Load of crap.
All that was wrong with Maggie, with most of the others, was they’d had a shit childhood, and how was it possible to come out the other end of that skipping through the daisies like everything in the fucking garden was rosy?
She’d tried, with this bitch Yvonne. She’d even asked her to the flat for coffee, not long after she and Duncan had got together, because she wanted to get on with his family and make an effort and not judge a book by its cover. She’d given the place a deep clean the day before and even used upholstery products on the couch, which had suffered a bit, right enough, from Maggie’s habit of lying there perching a curry on her tits while she watched the telly.
One of the benefits of having a coffee shop and living right above it was real coffee and homebakes on tap. But Yvonne had turned her nose up at the variety of coffees on offer, and the scones （choice of cheese or fruit） and cakes （choice of carrot, lemon or chocolate）， and asked for a cup of fucking tea.
And then she started on the telly.
‘Oh my goodness, that’s a whopper.’
Maggie knew that wasn’t a compliment, but she acted like it was. ‘Aye, it’s a nice big screen, eh?’
‘It really dominates the room.’
Maggie nodded. ‘Almost as good as being in a cinema. Want to see the picture?’
‘Oh, no, thanks. I don’t really watch TV.’
That was what they all said, all the middle-class bints who were regulars at the coffee shop. They were always bragging about how they never watched television, in the same tone of voice they might use to say they never mainlined heroin. But if one of them slipped up and mentioned the latest crime drama or soap storyline, all the others had somehow seen it.
Out of badness – and she was impressed with herself for managing this – Maggie turned the stilted conversation from the weather to the formation of the universe. ‘What do you reckon to the oscillating model?’
Yvonne stared at her. ‘The what?’
‘The oscillating model of the universe? A whole load of big bangs alternating with big crunch thingmies? I’d rather believe that was what happened than just one big bang. If there was just the one, what was there before it, eh?’ And she shoved a big piece of scone in her gob and muttered through it: ‘Blows your mind.’
Yvonne’s mouth had actually dropped open at that point.
‘Some of the evidence is against it, though, according to this programme on BBC Two last week. I try to make the time to keep myself informed about the big questions, you know? If you don’t watch yourself, it’s easy to get bogged down in the mundane wee things, washing socks and going to the supermarket and doing the books for the business, and forget there’s a whole other higher plane out there where folk are pondering the big stuff, how life evolved, how the universe came to be – pure dead amazing, eh? I always think it’s a shame that so many people go through life never knowing that that higher plane even exists.’ She’d bit into her scone again and chewed for a few seconds, enjoying the look of pure hatred on Yvonne’s sour face. ‘Aye, I try to take advantage, when I can, of the brilliant resources out there now for the lay person to educate themself.’ She’d slapped more butter onto her scone. ‘BBC Two at eight o’clock on a Tuesday, if you’re interested. But maybe you’ve not even got a telly?’ And Maggie had favoured Yvonne with a look of pure pity.
Now, she hardly even glanced at the bitch.
‘Wait, wait, wait!’ Duncan shouted from behind, and here he was, sweeping her up in his arms and pretending to stagger under the weight of her – even thirty-six weeks pregnant, Maggie was only seven and a half stones – and carrying her over the threshold, and Maggie was yelping and laughing as he pretended to drop her, while poor Nick tramped along behind, humphing their cases like a porter.
Nick was a good lad, and she felt bad for him, losing his ma and now having to cope with his da’s new woman, and out of respect for that she’d hardly ever visited Sunnyside. She and Duncan had mostly spent time together in Langholm, in the coffee shop or the flat. According to Duncan, Nick was ‘coping remarkably well’ with Kathleen’s death and had no problem with Duncan’s new relationship, but Maggie wasn’t buying that. There was bound to be resentment in the boy, no matter how much nicely-brought-up middle-class politeness he layered on top of it.
Even now, when he must be dying inside, as he came into the hall after them and set down the cases with a thump, he gave her a wee smile and muttered, ‘Welcome to Sunnyside, Maggie. How are you feeling after the journey?’