Maggie's Story Read online

  SHEILA

  O’FLANAGAN

  MAGGIE’S STORY

  Sheila O’Flanagan was born and lives in Dublin. She has written all her life and had her first book, Dreaming of a Stranger, published in 1997. This was followed by a stream of best-selling novels, including Suddenly Single, He’s Got to Go and Too Good to be True.

  MAGGIE’S STORY

  First published by GemmaMedia in 2009.

  GemmaMedia

  230 Commercial Street

  Boston MA 02109 USA

  617 938 9833

  www.gemmamedia.com

  Copyright © 1999, 2009 Sheila O’Flanagan.

  This edition of Maggie’s Story is published by arrangement with New Island Books Ltd.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover design by Artmark

  12 11 10 09 08 1 2 3 4 5

  ISBN: 978-1-934848-05-0

  Library of Congress Preassigned Control Number (PCN) applied for

  OPEN DOOR SERIES

  Patricia Scanlan

  Series Editor

  Chapter One

  The kitchen door opened. Tom strode into the room. He sat down on the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  “What’s for tea?” he asked.

  Maggie turned to look at her twenty-year-old son. He was glancing through the paper, ignoring her.

  She stirred the pot on the hob. “Curry,” she said.

  He looked up from the paper. “What sort?”

  “Chicken curry.”

  “With fruit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Tom in satisfaction. “I’m starving.”

  The kitchen door banged open again. This time it was Dan, her husband, who came in. He dropped his bag of tools on the kitchen floor and sat down at the table opposite Tom.

  “What’s for tea?” he asked.

  Maggie picked up the pot of rice and began to drain it.

  “Curry,” she said.

  “What sort?” asked Dan.

  “Chicken,” answered Tom. “With fruit.”

  “Great.” Dan rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving.”

  Maggie went to the kitchen door.

  “Diana!” she called. “Your food is ready.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” shouted Diana. “I’m just finishing something up here.”

  “Finishing her nails,” said Dan. “Or her face.”

  “She’s supposed to be doing her homework.” Maggie spooned some rice onto a place. “She’ll never get her exams with the amount of work she does.”

  “With the kind of body she has she might find a rich bloke.” Dan laughed. “Take her off our hands.”

  “She’ll need one,” said Maggie sourly. “She’ll never get anywhere on her own.”

  Diana walked into the kitchen. Her blonde hair swung around her carefully made-up face. Her nails were painted a dark brown.

  “I thought you were supposed to be doing homework,” said Maggie as she slid a plate of curry in front of her sixteen-year-old daughter. “Not spending the afternoon tarting yourself up.”

  “I’m not tarting myself up,” said Diana. “I’m going out with Faye and Dervla later.”

  “Have you done your homework?” asked Maggie. “I suppose I have to remind you that your exams are only three months away?”

  “Of course I’ve done my homework.” Diana mixed the curry sauce and the rice together. “I do nothing but bloody homework. And what good is it going to do me? I don’t want to go to college. I just want to get a job.”

  “You need qualifications for every job,” said Maggie.

  “Get off my case, will you?” snapped Diana. “I know what I want out of life. And I don’t need you nagging me all the time.”

  Maggie pursed her lips and sat down.

  Dan and Tom exchanged glances.

  “Are you going out later?” Dan asked Tom.

  “I’m meeting Peter. We’re going to the Leisureplex.”

  Maggie pushed her food around on her plate. She wasn’t hungry.

  “John Murphy asked me to drop around later,” Dan told her. “He wants me to look at his engine.”

  “Why couldn’t he have brought it to the garage like anyone else?” asked Maggie.

  “Because he doesn’t get in until late,” explained Dan. “And he’s my friend, Maggie. I’ll take a look at the engine and we’ll probably go and have a drink.”

  “Will you be late?” she asked.

  Dan shrugged. “I wouldn’t say so. Just one drink – I’ll be driving after all.”

  She was silent. She watched them all as she ate.

  Dan was still a good-looking man despite his forty-five years and greying hair. He had brown eyes that twinkled when he was happy, which was most of the time. Dan was one of those people who got on with everyone. He was happy to help out whenever he could and he never minded dropping around to a friend’s house to have a look at a car, or give them advice on anything mechanical. Dan had worked all his life in garages. He was car-mad. There was nothing he liked more than being up to his arms in engine oil.

  Tom was her eldest child. He worked in a DIY superstore. Tom, like Dan, was good at practical things, especially anything to do with the house. Tom had laid the patio at the back of the house last year and it couldn’t have been done more professionally.

  Diana had finished eating and was reading the magazine she’d brought to the table with her. Every time she looked at Diana, Maggie wondered where her daughter had got her looks. She was stunning. Tall, like Dan, and with the same huge brown eyes. Most people commented on how unusual it was to have brown eyes and fair hair. They wondered if blonde was her natural colour. But it was. She got it from her grandmother, Maggie’s mother.

  Diana wasn’t interested in anything other than having a good time. Maggie worried about her constantly.

  Dan ate the last of his curry and got up from the table.

  “I’m going to put my feet up for a few minutes,” he said. “Watch the telly.”

  “Me too.” Tom pushed his empty plate away. “Any chance of a cup of tea, Mam?”

  “I’ll bring it into you,” Maggie said.

  “Thanks.” Tom grinned at her.

  Diana closed her magazine. “I’m going up to change,” she said. “I told Dervla I’d call around at half-seven.”

  Tom looked at his watch. “It’s seven now,” he said. “You’ll never make it on time. It takes you at least an hour to decide what to wear!”

  “Ha, ha, very funny.” Diana made a face at him.

  “It improves you!” Tom laughed.

  “Sod off,” she said.

  “Please.” Maggie looked from one to the other. “I’m not in form for your bickering tonight.”

  “We’re not bickering,” said Tom.

  “Whatever,” said Maggie tiredly. “I’m not in form for it, that’s all.”

  Tom went into the living-room while Diana stomped upstairs. Maggie poured boiling water into the teapot.

  Sometimes she felt as though she didn’t know her children any more. Or Dan either, come to that. They all seemed to live different lives and she didn’t know whether she was part of them.

  She sighed as she poured tea into the big blue mugs that Dan and Tom both liked. She was forty-three years old and she sometimes felt as though life had passed her by.

  Chapter Two

  Maggie didn’t sleep well that night.

  Dan had gone to look at John’s car and it was eleven by the time he got
home. She’d made him another cup of tea and he’d watched Sky News on the TV. Tom had come home at midnight. Diana had been about five minutes behind him.

  Maggie had spoken sharply to Diana, who was supposed to be home by eleven on week nights. But Diana had just sighed deeply and gone to her room.

  Maggie had lain in bed and listened to Dan snoring gently. She’d worried about Diana and about Tom too. She knew that he sometimes found the DIY superstore boring. She was afraid he might just chuck it in without another job to go to.

  “Don’t fuss,” he told her once. “I know what I’m doing.”

  But she couldn’t help fussing. And worrying. For as long as she could remember, Maggie had worried about them. She supposed that, when it came to your children, you never stopped. She wanted everything to be easy for them. Even though, in her experience, nothing ever was.

  She let Dan get up before her the next morning. Most mornings she was the first one to get up, but today she decided to lie on. They weren’t helpless in the mornings, she thought as she listened to them getting ready. Of course, they hardly bothered with breakfast. Tom would grab a slice of bread and a cup of tea. Dan usually had a bowl of cereal. But they didn’t linger over breakfast. Dan would drop Tom off at the DIY store. Then he’d drive to the garage.

  When the front door slammed closed, Maggie got up. She rapped on the bedroom door.

  “Diana! It’s time to get up.”

  There was no answer. Maggie pushed the door open. Diana was asleep. The sheets were tangled around her. She went over and shook her daughter.

  “It’s time to get up.”

  Diana groaned and burrowed deeper beneath the sheets.

  “You’ll be late for school.”

  “Go away,” mumbled Diana. “I’m sick.”

  “You certainly are not!” Maggie pulled the sheets off the bed. “Come on, get up.”

  “Oh, Mam!” Diana sat up and stared at her mother. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. “I’m so tired.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Maggie. “How many times have I told you? Eleven on week nights.”

  Diana shrugged. “Everyone else stays out late.”

  “I don’t care what everyone else does,” said Maggie. “And you’ll be late for school.”

  “It’s only crummy Maths this morning,” said Diana. “I won’t miss much.”

  “That’s not the point,” said Maggie.

  “I hate school.” Diana pulled on her dressing-gown. “There’s nothing they can tell me that I don’t know already.”

  Maggie stood under the shower while Diana drank black coffee for breakfast. She didn’t like being in the kitchen at the same time as Diana in the morning. Not with 98FM blaring so loudly. Maggie had liked rock music when she was younger. But not this early in the day. She liked peace and quiet at eight o’clock in the morning.

  “I’m off!” shouted Diana.

  “Have a good day!” called Maggie as she rubbed shampoo into her hair.

  Maggie worked for the Central Statistics Office, or the CSO, as they called it. It was a part-time job. She interviewed people for the surveys that the office carried out. Maggie liked the job because it meant meeting people. Although she had a sore shoulder from the weight of the computer that she needed to carry with her. Some people looked worried when she switched on the computer. They’d ask her if she was recording information about them. If there’d be somebody around to check up on them. Maggie always assured them that the survey was completely confidential. Nobody could access anything, she’d tell them.

  “But what about your children?” a harassed-looking mother once asked. “They can probably access anything. I know mine can. Put him in front of a computer screen and the next thing you know he’s talking to people in Albania.”

  Maggie laughed. “Not mine. They can play games, that’s all.”

  “Oh, games!” The woman had snorted. “Mine are worse on games. Mortal Kombat, Tomb Raider, Formula One – they play them all.”

  “It could be worse.” Maggie laughed.

  Of course, not everyone was chatty. Some people told her to sod off. Some just slammed the door in her face. But at least she met lots of different people. Maggie liked people.

  She looked at her watch and booted up the computer. Time to go.

  Maggie lived in Coolock and the area she covered for her interviews was around Fairview. She caught the bus on the Malahide Road. The worst of the morning traffic-jam was over now and the bus sailed down the quality bus corridor towards the city. Dan hated the quality bus corridor. He said that it made driving on the Malahide Road almost impossible. And he had to drive to work because he took all his tools in the car with him. Maggie was supposed to have the use of a car for her job. Dan told her she could have his. She could catch the bus to the garage and take the car. But that didn’t make any sense. Besides, Maggie didn’t like driving Dan’s Honda Prelude. She wasn’t a very confident driver. She’d had some lessons, years ago, but she hadn’t had time to finish the course. So she had never passed her driving test. Really, if she drove Dan’s car, she’d need to stick L-plates on the windows. And she didn’t want to do that. Although it would be nice to have a car of her own. It was a dream of Maggie’s. To be able to drive her own car.

  She’d asked Dan to teach her once. It was hopeless. Every time she stalled the car or made any mistake, she’d hear a deep intake of breath from her husband.

  “It’s OK,” she’d say angrily. “I haven’t crashed.”

  “You’re bloody going to!” he’d reply.

  She stopped taking lessons from Dan. It wasn’t worth the price of their marriage.

  She pressed the bell and the bus slowed down. Maggie slung the computer in its carrying case over her shoulder and winced. But it was worth it just to earn her own money. Besides, it was money they needed. It was all very well for Tom to hand her something every week, but he didn’t earn that much himself. And he ate more than the money he gave her!

  As for Diana. Maggie sighed as she thought of her beautiful but lazy daughter. Diana said that she didn’t have time for work because she was studying. Diana could easily work on Saturdays. There were plenty of part-time jobs available. But Diana went shopping on Saturdays. And she would ask Maggie for the money.

  “Ah, go on Mam,” she’d say, turning her soft brown eyes to Maggie. “Just a loan. That’s all.”

  It was always just a loan with Diana. Maggie wondered if she’d ever pay her back. She’d tried to teach Diana the value of money but she knew that she’d failed.

  Her first interview was at a red-brick, terraced house. This was the second time Maggie had interviewed the resident here. As interviewers, they called to houses a number of times so that they could see how people’s lives had changed.

  A young girl lived in Number 23. With her boyfriend, remembered Maggie, as she walked up the path. The girl was a writer. Her boyfriend worked in a pub in Sutton.

  Maggie rang the bell.

  “Oh, it’s you again.” The girl pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve some more questions to ask,” said Maggie. “Can you answer them?”

  The girl sighed. “I suppose so. I’m supposed to be working. Still –” she grinned at Maggie, “any excuse to bunk off for a while.”

  Maggie followed her into the yellow and blue kitchen. It was the brightest kitchen she’d ever seen. She compared it with her own – green and white. She’d liked her kitchen until she saw Flora’s.

  The girl’s name was Flora. Maggie had looked out for a book by Flora but had never seen one.

  There was a laptop computer on the kitchen table. It was surrounded by a pile of paper.

  “If it’s a bad time I can come back,” said Maggie.

  “No, it’s OK. Would you like coffee?” Flora was already filling the kettle.

  “Thanks,” said Maggie, even though she didn’t really want anything.

  “OK.” F
lora sat down beside her. “What do you need to know now?”

  “Same sort of thing.” Maggie opened her laptop computer. “Do you work?”

  Flora grinned. “Yes.”

  “Last week, did you work for payment or profit?”

  Flora sighed. “If you could call my royalties payment! And if you can call ripping up twenty pages work – then yes.”

  Maggie smiled and keyed in the answer.

  “Have you changed jobs since last time I called? That was three months ago, Flora.”

  “No,” Flora said. “Though sometimes I wish I did something different. But I’m still trying to write.”

  Maggie asked her some more questions, which Flora answered as helpfully as she could.

  “So how is the book coming along?” Maggie shut down her laptop.

  “I’m stuck,” said Flora. “I keep having to change things.”

  “Why are you stuck?”

  “Because the heroine is a silly cow,” Flora told her. “She’s such a wimp! I don’t know why I ever thought of her.”

  Maggie laughed. “I looked for a book by you,” she said. “But I didn’t see one.”

  Flora smiled. “That’s because they’re not under my name. My pen-name is Tamara Brook.”

  “My goodness!” Maggie stared at her. “I have seen books by you. I didn’t realise you were Tamara Brook. It’s a posh name!”

  “It’s supposed to sound romantic,” Flora told her. “That’s what I write, Maggie. Romantic novels.”

  “I haven’t ready any,” admitted Maggie. “Have you written many?”

  “This is my fourth,” said Flora.

  “I don’t have time to read any more,” said Maggie. “I used to. I used to read romances. And thrillers. Just about anything. But now, it’s different.”

  “Why?” asked Flora.

  “Because of the family,” said Maggie. “With a husband and two teenagers – even if one is working – there’s just so much to do all the time.”

  “You should keep some time for yourself,” said Flora. “You deserve time to yourself.”

  “Easier said than done.”