Precious Things (32 page)

A thin scream pierced the air.

Maggie pulled back abruptly, fumbling for the lock.

Stunned by sudden brightness as the security light switched on, it took Maggie a few moments to process the scene before her. Kate, Lola, Tim and Stella were all standing on the pavement outside, Michael with them. That gave her a jolt.

No one turned around – they were all too intent on what was happening. Kate had her arm around Stella. She seemed barely able to stand, her breath coming ragged and mascara running down her cheeks.

‘Dad – stop it!' Stella cried. ‘You don't need to punch him . . .'

Tim stood facing Michael, his chest heaving with rage, with Lola in the middle. She appeared to be holding Tim back, and as Maggie came down the steps, she saw Michael edge away into the street, ignoring her.

‘What's going on?' Maggie asked, her voice high and strange. With a shock, she realised Stella's top was falling off one shoulder, exposing her breast in a girlish pink bra. Maggie's heart seemed to stop in her chest.

‘Tim, you need to calm down,' said Lola. Her feet were planted solidly on the pavement, arms separating him from Michael, who seemed to have lost all composure. His hair was mussed and untidy, and his shirt was askew, the top two buttons ripped away. Lola's velvety curves, so voluptuous-looking at the party, seemed now to give her a solid womanly strength and authority, more than capable of holding apart two burly men. Tim was tense, leaning forward, his fists clenched. Maggie could see the fear in Michael's eyes, and her heart plummeted.

‘She
came on to
me
,' Michael said then, stumbling over the edge of the pavement before righting himself.

Tim pushed forwards. ‘She's sixteen, you slimy git!' he shouted, his voice breaking with emotion. Lola stood her ground, hand on Tim's chest.

Alarm flashed across Michael's face and his hands flew up in defence. He backed away. ‘I didn't . . . Come on, she looks – she looks at least twenty. It was just a kiss.'

Maggie felt her stomach heave and she thought she might be sick.

‘Nothing happened!' shouted Stella, voice blurry. ‘Dad, it wasn't anything, we were just mucking around . . .' Stella was pleading now, ugly blotches covering her skin and cheeks, red-rimmed eyes looking puffy and bruised.

Tim avoided her anguished gaze. ‘I'll kill you . . . she's only sixteen,' he growled, pushing against Lola's restraining hand. ‘And what are you? Forty? Forty-five? It's pathetic.'

Lola in the meantime hadn't taken her eyes off Tim. Turning her head fractionally towards Michael, she growled at him. ‘You – get over there,' she said, pointing to a spot a few metres away. ‘Maybe we should call the police,' she said, looking at Maggie. ‘You might want to press charges.'

‘I hardly think that's necessary!' Michael choked out. ‘Look, listen to the girl, she's right. Nothing happened. It was just a bit of drunken silliness . . . I'm going anyway,' he said. ‘See?' He quickly crossed the street before anyone could argue, and disappeared around a corner.

The gathering shifted a little, but the tension and silence still held them frozen.

Maggie swallowed down bile, and looked at Tim.

All of a sudden, the fight seemed to leave him. He stepped away, his body slumped, the heels of his hands grinding into his eyes. ‘I can't deal with this . . .' he said to no one in particular.

‘Tim, go inside. It's okay, we'll look after Stella,' said Lola, nudging him towards the front door. ‘She's safe.'

Maggie just stood there, mouth agape, unable to quite take it all in.

‘Safe? Safe!' cried Tim, letting out a strangled cry. ‘She'll never be safe. She's a liability to herself. Just like her mother. We've tried and tried, but we can't help her. She's probably going to end up on the street. Or worse.' He rounded on Stella. ‘Is that what you want? Is it?'

‘Tim, stop!' cried Maggie, seeing the pain and hurt in Stella's eyes. Oh God, why had she invited Michael along tonight?

Breaking into anguished sobs, Stella buried her face into Kate's shoulder. Tim swung around to Maggie, fury in his eyes. She cowered at the look in them but said firmly, ‘Please, stop.' She knew this had more to do with her than it did with Stella, but Tim needed to calm down. Maggie deserved it, but didn't Tim realise that he might lose Stella if he kept going?

Tim looked unbelievably tired all of a sudden. Maggie could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He moved away from her outstretched hand and walked unsteadily towards the steps, where he stopped for a moment. ‘Sorry,' he said thickly, before trudging up into the house.

Maggie turned towards Stella, who was crying messily into Kate's shoulder and clutching at her like a little girl. Maggie felt a pang of tenderness, thinking of Pearl when she was crying, and the guilt hit her afresh. She put a tentative hand on Stella's heaving back. Her emotions were roiling and squirming inside her. What a complete and utter disaster of an evening! Why had she thought it was a good idea throwing this party when things had been so strained lately? She'd barely acknowledged her feelings for Michael, and now look at what had happened!

‘I think, depending on the way you look at it, it was fortunate Tim came home when he did,' Kate said gently.

Maggie took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea she felt.

‘Stella, what happened, love?' Maggie asked softly, feeling her hands shake.

Stella looked up from Kate's chest, tears mingling with mascara in sooty streaks, and Maggie felt the guilt twist and stab her in the gut. Moving into Maggie's arms, Stella collapsed against her chest, still sobbing. ‘I'm sorry . . . I was being an idiot . . .' she cried, hiccuping
with grief. Maggie wanted to tell her,
No, it's my fault
, but she hugged Stella tightly instead, waiting for her to calm down – it felt good to be needed like this.

Maggie felt Stella struggling to control herself as she took deep, gulping breaths.

‘I . . . I did come on to him,' Stella said, hanging her head in shame. Looking down at herself, she appeared to notice her top askew for the first time and righted it, deep embarrassment coming over her.

The porch light clicked off all of a sudden, leaving them in the bluish glare of a streetlamp.

‘Oh Stella, it's all right.' Maggie glanced up at Kate and Lola . . . ‘Thanks so much, but – please go home, I've got this,' Maggie drew Stella in tighter and rubbed her back.

Lola touched Maggie's arm. ‘If you want to press charges, let us know. I'll be a witness, and I dare say Kate could help with some legal advice.'

Kate nodded. ‘Definitely, Maggie – anything we can do, just let me know.'

‘Thank you,' Maggie said with a weak smile, dimly aware they would never pursue this. It was all such a terrible mess.

‘Okay,' said Kate, taking Lola's hand and patting Stella's shoulder. ‘And I'll call you tomorrow. I mean, today. Later. Good luck with Tim. Night, Stella.'

Tim.
Oh, God.

Maggie felt another wave of searing, horrible guilt wash over her – what would she say to her husband? She shouldn't have gone upstairs with Michael, and she certainly should have been keeping a better eye on Stella after Tim had left with his parents . . . Maggie tried calming herself, and told herself to focus on the most important thing she had to do at this point, which was comfort Stella.

‘Oh, Maggie,' said Stella now, burying her face again in Maggie's damp shoulder. ‘I did tease him, trying to get him to kiss me . . . I know he's older than Dad, but he's so . . . gorgeous. But I don't know what I was . . . I wasn't thinking.'

Maggie thought of her own momentary madness and nodded her head. ‘It's not the end of the world . . . I understand.'

‘Really?' Stella asked, peering up at her, eyes black and weary-looking. ‘I don't want to be this way!' she said, pain in her voice. ‘I really don't. Like Mum is.'

Maggie stepped away from Stella then and held her face firmly in her hands.
This girl is so gorgeous
, she thought,
and she doesn't even know it, not really
. All the memories of being a teenager: the awkwardness, the uncertainty, and the yearning – oh, the yearning! To be older, to finally get it . . . All that cluelessness about who you were, and what the point of you was in the grand scheme of things . . . It all came flooding back to Maggie.
It's a rotten time
, she thought.
Especially if you don't have anyone to rely on, or show you how to be . . . I remember what that's like.

‘Stella, you don't have to be that person,' Maggie said to her firmly. ‘Not if you don't want to. You're going to find your own way, and your dad and I are going to help, okay?'

Stella blinked in surprise and nodded tremulously. Maggie ushered her inside and up the stairs to her bedroom. She took a damp facecloth from the bathroom and wiped Stella's mascara-smeared face, Stella holding up her face mutely. Sitting Stella down on her bed, Maggie kneeled in front of her on the floor and took her hands.

‘Stella, can I ask you a question?' she asked. Stella nodded. ‘Where did you get the shoes?'

‘I, I . . .' Stella fumbled, looking down. ‘I took them. From Tracey's mum's house. She wouldn't notice them missing – she has loads of fancy stuff.'

‘That's no excuse, you know,' said Maggie quietly, and Stella gave a small nod.

‘Okay. You can return them tomorrow – I mean, later today,' said Maggie. ‘But I'd like to talk with you about something else, while we're on the subject . . . Stella, what happened with your mum? What made you come and live with us?'

Stella rolled her eyes, looking much older than she was, and took a deep breath. ‘Well, Louisa's always trying to hang out with me, right?
Telling people we're besties, and just like sisters . . . She doesn't even let me call her Mum! But I don't want— I
can't
be best friends with her . . . And the thing is, I don't want to know all the stuff she gets up to, or who she's having sex with. It's . . . gross!' Her face twisted and she stopped talking for a minute. She took another deep breath before continuing. Maggie listened intently.

‘Before I came to live with you and Dad she was going out all the time . . . every night, almost. I had to pretend to Nan and Pa she was home but she was always out, getting wasted, picking up guys . . . Anyway, about a year ago I started going out as well, and suddenly she wanted to come out with me and my friends all the time instead. She's like, twenty years older, though . . . But it was hard to say no, because she was really pushy and looked really hurt if I did.'

Stella paused again. Maggie rubbed her hands, waiting.

‘So one night, Kristy and I were mucking around at this gig, talking about all the kids we knew who partied, and joking about how we wouldn't mind hooking up, you know, with drugs . . . We thought we might try them out, but we weren't really being serious. Lots of people at school take them, so we could have gotten some any time . . . We were just mucking around, trying to sound cool. Really, all I've ever tried is pot . . . Anyway, Mum must have overheard, because the next thing I knew she was offering Tiff some coke. And she took an eccy herself. God, it was awful. She got all loose and sloppy, telling us how much she loved us, and how she'd never wanted to be a mum in the first place, but how it didn't matter because she and I were best friends now, and my friends were her friends, too . . . This was all in front of Tiff and Kristy! I told her to shut up, but she just kept going, because she was so high. And Tiff and Kristy got high with her – they think she's so cool, but she's not really. The next day, I told her I was going to call Dad. But I just hopped on the train and came here instead.'

Stella looked winded by her revelations. Maggie wasn't surprised – the story entirely fitted in with her impressions of Louisa. She was one of those women who always wore short skirts and tight clothes just because she could, without really ever questioning whether she
should.
And she seemed desperately afraid of getting old, injecting her face with fillers and Botox and working out obsessively. Maggie had always thought, the few times she'd met her, that there was an air of barely concealed desperation under all her bravado.

Maggie also thought of her own parents, and the shame she'd felt in admitting to anyone apart from Kate that her parents fought the way they did. Not everyone would understand why Stella felt the need to keep things a secret, but Maggie did. Everything seemed like it was your fault, somehow, when you were that age – even if it didn't make one bit of sense.

Still, she wished Stella had said something.

Maggie searched for the right words to reply. ‘She's not your friend, Stella. You're right – she shouldn't behave like that. It's unfair to put that kind of pressure on you . . . But . . .'

Stella's head jerked up. ‘But?'

‘But you have a choice about whether to follow in her footsteps,' Maggie said quietly, thinking about all the ways in which she'd tried to be so much better than her own mother, and failed. But she'd succeeded in some things, too. ‘I understand what it's like. Trust me, I do,' Maggie told her, shuddering at the thought of Michael, and what a fool she'd been.

Stella turned towards her, tear-stained eyes wary. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Well . . . sometimes it's hard to stop yourself. With men. And my mum wasn't any great shakes either. It wasn't about drugs, but . . . oh, it's complicated. She was kind of like your mum, in that she needed me too much, and told me things I didn't need to know. And I was just a kid, trying to grow up. I felt more like a parent than she was, which just isn't fair on anyone. Or healthy.'

‘Really?' asked Stella. ‘Is that why you don't see her much?'

‘Pretty much,' said Maggie, feeling the old pain flare up inside her heart at the thought of her mother. But there was something else, too. Perhaps an inkling of understanding how you could find yourself in trouble, without quite expecting to.