The Fractured: Maggie (Fractured #2) (Blemished Series)

by Dalton, Sarah

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” She turned to face her daughter. “My child.”

  Maggie’s eyes dropped to the ground.

  Harriet wiped a tear from her eye before turning back to the kitchen cabinets, which she opened and closed loudly, looking for mugs. She did the same with the tin pots on the sideboard until she found the tea bags. She didn’t once ask for directions, and Maggie didn’t offer any. The kettle boiled and Harriet poured out the tea. Maggie sat down at her table.

  “So, any morning sickness?”

  “Some,” Maggie admitted. She sipped her tea too soon, burning her tongue.

  Harriet watched her daughter make a face. “You burned your tongue again, didn’t you?”

  Maggie laughed. “Yes. I do it every time.”

  “No matter how many times I told you to blow on hot drinks.”

  Maggie smiled. “You used to blow on my soup for me.”

  “That’s what a mother does.”

  “You didn’t warn me this time,” Maggie said.

  Harriet placed her mug down on the table. “Well, I think you’re old enough to make your own mistakes now.”

  Maggie’s smile faded. “Is that what you think? I’m making a mistake?”

  Harriet sighed. “The mistake has already been made. You got carried away, you either chose to forget or were too drunk to––”

  “Mum––”

  “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You made the mistake by sleeping with that man without thinking of the consequences.” She reached forward and took her daughter’s hand. “But it’s how you deal with the mistake that counts.”

  “I don’t understand why people keep vilifying me for wanting to keep this baby.”

  Harriet raised her eyebrows. “That’s your conscience talking, dear. As far as I know the only person who has tried to talk you out of this pregnancy is your father, unless there are other people who know about this?”

  Maggie shook her head and looked away.

  “You know why your father has acted the way he has. He’s so wrapped up in his work that he can’t see anything else. He won’t let himself see anything else because if he does he’ll realise that things aren’t quite as black and white as he thought, and that will frighten him.” She took another sip of tea. “The question is why you think you’re wrong to keep the baby.”

  “Why?” Maggie stared at her mother with her mouth wide open. “Isn’t that obvious? The GEM are making it illegal to have a child, and yet here I am – pregnant.”

  Harriet waved her hand and rolled her eyes. “That law is something you, me, your father and the Ministry know about. It’s not even a law yet. There are plenty of women in your situation right now. You won’t be arrested for what you do. It’s just that your father would be labelled a hypocrite if he stood by you right now, and he’s not prepared to do that.”

  “He’s made his choice,” Maggie said. “And I’m not it.”

  “I’m sorry for that, I really am. This is a place no mother ever wants to be, between her husband and her child.”

  Maggie wiped tears from her eyes. “Surely parents always choose their children?”

  “That’s the way the world should be,” Harriet agreed. “But sometimes things are more complicated than that. Maggie, I hope you know that I love and support you.”

  “I… I do, but I needed to hear it.”

  Harriet set down her mug. “I know that you have to leave and I know that you won’t speak to your father now. My heart aches over it all, it really does. I refuse to lose you both. Maggie, when you leave, send me a message, something only I will see. Do you remember when you were little and we used to take those long walks together up Primrose Hill?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “Do you remember the old Oak tree opposite the rose garden? We used to sit under it together when it was too sunny to walk any further. Well, I want you to leave me a message there. I want you to tell me where you’re going so I can come and visit you and my grandchild.” She reached forward and patted Maggie’s stomach. “Maybe not right away. Maybe I’ll have to miss the birth. But I won’t miss meeting my grandchild.”

  Maggie nodded again. Her throat had closed and she couldn’t speak.

  “And now, I should go. If your father finds out… well, we both know what would happen.” Harriet collected her things. She buttoned up her coat and pulled on her gloves. “Good luck, darling.” Harriet walked towards the door as Maggie watched, frozen.

  “Mum wait,” she said. Harriet turned to look at her, halfway between Maggie and the door. “I married someone. He’s going to help me.”

  If Harriet was surprised she didn’t show it. “Good for you.” And with that she was gone.

  The door closed behind Maggie’s mother, and just as the lock clicked into place, the phone rang. Maggie tripped in her haste to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Derek.”

  There was a pause. “I-it’s time to go.”

  “How long do I have?”

  “I’ll come tomorrow eve-evening, 7pm.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was a beautiful day and the sky was bright blue. Maggie remembered the days when she could run up this hill, dragging along her mother, laughing and singing. Now she had to stop and catch her breath. She also had to wear a large coat to cover her bump, which felt hot and awkward in the summer sun. She breathed in the floral scents and hurried on, reminding herself that she wasn’t there to gaze out at the scenery. She wasn’t there for the views of London, or for reminiscing on her childhood. She was there to deliver the message and go. She fumbled with her sunglasses, and the wig she was wearing, before she stopped in front of the old Oak tree.

  Maggie stepped forward into the shade, took the envelope from her pocket and folded it in half. With a deep breath she leaned forward and pushed the letter into a small gap in the tree bark before pausing to caress the gnarls of the tree. She closed her eyes, hearing her mother’s voice in her mind. Then she heard her own voice, unsure and anxious.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” she said out loud, as though hoping the tree would answer. Why couldn’t she be confident about her decisions? Why couldn’t she stand up tall without the burden of guilt on her shoulders? Why did she berate herself for her choices? “Why? Why? Why?”

  *

  Derek kissed her on the mouth when he arrived. It was bumpy and awkward.

  “Are you r-ready?” he asked.

  She gestured to her three large suitcases. Everything else she decided to leave in the flat.

  “I bought b-baby things.” He smiled. “I h-hope you like them.”

  Maggie just nodded and Derek bent down to take the suitcases. He walked out into the hall whilst Maggie turned to look at her flat one more time. She struggled to think of a happy memory as she stared at the white walls. On the day she moved in there had seemed so many possibilities, so many futures. Now all she saw were the walls which kept her trapped from the outside world. Walls that stopped people seeing the pregnant freak she really was. She closed the door behind them, and turned down the corridor without looking back.

  The lift smelled mouldy and stuffy, making Maggie’s chest feel tight. She had to take a few deep breaths, but tried to do it discreetly in case Derek started to fuss over her like he usually did. Soon they stepped out into the basement car-park of her apartment block, and Derek showed her to his car. It was different, bigger.

  “You got a new car?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I thought we’d need a bigger one, what w-with the baby coming.”

  Maggie smiled as she opened the car door. “Your speech is improving again.”

  “It’s you.”

  The smile faded as she settled into the seat. There was something about the way Derek attributed everything good about his life onto her that made her feel really pressured. She knew he didn’t mean it, and she knew he w
as just a nice guy who loved her, but it made her feel bad.

  A clunk signified the close of the boot, and Derek’s footsteps trotted around the side of the car. He hopped into the driver’s seat with far more enthusiasm a man who is leaving his entire life and work behind should have. The key turned in the ignition and the car roared to life.

  “On w-we go,” he said with a broad smile.

  Maggie’s smile froze on her face as she fought the urge to be sick. This was it. No turning back. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the glass. At least with her eyes shut she wouldn’t see her hopes and dreams fading away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The jigsaw pieces didn’t seem to be fitting together. Had she made a terrible mistake?

  *

  “This may be cold.”

  It was. Maggie gasped as the doctor squirted the cold gel onto her protruding belly. She had a bump now, and she could feel the baby moving. The little rascal kicked all day long, and sometimes she could tell which way he or she was lying inside her – which bit was the head and which was their toes. Derek squeezed her hand as the doctor pressed the probe to her skin. There was an immediate thud, thud, thud.

  “That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” said the doctor.

  “D-doesn’t it sound w-wonderful?” Derek gushed.

  Maggie had to agree. Over the last few weeks she’d had her doubts. She’d been living stressed out, wondering if her father would find her or if her mother would betray her. But the weeks went on, they laid low. Derek started his new job. Maggie decorated the nursery and pottered around their new house – which was beautiful and far larger than she’d expected. Nothing bad happened. The good hormones kicked in and she began to feel quite contented.

  Derek had been patient. They slept in separate rooms. He gave her all the distance she needed. Sometimes they kissed, and Maggie felt as though the kisses were getting better, natural. She started to think of Derek as the baby’s father and that made him more attractive to her. Derek began a course of speech therapy as Maggie read science journals. She wrote medical articles, more for herself than anything else, but still sent them to her peers for review, being careful not to reveal her new location. She was still interested in the theory behind genetics, even if she didn’t agree with the way her father and the GEM wanted to put those theories into practice.

  They left the hospital with a scan photo and the sex of the baby. Maggie had picked out a name – Joseph. She didn’t like surprises, she’d had enough of those, and she felt like it helped her to bond with the person growing inside her. He was Joseph now. Not bump or foetus, or anything else. She’d made her choice and she had to look forward to that choice, she had to embrace it. And so, she held Derek’s hand as they walked out of the hospital. She took the scan photo out of her bag as they got back into the car, and she looked at it again. She smiled to herself. Everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to work out.

  *

  Maggie was at home on her own, with a paint brush in one hand and the other on her hip. She was wearing white dungarees – at least three sizes too big – and a light shirt. She hummed as she painted, slapping yellow paint onto the walls. There was no way she was having everything blue. She hated gender stereotypes. No, yellow it would be. At least she didn’t have disapproving parents and in-laws to worry about, people who would always buy pink or blue, trucks or dolls.

  She winced, dropping her paintbrush. Her stomach hurt. She bent to the floor and picked up the brush, which had thankfully landed on newspaper and not carpet. It was probably just the baby moving around, which was good, because she hadn’t felt him for a few days. She reached up to the wall and applied more paint, but winced and doubled over from the radiating pain in her stomach. Something didn’t feel right. She was too early at just twenty-two weeks. A wetness spread between her legs and down her thighs. With shaking fingers she examined herself and saw the red blood all over her dungarees.

  Maggie let out a loud and terrified sob as she fumbled for her phone to call Derek, screaming at the receptionist to put her through. His voice changed when she told him about the blood and he told her to phone an ambulance. Maggie hung up and dialled the numbers, trying to control the shaking in her hands. The phone screen blurred and dark spots danced over her eyes. She knew what was happening but it was as though her mind couldn’t comprehend it. Not after everything. Not after leaving her family behind. This was the point in the story where the happy ending happened.

  She almost shouted down the phone and the emergency call operator begged her to calm down. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs just burned. Eventually she dropped the phone to the floor, her fingers shaking too much to grip.

  Paramedics surged into her house as she fell backwards. It was like hearing and seeing through water. They talked to her; mouths flapping open and shut like fishes. Slow motion words filtered through the fog. She managed to answer their questions and her voice sounded as though someone else was speaking the words. It was dream her, not real her. It was all just a dream.

  As they helped Maggie onto a gurney her mind wandered to the thought of the stain on her trousers and how people would see it in the hospital. She wasn’t thinking right. It was selfish to think like that. She should be worried. Shouldn’t she? Was it a dream? A part of her clung to the reality, but she wanted to dismiss it.

  The ambulance whizzed through the streets. It didn’t seem so loud on the inside. Not over the sounds of her screams. She found her voice again. She found the voice to tell the world this couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. There was no dream; it was all real, far too real. She tried to swallow but her throat was dry from the screams. The inside of the van faded away and then came back. Her stomach hurt.

  In the hospital the doctors poked her with needles. They cut away at her clothes. They instructed her movements and explained their actions. They said “okay” a lot and asked if she understood. Derek turned up and held her hand, tears in his eyes.

  She was giving birth. Her legs were open and she was giving birth, but she didn’t understand why and what she was giving birth to. This wasn’t how things worked. This wasn’t like the picture she’d had in her head. At least she’d expected to be fully aware of what was happening, to feel and experience every second. She hadn’t expected the fog on her brain or the stern expressions of the hospital staff. She had expected Derek’s tears but they didn’t look this way in her mind. They looked happy in her mind.

  She didn’t want to see, she would never want to see. She wouldn’t look down. She had to push. It hurt and her body was tired but she had to keep going. Derek told her to keep going.

  But why should she? Why shouldn’t she just give up? He’d given up. Joseph had given up and taken everything away from her. She knew before he came out. She knew he was dead. He’d died days ago, and at the same time some part of her heart had died with him. She knew it wasn’t fair and never would be. She looked out at the solemn faces of the doctors and nurses as they took Joseph away and knew she would never be Maggie again.

  Chapter Ten

  Margaret stepped from the train onto the quiet platform. Her suitcase wheeled along behind her; the rumbling sound of the rollers against the concrete amplifying as she moved away from the background hum of the train engine. An enforcer escorted her towards the border.

  She avoided the glares of the immortalised Blemished staring down at her from the murals painted along the monstrous wall of the border. Margaret lifted her head and shook her curls, refusing to let the graffiti bother her. At the checkpoint she applied her thumbprint to the scanner and a different Enforcer nodded her through. No wink.

  The Enforcer helped her into a small motorised cart and drove her across the court to the second wall. He didn’t speak, but then she hadn’t imagined he would. The only sound was the electric engine of the cart and the occasional creak of the Enforcer’s leather uniform.

  He dropped her off at the gate, which opened smoothly. Margaret a
djusted the strap of her handbag and stepped through. The car waited in its pick-up spot, with a driver to help Margaret lift her suitcase into the boot. It was a long, black car with a luxurious interior. She smelled new leather and car cleaner as the driver opened the door for her. When Margaret looked inside, her breath caught in her throat. He was there waiting for her, sitting in the next seat. She composed herself and entered, closing the door behind her, leaving them trapped.

  “Maggie how are––”

  “It’s Margaret now, Ethan.” She placed her handbag in the space between herself and Ethan Moore. The two seats in front of them were both empty. They were alone except for the driver. “Or Mrs Murgatroyd to you.”

  “There’s no need––”

  “There’s every need.” She didn’t let herself look at him. She wouldn’t look at him.

  “After fifteen years?” Ethan shuffled in his seat. “I thought you might have grown up during that time, Magg… Mrs Murgatroyd.” Margaret sensed the way his jaw clenched as he said her name. “But no, you are just as petty and spiteful.”

  Anger radiated from her gut and her fists clenched as she forced it back down. “Do you blame me? After what you did? After the way you treated me?”

  “I. Am. Your. Superior.” Ethan turned to her and she finally looked at him. He’d put on weight and his brown eyes had turned hard and cruel in his round face. “You will treat me like it.” He took a deep breath. “Now, we can help each other, or I can recommend dismissal after your bodging of the Mina Hart saga. Which would you prefer?”

  “I’ll do my job, Ethan. I’d just rather not have to deal with you.” She turned away from him and stared out of the window. It was the first time she’d been back in London and the landscape was unfamiliar. There were colourful, beautiful buildings amongst many run-down and old buildings. But even the newest of buildings had an uncared for feel to them. It was as though the city had risen and fallen whilst she’d been living in Area 14.