Robbie & Jamie

Seventeen - Daughter

(A/N) This chapter features conversation on miscarriages and mental health.

The knock at the door startled Margaret so much that she almost jumped off the sofa in alarm. Who could it be? She wasn't expecting any visitors; she didn't know why but not many people seemed to accept her invitations to her house, so she found it easier to just travel to their's instead.

Rubbing her head slightly, trying to come out of her daze, Margaret glanced at the TV, and scowled when she noticed she had fallen asleep through the news reports and a detective programme was now playing. Turning the TV off and getting to her feet, Margaret shuffled and peered out of her window, which gave her a perfect view outside of her front door. Although she was shocked at who was outside and nervous about the confrontation about to take place, there was almost a feeling of relief and excitement to accompany the worries. After all, Margaret was the eldest here. She'd be fine.

"Rober— Robbie, Jamie," Margaret corrected herself quickly as she opened the door, trying to look at her guest's faces and not their hands, which were clasped together.

"We've come to talk to you. We've been thinking about what's been happening recently, and it really needs to be addressed," Robbie said. There was a level of authority to her voice which Margaret felt too timid to question. Her confidence drained. Not wanting to take charge was an unusual feeling for Margaret.

"Of course. Come in."

When Robbie and Jamie entered her hallway, their expressions of wonder and surprise couldn't be masked. The hallway was spacious and hardly held any furniture at all - just a cabinet of neatly stored shoes, and a photograph of two young boys grinning. A few steps to the side there were hangers on the wall for coats, and even then there were only four jackets occupying them. Three of then were Margaret's.

Margaret couldn't help feeling a thril of pleasure as she briskly lead her guests to the living room and sat them on her plush grey and purple sofa with matching cushions. All the time, Margaret was pretending to look upbeat and even added a spring to her step. Jamie got caught up looking at the walls covered in hundred of pictures, like a time line of Margaret's family's life, and Robbie had to swap seats so she wasn't looking at herself in the giant pristine mirror above the log burner. How it remained so clean when positioned there was a mystery.

"Can I offer you both a drink?" Margaret asked, stepping over to the door which lead to the kitchen. "Tea? Coffee? Mineral water? Sparkling water?"

"Not for me, thank you," Jamie sat down next to her partner and locked their fingers together. Her tone was laced with poison, and her attempts to dilute it with a kind facial expression was futile.

"I'll take a tea, thanks. Strong, no sugar."

Whilst making the beverages, Margaret's mind wandered with anticipation. Perhaps Robbie and Jamie were finally asking for her help with wedding planning, or giving her that invitation as an apology? Or maybe she had invited them into her home, offered them drinks, only for then to announce that they had a restraining order?

The tremor that developed in Margaret's hand caused her difficulty to carry the tray into the living room, so she had to carry a cup in each hand. Like someone who couldn't afford a tea tray. It was a tray worth showing off, too; bold red with gold and green oriental patterns resembling spiralling raindrops. A gift from her eldest son, and she never failed to slip this information into the ears of any guests.

"Here we are." Whilst she spoke, Margaret placed the cups on glass coasters on the table, before seating herself in the armchair Peter usually resided in. That particular morning he was out golfing with an old friend. Perhaps she should call him and tell him to come back home? But that would depend if he had taken his mobile phone with him; recently he had gotten into an awful habit of leaving it at home. Especially when Margaret needed him the most.