing overly smart in case it drew attention. That way she could pass herself off as a detective, likely even benefit from a changeover in nursing staff.
Now, she leaned over the bed. ‘What’s the matter?’
The sobs increased in volume.
With tentative fingers, Maggie stroked the woman’s hair. This seemed to have some effect, for the weeping abated somewhat. ‘It’s alright.’ As her fingers made gentle motions, her mind raced ahead. ‘You can tell me.’
‘No!’ With one elbow, Sheena nudged loose her bindings and rolled onto her back. ‘There’s nobody I can tell. Especially you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie queried.
This was met by a renewed bout of weeping.
‘What is it you can’t tell anyone?’ Maggie pressed.
Sheena’s body shuddered as her sobs reached an ear-splitting climax.
Maggie waited for a nurse to come running, but in the corridor outside all was still. Thoughts tumbled in her head. What could have given rise to such anguished weeping? Or was it simply the product of medication and an overheated room?
For some moments she held her counsel. Finally: ‘You okay?’ she asked in a soft voice.
‘Not really.’ A hand stole across the bed to seek the comfort of her own.
‘Why not?’ Then, as the idiocy of the question struck her, she added, ‘Apart from the obvious.’
From the bed there was a silence so prolonged Maggie held her breath, expecting at any moment to be ejected.
‘It was me.’ Sheena snatched her hand away.
‘What was?’ Maggie’s PI antennae sprang to full alert.
‘The stories.’ Shrill voice. ‘I made them up.’
Get the facts. The words screamed in Maggie’s head. She drew a deep breath. ‘What is it you’re trying to tell me, Sheena?’
‘Gordon’s been
a good husband to me. Never put a foot wrong. Except…’
‘Yes?’ she prompted.
‘He’s always taken the lead in everything,’ Sheena hesitated, ‘including our lovemaking. And I liked that, in the early years of our marriage. Thought it was masterful, romantic. That’s how it was those days. For most people anyhow. Men were men, and women…well, they had their place.’
Maggie thought of her own mother, made a wry face.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Gordon was loving, considerate, always careful to pleasure me before he…had his way. But then, as he moved up the career ladder, his attitude seemed to shift. It’s as if he wanted to belittle me. Not in company, you understand. Gordon’s very correct socially. But behind the scenes.’
‘Verbally, you mean?’
‘No.’
‘How, then?’
‘In bed.’
Dear Lord! Maggie definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.
‘Sexually, you mean?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can you give me some instances?’
Coy look. ‘He’d use words that made me uncomfortable.’
‘Not that unusual,’ Maggie came back. ‘Loads of men do.’
‘Yes, but he’d make me repeat them. And he’d do things to me…things I didn’t like.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Dirty things.’
‘Like what, for instance?’
Sheena fiddled with the edge of the sheet. ‘One time he wanted to urinate on me.’
Charming.
‘It was bad enough at the beginning. I told myself to get on with it, that that’s how marriage was. And I was younger then, stronger. I had a career to occupy me, colleagues to sustain me. It got worse when I gave up my job,’ she continued plaintively. ‘It’s as if I’d lost something, not just my salary. Like I’d dwindled, somehow, in his eyes.’
‘Mmm.’ Maggie recalled her own gradual loss of confidence, how she’d argued with George over going back to work.
‘It’s been building for a while.’ Sheena dabbed at her eyes. ‘The pressure. More than a while. Years. But it’s only been these last few months that it got too much. I’ve been feeling so dreadful: up one minute, down the next. Not sleeping. And it’s not only the disturbed nights. I feel like my body’s disintegrating, and my emotions are all over the place.’ She paused. ‘I took your advice and went to my GP. He said it was the onset of the menopause. Told me it affects people differently. Some women hardly notice, others…’ She broke down once more.
Maggie pulled a tissue from the box on the metal bedside unit. ‘Take your time.’ She proffered it.
Noisily, Sheena blew her nose. ‘Anyhow, it all got too much for me. I thought once I hit menopause Gordon wouldn’t find me so attractive sexually, that he’d leave me alone. He might even look elsewhere. I wouldn’t have minded, not anymore. But it’s turned out just the opposite. Seems to bait him, excite him almost, me being so vulnerable. And…’
‘What?’ Maggie’s question was drowned by the door swinging open, the squeak of rubber-soled shoes.
Despairing voice. ‘I just wanted it to stop.’
A nurse bustled in. ‘You still here?’
Bugger! Just when she was getting somewhere.
Maggie ignored her. Best not engage.
‘Well, you’ll need to wait outside. I have to change my patient’s catheter bag.’
She nodded.
‘Hang on.’ The nurse came up close. ‘Who are you?’
Maggie’s heart stopped.
Roughly, the nurse took hold of her arm. ‘Whoever you are, you’re coming with me.’ She propelled her towards the door.
‘What made you choose Harcus & Laird?’ Maggie called over her shoulder.
‘I read about you in the paper. How your testimony got trashed in that Fatboy case.’
Sheena’s eyes sought Maggie’s own.
‘I chose you…’ Weary voice. ‘Because…’ Her words were drowned by the clatter of a trolley.
Home
‘Comfy?’
‘Mmm.’ Ros snuggled under the soft fleecy throw.
‘Well, relax. Max is out for the count. Your mum’s just looked in on him. She’s heading for bed now.’ Her dad tucked a corner of the blanket under Ros’s chin. ‘I’ve put a hot water bottle in yours. Do you want to turn in, or will I leave you a while?’
‘No.’ She raised a wan smile. ‘To both questions. Stay. If you’re not too tired, that is…’
‘For you, pet,’ he stooped to plant a kiss on her brow, ‘never.’
Her eyes welled with tears. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she wailed, ‘I’m so glad to be home.’
‘And we’re glad to see you. You and Max.’ He didn’t mention Nic.
‘We might not be able to stay that long.’ Apologetic look.
‘Don’t fret over details like that tonight. The important thing is you get some rest. You look worn out.’
‘I am.’
‘Well, things will look better once you’ve had a good sleep.’
‘You think?’
‘I’m sure of it, Ros.’ He perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘We’ve all been there, you know.’
She stirred. ‘You and Mum?’
He chuckled. ‘You can’t stay married for as long as we have and not encounter a few bumps along the way.’
‘But,’ she protested, ‘actually leaving?’
His face darkened. ‘Is that what you’ve done?’
‘Yes… No…’ she scrunched fists into her eyes. ‘I don’t know. Don’t know much about anything anymore.’
‘Oh, come on, Ros. You used to be such a strong-minded girl.’
‘I used to be lots of things.’ She sat up. ‘And look at me now.’
‘You look fine to me. A bit pale, if I’m honest. And on the thin side. Have you lost weight?’
She ignored this last question. ‘I feel so inadequate, like I’m always letting people down.’
‘What people? Not your parents.’
‘People in Aberdeen.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, Nic if you must know.’
‘You sure of that? Mightn’t this all be down to nervous exhaustion? You’ve had a lot on your plate, pet, this past couple of years.’ He paused for reflection. ‘Maybe if you saw a doctor…’
‘Don’t you start.’
‘I didn’t mean…’
‘I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh…just…I don’t live up to his expectations, is what it comes down to. And, yes, I did see our GP. And, no, I’m not suffering from depression, Dad. I’m reeling under a welter of criticism. And interference. And possessiveness.’ A wave of relief overcame Ros as she spoke the words out loud. ‘And if I don’t do something about it…’ Her words trailed off.
‘Oh, Ros.’ Her father’s face was filled with dismay. ‘Your mother and me, we had our suspicions that there was something not,’ he hesitated, ‘quite right. But we’d no idea it was that bad.’
‘It’s not,’ she hastened to reassure him. ‘Nic loves me, Dad, I’m sure of that. And he dotes on Max. But he’s so unpredictable: he can be nice as nice one minute and fly into a rage the next. That’s what I can’t cope with. I have tried.’ She threw a despairing look. ‘Learned to be less assertive, not to contradict him. I guess that’s what a good marriage is all about.’ Sad smile. ‘Giving up some of your own desires to please the person you love.’
‘Marriage shouldn’t be about giving up.’
‘That’s what I thought. And, to be fair, every time Nic loses it he’s immediately contrite. Wants to make amends. Do stuff to make it up to me. He’s good at that. He can be very persuasive, you know. And I used to enjoy it – the pampering bit, I mean – especially all those months when I was at home with Max. It was a lonely time,
you see.’
‘Why didn’t you say? Your mother and me, we’d have come up, helped with the baby, let you get out and about.’
‘Nic didn’t want visitors. He was too wrapped up in the new job, and…’
‘That’s understandable, but it’s been a while, and we did wonder…’
‘Too late now. Whatever I do doesn’t make the slightest difference.’
‘Have you talked to anyone about this?’
‘Yes. My friend Fiona.’
‘What does she have to say?’
‘Fi’s pretty scathing. Doesn’t have a lot of time for Nic. Then there’s a colleague from school. Quite different from Fiona. But they both agree on one thing: they think Nic’s a bit of a narcissist. I’m sure if I pressed Fiona she’d tell me to leave.’
‘Have you considered that as an option?’
‘Not really. When you’re in that sort of situation, you get completely bogged-down. Your whole attitude to risk changes. You talk about me being strong-minded.’ She sighed. ‘The reality is the constant drip-drip of criticism saps your will, to the extent you feel paralysed. It’s only now I’m home with you I feel myself again.’
‘Oh, pet.’ Her father extended a comforting hand.
‘Problem is, I’ve more to lose leaving Nic than staying: my marriage, my job, my home. And there’s Max. How can I take him away from his father?’
‘No matter how badly he treats you? You have to think of yourself, Ros. You’re young, pet. You’ve your whole life ahead of you.’
‘You make it all sound so straightforward. I leave Nic…and then what? I’m thirty-two, Dad. I don’t want to end up back home with a baby in tow. You and Mum have your own lives to lead now.’
‘What was that?’ Cath Munro came into the room. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Heard you talking.’ Fond smile. ‘Thought I’d come and join the party.’
‘Dad was just telling me how I could leave Nic.’
‘Leave him!’ she exclaimed. ‘I didn’t think it had come to that.’
‘It won’t.’ Ros raised a weary hand. ‘Not without a fight. Even if I could summon the courage, it will be a messy business, I can tell you. Nic’s not a nice person when he’s not calling the shots.’
Burnout Page 26