Chapter 29 Maisie
Maisie
The room is dark, the shutters closed and there is a loud noise overhead, like a rumble; the sky is on fire.
Maisie searches hard for the word, eventually finding it.
Thunder. That’s it. She sits up in bed. She’s always in bed these days.
Or it seems that way. Although how would Maisie know because her brain hasn’t been working properly lately.
Everything is always so hazy, like the worst brain fog.
Concerned faces often appear in her room, hovering over her so that when she opens her eyes she is startled, scared.
They are strangers, all of them. Even the ones who tell her they are her friends, or her husband.
She doesn’t recognize any of them. Today another of these strange people with their strange faces and concerned expressions comes into her room. A man.
‘Hello, my love, how are you feeling?’ he asks. He has bushy eyebrows and a moustache that looks like one of those stick-on ones they used to muck about with on New Year’s Eve.
She stares at him. She doesn’t feel afraid. So maybe she does know him.
‘It’s Aiden. Your husband,’ he explains softly, putting down a cup of something next to her. ‘You need to eat, Maisie, my love. You’re getting too thin. If you don’t eat they’ll put you in a home.’
She swears at him. It’s more of a reflex than anything else.
She can’t stop herself doing it these days.
She realizes that she must have been the kind of person who never swore because the looks on these strangers’ faces when she lets rip are comical.
It always makes her laugh, anyway. But today this man, this Aiden, her husband, isn’t laughing. His large hazel eyes look sad.
He says something else but she’s not sure what he’s talking about.
She swears again. She likes the way the word feels on her tongue.
She wants to throw the drink he’s just given her in his face and she doesn’t know why.
He seems like a kind man. There are photos of them in frames on every surface of her bedroom and in them they look happy.
In them they are laughing. He has his arms thrown around her.
He is looking at her adoringly, tenderly.
There are wedding photos and anniversary photos.
He’s not a bad man. She’s sure he’s not.
But there had once been a bad man in her life.
A man who had hurt her. Oh, but they got their revenge.
She remembers those days. With the girls.
How they got their revenge on the bad men.
How they made sure they got their just desserts.
‘Bad men,’ she manages and this man, this Aiden shrinks in front of her eyes.
‘No, my love. Not me. That was your first husband.’
Her first husband.
‘He went to prison, my love. He died there. You never have to fear him again.’ He clutches her hand tightly.
‘Please drink your hot chocolate.’ He takes his hand from hers and carefully lifts the drink to her lips.
It instantly makes her feel calmer, the chocolate sweet and reminiscent of her childhood.
He sits there, lifting the mug as she drinks the rest. When she’s finished he looks pleased.
He takes her hand again and pats it. ‘Maybe some sleep now?’
She does feel tired suddenly. Very tired. Her eyelids are heavy. She lies back against the pillow and then she hears him leave the room, hears the click of the door as he pulls it closed. She feels safe. She feels warm. And she sinks into a big black hole of nothingness.