Metal Urge (9 page)

Clive, Wild Bill’s assistant, approached Nigel and told him that he had a phone call.  He excused himself and followed Clive into the study.  It was Maggi calling, and his first reaction was to prepare for a teary plea to bring her back to Glaston Hall so she could beg Trevor’s forgiveness.  Instead, Maggi asked him if everything was okay.  Breathing a sigh of relief, he was chuffed to hear the strength in her voice.  After a rather long pause, she asked if he would mind bringing the rest of her things to the B & B because she had decided to go home in the morning.  He silently cheered her on for being brave enough to walk away from her volatile relationship with the madman, and assured her he would gather everything he could find and deliver it to her later that evening.

She started to ask about Trevor then decided she didn’t really want to know.  She thanked him for all he had done to help her and hung up the phone.

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 pushed 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.