Blue Heaven

Part 12

10 April 1982

10:10am Saturday

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You awoke groaning.

Were you hungover?

You rarely had hangovers.

Especially not lately.

Not for over a year.

...

Your head was pounding.

It took you a moment to realise where you were.

You were in a bed, your cottage bed.

You blinked open your eyes. The curtains hadn't been closed, and it was sunny, shining on your face.

After going without, forgetting your tolerance, it was hitting harder.

You moved. You rubbed your eyes.

When did you fall asleep?

You shifted, making a face.

Your body was sore, but you'd fucked Paul last night. The evidence was there, dried between your legs.

You willed yourself to sit up, eyes squinting.

You hadn't taken off your makeup, you could feel it on your face. Your hair must be a mess. You felt all sorts of filthy.

You weren't wearing the getup you'd dressed yourself in. Likely Paul's doing.

Speaking of which, he was dead to the world, curled away from the window light.

You nudged him.

"Mackie. Wake up." You said.

At a rough nudge, Paul let out a groan of anguish, stubbornly shutting his eyes tighter.

You gave up on him. He'd drank more than you, and had a decade and a half on you. He'd likely be in the depths of hell when he did wake properly.

You felt filthy. You got up, and washed up in the bathroom. You brushed through your hair, washing the makeup off your face. You put on your dressing gown, slipping on your ring.

It was habit. Even in isolation, it made Paul happy to have you wearing it.

Another thought occurred to you...

You'd woken up on your own.

You went to bed late last night. Why had you been able to sleep in?

You had a baby. She'd gone down at nine. You should've been awoken by her cries.

She usually slept in bed with you, but you had put her down in the cot. It had warmed enough that she would be fine at night, but she would have woken up the usual time and want to be fed.

Worry grew.

You dashed across the hall to the nursery door, then horror spread on your features.

The cot was empty!

Colour drained from your face. Your heart raced.

You hurried to the cot, looking into it. Empty! Empty!!

This fucking party, it'd resulted in the baby being snatched! Fuck! You should've stayed fucking sober.

Your breaths were panicked. You clutched your face.

Oh good lord, Paul was going to... going to...

You couldn't even say. You didn't know what would happen if he heard his precious angel little dear was gone for good.

Paul was going to have a right fit, and that was putting it lightly.

You weren't happy either. You couldn't stand this feeling. Was this really happening, not a nightmare? Maybe you were still asleep.