Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

in a house with big windows

The windows were not metaphorical. They were big, bright and opened right up to the kitchen. The table held four chairs, one for each of them. One spare. Three empty and one where the little girl with dark hair and big, bright eyes sat with her shoes hitting the kitchen table legs. 

The room was big, but not too big. The aloneness still lingers. It hangs around in the air lately. 

It was not breakfast unless there was bloodshed. Heads would roll, toast would be spat. Milk would be spilt and yes, there would be crying over it. 

Maeve did her best to ignore it, her only break being the cigarette and coffee she nursed with closed eyes and a closed door. And what could she say? She wasn’t a morning person and neither was Winnie. They were both having a bleak start to the day, Maeve thinks; if I could cry, I would too, and she shrugs before looking through the glass windows into their home where her daughter sits at the table, arms folded and scowl etched into her face. 

Five year olds aren’t sweet. In fact, Maeve would choose the ‘terrible two’s’ and a ‘threenager’ over five. Five is bossy. Five is cocky and reckless. Five on Winnie has too much of herself in it. Five is closer to ten which is closer to teen years, and that she’s not looking forward to. Five is fucking terrible. Fifteen should be worse. 

She lights up another Benson & Hedges. Nine hours without a nicotine fix mixed with the brattiness of Moordale’s finest students was hard to work through, but the toilets in the back block are overrun with fifteen year olds that smell like Lynx Africa and Marlboro Gold’s - oh, how the times have changed. There are new kids who run riot in the back block, her reign was done years ago.

Ten years ago, to be exact. 

Winnie’s pigtails bob up and down as she swings her legs at the table the same way Maeve did when she was her age. But her legs are too much like her father’s and look like they might snap in half if the wind were too strong. Frog legs. 

There’s a leaky tap in the house with big windows, a leaky tap that they’d been promising each other would get fixed, but it never had. Probably some miscommunication where one of them said they’d mention it to Jakob, then assuming the other would do it. It was a never ending cycle. But she’d be damned if she were going to be the one to make the move. There were so many things wrong with the place. Tiles had lifted in the back room, an excuse for Otis to not use it as his office. Her own office was small and the window ledges were rusting, but it was her safe space and she refused to give it up. There were problems in the walls, not physical - these were metaphorical. There were problems in the air. 

No, it’s not that deep, she ponders. There’s a problem with us. 

But the house, it was theirs and there was no better feeling than coming home after a long day at work and knowing that it’s home. The simple things, Otis would say. She could hear his voice as if he were right behind her. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls Maeve from glaring at the crack in a window panel that needed replacing. “Coffee and cigarettes,” Jean says softly next to her. 

Maeve is startled when she meets Jean’s eyes that were kind and caring and almost laced with a look that Maeve is all too used to - sympathy. She holds back a grimace. “Pardon?” 

“The simple things? Coffee and cigarettes, a teeny, tiny bit of respite before starting in the storm that is the day of a mother…” 

Maeve chuckles with a nod. Flicking her ash on the ground, she offers her half drunk coffee to Jean to which she doesn’t refuse, taking the mug and lacing her fingers through the handle. Jean joins her on the patio with her small quips and unignorable wisdom, she can’t help but love her. Every single bit of wisdom that has ever come out of Otis’s mouth was all Jean, of that, Maeve is certain and she uses that as the excuse for being unable to ignore the gravitational pull Maeve has towards the Milburn’s. “The shit storm, no less.”

“Shit storm, wild hurricane, blistering winds, chaos, call it what you will…” Jean says, clutching the mug tighter as Maeve reaches out for her coffee, lowering her hand when she sees that it’s no longer hers. “And how is our darling today?”

Was there a less embarrassing way of saying that they fought over porridge, half of it ended up on the floor and the other half in Winnie’s hair? “Well…” Maeve starts with a sigh. “She absolutely fucking hates porridge.” 

Jean laughs and leans into Maeve’s shoulder, “As did Otis.” 

Maeve suppresses a sigh, as did Otis , she repeats in her mind. “Well,” she begins. “The git gave our kid all the bad parts of him when I already gave her the bad parts of me.”

“I would say she definitely inherited a lot of his bad qualities, I won’t lie. But she inherited a lot of your great ones, so there’s a win there.” 

“I’m here for the small wins.” 

Jean rubs her face with her free hand before handing Maeve back her cup of coffee. “Jakob and I have our trip to the Canary Islands coming up.”

Maeve grins at Jean, “Please tell me you’re eloping this time.” 

Jean scoffs, “I’m sorry but I am not you nor my son. I will not be eloping without my loved ones being present.”

She feels her heart stop, or her throat hitch. Or her entire body succumbed to feelings she did not want to feel, but her smile stays plastered on her face, fearing that the manic look would make her look crazy. Twenty year old Maeve thought that it was the best idea she’d ever had. And it was the best question she’d ever been asked. And Otis was the only person she’d ever need. 

And in that moment in time, all those things were true. 

Blackpool wasn’t far, and both Eric and Aimee were disappointed but Adam and Steve were more than happy to see the ‘city’, and they did what they could on Otis’s small wage. 

Maeve’s brought back down to earth when she realises that Jean is still talking. “So it’s the Canary Islands for about a month, Otis will be using my office as well to see my clients but I really wish you and him might use this time to talk through things…”

Maeve finds it hard to not list reasons why talking through things would be a terrible idea. The sheer ridiculousness of sharing one's feelings being at the top of said list. At the bottom of it, she just doesn’t have the energy. Or the heart. “Otis has always been the one with the talking skills, I’m more of a listener myself.” 

“But do you listen?” Jean challenges. 

Again, not one of my skills, she thinks. “I try.”

Jean isn’t convinced, raising an eyebrow. “In times like these, both parties need to both speak, and listen. Who knows what you might hear… or be able to voice given the right circumstances.”

Being therapised by your mother in law is a lot to get used to. It took years for Maeve to get used to it, but in times like these, she wishes Otis were a lot more like Jean. Maybe, with all his skills, he’d be able to open up to Maeve a little more. It was something she hoped for at times, and feared at others. She didn’t want to hear it, but she knew she’d have to one day.

The reason behind it feeling like their world was ending. 

Maeve nods and fakes a smile, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “We’ll get there, Jean.”

Jean wraps an arm around Maeve’s shoulders. “I hate to see you like this, and I do wonder if Winslow picks up on anything. She’s so intuitive. Just like you.”

Her daughter’s intuition scared her. “God, I know.”

“If you need a break, you’re more than welcome to stay at the house while we’re gone.”

“There is much better coffee than the crap I’m drinking, at your place,” Maeve groans. 

“That too, and I’ll get Jakob’s sister to send more of that Swedish coffee you like…” Jean adds in a sing-song that makes Maeve both cringe and laugh at the same time. 

“We’re fine here, Jean. Honestly. Truly.” 

Maeve can tell Jean doesn’t buy it, but she was telling the truth. She’d rather be in the house that feels slightly empty than away from Otis. In the house she bought with him, when they had each other and they saved every single cent they’d ever earned to start a new life in Moordale with their baby who was only months old was only that - a house. It wasn’t a home, not when Otis wasn’t around. The hallways were cold when she was home alone. The bed was so cold when they started drifting apart. 

Jean stands up when Winnie spots her, waving at her granddaughter through the cracked window. “I just see Otis and I wonder how his mind is ticking with the distance, how he works through all his feelings.”

Maeve knows exactly how his mind is ticking and how he’s working through it. 

He’s not. 

It’s simple really. Let the ignition tick over twice before revving the engine and then the car starts up. 

Unless it doesn’t, then Maeve has to let it sit for five minutes before trying again. If only it weren’t frowned upon to smoke in a vehicle. The stress gets to her and there’s nothing more satisfying than a fresh, crisp cigarette to really get the lungs going.

“Why don’t we just get a new car?” Winnie asks, causing Maeve to close her eyes and pretend to smack her head on the steering wheel. 

“I’m trying, frog legs,” she replies in a tone that’s far too light and bright for the answer. “Mummy is trying to save the money.” 

“Why don’t we just ask dad to buy us one?”

The sinking feeling in her chest and the roll of her eyes make her question her caffeine intake or lack thereof. She makes a mental note for three coffees before leaving tomorrow. She turns to the back seat and is met with big, blue eyes and a dissatisfied look. A mirror doesn’t lie, and Maeve is looking straight into one in the form of a five year old. The look of dissatisfaction is hereditary, she sees. “I’m going to utilise this moment as a teaching tool,” she says, straightening out her shoulders. “We’re not going to ask your father to buy us a car, because we don’t need him to. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because we are women, and we don’t owe men anything. There’s nothing wrong with our car, it’s just very, very special to start up.”

Lies, pure lies, but Maeve is happy with the lie if it means she’s proving a point, and the point is proven when Winnie replies with; “Women don’t owe men anything.”

Maeve smiles to herself, turning the key in the ignition again and hearing the engine rumble in the right way. “Perfect.”

“Mum, are you going to be late to work?”

Maeve’s smile drops. “No, bub,” she lies again. “I’m never late. Always on time.

“On time is late,” Winnie says.

Maeve shakes her head, a smile creeping back. “I love you, kid. Way too much...” she tells her daughter. “Waaay too much to be listening to Otis Milburn through the body of my child,” she mutters to herself. 

Tomorrow, she may need to borrow Otis’s car. And she’ll tell him she owes him one. Parenting is hard when you have to lie to the five year old. 

Maeve’s certain that the best thing about being one of Moordale High’s English teachers is the sheer amount of guts a lot of the students have. Whether it be a fearless word warrior who has spent months working on a piece of work to hand in or, the fearless weedhead that whipped together a couple of pages overnight.

And at times, the weedhead makes more sense than the word warrior. 

Marking work always took a lot longer than she thought it would, or that she told Otis it would. But when she sits in the same office that Miss Sands used, she thinks the least she could do is put a bit of effort into marking. Tonight, the weedhead wins. 

Alongside weedhead, two other papers stand out. Similar layouts, similar wording, one with grammatical errors and the other without any. One that has the name “Jane Eyre” spelt correctly and the other with the name spelt as one word. 

Maeve snickers. She wonders how much Lucy Hughes charges to write papers for the students. 

With Lucy’s papers in her bag to reread when she gets home, she drives home with the promise of eight being the latest she’d get there, and tonight, she might just keep it. 

When she walks through the door, there are squeals of delight, and roast chicken in the oven - she can tell by the smell of lemon and oregano. She reminds herself to tell Eric, because, even though he denies it, it’s his favourite meal. She’ll take photos and send them just for a little extra torture. 

The lounge is dimly lit, the fire is warm and unlikely to go out like it does when she lights it. Every single year Otis attempts to talk her through correct kindling stacking and burning embers, but it never seems to stick. It always ends up in a night in front of the fire and laughter over too many coffees… the crackling fire in front of her just makes her feel sad. A sad reminder that they haven’t laughed over her lack of fire building skills in the longest time. 

Maeve creeps up on her daughter and Otis, not wanting to disturb them when Winnie’s laughter is from the belly and the tears probably streaming from her eyes are from too many tickles. Otis’s long legs and arms are tangled around their daughter whose laughter is lighting up the room. “How’s it going then?” she asks quietly. 

Otis pauses on the ground, laughter still rattling in his chest when Winnie climbs up on his back, “Maeve,” he says deeply, eyes glittering in the soft glow of the fire. “You’re early.” 

“On time,” she replies, running her fingers through her hair. “How’re you doing, frog legs?”

Winnie rushes to her mum, wrapping her arms around her waist and Maeve takes a moment, pulling her closer, brushing her lips along her daughter’s forehead. Every single day when she has her daughter back in her arms after work, it’s like a weight has been lifted. “We cooked dinner, we did homework…” the five year old keeps a running commentary even when Maeve has zoned out, reveling in the moment where her daughter is in her arms. 

Otis nods along with the commentary, agreeing here and there but Maeve focuses on his soft smile, messed hair, awkward fingers flexing in and out as he rocks on the balls of his feet. “Busy day?” he asks once Winnie’s chatter ceases, finding an interest on the iPad sitting on the couch. “Winslow said you had car troubles?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow before putting his hands in his jacket pockets. 

The git wears a jacket and it’s not even cold in here, she thinks. “Positive.”

“I could get someone to look at it?”

“You’re not really an expert on fixing things, so I might just pass on that one, thanks.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding slowly. “I see. The underlying meaning.”

Maeve scoffs, “Whatever,” she adds in a way that makes her feel like a child. Like Winnie when being offered porridge instead of cereal or when the toast is cut into squares rather than triangles. An unnecessary drama, but the offhanded comment proves a point.

“I’m offering car help. God forbid I’d offer you anything else.”

She folds her arms across her chest. Not wanting to let herself appear like she’s allowing him the opportunity to catch her unawares. “I’ll ask Jakob.”

Otis moves a step closer, hand reaching out to her elbow that he softly brushes with his fingers. When she looks up, it’s like every single bit of her catches up when she’s looking into his eyes. She’s tired from a four o’clock wake up, her shoulders feel heavy, her eyes prickle, her chest is tight. She could do with one of his hugs, or one of his oh-so inspirational pick-me-up talks that got her through her teachers degree. Or that work on his clients. The same clients that he gives relationship advice. Oh, how the irony amuses her. Mostly, she just wants his arms around her and to tell her everything is okay. “Shit, Maeve,” he says.

His thumb dances on her cheekbone, on instinct, she moves away. On instinct again, she moves back closer. The sound of candy crush is jarring when it’s in a quiet room with the sound of a crackling fire and the person you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with who’s so close, you can hear his heartbeat. She didn’t notice the tears in her eyes or on her cheeks until Otis’s look of concern was burning into her. Her laugh is by default, and the quick shake of her head wasn’t intentional but it’s almost as if her body is working on its own while her mind tries to remind her that this is all for the better, and she’s okay. And of course she still loves Otis, they’ve always been friends. And sometimes, being friends is enough.

And sometimes, it just has to be.

The tears embarrass her, but at least they’re followed up with a sniff, a straight back and a shove at Otis’s chest. “Long day,” she says, trying to cover up. “And you know how I get without my evening coffee.”

She can tell he doesn’t buy it, not for a second. But he humours her. “Caffeine at night is a wonderful thing for your sleep pattern.”

“I never knew sleeping was one of your life’s passions.”

“I’m a dark horse, Maeve. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She knows that isn’t true. She knows him better than she knows herself. 

Otis’s eyes are blue. Arctic. Torn. Cold. Maeve thinks her stupid thoughts and borderline obsession with his eyes should be followed up with something equally as obvious and ridiculous.

Her own eyes are brown. Hurt. Deep and let down.

Otis shifts from foot to foot, putting his hands back in his pockets. “I just... we’re a good team, you and I,” he says with a chuckle that Maeve knows is hardly from humour. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

She feels like he wants to say more, but instead he keeps rocking on the balls of his feet. For a man who’s paid to talk through anything and everything, he always looks like he’s got words on the tip of his tongue that he’ll never voice to her. She’s unsure of exactly what he means, or if he means anything at all. Or if his words are simply to sound like he’s trying to fix something. But what?

Maeve purses her lips. Optimistic at best? The optimistic approach sounds promising when it’s out of Otis’s mouth. “Sounds stupid, Milburn,” she says instead. Better to act nonchalant than hopeful.

She folds her arms as he chuckles again. “Ah, Maeve,” he says in that tone that makes her think, and wish, probably upon a cliched star that’s oozing with his optimism, that they’re sixteen again. “Don’t forget you’re still a Milburn... and she is too,” he adds with a jerk of his head towards the dark haired girl sitting on the couch surrounded by flower petals in paintings that look way too lifelike for Maeve to ever feel comfortable with. 

Winnie’s eyes are blue. They’re youthful and bright. 

Her daughter has her father’s eyes.

Maeve stands silently, leaning back to rest on the kitchen counter. The house was all she ever wanted. And everything they had was thrown into this house. It used to feel like a home, but now it’s dull and damp at best. If she concentrates, Maeve feels like she can feel the summer heat from when they first moved in. Or see her spinning around the empty piece of land in Otis’s arms when he bought it for her. They way he kissed her temples every morning in this very kitchen, Winnie’s first day at kindergarten in Moordale, the moment she got the job at Moordale High and they celebrated in the deep bath that could fit the two of them in it. “Did you ever think in a million years we’d be doing this?”

“Discussing surnames? Or sleeping patterns?”

“Having a kid. Doing the whole this thing,” she says gesturing to the space between them. 

Otis’s stare is too long, too harsh on her soul, too sad for her to face. “I never in a million years thought I would have lost you. Or would have to miss you the way I do.”

“We were young, Otis.”

“We were young,” he agrees, leaning on the counter beside her with his hand on hers. “We made mistakes -”

“-a shit load,” she adds. 

“Yes, a shit load,” he replies with an exhale. 

“We were young, Otis. We had a baby straight out of graduating uni. We lived in a shitty apartment in London with no money. We moved home - uprooted everything - to come back here and you promised things would be different - they’d be better - you promised! ” she says shakily, praying the tears keep away.

“I’m sorry -”

The disappointment creeps back up again, along the back of her neck, flushing her cheeks, leaking into her voice. The disappointment is sometimes hard to swallow when she has a lifetime of it backed up in her throat. “You’re my best friend, Otis. When did our friendship take the backseat?”

He turns to face her, at times like these, she wishes she were taller. Able to look straight into his eyes, read everything in them. But instead, he tilts her head up with his fingers, and just like that, she wishes she was in his arms. “You’ve always been my friend first and foremost, but somewhere along the road, I think we got lost in translation.”

She snickers to herself, always some technical approach to their life. 

They were young, dumb and in love. They got married, they thought their love could conquer all and had a kid because she couldn’t do the same path they’d done before when they were sixteen. But young, dumb and in love only gets you so far before you’re in your late twenties with a kid trying to make it through life. 

She murmurs, leaning her head on his shoulder. “That little girl ensures we’ll do anything we can to get through this.”

“Sounds like you’re really excited,” he says with a sigh. 

“Yeah, well, it could be worse.”

“Ah, my favourite flavour of Maeve - pessimistic.”

“And I shall live longer than you.”

“We’re in the for the long haul then.”

Maeve smiles. “So you’ve said.”

The warmth of the fire reminds her of home. The one she built with Otis. The one that now echoes the aloneness.

The house with big windows. 

Winnie went down without a problem. There were bribes of sweets and ice cream on the weekend, but Otis made a point to Maeve that kids don’t really understand the concept of time and she doesn’t know when the weekend is. So, if they’re lucky, she’ll forget.

Shower time is Maeve’s favourite. Tears get lost amongst all the water, and faking a skin care routine meant Otis would hop in bed, breathe far too fast to actually be asleep and she’d do the same. Neither really wanting to have to be all alone together.

Otis’s feet hang off the end of the bed, she still smiles at his mismatched socks he wears to bed, even when his back is turned. It’s probably just as well, she hates the way he seems to be able to tell she’s been crying.

She slips into the sheets next to him, back to back. Unsteady breaths escaping both of them.  She squeezes her eyes shut, wishes away the tears and focuses on their daughter in the next room, sleeping peacefully in the house with both her parents. Everything Maeve never had. Everything she ever wished for. 

In the house with big windows.

There’s an unsteady shiver in her when her crying seems to catch up in her throat. When it shakes the bed, Otis’s long body feels it. He sighs heavily, rolls over onto his side and she feels his breath on her neck. His hand finds its way along her hip and finds her hand, holding it in his. 

His touch is soft. Not too hard, almost wary. Probably worried. All he does is keep her hand in his, unsteady breaths this time on her skin. It makes her eyes prickle more. Because she can’t speak, she doesn’t know what to say. And he doesn’t speak, so she doesn’t know what he’s thinking. 

But she lets the tears roll silently, no words spoken yet again. Another night lost to the silence, but at least this time, he’s there for her for the first time in what feels like forever.

He still feels like her house with big windows, keeping her safe when his hand holds hers. Nothing was more all-consuming than a love that never seems to die. When she’s with him, she never feels alone.

But why does it feel like the windows are no longer protecting her? 

Chapter Text

you're compelling odd, Milburn

There’s something comforting about being home. Back in the walls of your childhood with the luxury of it still holding all of its warmth. Some homes are simply houses and they don’t have the same loving memories. Not the same feel, not the same laughter in the wallpaper and spilt flour storms in the kitchen from making banana bread with mum. That was something he always felt guilty for with Maeve. His mentions of great memories with his mum, the countless muffins baked on cold days, the dancing around the house on Saturday mornings always felt like he had experienced something she never had, and so, instead, he made a home for her. They built a home with warmth in its walls and happiness in its curtains, but the home withered and turned into a house. 

Instead today, he sits in his own home that’s still warm, and probably warmer for the fact that he’s happy Jakob is there too so his mum never had to be alone. When his father left, there was something Maeve spoke about that couldn’t have described the feeling more accurately - the aloneness can be all consuming, and that was his greatest fear. He’d leave and Jean wouldn’t have anyone there. He’d leave her all alone. 

There’s something comforting about being home. Having all his things there, all the memories in the walls, ingrained in its make up. To have his mum hold him, stroke his hair and remind him that everything was going to be okay. He knows the feeling. It’s love and comfort. It’s something only a parent can give. It was something he had only ever had from her. He knows the feeling inside out, the protection. 

He knows because it’s the very same feeling he tries to give his daughter every day. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts while lying on the couch when Jean speaks. “When she communicates with you, does it feel like she’s speaking to you, or at you?”

When you communicate with me, it feels like you’re therapizing me, Otis thinks, running a hand through his hair. “ Mum ,” he groans. He gets off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen. 

Jean follows behind him, hand touching the bench before he gets to the tap, running the water for a glass. He sips slowly, eyeing her over the drink and he sees her look of concern, the tilt of her eyebrow that shows she’s about to start. “I’m just saying, read between the lines - what is she really saying?”

“Maeve says a lot of things. And all those things are exactly what she means.”

“Like?”

Well, where does he start? Somewhere in between her absolute rainbow slurry of curse words? Or something more simple like, ‘You’re a twat, Milburn.’

“Most recently she said that working amongst all the penises in your office has got to my head because I’m a dick head…”

Otis sees his mother suppress a grin, which is fine because he suppresses one too. Flicking the kettle, he reaches for the jar of good coffee Jakob gets from his sister but Jean tutts before he has a chance to crack it open. “Ah-ah,” she warns. “That’s for Maeve.”

“Everything’s for Maeve,” he grumbles, taking a sigh and reaching for the instant. 

“Maybe when you see her, just let her know how much you love and appreciate her. Let her know she’s doing a great job with Winnie. Let her know.”

Otis nods instead of replying. Everything was for Maeve, and everything was for his daughter. Everything he does is for them, nothing would ever change that. If he could verbalize every single bit of his love and appreciation for Maeve, he’d be standing in the same spot for a thousand years - but he would. He’d let her know. He’d do it for her. 

“Oh Otis,” his mum breathes, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. Therapist hat off, mum hat on... “I hate seeing you so unhappy, I know how much you love them both and you want everything to work out again.”

Again, he doesn’t reply. If he does, he’s not sure he can keep up the pep in his step. Maeve was right, the aloneness is all consuming. 

There’s a high pitched scream, a very close up grin and several indecipherable words being yelled at the screen of his phone that manage to comfort him in just the right way. London Eric was much louder than Moordale Eric, how that was possible, Otis would never know but just having Eric pick up for the first time all day was enough for him to want to travel back to London if only to spend a few hours with his best friend. “Why are there so many penises behind you? Are you calling from your mum’s office?”

“I’ve been trying to call you all day!” Otis whines. “Maeve says that me spending so many hours around so many dicks is turning me into a dick head.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong. “

“Gee, thanks,” Otis replies, rubbing his face.

“Otis! Why do you look like a walking corpse? Maeve finally let you back in, yeah?” Otis remains silent and Eric’s face drops on the other side of the video call. “...yeah?”

“Though I wish I could tell you that the romance of the century -”

“-wow, reaching,” Eric cuts off. “But continue.”

“-Was in fact repaired, it is not and we remain at a crossroads.”

Eric exhales loudly before Otis picks up on Adam’s voice in the background. “I don’t know where you put your jacket, Adam. Maybe it’s in the coat cupboard?”

“We don’t have one,” Adam replies in the background. “Hey, New Kid.”

“And what a crime that is!” Eric yells. “For us to move all the way to London and not even have a coat cupboard! The audacity!”

“How’s London?” Otis asks. 

“Nope, we’re not talking about London. We’re talking about your family. How’s my baby coping with her parents being split?”

“I guess she doesn’t get it… but we’re not split up.”

“You better not split up, I don’t even want to imagine what sort of teary mess you’ll be and I’m not a bike ride away to try and talk you off the edge. Lord help us,” Eric’s laugh is loud and infectious through the phone. “And by teary mess, I mean whiney bitch.” 

Otis leans back in his mum’s office chair. These were the moments when London feels so far away when Eric wasn’t here to help him. “I miss you so much.” 

“And we miss you too, Otis.”

“Speak for yourself,” Adam calls from the background.

“Don’t listen to him,” Eric says, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t mean it. We miss you,” he shouts in Adam’s direction. 

“He absolutely does mean it,” Otis laughs. “But it’s okay.” 

“I wish I could give you a big hug, oat cakes.”

Otis’s sigh is heavy. “I wish you could too.” 

“I gotta go, but I’m sure everything will be fine. Remember to breathe. And eat. And wash. And pray. You and Maeve have been through worse together, this is nothing. It’s a phase.”

“We’re not sixteen, Eric. It might not be a phase.”

“You’re right. Life was easier when we were sixteen! I love you, man. Give a kiss to Winnie from her favourite uncle!” he sings. “And don’t forget! Will Smith and his ex wife and Jada got along just fine. Blended families!”

“Jesus, Eric. We’re not breaking up!”

“I’ve got a spare room - I gotta run though, Otis! I love you!”

And just like that, Otis feels all alone.

Maeve’s hair is tucked behind her ears when Otis arrives and both her and Winnie are hunched over the kitchen counter, cutting a wholemeal sandwich. “Gourmet?” he asks as he walks in, taking off his shoes just inside the door.

“Peanut butter sandwiches,” Winnie says, jumping off the stool at the counter before throwing herself at Otis’s legs. 

Otis closes his eyes before lifting her, burying his face in his daughters hair, he ignores the feeling of the tears stinging his eyes, and the feeling of the last few hours seeming like a lifetime without his little girl. “Hey, Winnie,” he murmurs. “I’ve missed you so much!”

She giggles as he lets her back down, his eyes moving across the leaking tap, making sure to ask Jakob before they leave for their holiday for any supplies. Or giving Ola a call to talk him through it over the phone. “Why couldn’t we make chicken sandwiches?” Winnie asks, holding Otis’s hand and never letting go.

Maeve rolls her eyes before meeting his, a grin working its way up. “Well..”

“Yeah mum,” he teases, tilting his head. “Why no chicken sandwich?”

“As much as we’re all in love with your juicy, tender chicken cooking skills, I thought peanut butter sandwiches were a better first choice for the five year old to master,” she shrugs. 

“But what about jam or ham?” Winnie suggests.

“Jam or ham?” Otis pretends to agree. “Have you something against them?”

“Statistically, children are more likely to have nut allergies at school, so it’s safer.”

Otis laughs, shaking his head. “Safer? And how exactly? If children are more likely to have nut allergies?”

“Take out the enemy,” Maeve shrugs. “No need to be worried if you’ve slipped in a peanut butter sandwich.”

“Ah,” Otis agrees. “Take them out - Ninja style. Of course. And who told you these statistics?”

Maeve puts both hands on her hips before walking up to Otis and shoving him in the chest, he clutches on to his shirt, faking pain. “Viv told me. And she’s the smartest person I know.” 

“Did she suggest this little life hack of killing the children?”

“No, but next time I’ll get her to suggest a little life hack of killing you.”

“Ooh,” Otis says, beading his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“Oh, and statistically, she said you’re a prat, so she must be right.”

“Viv said that?”

“Mmm,” Maeve replies jokingly, nodding her head. “VIv, the smartest woman I know.”

“Damn, Viv really hates me, huh?”

Maeve’s smile is small and menacing. “She really, really does.”

He helps himself to the white bread and peanut butter, sitting down at the kitchen table before hacking into it. “So, how was your day?” 

Winnie’s upside down on the couch, legs in the air and hair dangling down to the floor watching the TV and Maeve cleans up leftover crusts. “Why?”

Otis leans back in the chair, legs hitting the legs of the kitchen table. “It’s usually an ice breaker, I see it’s had the opposite effect.”

Maeve looks at him sideways, “Our day was fine. We did some grocery shopping, Winnie complained about the state of my car on our second attempt at start up and I did some good quality, wholesome family cooking!”

“Food for the soul and all that crap, huh?”

She laughs. “Coffee?”

There was something in the way she shrugged, or the look in her eye when she raises one eyebrow. It had been a long time since Otis had been subject to so many words in one sitting, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d listen to her talk about sandwiches for a century if it meant she’d talk to him. One of the things Maeve had yelled at him as she threw their bed’s many cushions at him almost three months ago was that he lacked the ability to read what was happening between them. Now he wonders if he’s reading too much into it. “I see you have the fancy, Swedish stuff.” 

“Oh, I was going to give you the cheap instant I give to Erin on her fortnightly visit!”

Little did she know he’d take a cup of hot water if it meant he got to sit a little longer. “Give me anything.” He watches the kettle boil as she scoops the fancy, Swedish stuff into two cups. “Oh, you’re a generous one, Maeve.”

She shoots him a glare while she pours milk into the cups, then settling down next to him. The smell of her cigarettes and perfume was comforting, something he’d never say. Something he clings onto in the sheets in their house without her in it. “We gotta talk about the other day.”

His voice catches in his throat. The other day was something they hadn’t addressed but he knew they’d have to. Sex in his old bedroom at his mum’s house wasn’t his finest moment, but there was something to be said about the way she moved with him, the way his heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces when she left, the way he said he loved her as she left the room and the way tears spilled from her eyes when she said nothing in return. Maybe the tears told him she loved him too, but Maeve was never one to let her guard down.

But when they returned home that night, they exchanged just a few words and she continued on her newest routine of waiting for him to turn off his lamp and roll to the side before she slipped into bed next to him. 

But they hadn’t spoken about it and he didn’t want to now. 

“What do we have to talk about?” he asks, shoulders rising and voice getting higher and higher with each word. “Which day? There’s been a lot of days.” 

“Otis!” Maeve groans. “You know what I mean.” 

He knows what she means. They need to talk about how the kiss turned into more than kissing, how before he knew it she had her fingers fumbling with his belt and jeans and he was kissing his way down her body. How her hands were tangled in his hair and when they both came, she whispered she loved him against his neck when she was on top. Yet she still left, and he still ran after her. And she still stared at him with hurt and confusion in her eyes. 

Yes, he’s trying to read their relationship a lot more now that it’s broken. 

He stares at the cup of coffee. And it’s made perfectly. He hadn’t had a good cup of coffee since she’d stopped making them for him. When he finally looks up to look at her, there’s not a beat in the moment where he doesn’t want to kiss her. Take her hands from the coffee cup and hold them to his lips. He misses her. Forever in this kitchen with her wouldn’t nearly be enough. “What do you want me to say, Maeve?” he asks her, defeated. “If I tell you the truth, it’ll just end up with you closing up. If I lie, then I’m not telling you the truth.”

“Perceptive.”

He sniggers. “Hey frog legs,” he calls out to Winnie. “Hows about you go into the room and have a rest, yeah?” he says, trying to spare their daughter the chance of her listening in on her parents talking about things they don’t even understand. 

In true Maeve style, their daughter manages to make getting off the couch a huge effort, dragging herself up and slumping her way towards the small kitchen. “Why do you call me frog legs?”

“Because my nickname when I was a kid was frog face,” Maeve explains. 

“But why do you call me frog too?"

“Because,” Otis starts. “You’ve got what we call Harry Potter syndrome… but the opposite. You look exactly like your mother, but you have your father’s eyes.”

And true to her five year old mind, she’s left confused and walking towards the bedroom. 

“Harry Potter syndrome?” Maeve laughs. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it? Harry had Lily’s eyes…”

“Whatever,” Maeve laughs, rolling her own. 

The silence was palpable, and Otis feels like it always is when there’s a lull in conversation these days. What used to be filled with laughter, or banter. Touches and kisses, hugs, is nothing more than thick air between them. “The other day, Maeve,” he starts quietly. “I meant everything I said. I love you. I miss you. I want us to keep trying.” 

There’s always a level of hurt that Maeve shows when she’s reached the bottom. There’s something about the way her dark eyes turn in the corners, or the nervous bite of her lip. The way she can’t really look him in the eye that just proves she doesn’t know what to do. “I’m trying,” she says quietly. “It was because there was nothing else we could do. We’d tried to make it work, but your actual work took you away from us. You were more invested in everyone else’s relationship but ours. I was scared and alone, Otis. I’d only ever had you, since we were sixteen and that was all I ever needed… until you weren’t there.” 

Yes, there was always a level of hurt that Maeve shows, but usually never says out loud. 

Otis feels his temples pulsing so hard, they felt they’d explode. There’s a crack in her voice that means there were going to be tears. And tears from Maeve’s eyes were the worst kind. Because it takes a lot to break the toughest woman on earth… and to think he was the one who did that. To think he had the sheer gut, the lack of heart, the reckless soul to cause tears in Maeve. His coffee is shoved to the side when he takes her hands in his. “I’m so sorry, Maeve.” 

“Moving home was supposed to be great - to be closer to family - to work at Moordale High and to help Jean with her clients, to give our kids a chance to grow up around friends and family - “

The way she says ‘kids’ with an ethereal air that makes the whole scene feel like it’s nothing but a dream. A fucking wish . “It doesn’t have to change!” he says hurriedly, face flushing pink. “We still can!”

“But we didn’t make it, Otis! Maybe we were too young! Maybe this was never going to work out!”

“I love you, Maeve,” he tries to remind her. Hoping his words will hold enough meaning in them for her to listen.

“I just…” Maeve sighs heavily. “I need time.”

“We’ve been here two years, Maeve. We still have time.”

“I need time to get through this. I need time to work through you not being there when work seemed to need you more.”

With every completed sentence, he feels the closing of the conversation. All of a sudden, the house shows itself for what it truly is - too big, yet suffocating.

He sinks the coffee, one gulp and it’s gone and burning his throat. He was never a smoker, but maybe Maeve had the right idea. Maybe the stress relief was worth it. Maybe Jackson wasn’t busy and was keen for a bottle of Smirnoff. Vodka was messy, but it was dulling. 

The guilt of not saying goodbye to his daughter could eat him up a little later when he’s all alone in bed after she’s asleep, scrolling photos of them all together. He gets to the door of the house before turning around to face his wife. “You can think I don’t love you, but you know there’s never been a moment since we were sixteen where I didn’t. I love you every night when I go to sleep, and in every single morning when I wake up. For twelve years straight. But in the time where you thought I dismissed you, and maybe I did and I’ll pay for it every day, don’t forget I was grieving too.” 

He steps out on to the front porch and shuts the door from the outside. He thinks he hears her break down just a little, but then there’s a sniff that’s followed with a; “Hey frog legs,” in a tone that does not match his wife at all. “Let’s go and get some sweets, yeah? Mummy could do with a sugar high.”

“I hate being around you when you’re sad. It’s like your sadness rubs off on me. Is that a thing? Can that happen?” Ruby asks so genuinely, Otis can’t even laugh. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re the professional, you should know.” 

Otis thinks on it quickly, “Well, yes, it can happen.”

“I don’t want it then. Keep it to yourself. Why did you call me?”

In the most awkward of moments, Ruby Matthews was always there for him and had been for years. It was somewhat of a tradition to get a couple cans of coke and sit in the shrubs for a while. Today, Versace, as she pointed out, did not look good against the green of the trees. “Jackson and Viv were too busy with their son’s swimming trials so, alas, here we are.” 

“Swimming trials? Isn’t the kid newborn?”

Otis laughs. “He’s five.”

“Five? Practically newborn!”

“I guess you’re right.”

Ruby cracks open her coke with false nails that click on the rim of the can. “So, how’s things with Maeve then?”

“Where do I start?”

“Ooh,” Ruby says with a grimace. “That bad?”

“That bad.” 

“But you guys have always been… Like, end game,” she says with a slight shudder. 

“Any advice?”

“Give her space?”

“Any proper advice?”

Ruby laughs. “You’re the relationship guy, sex kid. Don’t you have some advice for yourself?”

She was right. It was his job. It was his thing yet he couldn’t figure it out. And out of all the people he knew, his own wife should be the person he knows best. “Tell me more about this Versace…”

“Oh this old thing? My husband bought it.” She distracts him for a little longer but it doesn’t last forever. “Maeve is tough, and what you two went through? I don’t know how you did it. She’s way too tough and you’re way too soft and you’ll have to wait until you meet in the middle, innit?”

“Your insight is just what I needed…”

“Not just a pretty face, Otis.”

“No. A wise mind as well.”

Ruby frowns. “I’m sensing sarcasm.”

Otis enjoys the break from tearing his mind into pieces trying to figure everything out. He listens to Ruby talk about her husband, the penthouse suite they own in London and how they’re planning a family. She asks where the best place to eat is and where to go shopping when she finally moves to London, but all it does is remind him of when he and Maeve lived in the cheap apartment with baby Winnie and the good times they had. 

Otis can’t remember his heart ever feeling as broken as it does now. Or it did when everything started falling down around them. And the weeks following. 

How does a broken person fix another broken person?

For once, he doesn’t want his mum to go. Or Jakob. Even though he spends most of his time at their house, the one that they built together, the house with big windows like she’s always wanted, he spent most of his time here. Wishing he were a kid again. When shit wasn’t so bad. 

“You okay, Otis?” Jakob asks in his drawl. “You look a little off,” he says loudly, taking a seat next to Otis. 

“Sugar high, most probably,” he mumbles. Alongside the feeling of everything around him falling to pieces. “I had two cans of coke.”

Jean drops the last of their bags at the front door, ready for tomorrow’s flight. “Is there anything you need to talk about? Any changes you’ve noticed in Maeve?”

Apart from her saying we’d be able to get through anything together and we haven’t? He thinks. “I’ve noticed a shit load of changes in her.”

Jean takes a seat in the lounge, on the couch that reminds him of kissing Maeve, and she links her arm in his, taking his hand in hers. “I guess everything happened so fast, she may be utilising this time to catch up. She re-established a relationship with her mum when you moved home to Moordale, you took on my extra clients, she’s working full time. And then…” she trails off. “It’s a lot to process…”

Otis knows his mother isn’t wrong. Life was hectic since their move, and before that. “It is. But I thought we’d manage. Together .”

“Well, I guess that’s a matter of perception.”

He snickers. “You sound just like her. Everything is a matter of perception.”

“If you think about it, you really are managing through everything together, just not in the traditional sense. She never truly said it was over, did she? It’s more of a breakdown.”

Again, Jean is right and Otis doesn’t like it. Focusing on his feet was easier than listening to his mother try and decipher his and his wife’s marriage. “I guess so.”

“Try and think of the precise moment everything started to shift. What happened?” Jean asks, rubbing the back of Otis’s hand with her thumb, tears almost sitting in her eyes, he can see them. 

“Jean,” Jakob warns, his tone deep and worried. 

Otis closes his eyes, his heart heavy. “The moment I saw red,” he answers.

Jakob’s lips purse, shooting a glare at Jean that she grimaces at. “Oh darling,” she whispers, realising her mistake. 

But he knows they should probably talk about it one day.

The moment there was blood everywhere from his wife’s body in the house with big windows. 

Chapter Text

the depth of aloneness

Maeve was grateful for Jean and a whole month away was going to be long enough without having to worry about what Aimee was feeding her after school. They had an arrangement now that Jean was semi-retired and her and Jakob actually got time to travel and enjoy it. Steve would pick Winnie up after school and they’d drop her back off to Otis after his last client of the day.  She was grateful for her friends, that they have people to fall back on. She never did, growing up. She’d walk on glass before letting Winnie feel the same way she did when she was her age.

Jean’s sympathetic eyes always made Maeve feel uncomfortable. That was aside from the fact that if she looks directly over Jean’s shoulder to avoid her sad, sorry look of sorrow, she’d be faced with an elaborate painting of a penis. To which she’d greet the painting with her own sympathetic glare. 

The home is warm and it still feels like it did when they were seventeen and Otis had snagged fingernails caught up in her fishnets. His heart beat so quickly, she thought it’d land in her own chest. Fucking git , she thinks to herself, holding back a small smile. It still smells like him in Jean’s house. It still feels like his seventeen year old heart and soul lives here, alongside bits and pieces of herself. More notably her only set of matching underwear and her favourite lipgloss. 

Winnie follows behind her, iPad in tow. Parent of the year, she muses. “Otis said you’d be right to drop Winnie off at school before you head off on the road?” Maeve says quickly, checking the time on her phone. “On time is late,” she says shoving it back in her pocket. “And with any luck, I might be early to work today.”

Jakob scoops Winnie up into his arms before swinging her over his shoulder to which she starts laughing and Jean takes Maeve’s hand in hers. “Oh darling, that’s fine…” not fine, obviously, Maeve thinks, observing Jean’s mournful look. She’s going to therapise me... 

“You know that if ever you need someone to talk to while I’m away -”

“-I’ll be sure to choose one of my students to really offload my thoughts on to,” Maeve says with a sardonic edge. 

Jean smiles at her sarcasm. “You’re more than welcome to call me.” 

“While you’re relaxing with a cocktail on the beach?” Maeve replies, winking. “I’d do no such sin.”

Jean exhales gently, holding on tighter to her hand. “If only you could both just open up a little… there’s this tool where you speak your feelings for thirty sec -”

Maeve cuts her off again. “I’m sorry, Jean,” she replies stiffly. “But I already hear about tools from Otis, and I don’t need to hear about another we’ll never try.” He’s a big enough tool as it is...

“But you should try them.”

I know there’s a lot of things we should try , runs through Maeve’s head. Everything had a tool or a lesson and yet Otis had mentioned none of them when they came to their own marriage. Our marriage isn’t a damn recipe. There’s no special machine or dashes of anything that’s going to make it more palatable. 

“Really do some soul searching into the root of it if you can,” Jean adds with a defeated tone. 

“Need a soul first, innit?” She laughs humourlessly. 

“You have one, I know you do. You’re one of the most beautiful people I know of this earth…”

“Makes you wonder then, doesn’t it?”

Jean looks confused. “What?”

How the universe could take something from me, then slowly take the one person I had there with me to get through it with… “Look, I’m trying to take things one step at a time.”

Maeve can tell that Jean feels the conversation is over, the defeated look in her eye is definitely something Otis inherited from his mother and Maeve feels the same guilt she gets when she looks at him creeping up her neck. Jean sighs again. “I love you like my own, Maeve. And all I want is for you two to work through everything healthily . You both need to accept what you went through in your marriage was traumatic.”

Maeve’s fight or flight response tugs at her mind. She’s never wanted to run out the door quicker. It was traumatic , she thinks. We threw out our sheets . She pulls Jean in for a hug, squeezing her eyes shut. “I hope you have the best time,” she says quietly. “Keep your phone close.”

She gives Jakob a hug and heads out the door. Shutting the door of her car, she takes a breath, centres herself and turns over the ignition. “FOR FUCKING FUCKS SAKES!” she yells, banging on the steering wheel. A small knock on the window gets her attention. Oh of course, my kid gets to see me swearing at my car . 

Jean stands behind Winnie. “Car problems?”

Maeve fakes a smile, winding down the window and kissing Winnie before answering. “It does this from time to time.”

“Every day, Nanna!” Winnie says cheerily.

“Thanks a lot, nark,” Maeve mumbles under her breath. “I was going to ask Jakob to take a look when you guys get back,” she says louder. 

Jean nods but the car starts once Maeve tries it again. “I’ll let him know, love you, darling!” 

Maeve blows a kiss to Winnie before waving out to Jean as she leaves the driveway. 

She heads down the road, dialling Otis with her left hand. It rings twice before he picks up. “Yellow?”

She exhales loudly, putting her phone on the passenger's seat and lighting a B&H before taking a long needed drag. “Can you please somehow let your mum know, in the nicest way possible, because I really love her and I don’t want to break her fucking heart, but can she please not therapise me?”

Otis sighs too, “God, I’m sorry, I’ll let her know.” 

“Thanks,” she says through another drag. 

There’s a silence through the phone call before Otis speaks again. “I see you’re running on time.” 

“Late.”

“Late.”

“You made me a coffee this morning…”

Maeve throws her head back. Too many people speaking at her this morning and too many probing conversations. “Well fuck me if I didn’t try to do something nice.”

“Best coffee I’ve had since the last one you made me, thank you…”

Maeve smiles gently. “Thanks received.”

“What time will you be home?”

“Five? Just after Aims drops Winnie off I’d say.”

“I’ll be home too, then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He hangs up. She wishes the promise meant more. There were so many promises made that were broken. Promises of being home on time were one of them. That’s why the house was not a home anymore. 

Lucy Hughes is a student with piercings in her face and a sly smile that Maeve kind of likes - she seems to not give a shit about what others think and that’s what Maeve likes. 

She sits cross legged with her feet up on the chair across from Maeve, arms folded. “Your writing, Lucy, is a lot like Jason’s, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lucy pops her chewing gum loud enough to echo through the room. Maeve keeps a small smile hidden. The tough exterior is almost like a challenge to her, something she’d be sure to work through. “Maybe we share the same mind.” 

“True,” Maeve agrees. “I'm sure you’re not wrong there. Maybe you and Mr Wilks share the exact same mind. Yours .”

Lucy’s eyes widen, but her mouth purses. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I’m sure Jason Wilks knows a lot about female empowerment, they did do an unofficial rewrite of the school values of sorts near ten years ago,” Maeve chuckles, remembering her own school days. And how shitty they were at times, but the banding together of some of her best friends all started then. “I’m sure Jason is absolutely swimming at the thought of learning about that particular subject.” 

Lucy scoffs, tucking blonde hair behind her ears. “You’re not saying that I wrote his papers, are you?”

Maeve raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the girl. “I mean, technically, Miss Hughes, you said it. How much do you charge?”

“Pardon?” Lucy asks, eyes widening again. 

Maeve leans back in her desk chair. “How much do you charge these days? I was a five pounder myself…”

Lucy’s lips purse, her chest rising and falling fast. “Will I get in trouble?”

Maeve quickly shakes her head. To get the girl in trouble would be unjust. And she was all for the empowerment of young women. And showing the most amazingly, stupid, idiot people that stereotyping people like Lucy, people like me , Maeve thinks, doesn’t fucking fly. “Don’t get caught, Lucy. And if you need anything, please let me know.” 

Lucy’s face is covered in shock. “I always ask for help when it comes to work, Mrs Milburn.”

There was something about Lucy that Maeve couldn’t ignore. Somewhere between her ripped jeans and septum piercing that just resonated in her. “Where do you live, Lucy?”

Her cheeks flush, looking down at her feet before answering. “At the trailer park, just over the moor.” 

Maeve laughs lightly. “I grew up there too,” she sighs. “If you need anything. Anything at all. Not just school related. I know Cynthia doesn’t allow too much of a backlog on the rent and that place doesn’t have the greatest track record of keeping gas bottles in their rightful place.” 

Lucy’s grin makes her eyes squint and her teeth show. “Cynthia can be a right bitch - oops, sorry about the language.” 

Maeve shrugs. “She can be a miserable old bat at times, I bet.” 

The girl grabs her bag off the ground as she stands up, a packet of cigarettes falling out of her bag. “Ummm…” she says, unsure of what to say. 

Maeve covers her eyes with her hand. “Word of advice. The back building toilet block is probably the best place to have those.” 

Lucy grins again, rushing out of the door, pushing her cigarettes into her pocket. 

“And this is why I’m getting the mother of the year award,” Maeve mutters to herself, ticking down the length of a student’s paper.

“What are you doing?” Otis asks, sauntering his way through the kitchen. 

His tone was far too cheerful, a little suspicious and his smile was too big for a normal Tuesday evening. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

“For who?”

“Myself.”

“What’s it look like?”

Otis chuckles again, placing his hand on Maeve’s hip before saying. “There she is.” 

“Who?”

“My wife ,” he groans with an amused look on his face. 

“What’s got into you?” she asks with beaded eyes, pausing on stirring her pot. 

In an attempt to not look like the biggest bitch on earth who doesn’t like even her own  husband being happy, she gives a strained smile back but Otis raises his eyebrow. “What’s with the creepy smile?”

“What’s with your creepy smile?!” she snaps back. 

He stops for a second, shrugs then puts his hands into the pockets of his jackets. “Winnie’s in bed and you’re cooking dinner… I haven’t come home to this in a long time,” he says gently with a trace of hope in his voice. 

Before, she had everything under control. Winnie’s routine, work finished on time and she always loved cooking. Growing up with not much, it limited her choices but when she met Otis, every single thing she made seemed to be the best thing he’d ever tasted. But when her world started crumbling, so did everything she used to be in control of. 

One thing she hated was losing control and control was the first thing to go. 

The nervous rocking on the balls of his feet made Maeve laugh lightly. “Calm down, Otis. It’s just carbonara.”

“My favourite,” he says, moving in closer to her. 

There was something to be said about coming home to a warm house. Warm in the way Otis’s smile seemed a little brighter and Winnie’s loud, hurried gibberish was non stop from the moment she hit the bath until she hit her pillow. Maeve felt a shift in the air and it came in the form of Otis’s smile over her shoulder as she stirred the pot, but even then, she couldn’t think of any words to say. 

Him being present doesn’t dismiss the absence that still lingers between us, she thinks. She hates herself for thinking about it. As if their love was textbook. 

“I could put three crackers dipped in water and you’d think it was a fucking michelin star dish,” she says with a wink. 

Otis sighs. “You’re not wrong.” 

“Not wrong is always right,” she adds. 

“Ah,” he starts, leaning on the bench next to her. “Humble, yeah?”

“Hey, check my bag,” she tells him. 

“Why?”

“Just do it, dickhead.”

Otis laughs, shaking his head. When he opens her handbag, he pulls out a record. A screaming form smeared with oranges and black on the cover. “Superunknown!” he almost gasps. “Soundgarden?!”

The look he gave was enough to show her he was about twenty seconds away from tears. “Saw it when I was browsing the shops getting shit for dinner,” she explains. “Thought you might like it.”

“Maeve!” he says excitedly, rushing over to her and kissing her quickly on the cheek. “This is hard to find!” 

“I found it.” 

“You bloody did!” he replies, clutching onto the vinyl! “This is going to go great in the collection!”

“And where will it sit, since your records are fucking mental and sorted autobiographically…”

“Well, at the front of the line is the correct answer.”

Maeve sighs, his mess of autobiographically sorted records told more of Otis’s feelings than he voiced himself. Each record has a story of a moment in his life. There were records he had inherited from his grandfather that sat around 2010, 2013 held a lot of his brand new, old school rock feels. 2019 was packed with love ballads. And Janis Joplin’s Pearl , Maeve’s favourite. When she sorted through them on his eighteenth birthday, she could see a pattern of feelings and memories. And the stack of records that were of people she loved and adored was definitely an ode to her.

She wonders if her latest score of Soundgarden would slide into the collection alongside a memory and if that memory would be of the disconnection between them.

He hurries out of the kitchen to his broken down office, coming back in and leaning next to her at the kitchen counter. “Amazing purchase aside, how’s things going?”

Maeve looks up from the pot, spotting his blue eyes. She gives him a smile when she’s met with his grin. “There’s a student of mine that lives in the old trailer park.” 

“Oh?” Otis replies, raising an eyebrow. “Near your mum?”

The relief of having a somewhat normal conversation was almost liberating. But this is what it’s supposed to be like, idiot , she berates herself. Through the simplicity of their conversation, she can’t tear herself away from his soft smile. This is what it’s like when you’re sixteen and in love , she remembers. You fall in love with the smallest parts of a person. Smile and ease of conversation. He was always a listener. And she didn’t always have a lot to say, but he listened anyway. “Didn’t ask…” she answers. “I didn’t want to seem creepy. And if she is near Erin, I don’t want my student to think I’m related to the crazy cat lady. Lucky Sean got out of that one,” she says with a sarcastic laugh. 

Otis groans. “Don’t joke about it.” 

“Got to, innit? Got to find some humour behind my brother being locked up for a few years.” 

He shakes his head and nudges her shoulder with his elbow. “You’re looking at me weird.”

Maeve squints her eyes. “What about now?”

“Oooh,” he says with a shudder. “Even weirder,” he pauses. “Tell me more about this girl.”

Maeve takes the pot off the heat. “She kind of reminds me of myself at her age.” 

“Angry?” he asks with a wink. 

She shoots him a glare. “Among other things.” 

“In love with a weird Victorian ghost?”

“A very strong possibility,” she laughs. “Well, she’s charging for writing papers for a start. She does rock a pretty awesome nose ring.” 

“The nose ring is very Maeve-esque.”

Maeve sighs. “I know I always said I’d never be one of those teachers who are overly attentive to their students, but there’s something about her… I can’t explain it, Otis.” 

He nods, placing a comforting hand on Maeve’s shoulder that grounds her. Looking up at him, his eyes are caring and kind. Everything she’s ever seen in him. Even when he looks at me, it’s calming… git… “I’m sure there’s worse things you could be, Maeve. You always wanted to get into teaching to give kids a chance and there’s more ways than giving them papers on Shakespeare to give that chance. This is all part of it.” 

Maeve’s smirk turns up on the right hand side. “God, you can really tell you talk for a living, can’t you?”

Otis smirks back. “Did I do it? Did I sell you your own story?”

Maeve nudges his side. “You did. But in all seriousness, thank you. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Make sure she’s okay then. Make sure she’s safe and warm and fed and all of those things.” 

“I just don’t want another young girl to be in the same position as me. I hope she has a family.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be right. But if she’s not, you know what to do. You’ve been there.”

Maeve nods in agreeance, putting down the tea towel on the bench before leaning on it next to Otis, side by side, they have a moment of peace.

She inhales deeply before letting it go and she notices Otis’s shoulders aren’t slumped, his smile still lingers and he breathes in and out slowly - like he’s relieved. And maybe she is too. Running her tongue along her teeth as she looks up at him reminds her of being young and in love. How she’d watch his tall frame move around their small apartment that was run down in London. All of his promises that her studying was worth it, and she needn't worry about a thing because his Nando’s job in the city was enough to pay for everything she ever wanted. If everything she ever wanted was a Long Black from the breakfast menu at McDonalds in the morning with a packet of Benson & Hedges, then he was right. And he was . Their apartment had no heating in the main bedroom, so they bunked in the living room instead. Often they were greeted with drunk Eric at 4AM. Or Adam seeking peace on a Sunday evening after Eric talking his ears off all week. Sometimes it was just them two, ureminiscing on Moordale and how homesick they both were. Homesick for a feeling that only their memories of Moordale could give them.  Love was Otis rubbing her belly and telling her everything would be okay. Love was when she realised she was late, but was merely greeted with Otis’s lips on her hands. Love was when she said she didn’t know how she was going to get through her last year of study, but she couldn’t have another abortion. She couldn’t do it again. And Otis told her she didn’t have to, he’d be there every step of the way. And he was. He is . Then, before they knew it, Winnie was on her way.

The silence laced with gentle conversation and light touches is what they lived off and all they needed. Why did it feel like it wasn’t enough now? 

“You know I do love you, right?” she asks him. It’s small and quiet. It’s muted and scary. “I know… sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

His jaw twitches, clicking his tongue before taking another breath. “It doesn’t ever feel like you don’t.”

She closes her eyes for a second. Thank fuck for that… “I’m still trying… I need time.”

“I’ll give you a thousand years, you know I will.” 

She leans her head on his arm. “I know you will.” 

There’s something about the house with big windows when her husband is in it. The aloneness doesn’t creep in when he’s inside, smiling. The windows are tall and vast but she doesn’t need to worry about the outside world when her entire world is within the walls. When Otis looks down at her, they meet eyes and for the first time in forever, the drowning stops. Her heart feels like it’s hurried, but the drowning ceases. 

There’s an uncertain ringing in the back of her mind that likes to remind her that things aren’t okay and there’s usually a level of static silence between them, but she ignores it when his hands fit on her hips, her back is to the kitchen counter and his mouth is on her skin. God, the burning feels better than the drowning. The licking fire that she feels when his fingers graze over the bare skin of her neck feels better than the lost, dark depths of the water she seems to be constantly wading in with him. 

His tongue sits on the crook of her neck, his fingers work on the button of her skirt that slides down her thighs just as he does. 

Maeve’s fingers get lost in Otis’s hair when he’s separating her legs, his knees on the floor and his name on her lips. 

One can forget almost anything when your entire world is reminding you how much they love you. 

Aimee’s swelling stomach and slight waddle makes Maeve try to swallow down a laugh. Steve seems to follow behind Aimee in every single one of her moves and Aimee doesn’t notice. But Maeve does because it looks like Steve is worried that with any kind of movement, the baby might drop out at any second. 

Winnie sits at Aimee’s dining room table with a popsicle in one hand and a plate of chocolate cake in front of her. “Mmmm!” she says with approval. 

“I wasn’t sure if she was hungry or not so I just gave her what I had in the fridge.”

“Chocolate cake and a popsicle?” Maeve asks. 

Aimee shrugs. “Trust me. It was either that or high protein chicken with broccoli. If i were a kid, I’d tell me to fuck off if I offered it.”

“Fair call,” Maeve agrees. “How was she?”

“I was an absolute angel!” Winnie calls. 

Maeve widens her eyes to Aimee. “Well? Angel?”

Aimee ruffles Winnie’s hair before kissing her on the forehead. “Always an angel for Aunty Aimee aren’t you?”

“If the Angel were Lucifer,” Steve says with a wink. 

“Hey, watch it,” Maeve teases, shoving his shoulder. “My kid’s an absolute saint.” 

Maeve steps from side to side, looking around the kitchen. “What’s wrong,” Aimee asks, glaring at her. “What did you do?”

Maeve knows Aimee reads her like a book. Even if not overly observant of the outside world, at least she could always rely on her to pick up if something was wrong. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“You did Otis , I can tell. So the Pleasure Master still has it…”

“Some sort of sex radar, huh?”

“Shhh!” Aimee snaps. “Winnie will hear.”

Maeve chuckles. Even my friends are more concerned about my parenting skills than I am... “S-E-X detector then?”

“I don’t need a detector to see that mark on your neck, Maeve.” 

Her cheeks flush as she pulls her scarf tighter around her. “I’ve got an extremely cold neck.” 

“Must have needed a lot of warming up, huh?” Aimee says slyly. “What’s going on between you two?”

Breaking down what was happening between them seemed better suited to Otis. That was his thing. Deciphering relationships and throwing fancy words into it to make it seem both more clinical, and harder to understand than it had to be. But when she thought about it herself, it seemed too simple and lacked the severity of what she felt. 

They weren’t there for each other when they needed to be, and they were paying for it. 

“Otis and I are trying to work things out.” 

“But Maeve, you love each other so much. How did it end up like this?”

Aimee rubs her stomach, slow motions, clockwise. She and Steve had been trying for a while, Maeve knows, she was at every appointment with Aimee, holding her hand when Steve couldn’t. She knows the stress of trying, the relief in succeeding. She knows it all too well. 

She knows, and she won’t take that away from Aimee with tainting her with her own sad story. “Things just never bounced back from the when we went through all that stuff.”

Aimee’s knowing frown makes her stop rubbing her belly, instead, she looks down at it with a mournful look. “I’m sure he never meant to let things get like this, Maeve.” 

I’m sure he didn’t , she thinks. He never meant to not be there for her. He never meant to throw himself into work. He never meant to distance himself or isolate himself in the office with the lifted floorboards pretending to be fixing them but instead he was sitting there alone in the dark. He never meant to look at her like he was sorry or hold his daughter so tightly he thought he’d lose her too. 

He never meant to make Maeve feel guilty, but it ate away at her before his very eyes and he never saw it. 

“I’m sure he didn’t,” she says. 

Aimee rushes over and throws her hands around Maeve’s neck, “Oh Maevey - you’re my best friend and I’m here for you every single step of the way. But do cut him some slack, you fought for each other through thick and thin and this is not the end.”

Maeve smiles at the optimism. She needs it. This is not the end.

Locked in the bathroom, she rubs moisturiser on her face, but the silence on the other side doesn’t come like it usually does. Instead, giggling is heard before several high pitched squeals. Otis reads out loud; “Happy Hubert was going to the Happy Horse Festival to see all his happy horse friends…” 

She waits it out a little longer. The silence was something she’d become accustomed to. Something she needed. There were certain moments that she couldn’t face and it was mostly when the nights silence fell and his back was to hers. But still, Winnie’s laughter rings through the bathroom. 

Maeve stares in the mirror. Her face was still thin, probably thinner than usual. She didn’t eat for a while there. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to eat after the loss. And her sleeping pattern was no better for the coffee and cigarettes. Her hair was longer, past her shoulders, brown and with a wave just like Winnie’s. Her eyes feel bare without the liner, and she showered with all her jewellery on even though Ruby begs that she doesn’t ruin the gold like that. 

She’d never owned real gold until Otis took on his first real clients. Even her wedding ring is tarnished with a purple coloured cubic zirconia, but she loves it and will never ever replace it. 

The laughter calms, but it doesn’t stop. She takes a deep breath before opening the bathroom door. 

Otis tickles Winnie whose face is so lit up with a smile that it looks like it’s going to crack. “Come on, Winslow, mummy’s hopping in bed!”

The fight begins, because that’s why they should never go to bed before ensuring she’s asleep. “But I don’t want to sleep by myself!”

Otis gives Maeve a defeated look and she sighs. “Lie down then, in the middle. Hurry up.”

Winnie’s excited scream tells her this isn’t going to end well. “Thank you!” 

She snuggles in just as Maeve opens the blanket to slip in next to her, already, her little eyes are shut with a grin on her face. “You’re going to pay for this, Milburn,” she says to Otis. 

“Who? Me? Or little Milburn stuck in the middle here.” 

“Both,” Maeve shoots with a grin. “You know you can’t let her play in here or she’ll never hop in her own bed.” 

“But how can you say no to that little face?” he asks, pointing at Winnie in the middle. “She’s like a lost puppy.” 

“She really is,” Maeve laughs. “Look, she’s already out cold.”  

Otis shakes his head. “She sleeps just like you, look, she’s snoring.”

“Alright, calm down, prat. You’re the one who Eric kicked out of his room for snoring.”

“Eh, I don’t believe it. I just think he was sick of me taking up all the space.” 

The silence begins, but this time it’s calming and free. Soft hums of their breaths fill the void, the bed though full, feels better than before. She searches for his hand over Winnie’s sleeping form, finding it in the dark. “Goodnight, Otis.”

“Goodnight, Maeve.” 

In the house with big windows, it’s not too big. Tonight, she doesn’t feel the depth of her aloneness. 

Chapter Text

actively listening

Otis notices Ruby watching the children with what he assumes is either amazement or disgust. Jax sits eating his fish and chips that are both stacked tidily, dipping the chips in sauce that’s in a tidy little puddle. Meanwhile, his own kid is tearing chips in half, dunking them in her soft drink and eating it soggy. 

“Yeah, ah, that’s Maeve’s kid,” Otis laughs.

“ That’s disgusting,” she says, pointing at Winnie’s drink, “But that kid,” she points at Jax. “Is definitely Viv’s.”

“Yeah, he gets his brains from his mum,” Jackson shrugs. “All he got from me is the skinny legs.”

“No, he gets his OCD from his mum,” Ruby says, observing the little boy. “It’s truly amazing.”

At about the time Winnie starts trying to piggyback ride Jax, Viv arrives with more drinks. “So, what did I miss?” 

Jackson grins, rubbing his hands together. “Drinks! You’re amazing!”

Viv puts her fist for Jackson to bump. “Anything exciting while I was gone?”

“Apart from Maeve’s daughter trying to break your son’s back?” Otis laughs. “Not much.” 

Viv shoots him a glare. “Don’t be like that, all the little whiny bits she gets from you. Don’t blame that on Maeve.”

“Can’t argue that, dude,” Jackson adds, lifting his drink in toast to the air. “You are a little whiny.”

“Just the smallest bit, yeah?” Otis says sarcastically, putting his thumb and forefinger close together. 

“And where is Maeve?” Ruby asks, pushing chips around the paper. 

“Girls night, with Aimee,” he answers. 

“Bitch session with Aimee,” Ruby says under her breath. 

“Hey, you don’t know that!” Jackson argues, clapping his hand on Otis’s back. 

Ruby fakes shock. “Oh? So they’re sitting there together listing all the great things about him? Come on, you know that’s not happening.”

But the look that Viv gives with a shrug doesn’t convince Otis. “I mean, she’s got a point,” Viv adds. 

Otis frowns, folding his arms across his chest. “You lot are definitely doing wonders for my self esteem.” 

Viv’s frown matches his. “How are things going with you two?”

Where does he start? How every other day he feels like they’re making progress, and in between that, he thinks she’s almost ready to leave. “Both good and bad.”

“Sounds like Maeve,” Jackson says with a halfhearted laugh. “Up and down.” 

“But you don’t think things will get worse, will they?” Viv asks. 

Jax and Winnie both chase each other around the picnic bench, throwing pieces of bread at each other. “Children,” Ruby shudders. 

Viv shakes her head. “Yeah, and to think you want one of them!” 

“Oh no, mine won’t be anything like these two.” 

Did he think things would get worse? He honestly didn’t know. He’d like to think their love could withstand the hardest of battles, and it does. Only just. “I don’t know, Viv.”

“Like, how bad are we talking here? Divorce bad?” Jackson scoffs. “Yeah right. Maeve… no way… she wouldn’t. You guys are never breaking up, that’s ridiculous.” 

“I hate to say it, but you guys were written in the stars. I give it two months. Maybe two and a half months, and everything will be back to normal. There’s time frames, you know? Grieving is a process, then recalibration. Statistics show…” Otis zones out on Viv’s jumble of words. 

“I’m sorry, is this a Nicholas Sparks novel, Viv?” Jackson teases his wife.

“Says the man who recited Shakespeare to me this morning? Good to see you still know Romeo’s lines, Jackson,” Viv replies with a wink. 

Written in the stars? Viv was right in a way. Fate wasn’t something he thought of often, but he knows his heart was drawn to Maeve’s from the moment she told him she knew a good place to hide a body. And sometimes, it feels like she’s killing me...

Shit is bad when Ruby looks like she’s struggling to find the light at the end of the tunnel. Viv and Jackson attempt to control the kids and leave them both sitting at the table. “You’re a good guy, Otis. Only good things happen to good people.”

“Then why does it feel the complete opposite?”

“I’m telling you. Take my word for it. We’re all forced to listen to your advice, so why not listen to us for once?”

He grew up thinking that the end of a relationship comes with the betrayal of one's trust with the memory of his dad leaving etched into his brain. But now he’s older, and he’d like to think a little wiser. He knows the beginning of the end always starts with the heart.

Eric’s lips and teeth take over the screen. “Small talk. How’s work?”

Otis rolls his eyes. “Why the small talk?”

Eric pouts. “Because I miss you. And If I talk about anything other than small talk, I will miss you even more. Why don’t you come to London for a break?”

Otis missed Eric too. Too much. Badly . If there was ever a time in their friendship that Otis needed him, it was now. The seriousness needed to be cut with Eric’s laughter. He needed to get a decent bloody hug from his best mate. London was inviting, but he felt tied to the roots of Moordale. Or, more specifically, Maeve. “I could but -”

“-But nothing!” Eric snaps. “Come to London, let’s hit the town!”

“I can’t leave Winnie.”

“Bring her!”

“And take her out on the town like you’ve just suggested?”

“Scratch that part - I need to see my baby, I’m the worst kind of absent parent.” 

Otis chuckles. “You’re not her parent.” 

“Oh yes I am, I’ll take you up for custody of her you know I’ll take your skinny ass to court!”

The sweet relief of laughing with his friend made London not seem so far. “Are you sure I can bring Winnie too?”

As much as the respite was needed and escaping the greenery of Moordale for the concrete jungle, he knew down in his heart of hearts that maybe Maeve needed a moment too. Winnie always loved Uncle Eric, Adam and the dogs. More so the dogs. Maeve could rest while they were gone for the weekend. Otis could only imagine the laughs they would have. 

Eric snorts, rolling his eyes. “Would I ever say no to seeing my little Winnie the Pooh? Please. You’re mad. You’ve lost your fucking mind, Otis!”

“I’m not arguing with you on that one,” Otis sighs. 

“Because I’m right and you know it! Come to London, bring my baby! I want to squish her.”

Otis grins. “You’re definitely selling it. And don’t call her a baby, she’ll bite your head off. She’s a mature five, she says.” 

“I’ll call her a baby until she’s grown. A mature five? That’s Maeve coming out of her mouth if ever I’ve heard it.” 

“I know,” Otis agrees. “She’s a mini her.”

“I’ll pray for you guys when she’s sixteen. Lord help us… so, are you coming?”

“I’ll plan it for eight weeks time.” 

The screaming is undecipherable from the other end of the phone. “Oh Adam is going to be SHOOK!”

“I’m sure he’ll be bursting at the seams to see us,” Otis nods along sarcastically. 

“If he’s not, he knows where the door is. I’m about to have my two babies home!” 

Otis’s sigh is all too evident of how much he misses Eric. “I’m seriously counting down the days,” he says heavily. “I really miss you, Eric.”

Eric’s frown matches his own. “You know you can always call me to come home if things get bad, right?”

He knows. But Eric’s life in London is far too important for the likes of Otis’s Moordale problems. “And who’s going to do all those clothing designs while you’re hanging out at the chippy with me, huh?"

Eric’s smile is lopsided. “Boys weekend in London it is!”

“And a little girl.”

“And my little girl!”

Otis hears a knock on the door. “That’s my next client. I better go, man. Love ya!”

“See you in eight weeks! I’ll call you on the weekend!”

He can’t wait for London. He can’t wait to get out of this place.

Her tone is easy and light and the smile she wears almost feels like it’s the old one. The old her . She throws her handbag on the kitchen counter and sniffs the air. “Is that bread?”

He smiles back, carb loading was kind of their thing and he always had a bit of a midas touch when it came to putting flour, yeast and water into a bowl. Something he had inherited from his mother that he was actually proud of. The other thing he’d inherited was his slightly probing nature when it came to people that he loves. He wasn’t always proud of trying to get to the root of the problem when Maeve didn’t want to speak, but it ate him from the inside out. “Eh, I've thrown something together. Pumpkin soup and my shitty looking bread.” 

Maeve shakes her head, sauntering through the kitchen, wrapping her hand over his and leaning down to look into the oven, dragging him down at the same time. “You have a gift, it would be irresponsible to waste it,” she says with a wink, standing straight again. 

His heart flutters for a second. The old them . “So you’ve said.”

“Winnie in bed already?”

Otis nods. “Crashed as soon as Steve dropped her off. Athletics day.”

“Favourite day of the term,” Maeve says. “Nothing better than getting someone else to run your kid around the school to tire them out before getting home.” 

“Should be a national holiday!” 

She sits at the kitchen table, pulling off new Docs and socks as he tidies the dirty dishes. “What a day,” she breathes. 

“How was your day?”

She lifts her shoulders. “Good stuff or bad stuff first?”

“Bad.”

Maeve starts. “That girl Lucy I told you about? Yeah, well she got into a fight.” 

“Yeah?” Otis asks, looking concerned. “What happened?”

“Apparently she’s stolen another student’s boyfriend. How are kids so mean? I really thought things would have changed since we were at school…”

“It’s primal. Natural instinct. Teenagers are the worst form of person, I'm telling you.” 

She laughs. “You’re not wrong about that. We weren’t so shitty though.”

“Weren’t we?” Otis asks with squinted eyes and a tilted head. “If I remember correctly, you were a scrote biter and we charged money to give out advice. We were pretty shitty.” 

“We were,” she agrees. “I just felt so sorry for her.” 

“It never is nice being the name on the tip of everyone’s tongues.”

“I think the worst part was that she didn’t even care.”

Otis runs his hand through his hair. He remembers a girl just as unconcerned. Just as willing to stick up for herself, uninterested in the stories travelling about her. Someone who didn’t let much get to her but held so much inside of herself. Fearless and wild. “What’s there to care about? Accusations and lies, I’m assuming. But it sounds like she put them in their place.”

“All she has is an older sister, Otis,” Maeve says with a defeated look in her eye. “She lost both her parents. She’s just trying to make it. When I spoke to her, I almost burst into tears. She’s everything I was and everything I’m trying to keep from Winnie. I don’t think I’d be nearly as torn about Lucy if I wasn’t a parent.” 

He can see the glistening in her eyes, the drop of her shoulders and the slow, deep breath she takes. He drops the ladle and wanders over the kitchen table. When he stands in front of her, she drops her head onto his stomach and he rubs the back of her head. “I think it drained you, emotionally, listening to her story.” 

Maeve sniffs, nodding she lifts her head from him. “I can’t imagine not caring. Or not being there for Winnie. I’ve been that girl. The one with no one. At least she has her sister but she’s only a few years older, with a kid and living in the trailer. I made it out of there. We did, you and I.” 

There was always an uncertainty of what to say when she spoke about her upbringing or how it affected her. Otis was lucky to live in a loving home, something his mother fought for, and fought for hard , but it was theirs. She provided him with everything and more, there was no fear in his childhood. 

But Maeve, she was tough and strong. Everything she had was from the sheer strength she had yet every now and then, it catches up. All tears and blurred vision. “That wasn’t me, Maeve. That was all you. Everything we have is because of you.” 

She sniffs again, resting her head on him as he strokes hair out of her face. “How about dinner then?” she asks. 

Ah, deflecting, he thinks, knowing the depth of conversation would be starting to drown her. She never did like talking about how far she’s come. Otis knows there’s a level of guilt there. It shows whenever she mentions her family, the same guilt he gets for other reasons when he talks about his at times. She misses Sean, sometimes, he knows she misses the simplicity of the trailer and its small, four walls. She misses Elsie that she never gets to see. 

He knows it’s the reason why she lets Erin visit fortnightly, it eases the guilt. 

He bends over, kissing her on the forehead to which she closes her eyes to, letting it soak in. “Would you like bread with your soup?”

She shakes her head. “I’d like soup with my bread, thanks. Load it up for me, will you?” she gets up from the chair, going to the fridge and getting out the butter. 

When she places it on the bench, he adds the pot of soup and the fresh baked bread next to it. “Dig in,” he says. 

Maeve takes a handful of the bread, smearing it in butter before speaking with her mouth full. “You really are the best baker.” 

“Better than Aims?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” she replies with a wink. 

He lets the gentle silence wash over them, nothing but the sound of her steady slurps from her spoon and bites of her bread. Without saying anything, he leans over and kisses the top of her head again and she pulls back, leaning back in on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “Okay?” he asks. 

“Getting there,” she says quietly with another mouthful of soup. 

The house with big windows is starting to feel like a home again. They’re getting there. 

“I always love coming here, it makes me so happy to see you guys doing well,” Erin says quickly. 

Maeve tilts her head and pours water into the coffee mugs. “Mmmm,” she says simply. 

It had taken a lot of convincing of Maeve from Otis to let Erin back in their lives. Moving back to Moordale was a way of being close to family, but Maeve didn’t want any part of that from her own family. Erin had been clean for five years. She lost a lot, she gained a lot in return in the way of life lessons. She tried hard, and though he couldn’t blame Maeve for it, trying hard wasn’t enough. 

They’d come far from the thirty minute visits at the trailer. Now, Erin was allowed at their house every second saturday. Baby steps are better than none, he’d remind himself. “So, your mum’s in the Canary Islands?” Erin asks excitedly. 

“Yeah,” Otis replies, taking a sip of the coffee Maeve places in front of him. “She and Jakob had been planning it for a while.” 

“It looks like a beautiful place,” she says with wide eyes. “Haven’t even been to Blackpool before!” 

“You could have been if you hadn’t fucked up your life,” Maeve mutters next to him but Erin doesn’t seem to catch it as she piles six sugars into her coffee. 

Winnie runs around the house, stuffed toys tied to string that follow behind her. “She reminds me so much of you, frog face. Sean used to chase you around the house and you’d just run for hours!” 

Maeve’s nose twitches at the mention of Sean’s name. “Great memories.” 

Erin purses her lips while stirring her coffee she hasn’t even tasted yet. “Ah, they weren’t all bad.”

“You’re right,” Maeve says with a sigh. “They were real peachy.” 

Otis wishes internally that he could instead be chasing Winnie around the house in hopes to escape. Usually he’d manage to escape the house to hang with Jean, but the Canary Islands were too far. “How’ve you been holding up, Erin?” he asks. 

She shrugs, finally sipping the coffee. “Cynthia’s been getting me to help out around the park which is nice. No use me trying to find anything else to do when my car’s shit itself.” 

He can tell Maeve’s trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “How’s your car shit itself?”

Erin cringes. “I don’t think it’s been serviced in a few years for starters.”

“You don’t think?” Maeve snaps. “Or you know you haven’t had it checked?”

“When was the last time yours got serviced?” Otis asks, but regrets immediately with the glare Maeve gives him. 

“Come on frog, services aren’t cheap and it’s not like Cynthia’s jumping at the opportunity to give me a few pounds.” 

Otis notices Maeve close her eyes and takes a deep breath. “How much do you need?” 

Erin flicks from Maeve to Otis, a worried smile on her face. “Forget the service, I’ll be right without a car for the time being but I’m a little behind on the rent and Jeffery’s been hounding me for the cash…”

She stands up and goes into the pantry, moving the bottles of tequila that Remi sent from Mexico that Otis refuses to touch, she pulls out an old shoe box. Otis bites his lip. He hated seeing Maeve like this, afraid to say yes to Erin, too worried to say no. He’d never say anything to his wife when it came to Erin, at times, he wishes he could give her more. She needed it, he’d be stupid to think otherwise. But the conflict in Maeve was just as painful to watch as it was for her to bear. She pulls out some money from the shoebox and slaps it down in front of Erin. “Please, make it last.” 

Erin is thankful, she always is. The nervous stammer and the watery eyes tell him so. “Thank you, bub. And you too, Otis.” 

“The least we can do.” he replies awkwardly. Another glare is shot from Maeve. 

“You know, when I was pregnant with Sean I always prayed I’d have a decent kid that I could provide for and then they’d grow up and they’d help me out… at least some of that came true, huh?” she hurries. 

Maeve lifts her shoulders, slumping back in her seat. “Imagine what I might’ve been like if I had decent parents then.” 

Erin’s smile is weak. “Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

Erin nods. “At least one of my kids is doing alright, eh?” she says, trying to pick things up. “University, a great husband! A beautiful daughter, I’m sure you’ll get there with another one soon enough…” 

Maeve swallows loudly and Otis starts playing with the hem of his shirt. “What do you mean?” she says thickly. “Sean went to Texas to become an astronaut.” 

“Always had his head in the clouds, that kid. He was an astronaut from the moment he was born. But you on the other hand, you were born the Michelin Man! Did she ever tell you how chubby she was as a kid, Otis?”

The conversation continues and Maeve’s smile starts to fall with each word until she can’t hide her disappointment anymore. Otis knows. 

He’s seen that look far too much lately.

The afternoon shifts and the sun starts to set. Erin was short a few quid on her bus fair back to the trailer park and she needed to save the money she was given for the rent, so Maeve took her home. 

When Maeve returns, she hangs her jacket on the coat rack and drops her handbag by her feet as Otis cleans up Winnie’s craft supplies and bits of torn up paper that have her name scribbled all over them. “I’m not okay.” 

She walks straight out the backdoor to the patio area, pulling out a cigarette from her packet and lighting it up. Otis watches from inside before he drops blunt scissors on the table before following her outside. She takes a drag of her smoke, exhaling a cloud in front of him. When they’re face to face, he looks down, he tucks her hair behind her ears before holding her face in his hands. 

It didn’t matter anymore if the talk between them seemed almost like a silence, or if when they touch it feels like it would be the last touch forever. All that mattered is that when she chooses to speak these days, it was because she needed him. And he’d listen. Forever listening. He strokes her cheekbones with his thumbs and places a small kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay to not be okay. You’re allowed to not be okay.” 

She throws her cigarette on the ground and nods in his hands, putting her own hands on his wrists and closing her eyes. “Every time she comes, I wonder if she’s taken two steps forward and three back. I wonder if it’ll be the day she confesses she’s been using again. I wonder a lot of things, but mostly, I wonder if she was ever like me at any stage. If I’m going to end up like her. Some sort of fucked up husk of a person.” 

Otis shakes his head. “No, you won’t. You won’t end up a husk -”

“Won’t I?” she sniggers. “Sometimes, it feels like I am already. Sometimes I feel like I’m not a good mum to Winnie. Sometimes I feel like I’m not a good mum .” 

Her hands drop to her stomach but Otis takes her entirely in his arms, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. “You’re a wonderful wife,” he whispers. “A beautiful, intelligent, amazing mother.” 

“If I was…” she doesn’t finish the sentence. 

She doesn’t have to. 

He knows what she’s about to say. If she was, maybe they wouldn’t have lost the baby. But there was no amount of begging, on his hands and knees at her feet, no amount of tears that he shed on her, no amount of pleading that could ever change her mind. So he lets her stand there with her sighs moving through his sighs and her in his arms. 

“The three of us is all that matters.” 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I’ve missed you.”

He feels sick to the stomach. Three simple words feel like they hurt more than her kicking and screaming at him. It wasn’t his proudest moment, the seclusion. In a time when she needed him most, he was talking himself down from panic. The aloneness was all consuming, but it distanced him from the darkness that swallowed them both. But the aloneness consumed her with all of its gut, heart and soul. He moves the thoughts out of his head, planting kisses on her again. “I’m here, Maeve.” 

Sometimes, the house with big windows shows every single one of their thoughts and flaws. 

Otis and Jakob had to move the bed in their bedroom three times before they had to move out of the room all together and into the spare room. Maeve couldn’t sleep in their room without the reminder of bright red sheets haunting her. 

It’d only been a few weeks since she’d stopped hiding in the bathroom for close to an hour until he’d give up, turning on his side and pretending to sleep. He thinks he was just as good at faking asleep as she was. There’s no greater silence than the one between two people in the same bed that are supposed to be in love. 

Tonight, her movements are louder and she leaves the bathroom door open a fraction while she gets ready. “Have you heard from your mum?”

Otis is surprised by the question, but happy for it, “I called her yesterday to see how she was going.”

“And?”

“Well, she’s very tanned.” 

Maeve pops her head out from behind the door. “Nice.”

“Have you heard from her?” he asks, keeping the conversation flowing. 

Again, she pops out from behind the door. “She sent me a message this morning asking if I wanted anything but I said no. I think she’s missing us, she asked for photos of Winnie.”

He laughs. “Sounds about right…” his thoughts move to Eric. “Hey, Eric asked if Winnie and I could go visit him for a weekend in the next month or two, what do you think?”

Maeve pauses for a moment before opening the door of the bathroom. “I mean, it’s totally fine if you and Winnie go and I stay here. I wouldn’t be able to take the time off, but I think you need to catch up with Eric before he accuses me of withholding you two.” 

“Great,” he replies but his eyes are drawn to the blue and black jumper she has on with the arms too long and the fraying hem from being over worn. She’d only ever wear it when he was away, or if he worked too many nights when they were eighteen and he was at Nando’s in the city. It had cigarette burns in it and probably countless amounts of coffee had been spilt on it but she loved it. It reminded him of being sixteen. The love of Otis and Maeve. “You pulled the old jumper out.” 

She shrugs and tugs on the cuffs of the jumper from the inside before sitting on the edge of their bed. “I was cold.” 

She moves closer to him, turning her back to him but reaching for his hands that she wraps around her body. “London is going to suck without you.” 

“Make sure to hit the parties. Just so I know that you really, really hated your trip to London.”

“I can’t think of anything worse,” Otis smiles in her hair. 

“To make sure you really don’t enjoy your time, might I suggest you do some dancing?”

He feels her smile against his wrist when she pulls his hands up to kiss the top. “I might break a limb while I’m out on the dancefloor boogying on down.” 

Maeve laughter shakes the bed. “Please don’t say boogying on down ever again.” 

“Oh joyous one,” he murmurs, sleep taking him willingly and easily for the first time in a long time. “You really are a picture of optimism.”

Maeve says with sleep in her tone. “Shut up, Muppet.”

He can just make out the tag on the back of the jumper she’s wearing. Otis Milburn.

Chapter Text

you're a gem

There were things that Otis hounded her about that she just couldn’t get done. The car was shitty, but it did the job. Most of the time. Sometimes, she merely doesn’t take his car because it’s the embodiment of everything they worked hard for. The fucking car. Her car was all they had left from their old life. The one with the peeling wallpaper and the icy flat that was terrible to live in during the winter. The one with the McDonalds novelty cups and mismatched mugs that she stole from Erin when she left the trailer. The car is what they moved home to Moordale with, with a baby Winnie in the backseat. 

She misses simplicity.

Tonight, she kicks the wheels of the car. It didn’t even tick over once but she couldn’t ring Otis while he’s probably on the road on his way back home. All the staff had already gone home so she lights a cigarette, closing her eyes with some much needed relief. 

“You okay, Ms Milburn?”

Maeve turns around, tucking her smoke behind her back before realising it was Lucy. Stubbing it out on the ground, she answers. “Car problems.” 

“You didn’t need to waste your smoke like that,” Lucy replies, arms full of books. 

“Wouldn’t be setting a great example if I kept it.” 

“True,” Lucy nods. “What’s wrong with your car?”

Other than it’s a piece of shit?... “It’s old and it needs to retire but I can’t let the old girl go. Cars get you places.”

“No way,” Lucy says sarcastically. 

Maeve chuckles lightly. “Who would have thought, yeah?”

“So… you’re just going to sit out here all night?”

Maeve hadn’t thought that far. “I’ll give the car one more go and if she doesn’t start up, I guess I’ll have to call my husband.”

“You’ve got a family?”

“I do,” answers Maeve, nodding her head. “A husband and a daughter.” 

“You’re too young to have both those things.” 

“Not really, I got married at twenty two, had my daughter at twenty three.”

“Yeah,” Lucy laughs. “Way too young!” 

Maeve couldn’t disagree. Though it wasn’t her natural choice of how things would work out, they did and she dealt with it. She couldn’t imagine her life without Otis, that much she was certain of even at twenty two. “Maybe… but it worked out.” 

“Have you lived in Moordale your whole life?” Lucy asks, placing her books on the roof of Maeve’s car. She leans back on the door next to her. “I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole.”

“Well, it is a hell hole. Of the worst kind. But, you leave home, and you wish you were back.”

“That’s got to be a lie.” 

Maeve grins. “Only a little.” 

“You moved away then?”

“Yeah. Moved to London on a whim, managed to get into University with my boyfriend. Lived in a shitty flat that was worse than this car and worse than the caravan I grew up in.” 

“What happened?”

Maeve looks to Lucy. “Married my boyfriend. Moved home to be closer to family.”

Lucy looks down at her feet. “Do you have much family?”

Maeve shrugs. “Depends on what you mean by family. I have a recovering addict mother, my brother was in Texas trying to become an astronaut…”

“Sorry about your mum, but that’s awesome about your brother,” Lucy says quietly.

“No, that was a joke. My brother is a dealer. And now he’s in prison.” 

“Oh,” Lucy says, looking down again. “My sister’s boyfriend got locked up for dealing as well.”

“The family I chose is better. I’ve got a band of tight knit friends that have given me more than my biological family ever have.” 

“Seems that way for me as well. My sister’s best friend helps us a lot. I’ve got a friend who’s always there for me.” 

“Jason Wilks?”

“Yeah.” 

“Explains why you don’t charge him as much to do his work.” 

Lucy laughs. “I mean, it’s bad enough that he can barely read.”

Maeve turns around, reaching in through the window, she starts the car that runs with a roar. “Thank fuck for that,” she mutters under her breath.

“Finally decided to go, huh?”

“Finally!” Maeve agrees. “Hey, Lucy, how are you getting home?”

Lucy reaches for her books on the top of the car. “I’ll catch the bus.”

Maeve shakes her head. “Jump in, I’ll drop you off, I could go and see my mum anyways.” 

Lucy nods. “Thanks Ms Milburn.”

“I know I’ll regret it, but it’s on the way.”

Lucy spoke about Jason Wilks the entire way home and Maeve could pick up that there was more of a friendship in that. She always had a gift for picking up on the latest relationships, it was good to know it didn’t go away with age. 

She sends Otis a message telling him she’s popped in to see Erin and stands outside of the old trailer. The door was rusting and one of the windows had a crack, but it was home. Kind of. Before even knocking on the door, she lights a smoke, again taking a much needed break from the rest of the world. 

Erin shows up to the door in her dressing gown, grin showing through the glass. “Frog face?!”

Maeve puts her hands in the air. “It’s me in the flesh.” 

Erin swings the door open, “You okay? What are you doing here?”

“Came for a visit, it looks like.”

Erin continues grinning, making Maeve’s guilt eat away at her. “I’ll make you a cuppa if I can snag a ciggie.”

Maeve nods. “I’d love a tea thanks.”

“Perfect! I’ll be right out.”

She hears the gas turn on and the kettle being placed on the element. Looking into the trailer, she sees her award sitting on the counter still. Even after twelve years with Otis’s scribble and scrawl on the plaque. Stupid git, she thinks with a smile on her face, taking a mental note to take it home with her one day. 

Erin comes hurrying down the steps and sits herself down on a chair next to Maeve. “Thanks a lot,” she tells her mother. 

“It’s no latte but it’ll do.” Maeve offers a cigarette to which she takes. “Why’d I get blessed with a visit from the Queen herself?”

Maeve flicks ash from her smoke. “An over exaggeration of who I am.” 

“Eh, you’re all fancy in your house on the river and your fancy job.” 

“My job isn’t fancy, it’s my job.”

“Oh, you know I’m just teasing you, frog face. What owes me the pleasure?”

I shouldn’t be asked why I’m visiting my own fucking mother, she thinks. She wasn’t sure why she was there. There was more to it than dropping off Lucy. She wanted to see Erin.  For once she wanted someone to lean back on. To talk through what she was going through with someone who should understand her, woman to woman. But instead Erin’s jittery smile and awkward looks made Maeve feel uncomfortable. She didn’t know her, and Erin didn’t know her own daughter at all. “I wanted some advice.” 

“Oh, you don’t want advice from me,” Erin sighs. 

No shit… Maeve nods. “That might be true,” she shrugs. “But for once, I wish you could tell me everything was going to be alright.” 

Erin inhales sharply, exhaling through her nose. “Oh Maeve,” she says quietly. “You’ve cracked it big time. You don’t need telling everything’s going to be alright, it already is.”

Maeve knows deep down that her mother wouldn’t understand. That she wouldn’t know what it was like to be in love, and the feeling of that love being torn in so many directions, she doesn’t know where to go. Her mother hasn’t had the luxury of someone understanding her better than she knows herself. Or building an entire life with a person who lights up a room without even trying. Maeve’s heart aches a little, and it aches for her mum. “I know…” 

“I know you haven’t been quite right since you lost the baby, frog…”

She flicks the lighter on and off in her hand, watching the flame. Erin was wrong. Not being quite right wasn’t the problem she faced, it was the feeling of another loss. She should be more used to it, she lost people constantly through her life. She lost her father, she doesn’t know him at all or where he is. Sporadically, Erin was in and out - she lost her more often than anyone else. Sean was gone, just as he always was. Then Otis came, and he never left. Until the day he found her with red on white sheets. She lost the baby, and in turn, she lost him. 

She lost everyone.

“Otis and I never really got over it…”

Erin sighs, patting Maeve’s leg. “You could always go another one.” 

Maeve snickers, standing up and swinging her handbag over her shoulder. Of course she’d think things were that easy, she thinks to herself. “I better go. Otis is probably wondering where I am.” 

Erin nods and smiles. “Can I scab another one for later?” she asks, pointing at the cigarettes in Maeve’s hand. 

She chucks them on the empty seat. “Have the pack.” 

She doesn’t know what she was thinking coming over, but she knows what she was looking for. 

She was looking for a mother. The kind she hopes Winnie will see in her. 

“My mum says that you should rely on nobody but yourself,” Winnie announces to the table. “A good job is one where you’re your own boss!”

“Therefore…?” Maeve prompts.

“Therefore no one can tell you what to do and when to do it!”

Jax’s face screws up and it looks exactly like Jackson’s. “That sounds a bit stupid because your mum works with my mum and dad and they’re not in charge at the school.” 

Maeve laughs. “You’re very attentive, aren’t you?”

“My dad says people who correct other people are know-it-all’s,” Winnie says. 

Jackson and Viv look at Maeve. “That’s funny, Winnie,” says Jackson. “Because your daddy was a know-it-all if ever I’d seen one.” 

Maeve puts up her middle finger when the kids aren’t looking. “Good one, prat.” 

Viv puts down her Queen of Hearts. “I’m out for the count.” 

“How do you win this damn game?” Aimee asks, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her belly. “I’ve been playing this game for years and I don’t think I’ve ever won!” 

Jackson peeps over his own hand to look at Aimee’s. “Aims, you have to get rid of all those Kings for anything to happen.”

“I thought it was Queens!”

“You can’t do anything with all the Kings too though.” 

Aimee groans, “I don’t get it!”

Maeve laughs at her best friend, picking some crisps out of the bowl. “Steve couldn’t make it?”

“He’s stressing over the baby’s room. But baby’s don’t really care about decor, do they?”

Viv gives Maeve a sympathetic look that she tries to ignore. Their fortnightly get together was always her chance to escape, but these days, it was hard to avoid their sad stares when Aimee was at the table. “I have some left over things from Jax if you’d like them,” Viv offers. 

Aimee’s excitement is obvious when she screams. “We’d love that! Maeve already gave us some of Winnie’s things too!” 

“You didn’t want to keep them?” Jackson asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“In two weeks time, it’s been a year…” she replies quietly. “I thought I better stop hoarding stuff.”

An, “Oh,” echoes around the table as Jackson places a card down slowly on the pile. 

Maeve looks down at her cards, great, a fucking pity party, she thinks. “Yeah, well it’s okay. I have better things to worry about at the moment.” 

“Like how you’re shunning Otis?” Jackson suggests. 

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t share the same group of friends with your husband,” she snaps. “Whose side are you on?”

“Both!” Viv says quickly. “It’s quite an eye opener, we can’t be biased if we know both sides and statistically -”

“No statistics, Viv,” Aimee groans. “I can’t keep up with all the facts, innit.”

“Fine,” Viv agrees. “But I’m just saying Otis is trying so hard.”

“Too hard,” Jackson adds. “It’s like he’s going to burst a blood vessel.”

“Really, really hard,” says Aimee.

“One might say he’s a try hard,” Maeve shrugs. 

“Oh, Maeve,” Viv laughs, elbowing her. 

The game continues and not without several screams from Aimee and both kids trying to strangle each other. Maeve knows they’re right. Otis was trying hard, so hard, at times she wonders if she deserves him at all. He’d move mountains, walk on glass, break his own bones for her, she’s always known he would. 

But it was more than just him. 

It was her. She was the one who was lost.

Winnie was sick and in the end, Otis was almost begging Maeve to go to work, knowing how much she wanted to be there for her students. It took thirty minutes of back and forth before she decided she’d go to class, and Otis would cancel his clients. But she knew how much the clients needed him. She knew better than anyone else on the earth. 

When she got home, Otis was lying flat on the ground in the lounge holding Winnie’s hand who was lying on the couch. “Why am I sick?” she asks her father, rolling over onto her side and prodding him in the face. 

“Mummy says it’s probably from all of those snotty nosed brats that you go to school with,” he answers. 

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” he laughs, kissing her on the forehead as he gets up. “Speaking of which, she’s home!”

Maeve sits down on the couch by Winnie’s feet. “How’s your patient, Doctor?”

Otis gives a weak smile, sighing and running his hand through his hair. Something was on his mind, she could tell. “The cough is calming down, but the chatter is not.” 

She reaches across the couch and ruffles Winnie’s hair. “That doesn’t sound like you at all, frog legs! You’re not a motor mouth!” 

“We had ice cream and popsicles and then we had muffins!” her daughter speeds through. 

“Daddy’s been getting cuisine ideas from Aunty Aimee innit?”

Otis remains quiet while Maeve plays with Winnie, following him around the room with her eyes, she notices he doesn’t really do anything. Just walking around aimlessly. She doesn’t see him like this often. Usually everything he does has a meaning, he has an answer for everything. Always so sure with every single move he makes. She tucks Winnie in on the couch and turns on the TV. “Turn your brain to muck for a while, will you?” she mumbles to herself before giving her daughter another kiss. 

Otis was standing at the kitchen bench, flicking the kettle and putting his tea leaves into a strainer. “Are you okay, Otis?”

He closes his eyes when he looks out the kitchen window. Simply shaking his head. “I heard from Remi today.” 

“Yeah?”

“A waste of time, wasn’t it?”

He was the only thing Otis was ever unsure of. His own father. His absence and disinterest always played on Otis’s mind, especially since Winnie’s been around. Fuck him, she thinks. Slimy fucking idiot ... “What did he have to say?” 

“Everything and nothing,” he says defeatedly. “Spoke about his book tour, made promises to come back to England, of course, in an unknown timeframe and then didn’t ask about us.”

“What happened to the holiday he planned to come and visit?”

“Cancelled… apparently the residents of Los Angeles need him more than anyone else on the planet.”

One thing that always bothered Otis was his father. What hurt Otis most was the way Remi barely knew anything about Winnie, but Maeve wasn’t so surprised because Remi didn’t know anything about his own son. Maeve knows the pain that absence brings, the way you can go from feeling invincible to feeling like nothing at all. If she lived that pain everyday, she never, ever wanted her love to feel it too. If I could kick the man, I would , she thinks, linking her fingers with Otis’s. “You’re a better man than him, Otis. You have a huge heart and you seem to care for everyone. You have to know not everyone has your heart, your strength. In short, you’re a decent fucking human being and he’s a shitty one.”

He closes his eyes again, throwing his arms around her neck and holding her close. Maeve feels his heartbeat through her shirt. Smelling his skin. Wishing he’d feel better. “My biggest fear in life is that I’d end up like him. Or that I have traces of him in me. Mum always said I’ve got some of the good bits but what are they? There’s nothing in him that I’d ever want. His selfishness still haunts me after all these years, Maeve. I don’t want my own daughter to grow up and see that in me.”

He takes a step back, letting her go. He clutches his hair in his hands before slapping them together in frustration. His breaths become more staggered and seem hard for him to work through. Maeve’s heart starts racing too, “Shush, shush,” she soothes, moving closer to him slowly. “Otis, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

He shakes his head and Maeve can make out the tears in his eyes, hoping that it doesn’t go too much further than this. “I-I,” he takes another breath. “After everything we’ve been through, he rings after I don’t even know how long and he doesn’t have anything to say? He doesn’t ask how Winslow is at school, he didn’t even ask about you - he doesn’t know what you’ve been through! He doesn’t know the pain we’ve been through. He doesn’t know us at all.” 

She realises they’re just two people haunted by the disappointment they have towards the people they should be able to rely on most.

Maeve gives him a moment, slowly stroking his hair, reminding him that she’s there and she won't leave. In a moment in time when it feels like she’s the only one spiraling, she realises that he is too. Yet, he’s always the one trying to hold everything together. Instead of speaking, she wraps her arms around him, places her head on his heart and lets the silence speak for her. I love you, I love you, she promises from her heart. She looks up, chin still resting on him before wiping away his tears. “Otis?” she murmurs. “Do you want to go into the office, sit really still and appreciate some music?”

He lets out a laugh through a break in his voice. “Sure.” 

She holds his hand as they pass Winnie who’s crashed out with flushed red cheeks and her mouth open. They get to the office with the lifted floorboards. She spreads out a blanket on the ground that was folded on stacks of paperwork and still packed boxes from their move from London. He fingers through his record collection, landing around about the story of their London love - when they were still living in the damp apartment. 

Right Down The Line, Gerry Rafferty, scratches before it starts playing. 

Otis sighs, getting down on his hands and knees on the blanket before lying down next to her. Maeve finds his hand and squeezes it tight. “You’re a gem, Otis.” 

The windows let in the light of the setting sun as they listen.

When things start to go well, Maeve starts living in her head. It started at the nervous glances at the clock. Would you calm down, she thinks to herself as she fumbles with dishes in the sink. Anything to keep busy. 

When their world started crumbling down around them, Otis started coming home later. As if he didn’t want to be there. Which she found ironic, because she didn’t want to be there either. 

It had been weeks since he started coming home on time. The house with big windows was warmer when he was around. Laughter fills the kitchen and pain only lingers silently in the background. It only rears its head when she’s left alone to live in her thoughts. 

The clock doesn’t seem to move at all. Time keeps passing, but he’d promised he’d be home by five. Five forty-five was far too close to feel comfortable. He was late the day their lives changed, that, she’ll never forget. 

Fucking prat, even left a mess before leaving this morning, she thinks, scrubbing the bowls with stinging tears in her eyes. Water splashes in her face as she scrubs too hard. She gives up. 

She looks around at Winnie’s discarded uniform on the floor, probably from yesterday. “Where are you, Otis?” she asks to the empty room. “When will you be home?”

She wanders into their bedroom, his jacket strewn on the bed. The bed that they share. She feels stupid for thinking things would change. Or they would change back . Back to how things used to be. Young, dumb and in love sounds stupid when you say it out loud, but it has a whole lot of magic in it when it works out. Sweet words and love ballads mean nothing unless you’re living it. She lived it. She lives it. But the clock on the wall makes her feel like it’s nothing. 

She opens the wardrobe, searching for the old jumper of Otis’s. She hates that there’s a physical reminder of their love in the form of a worn out jumper. Maybe that was their problem, that they were worn out too. 

Living in her head doesn’t seem so all consuming when she has the protection of the jumper. She puts it to her face, burying herself in it. Letting it consume her, just like her thoughts were. 

She sits on the bed. The one that they share and have done so for years. Winnie’s pyjamas are lost amongst the sheets and she pulls out the little clothing, folding them and placing them tidily on top of the sheets.

The sheets remind her of the day she saw red, the look of shock in Otis’s eyes and the pain that echoed and caused havoc through her body and heart. They’d tried so hard, their love got them through and yet, in the sheets, was red. Sometimes the sheets make it hard for her to sleep. 

But again, she feels alone and the time on the clock finally catches up. Six was late, it seems so dark out there. It seems so dark when you’re alone. 

Suddenly, the door clicks and Winnie’s hurried footsteps echo through the house. “Maeve?” Otis calls out from the kitchen. 

She doesn’t reply, not sure if her voice will break or the tears will start. Fuck this… “Mmmm?” she says instead. 

Otis gets to the bedroom door, leaning on the door frame, he looks concerned. “Are you okay?” 

She shakes her head, wiping her tears with his jersey. “You promised you’d never be late again,” she says with a humourless laugh. “Of course I was fucking stupid.” 

Otis shakes his head, rushing to the bed, he takes the old jumper away from her face. “Maeve?”

She shakes her head too, lifting her head to the ceiling in a weak attempt at hiding her tears. “It’s okay, I get it… we still have a way to go yet.” 

He holds her head in his hands, wiping away her tears. “Maeve, Winnie and I got home early. We popped out to get something from the store, look!” he grabs her hand, dragging her off the bed. 

She follows behind him as he rushes down the hallway. When he gets to the kitchen, he pops open the microwave. She sniffs, feeling embarrassed of the way she feels. “What is it?”

Otis smiles, hurrying a plate out of the microwave. “I attempted to make pancakes, you know, the same ones Sean makes but he never did give me an exact recipe and I was never good at following his lead anyways,” he says quickly, putting them on the kitchen bench. “I was hoping the chocolate chips might hide any dodgy flavour and I had to go to the store because I know you always like having whipped cream with them when you make them.”

Maeve stops, watching him spread the food out on the counter. She sniffs again, watching Winnie already in her pyjamas and putting her toys away. “I love you, Otis,” she whispers. 

She joins him at the counter, asking him about his day as she sprays cream into her mouth. 

In a house with big windows, the world can watch how broken they are, and how their love fixes everything when they’re together.  

Chapter Text

messed up

If Otis had ever wondered where his daughter got her non-stop mess of chatter from, it was inherited from her mother’s side. It was a fact. 

Maeve had been sitting at the kitchen table for over thirty minutes having only taken one boot off, the other remained on her foot as she spoke about her class, all of the kids with guts and passion, others that pretended they couldn’t read as an attempt to get out of working and others who attacked head on with so much enthusiasm, they missed the point of the subject completely. 

“Lucy should really be part of our aptitude class,” Maeve says, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m talking to Viv tomorrow and putting her name forward, it’s a complete waste of talent for her to be sitting there next to some of the other students.”

“ Altitude , you mean?” Otis teases and she throws a tea towel across the kitchen that he just manages to dodge. “Sounds a little biased if you ask me.” 

“I am not biased,” she snaps, shock written on her face that drops. “Well, maybe a little, but with good reason. She gets the true understanding of the subject we’re studying. She searches for the underlying reasons. She presents with valid arguments. She’s a superstar. A star pupil.”

“I thought you said she reminded you of yourself?” he teases again. “Where does the star pupil part fit in?”

This time she lifts the second boot in her hand. “This will be against your head in a second,” she threatens. “But in all seriousness, if she keeps it up for the next two years, she’d be a serious contender for the school scholarship. Honestly, Otis,” she says with a sigh and her eyes widen which tells him she’s not giving up on this girl. “If there was anyone that could do with escaping Moordale, it’s this girl. Trust me.”

If there was anyone he could trust on the matter, it was Maeve Milburn. He loved how she had a fighting spirit, she never gave up. Everything she tackled was with snark and strength. And if she said this girl was worth the scholarship, he would never think otherwise. “Let’s hope she can make the fuck out of some lemons for lemonade.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” she asks, screwing up her face. 

“It’s just an aggressive way of saying I hope she makes lemonade with the lemons she’s given. It sounded better in my head… the lemons are a metaphor for tools… wow, I’m not making any sense.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You, Mr Milburn, are an odd character.”

“Yes, odd enough to marry you.” 

She gets up off the seat at the table, wandering over to the counter and looking at the food that he was preparing before throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry to bring this up again, but Lucy is an extremely talented young woman. If Winnie grows up to have even half that girl’s smarts, I’ll be happy.” Her eyes shoot to their daughter trying to lick nutella off her fingers. “Sorry, frog legs.” 

“Was that a dig at our own kid?” Otis asks, feigning shock. “The audacity.” 

“Come on, you make fun of her for her gangly, baby horse legs all the time. Don’t make me feel bad.” 

Otis shrugs. “They are quite gangly…” 

She plants another kiss on his face and he smiles against it. It feels good to have her in his arms, to have her so open around him. Even listening to her babble on about her day makes him want to never listen to anything else. Her chatter was a love ballad, and that was something he could never stop listening to. He rests his chin on her head and slowly rocks. “How was your day?” she asks against his chest. 

He thought about it. Days are long and tiring when you have to hold onto other people’s relationship problems too and keep them safe... “Well, I do have one client that sings Mamma Mia as he comes, but today he seems to have moved on to Voulez Vous and his wife is upset about it.” 

“I could think of a worse ABBA song,” she laughs. 

“Go on then,” he challenges. 

“Waterloo?”

Otis fakes a shudder. “That is worse.” 

“What else happened in your day?”

Still rocking from side to side, he continues. “I’ve figured that mum’s clients are far worse to mine.” 

“Why?”

“There’s only so many sixty year old’s you can listen to before wondering if the entirety of Moordale’s retirement village is funding mum’s holidays.” 

Maeve laughs, pulling away from his chest to lean against the counter. He joins her too. “Let’s hope that she’s a great therapist and they leave all of their money to her!”

“Speaking of which, she’s back tomorrow....” he says with relief in his voice. Thank god… He was looking forward to seeing his mum, to tell her of the progress they’ve made and to feel like someone was there to buffer the feelings he still didn’t know how to work through. Winnie missed her Nanna and for the first time, he could do with one of Jakob’s smoothies. He feels like he needs to talk through the progress, or maybe he simply needs his mum. Either way, he was excited to see her. 

“I’ve really missed her,” she replies softly. “Erin just hasn’t been cutting it.” 

Otis sighs, looking over to Maeve with concern. “She’s trying, Maeve.”

“What she’s trying is to get us to fund her pity party and then next thing we know, we’re paying the rent at the caravan.” 

He couldn’t deny that. She had a point, and he couldn’t convince her otherwise when it came to her mum. “Parents suck, you’ve said it a million times.” 

“Everyone except your mum and Jakob,” she laughs. “They’re pretty fucking awesome.” 

Otis carries on with dinner and Maeve fills the space with chatter and laughs. Tonight is like every other night, his heart doesn’t feel heavy, his mind doesn’t run too fast. Tonight is plain and happy, and that’s all he ever wanted. 

“You spoke of a metaphorical distance… Does it feel like the doors are shutting on that chapter? Or do you think they’re still ajar.”

I feel like this is way too fucking clinical to be a chat with my mum... “Doctor Milburn? Is that you? Because I was kind of looking for a chat with my mum…”

Jean looks over the top of her glasses, “Well, you are sitting in my office on the seat that’s usually reserved for my clients…” 

Otis knows she has a point. “If we’re getting technical, one Doctor Milburn to another, then it’s our office and this is where our clients sit.” 

“Technically, you’d be correct, Doctor Milburn,” she replies thickly. “But my question still remains. How are things? Truly. Is she opening up? Are walls being slowly torn down?”

Otis hates to say anything out loud. He wasn’t overly superstitious, though Maeve would disagree with that statement, but he was scared that if he spoke about it out loud, he’d jinx it. She was opening up. More than he’d ever expected. It was like he was clutching at any small thing he could hold on to, but at the moment, she was letting him hold on to her. And he never wanted to let go. “She’s coming back, mum.”

Otis looked to the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut, and he tries to wish the tears away. But he couldn’t. Not when the relief of being in his childhood home with his mum was freeing him. Not when she was here to listen - someone he loved and was able to rely on - the tears start sporadically, making him shudder at the same time. 

Jean sighs, he hears her seat shift as she stands up. Before he knows it, she’s sitting next to him, rubbing his hand. “It’s been a long, hard road, sweetheart. And I have seen you work tirelessly through this process. While I was away, I’ve been thinking about this lapse…” 

He hated it when his mum says she’s been thinking. It was something that he often didn’t want to hear, but he knows the answer will be right. It was easier for him to listen to his mum’s thoughts on the problem. She could better sort through the mess that was happening than he could. “Things are going really well, mum, since you’ve been away. When you left, I didn’t think things would ever get back to normal. But they are. Almost.” 

Jean nods, still patting his hand. “I’m so glad to hear that, sweetheart,” her smile is small but still concerned. “But have you ever considered that she has some feelings that she may need to work through with a professional?”

The question hits Otis like a bullet to the brain. He hadn’t considered it, and he felt fucking stupid for it. For a person who gives advice, works through feelings of a relationship in their own right, he didn’t even take a step back to look at his own wife and what she was dealing with. Fucking stupid, he thinks. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he says out loud, hitting his head with the palm of his head. 

Jean taps his hand sharply. “Stop that!” she hisses. 

“I haven’t even thought about it, mum. What sort of person am I? That’s literally part of my job and I haven’t even thought about Maeve needing to see someone.”

Jean closes her eyes, nodding in agreeance again. “She’s probably got some deep rooted past issues to work through. Then the hormone imbalances she would have experienced after falling pregnant and losing the baby… the disappointment in losing a baby after trying for a year. Imagine how empty her cup must be. Imagine the backlog of emotional pain.”

Otis turns to his mum, exhaling through his nose while blinking slowly. “I’ve missed you, mum.”

Jean’s expression is laced with sadness. “Not so hopeful for me to stay out of your business, eh, darling?” his mother says with a slight laugh. 

Otis sits in silence. Wondering just how he’s going to bring it up with Maeve. 

“Is this going to cost extra because it’s a call out job?” Aimee asks, stretching her feet out on her couch. “Or is this going to be cheaper since I look after Winnie?”

Otis chuckles as he sits down by Aimee’s feet, giving them a quick pat before putting his hands together, unsure of what to do with them. “I’m not charging you a call out fee, Aims.” 

“So what do you charge these days, then? For advice.” 

He leans his head back on the couch, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not charging you for any of this…” he says, “This isn’t the same as when we were kids…”

Aimee had called him that morning in a panic, apparently needing sex advice and fast. She couldn’t even get the rest of the words out because she was so panicked, so, naturally, Otis drove as fast as he could to Aimee’s aid. Maeve would skin him alive if he hadn’t. 

She takes a deep breath as she shifts uncomfortably. “God, if I knew how hard pregnancy was I wouldn’t have gone through it.”

Otis lifts his shoulders. “It’s a natural progression in life,” he replies. “The most normal feeling next step after marriage.” 

“It feels like one of those long tentacles Lily always bangs on about is living inside me.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Ironing?”

Otis chuckles, “No. Ironic… you know, considering Steve - “ Otis shakes his head. “Never mind.” 

“Put his tentacle inside of me?”

He blushes, cheeks burning hot. “Stupid joke.” 

“Come on, Pleasure Master. No need to be coy, that’s why you’re here!” she says raising her eyebrows. 

“Why exactly?”

Aimee sits up on the couch, leaning in closer. “He’s too scared to touch me now… now that I’m bigger than both his biceps put together…” she says in a whisper. 

He always found it hard to give his friends proper advice, never finding the line between being professional and not wanting to intrude on his friends’ lives when he was already so heavily involved. It became even harder when he and Maeve were at a crossroads, unloading all they could on their friends. At times, it all felt so intrusive. “I understand, you’re only a month away from giving birth, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” she says, exhaling. 

“It’s quite normal for this to happen, we guys are not so well versed in the way of pregnancy and body changes… has he explained why he’s not so keen?”

“Yeah,” she starts. “He’s scared of touching the baby.” 

“It might be as simple as telling him that he won’t…”

Aimee’s expression grows blank. “... He won't?”

Otis chuckles again. “No, Aims, he won’t.”

“Phew!” she says with a sigh of relief. “That solves that then… but how do we do it? How’d you get around Maeve when she had a huge beach ball strapped to her?” 

Very nervously , he thinks. He remembers when Maeve was pregnant, still months out from graduating. Hobbling through London, catching public transport to get to all of her classes then getting home late. He’d hold her all night. “I think I may have reacted quite like Steve if I’m being honest.” 

“You got any suggestions on positions, then? Because I feel like I’m going to pop at any second,” she says, readjusting herself on the couch before wincing uncomfortably. 

“You’re not really going to pop at any second, are you?” Otis asks warily. “Because I’d have to call the hospital.”

Aimee ponders for a second. “No, I’m good. So, suggestions?”

“Lying on your side with Steve behind is always good,” he suggests. “Keeps the weight off your back…” 

“You tried it?”

Otis smiles again. “Yes, I’ve tried it.” 

“So you know it works then?”

“I know it works then.” 

Aimee grins. “Good, I’ll pull that one out of the bag once I can convince him he’s not going to bang the top of the baby’s head!” 

“What is the baby, if I might ask?”

“Steve and I said we would keep a secret… but you know how much I hate secrets, I think it’s making me break out in a rash, you want to see?” 

Before he has the chance to answer, she’s lifting up her shirt and he’s looking away. “Aimee, I’m taking your word for it.” 

Aimee pulls her shirt back down. “We could do a mini gender reveal, that way I’m not telling you.” 

“And how do you suppose we do that?” he asks, shaking his head in amusement. 

“I could bake a cake and then you put the colour of the baby in the cake and then ice it so you don’t see until you take a bite!” 

“Sounds like it’ll take a while… But I don’t think you should tell me if Steve wants to keep it a secret.” 

“Oh…” she says slowly. “You alright to stay for a cuppa and bikkies, then? I baked them myself!”

Otis shudders internally, forcing a grin on his face. “I’d love nothing more.” 

She leaves the lounge room slowly, a slight lean in her step and her hands on her hips. “I added a little too much salt -  thought it was sugar, you see - Oh, I wish Maeve were with us.”

He does too. Then she could eat the salt biscuits. 

He puts a plate of Aimee’s biscuits on the counter that she had insisted he take home to Maeve. Winnie loved them and ate three in a row, dunked into Maeve’s tea. 

Maeve sent a message to Aimee thanking her for the biscuits and telling her just how much she loved them, even taking a selfie with one in her mouth before spitting it out and throwing the rest in the rubbish. “Still no good after all those baking classes she took…”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to sit there with her for an hour pretending that you liked them to her face, did you?” Otis groans. 

“You could have told her the truth…” 

“No I couldn’t have.”

“No,” Maeve agrees. “It’s socially unacceptable to be a wanker, so I’m glad you kept it to yourself,” she says with a wink. 

“Oh ha-ha ,” Otis replies sarcastically. “What’s socially unacceptable is to serve people bricks as a side to your cuppa.”

“Love her though,” Maeve says back, lifting her eyebrow to ensure the right answer from him. 

And he gives it. “Of course…” he says correctly. “She’s very excited about the baby, she showed me the baby’s room… twice.” 

Otis feels a shift in the air and watches Maeve’s gaze drop to the ground. He knows what she’s thinking, he thought it too when he walked around the baby’s room noting little bits and pieces he’d seen before - Winnie’s things they’d saved for another little one of their own. It was sad, he thinks. We never got to use them again…

Maeve flicks through papers she’d brought home to mark, but trying to ignore her slightly pursed lips and probably racing heart was hard. He knew there was something he had to bring up, even if he didn’t want to. It needed to be done. She needed to know it was okay and he’d be with her every step of the way. 

The first cut may be the deepest, but ripping the band aid off quickly is always the better way to go. “Maeve,” he starts with a nervous stammer and wringing hands. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Well that’s never good,” she says with a weak smile. 

Fuck… He searches for the words, his problem when he thinks too much is that he comes across a little too clinical. But he couldn’t overthink it - he shouldn’t - he shouldn't fear talking through things with his own wife. “I say this with the utmost amount of love I can summon in me, Maeve,” he says, taking a seat next to her at the kitchen table. “If I can draw every single little ounce of love I’ve ever had for you, it’s in these words I’m about to say.” 

There’s a fear he can see on her face. He can feel it in the air of the room. He can see it written plainly in her eyes. “What is it?” 

He tries not to show his nerves, trying to slow down his inhale, breathing out quietly through his nose. This has to be done, he thinks. This might be what we need to do… He takes Maeve’s hand, running his thumb over the wedding ring he begs her every year to replace for a nicer one. One he can afford on more than his fast food wage when he was twenty two. Four months savings got him a cubic zirconia, purple, just like her hair at the time. “I think we should talk about seeing a professional,” he says a little too quickly. “Now, there are good reasons to go to therapy. Psychodynamic therapy is more durable over years and can help manage any physical symptoms you might have - do you know that anxiety and depression can make physical symptoms pop up? Repressing these feelings makes the body react - think of the weight on your shoulders. Is it physical? Or mental? I -”

“Otis!” Maeve says sternly, looking into his eyes with her brow furrowed. “You’re babbling!” 

He takes a deep breath, recalibrating, he notices her hand is clenched in his. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re talking to me like a client,” she says, exhaling forcefully through her nose. “What are you trying to say?”

You know what I’m saying, runs through his mind. He notices a wet stream down her cheek, a weak smile on her lips, slightly pursed, slightly shaky in the corners. She knows. “I think you need to see someone,” he mutters softly. “You’ve been holding on for years. Next week, it’s been a year since our miscarriage and we never bounced back. You’re carrying a lot, Maeve. And I love you way too much to try and promise myself you’ll get there in the end. You need to see someone.”

“I know.” 

He brings her hand to his lips, lightly placing a kiss on her ring before speaking again. “If I could fix you, I would. If I could use every single thing I’ve ever learnt. If I could use every tool and apply it to you, I would. If I could carry all that hurt, all that pain. All that loss, I’d take it on for you every single day… fuck ,” he says through his teeth, running his free hand through his hair. “If I could talk you through this myself, trust me, I would. I’ve tried. Every single thing we’ve tried, when I strip it back, has been me trying to work through these feelings with you… But there’s something I can’t do, and it’s to get to the root of everything. Not when I love you this much. Not when I can’t give you what you need.”

Maeve doesn’t say anything, and he knows she doesn’t need to. She flips her hand in his, clutching on to it as tight as she can. “I know.” 

She knows. And he does too. Something needs to give.

“Damn, mama! You’re looking hot!” Ola says, throwing her arms around Maeve’s neck. 

Maeve gives Otis a sarcastic grin over Ola’s shoulder. “Surprised to see you without Lily and Adam… Adam was okay staying in London to deal with Eric alone?” she asks Ola as she pulls away. 

Ola puts her hands up quickly before giving Otis a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, moving away from him to answer. “Adam couldn’t take time off training the dogs of the rich and famous, and I’m sure after twelve years, he might be able to handle Eric okay… and you know Lily,” she says with a proud grin. “Glenoxi the stage show still has a long way to go…” 

Otis rocks on the balls of his feet as he watches Maeve try her hardest to pay attention to Ola. Twelve years gone and still Ola brings out the most awkward facial expressions from his wife. “Well,” Maeve starts. “At least you made it!”

“Unlike my sister,” Ola replies with a roll of her eyes. “Can’t even make it to dad’s birthday…”

“We could postpone it for a few years,” Otis says hurriedly, looking for a way to keep up the small talk. He watches Maeve smirk at him. Of course she’s flourishing in the awkward small talk… “Maeve doesn’t -”

“- Celebrate birthdays,” Ola finishes for him. “Still on the no birthday ban, huh?”

“That’s why I’m still an infantile little girl,” Maeve replies, tilting her head to the side and giving the smallest of glares. “Benjamin Button syndrome or some shit.”

“Gross,” Ola laughs. “Just in case you wanted to make Otis more of a freak.” 

Maeve laughs too, making Otis give a nervous chuckle as he looks around the room. “Great…” he says slowly. “Laugh at my expense.”

He looks around the hall decorated in blue and yellow. He leaves Maeve and Ola to keep chatting as he walks around the room, stopping at a wall covered in photos. 

When Otis stands at the wall, it was easier to see Jakob’s role in his life. Otis always felt that there was an empty void that was dark and menacing, that turned up the volume on what he felt he was missing from his own father. As his fingers touched photos that were stuck to the wall thanks to Ola’s decorating, he could see there was more of Jakob in his make up than he thought. 

Photos of Jakob kissing his mum’s cheek in setting sun at his childhood home during their early days, a photo of himself, Ola and her sister sitting cross legged in the back of his work van during Ola’s twenty first birthday. More of Jakob and Otis during one of Eric’s fashion shows when they had first moved to London. Others of Jean, Jakob and Maeve during her graduation with a belly straining inside of her tight, purple dress. Otis and Jakob in an embrace during a father’s day nine years ago. And several of Jakob and all his grandchildren; he was proud of his two grandsons, but it was Winnie, his only granddaughter that stole his heart. Otis’s favourite is a photo of young Otis, shit scared and probably shaking with a pink bundle in his arms and Jakob’s loving gaze over the two of them. 

One thing he could always count on was that Jakob was there . 

Otis keeps browsing through the photos, touching each memory with his fingers before he hears a voice behind him. “Surprised Ola managed to find so many photos when everything is done on an iPhone now…” says Jakob. 

Otis laughs as he turns around, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure the girl who does film work for a living would have been able to pull a rabbit out of a hat for these.” 

“Way above my head,” Jakob says with a throaty boom. “I see Ola put her photo of herself and Lily next to your wedding photo. Good to see I’m in both of them.”

“Doesn’t quite have the same vibe as my wedding one when Lily has her tentacles in her hair though… very outer space chic.” 

“That’s my favourite photo of your mother too…” Jakob adds, pointing at a photo of Jean through a field. “So many memories I am so thankful for… look at Winnie, I could hold her in my hand she was that small.”

“She’s always loved Farfar Jakob…” Otis watches Jakob walk along the wall of photos, grinning at every photo, laughing at some, a somewhat melancholic sigh at others. “Hey Jakob, I just wanted to say something.” 

“Yes?”

“You’re the best man and best father I could have ever asked for. And I really appreciate you.” 

Jakob’s smile is small and even somewhat amused. Why does he always make me feel like I’m a little daft? He thinks to himself. 

“You are the son I was lucky to get when he was a bratty sixteen year old,” Jakob laughs. “And I am grateful to see you grow and become the man you are today. A great father and a great husband.” 

Otis rocks on his feet again, a nervous bite of his lip but Jakob takes him in his arms. “Thanks, Jakob.”

“My greatest birthday gift is having my friends and family here, in a room that tries to prove just how Swedish I am…” he says, chuckling. “I am happy to see you happy with Maeve. I’m happy to see Ola and Maeve doing too many tequila shots - lucky I hate the stuff, some Mexican shit from Remi…” 

“If I had known we were wasting the shit from Remi here at this party, I would have brought my bottles too.” 

“You have some too?” Jakob replies, raising his eyebrow. 

“I’m sure he would have brought the shit in bulk.” 

Jakob pats him on the back. “I better get back to the party, don’t get lost in reminiscing, okay?” 

Otis nods, but he doesn’t agree. He’d live in the memories forever.

Jean was left on the dancefloor, Otis couldn’t tear her away from the music or the wine so he decided he could only handle looking after one drunk mum and so Maureen it was. 

Both Maureen and Maeve walk down the road, arm in arm and Ola follows next to him. “Why aren’t we driving?” Ola asks. 

“None of us are in a condition to drive,” Otis answers. 

“But you didn’t even drink.”

He opens and closes his mouth before saying; “I thought the fresh air could do us all some good.” 

They continue walking as Maeve and Maureen sing London Calling at the top of their lungs, earning laughs from both himself and Ola. “So…” she starts. “How are things?”

Otis shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I wish for once I could ask someone else how they’re doing.” 

“You do. Every day. It’s your job.” 

“Touche,” he replies. “Things are getting better.”

Ola nods, kicking a rock along the road. “And how’s my niece?”

“Like her mum - chippy.” 

Ola laughs, nodding along. “Sounds about right.” 

“How’s London?”

“Great!” Ola replies excitedly. “Lily is still running the theatre. I’m still doing my TV stuff. I see Eric and Adam all the time. Eric misses you… like, pulls his hair out kind of missing you. You need to visit.” 

If only Eric knew how much I missed him… “I’m coming for the weekend in about two weeks time. I’ll see him then.” 

“Good… Adam’s the same. Misses his mum.” 

“Is that why you’re coming with us? So you can tell him you walked his mum home?” 

“He’d never forgive me otherwise,” Ola laughs lightly. “How’s Maeve?”

“Great!”

“No, honestly Otis, you’re the worst liar. Especially when it comes to Maeve. How is she?”

Otis tilts his head from side to side, clicking his tongue. “We could be better, we could be worse.” 

“I’m sure everything will work out,” Ola says, clapping his back. “It always does when it comes to you two.” 

They arrive outside of Maureen’s flat, her heels being discarded in the driveway which Maeve adds to by throwing hers too. “Oh Ola, please come in for a cuppa, tell me all about the celebrity dogs Adam works with,” Maureen begs. “Is it true he trains Harry’s dog? I don’t always trust him…”

Ola gives Maeve and Otis a longing look but Otis nods at her. “I’ll be right in, Maureen,” she sighs, taking her shoes off before walking through the door. “It’s really Meghan’s dog…”

Maeve takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she walks along the road with her hand in Otis, Maureen’s door to her flat being closed behind Ola. “When was the last time we saw the night sky?” she asks. 

Otis carries on alongside her, swinging their arms in between them. “When I look at you…” he says in a breath. 

“Very beautiful, but kind of cheesy too… that’s why I love you.”

“Did you just call me cheesy?”

“I mean, you’re the one who got an erection from looking at brie,” she says with a lighthearted laugh. 

Otis blushes, tugging on her arm gently to pull her ahead. “Don’t you start.” 

She keeps quiet, watching her eyes shimmer under street lamps and her smile under the moon. “You’re always pretty words, Otis Milburn. But I’m like the crack in old coffee mugs. Annoying, not necessarily needed but with the risk of cutting someone.” she lets go of his hand and skips ahead, still happy under midnight’s stars. 

Otis shakes his head as he runs to catch up, taking her hand again and bringing it up to his hand to kiss. “You’re every single pretty word, Maeve Milburn. You’re the reason why I speak them. You’re my poetry.”

“You’re my poetry,” she snorts, mocking him. She stops him in his tracks, turning to grab his other hand, she tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. Soft, warm and sugary sweet from too many cocktails. Her tongue traces his lips and her hands travel up his neck. “Thank you for always making things better when I mess up.”

“You never mess up, Maeve,” he says against her lips. 

They continue their walk towards the house with big windows. 

Chapter Text

Loss

Maeve hates that it feels just like another day. The clock keeps ticking, the cars still drive past as if they have everywhere to be. Winnie cries over literal spilt milk. 

It rains. It’s just another day. 

Otis is late to wake up, he brushes his teeth. It’s just another day, she thinks. Another day of mourning . Three hundred and sixty five of them…

He rushes around the kitchen, swinging Winnie’s bag over his shoulder before taking a toast off Maeve’s plate and shoving it in his mouth. “I gotta go, catch you later, yeah?”

Winnie brushes past just as quickly, giving Maeve a kiss on her tiptoes and stealing the last piece of toast from her mother’s plate. 

Maeve doesn’t even get to say anything. The house is quiet, the car is reversed in a hurry. 

There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly different about the day. He didn’t sigh out loud, no sign to show there was an ounce of pain in him. No overflowing emotion that would run off their bodies and down the drain in the shower. The world didn’t slow. It didn’t mourn the way she feels she is. No hushed “sorries” in the street, no fleeting looks of sadness from strangers. No comforting words from Otis, no longing kiss on her shoulder blades or clinging onto her body as if she may perish. He didn’t look at her like the way he did when all was lost. She’ll never forget the look of fear, the cracking in his voice or the sweat that sat on his skin. No heart torn scream, no falling on his knees for her. 

The day is horribly plain and mundane.

Her coffee goes cold and the sticky film on top makes the fancy Swedish stuff seem nothing better than the cheap instant she gives Erin. Even Erin hadn’t messaged, she snickers to herself in the empty room. As if she’d remember a fucking date…

Her thoughts run back to Otis. How he rolled out of bed the same as always. Folded his jumper to put into his bag. He downed a banana with his coffee. He picked up Winnie onto his shoulders as they walked out the door. 

Maeve looks at her wedding ring. Still tarnished and in need of a polish, only slightly too big for her finger so it always slides up to the first knuckle. She remembers the train ride to Blackpool from London, the almost three hours on the train with her small bump filled with Winnie and how she rode the entire way in her lacy white dress on Otis’s lap. She can hear Eric’s complaints of the cheapskate’s eloping and Aimee’s amazement of being out of Moordale. She can remember Adam’s running commentary about the rural seaside and his childhood memories of going there. They were cruel tales against the happiness overflowing in their carriage.

She remembers a lot with the weight of her ring on her finger. The courthouse in the summer, how Eric’s suit was far more fashionable than Otis’s jeans and jacket. How the lace of her dress snagged on the way out of the train and tore. How they ate fish and chips afterwards and passed around one bottle of sprite. How Otis’s vows were something she’d never, ever forget or the way he said. ‘I do. And I do so forever.’

Her ring also reminds her of how she went into theatre three hundred and sixty five days ago with Otis by her side, sliding the ring off her finger because the doctor told him to do so. It was the first and last time she had ever taken it off.  She always thought she’d take it off in some warm cottage beyond the moor, with half her spirit clinging on to Otis who would outlive her and the other half in a mystic state departing the earth. But instead, he took it off and clutched it to his chest with the smell of bleach burning her nose and the sterile white and metal blinding her under fake lights. No jewellery in theatre...

The house with big windows seems large and empty, the windows open it up for the world to see. 

They’ll see her in it all alone. 

She can’t wait until after school for a cigarette and all she has in her handbag is a can of Lynx Africa, courtesy of Otis’s book bag that lives in the back of her car. She’ll take smelling like a fourteen year old boy if it means she can chainsmoke for thirty minutes behind the old back building’s toilets. 

Time ticks slowly, but everything seems to move fast around her in the day that never ends. Off the top of her head, she doesn’t even remember if it was a leap year, so in fact, it might have only been three hundred and sixty four days since the day they saw red. It seems to make her feel worse. As if she’s lost all recollection of the minor details. 

He heart skips a beat when her phone lights up from Otis. 

• I’ll cook dinner tonight, yeah?

She doesn’t know how to read it. Is he saying he’ll look after her tonight? Knowing that she’s about five sentences away from breaking down in the staff toilets? Or is really concerned about the technicalities of who’s cooking dinner?

She doesn’t know, so she lights another cigarette. 

You can only be sad if you let yourself feel things , she reminds herself. Not feeling things is bad though… She hates that lunchtime feels so short, yet, she wishes she were back in class with a distraction. The world keeps on turning, because it’s just another day. 

She can’t get the last year out of her mind, or the five months prior. Or the four years before that when she carried Winnie. Time is nothing when you condense it into memories. Memories seem to fade no matter how much you try to remember them, but they stick like glue when you try to forget. 

Today, she lives in her memories. 

No amount of stress relief in the form of nicotine could alter time. It wasn’t moving any faster, and she wasn’t gaining any more time to stand amongst the bushes of the school. All she can do is stand here with her mess of thoughts. 

She was almost three weeks late before she found out she was pregnant with Winslow. The first week was by accident, the second one she managed to convince herself that the dizzy head and weak stomach were nothing but a virus. Once she hit the third week, she was simply scared. 

She’d stashed a pregnancy test in at the back of the bathroom cupboard that she shared with Otis, Eric and Adam. It came up positive, so she bought three more because surely she couldn’t be that stupid. 

But accidents happen, and no amount of tears on Otis’s shoulders were going to change it. He didn’t hate her like she thought he would. He didn’t hold any fear like she’d convinced herself he would. He didn’t let go of her as she wept into his chest and the sobs shook her entire body. He smiled. He kissed her. He promised it would be okay. 

 And it was okay. 

Winslow came during the cold snap, she came not long after graduation when Otis had picked up more shifts. The first few months they stayed living in the flat they shared with Eric and Adam. It was cramped, loud and not ideal but it was warm and it felt like a home. The two bedroom flat held so much laughter, so much love and freedom. It was everything that they missed from Moordale but with the freedom of living a new life. It was a family when she didn’t have one anymore. And Winnie was born right amongst it.

But they moved into their own flat that had threadbare carpet and a leaking shower to start things on their own. With just the three of them, the flat held just as much love if not more. They had a tiny double bed, a bassinet that had belonged to Eric when he was a baby that his mum gifted to Maeve, making his dad drive all the way to London to drop it off. They dressed her in blue clothing that Viv had sent that Jax had outgrown. Their walls were covered in record covers to hide holes in them. They lived in the living room during the winter because that’s where the fireplace was to keep them warm. They didn’t have much, but it felt overflowing with love. But they outgrew their home and Otis finished his studies with a degree even with having kept his job at Nandos the entire time. Sometimes, it’s time to move on. They emptied their flat, they cried leaving Adam, Eric, Ola and Lily. But time moves on, even when you don’t want it to. 

They’d moved to Moordale with the hopes that they’d be closer to their family as their own little one grew. Jean was more than excited for grandbabies, Erin needed a reason to stay clean. Three years was a new track record for her, Maeve was proud. But she was shit scared. At least she could keep an eye on her and wait for Sean to get out. 

Trying came with stress. It came with frustration. Otis was happy to try for another one, so why couldn’t they make it work? All Maeve ever wanted was a family. The kind she grew up watching from the outside. Otis begged her that he was fine with Winnie at the end of the day and he swore that his two girls were enough. But her thoughts leaked in, and they were noisy and dominant. Maybe they weren’t enough. Maybe she wasn’t. 

Maeve was in tune with her body enough to know something wasn’t right. She’d been through the morning sickness twice, she’d be stupid to ignore the third round. Her hunched over the kitchen sink was both pain and happiness. Finally it worked . 

Otis had happy tears. The kind that well up in the corner of his eyes and don’t spill until he smiles. The kind Maeve was praying for. The same kind of smile she fell in love with. Finally, it stuck. He was happy and just as helpful as the first time they went through it. He wiped her forehead when she was sick, he held her hand through the nerves, he was at the appointments and kissed her when she needed reassuring. He was there. 

Five months went by, one night ruined it. The weeks following, he slowly disappeared. He was quiet when she was lost. He wasn’t home when she felt alone. 

He’d always been good at keeping his distance when he thought it necessary, but at this time, they weren’t sixteen year olds trying to force themselves out of love. They were married and they needed each other, how did things end up the way they did? 

“Maeve?” comes from behind her and she’s pulled out of her thoughts. Tucking her cigarette behind her back as she spins around, she sees Viv and Jackson standing there. She brings her smoke back to her lips. Can I not enjoy a smoke by myself today? she thinks. 

Viv’s big eyes are full of worry and Jackson follows slowly behind her. “Maeve, are you okay?” Viv repeats. 

“You come to join the Moordale social pariah club, Mr and Mrs Marchetti?” she says, faking a positive tone. “Not that my hiding spot is all that original.” 

Jackson sighs, shaking his head. “Apparently vodka’s off limits on school grounds… but I would have brought a bottle with me. You know. To drink it off.” 

“You and vodka aren’t my best friends,” Maeve says with a wink. 

Viv glares at him sideways. “We’d lose our jobs, Jackson.” 

“I think it would have just taken off the edge,” he argues lightly. “But Maeve is right, vodka and I aren’t cool.”

Viv purses her lips before taking Maeve in her arms. “Vodka is not as good as a hug from friends,” she says, reaching behind Maeve and pulling in Jackson to hug her from behind. 

Maeve’s eyes start to well. Stupid fucking tears, she thinks. Viv had a point, the hug was warming her up. All her lost thoughts seem to line up when she’s in their arms. 

They don’t speak, she knows they don’t have to. There’s a sob that racks through her body that makes Jackson and Viv hold on tighter. She feels her cheek stick to Viv’s skin with tears and Jackson’s quiet shushes don’t seem to get lost even in the loud buzz of the school yard. 

She sniffs, slowly being let go by her two friends. She wipes her eyes, you can do this… she runs her tongue over her teeth before looking at the ground, focusing on her boots. 

“Otis hasn’t said anything to me all day,” she whispers. 

She notices the glance between Viv and Jackson he reaches out to his wife, linking his fingers with hers. “Maybe he’s trying to work through things too?” he says, a little too hopeful.

Maybe he is…. Or maybe he’s forgotten . “Yeah, probably,” she says instead with another sniff. 

Viv gives another sympathetic look. “I think you need to take a couple of breaths, yeah? Remember that Otis went through it with you, so maybe he’s just trying to get through the day.”

Maeve takes a couple of deep breaths to please Viv. They work. A little. 

Jackson steps from foot to foot. “You know, as soon as my mums took me to see someone about all the stress and pressure I had growing up, it did me the world of good.” 

Maeve cracks a laugh while wiping her tears from her face. “You sound like Otis.” 

“Maybe Otis is right then, innit?” Jackson replies. 

“In good time though,” Viv adds. “You experienced loss. You’re one year down the track, you can have this day.” 

She has the day. She feels like the day is consuming her, it’s eating her whole. It’s stripping her bare. She wishes the day away. 

“You guys don’t have to wait around with me all day,” Maeve replies quietly. 

Viv shakes her head. “You’re our friend, Maeve. What are friends for if not to be there for you?”

Maeve is thankful for her friends. For the relief they’ve given her in just one hug. She holds both their hands as she walks back towards the school. “Now,” she says, taking a deep breath. “How did you guys get Jax to be so good at swimming when Winnie can’t even manage to take a bath?” 

The change of subject helps her feel normal when she’s surrounded by friends. 

He does cook dinner, she only manages to push it around the plate and she notices he does much the same. Dinner was silent, the sound of the dishes being done was all too loud and clashing. 

She lays down next to Winnie in her single bed, long legs poking out from under bunny rabbit printed sheets and her smile with the missing teeth. “Mummy?” Winnie says with bright eyes, holding out her favourite book. 

“Happy Hubert again?”

Winnie nods. “Please.” 

“Froggy, Hubert is too whiny… Why don’t we read something else?”

“Whiny people need attention and that’s why they whine,” Winnie states. 

Maeve grins with puffy eyes and a tired heart. “I’m glad you’ve been paying attention!”

Otis stands at the door, his tall frame blocking the light from the hallway as Maeve flicks through the pages of Happy Hubert.  “Happy Hubert was going to the Happy Horse Festival to see all his happy horse friends…” 

She reads it until the end and Winnie falls asleep holding Otis’s hand. They both sit side by side on the edge of their daughter’s bed, staring at the window of her room that’s covered with pink curtains. “I love her so much,” Maeve says slowly. “I don’t want her to get any older.” 

Otis laughs gently, pushing his shoulder into Maeve’s. “I think that even when she’s our age, she’ll still be our little Winslow frog legs,” he says quietly. “Nothing will change that.” He takes her hand in his, thumb running over her wedding ring. “You’ve been quiet.”

She doesn’t think about it, nor does she want to start an argument when she barely has the energy to stay awake. “You forgot,” she says simply. She takes her hand out of his before standing up. She bends back down to kiss Winnie on the forehead and brushes her hair out of her eyes before leaving the room and her two most loved people on the earth. 

It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, when it hurts, it hurts. There’s no changing that. 

She stared at herself in the mirror for what felt like hours. She goes to bed before he’s done doing the washing.

“I know you think I forgot.”

She ignores him, rolling over onto her side. Please don’t talk, she wishes. I don’t want to have to listen to what you have to say… 

She slowly inhales, trying not to gain his attention, hoping that he’ll buy that she’s asleep. But she knows it’s stupid and she knows he knows her too well. 

She feels the bed shift and he sits down by her feet. She sees him bury his face in his hands. “I stayed awake all night,” he says quietly, a break in his voice. “Reliving the moment. I slept in this morning. I couldn’t face you. Do you know why?” 

Her heart starts to race, a tension grows in her jaw and she squeezes her eyes shut. Please , she begs internally. She doesn’t want to listen, she doesn’t want to hurt anymore. 

He takes a breath, knowing she’s not going to answer. “I couldn’t face you because I didn’t want to break down in tears. That night, when it happened - the miscarriage -”

“- Don’t,” she says weakly. “Don’t say that."

“That’s what happened, Maeve. We had a miscarriage. We need to call it what it is.” 

She tries to stop him. “ Shush… ” she says quietly but he starts again.

“My fear wasn’t that I had lost a baby, it was that I was going to lose you. I thought something would happen to you, Maeve. And I would be out here all alone. Do you know what a world looks like without you? I love you so much. I’d be a man forever parched in an ocean of water or a blind man in never ending sun. Everything would be pointless. I didn’t forget this morning. I went to work, I mourned too. I went to mum’s office. I cried. I felt like punching a wall. I wondered what I could do to make my wife feel like there’s light at the end of the tunnel but today, I could only ever offer you too much distance or suffocating, obsessive love. I didn’t forget, Maeve. I never will. But today, I couldn’t do it. Not with remembering how I felt almost losing you. Not when I couldn’t offer you anything that would help. Not when I’ve only just got you back…” 

She pulls on his arm, bringing him down to her on the bed. He’s still wearing his jeans, his shoes are still on. His work shirt still tucked in. But he lays down next to her, his hair in her face and her lips on the back of his neck. 

She wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. 

They don’t speak.

I know the feeling of loss, she thinks. It’s lonely and cold. You’ll never lose me...

She lets his words be the last thing she hears alongside his heartbeat. Because the house with big windows lets them echo inside its walls for her to listen to for as long as this house is a home. 

One year earlier… 

There was pain everywhere in the room. She felt it in the breeze on her face, in the way her hips feel battered and bruised when she rolls in the bed, sweat rolling down her neck. There’s an uncomfortable feeling at the back of her head that makes her vision blur in the dark, unsure of whether it’s from the darkness or she can’t see anything at all. She tries to reach for Otis, but she can’t see his laying form. “Otis?” she whispers, feeling like the words didn’t come out of her mouth. 

She hears him mumble sleepily, rolling on his side, hand patting down the blanket to find her. “You alright, yeah?” he says weakly. “Are you going to talk to me? I’m sorry I was late… I lost track of time.”

But his hands sound like they smack wet sheets and the way his body stiffens next to her before shooting up in the air, sheets flying with him makes her feel like the breath has been smacked right out of her. She hears him tripping over himself and his hands hit the wall, searching for the light. 

It switches on, Otis’s mouth drops and his hands are shaking all covered in red. 

She can see. The light is so blinding, but she can see. She follows the pretty little flowers painted on the wall, she zones in on the photo on his side of the bed, Eric’s teeth in the camera and Adam’s stoic face, Ruby holding a baby Winnie. She glances at the photo of their wedding day with Aimee at her side and herself all dressed in short, white lace. Similar to the sheets that are on their bed. White and clean. 

She sits in a pool of blood, she sees it. It’s all over Otis as he’s on his hands and knees yelling at her to get up. 

She can’t though. She lies back in the bed where it’s all nice and warm. She can’t hear him yelling anymore. 

The pain is gone. 

The monitor beeps steadily and it feels like the sound is etching itself into her brain. Like if she gets out of this place, she’ll still remember the sound for as long as she lives. It’s as familiar as Otis’s voice, or her favourite song. But it’s not as panicked as Otis’s voice and it’s definitely not her favourite song. 

Doctors come and go, they offer condolences and a whole fucking lot of; “it happens, it’s very normal for this to happen…”

It might happen, it might be normal but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck…

He stands vigil at her side, always with her hand in his, always keeping himself busy by turning her wedding ring round and round her finger as clinical staff check in on her. She doesn’t want him to stay with her the whole time, but she doesn’t think she’ll survive if he leaves. She lets him annoy her with his fumbling fingers on her wedding ring. And the way he watches her as if he’d never seen her before. He still had blood on him, she can see it under his nails and the tiniest smear on his favourite jeans. 

They told Otis that they could keep trying in a few months time; “you know, if you wanted another baby…” they said to him. Maeve pretended to be asleep, but she could pick up the awkwardness in the way he stuttered and tripped on his words, never really answered and squeezed her hand tightly. She loves him because she knows exactly what he was thinking without seeing him. He wouldn’t want to do that, she thinks. He’d want me to be better ...

Sometimes, even with her eyes shut, she thinks she can hear a sob rack through him. 

So she goes to sleep, letting the pain relief take her, because it’s easier than thinking her husband might be in pain. 

She wakes up in her hospital bed that crinkles with plastic lining underneath her sheets. There’s still a pain in her stomach, and there’s an emptiness there. A year worth of trying already tires you, but five months of success fills you with a feeling you’re invincible. Losing a baby makes you feel lost. Especially when you’re with someone you love. 

He’s still there standing vigil. His face hardened and cheeks that are damp. But he never left. He never leaves me… “Hi,” he says in a breath, kissing her cheek. 

She closes her eyes to his touch, letting the love flow on to her. Anything to make this feel better… “You waited.” 

“Of course.” 

The bouquet of roses next to him reminds her of why she chose him eleven years ago. 

And if there’s a way, she hopes she can be stuck with him in every single lifetime. 

Chapter Text

London Calling

There was a fluttering in the back of his mind that told him that maybe he shouldn’t leave. She was all positive words and light laughter through the house but there was an unignorable static feeling that followed him around as he prepared for London. If he concentrated too hard, he thought there was a draw towards his wife that almost scared him into staying; a magnetic pull. He didn’t want to leave her because he was scared of what he might come home to; an emptiness that might have been avoided if he had just stayed home. All the ground they’d made might crumble around them. Shut up, he tells himself. But his mind is always ticking, never shutting up. 

He shoves his thoughts to the side as he continues piling multiple stuffed toys into a suitcase. Apparently Winnie simply could not live without them, if she were to leave any of them behind, she might just die. Her theatrics rivalled those of her uncle Eric’s, so maybe London was the place she needed to be. 

Maeve was fine. And Otis, again, overthinks it too much, because her being absolutely fine was what scared him most. He was almost waiting for a shift in her demeanour, but he knows he shouldn’t sit around waiting for it. Waiting for it wouldn’t make the pain any less. If it happens, it happens and she always did tell him that you should never wait for people.

He talks himself out of the panic, he convinces himself that three nights apart isn’t going to change all the battles they’ve won. And when he comes home, the break apart would have been for the better. He talks himself down, he laughs quietly to himself about the irony. She’s usually the one that has to talk me down…

She helps him pack, she throws everything into his bag unfolded which he then pulls out, refolding them and placing each item into their allocated piles. But she’s used to his tidiness and he doesn’t mind her scattered mess. So, neither of them say anything as she talks to him about the intricacies of money laundering due to another TV show that she hate-watches. Between the chatter and folding, she pushes the suitcase to the side so she can hug him. He reads too much into the hug and he feels sick for it. Will I come home to this? He wonders. Will she hate me when I’m home?...

He kisses her temple and she runs her fingers along the chain around her throat. “You want anything from London?” He asks.

She shrugs. “Not really…”

He notes she needs another diary, but he keeps it to himself. He gives her another kiss and she stands up, pulling her skirt a little further down her thighs.

It wasn’t until he was putting Winnie’s bag into the back of the car that he realises he hates leaving home, and he’d rather spend the weekend watching Molly Ringwald movies with Maeve, having convinced his mum to make him an antipasto platters that he could snack on throughout the day. Times would be simpler if he just stayed home. 

Instead, he signed up for a half a day trip with a five year old girl who’d talk his ears off for a majority of the ride. 

“Are we going yet?” Winnie asks, popping her head out of the car window. “I’m ready to go… why is this taking so long?” 

Otis groans out loud as he shuts the boot of the car, rolling his eyes to Maeve who looks amused. “Don’t you dare laugh.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, chucking her backpack into her own car. “Gotta stop at Browns to get Aimee some popcorn and crisps.” 

“Why didn’t you invite her over to stay here?” he asks, pulling his wife in by the waist. 

She looks at him with slight longing, or maybe she was missing them already. But her eyes seem darkened and she chews on her bottom lip as he holds her. “Didn’t want to be stuck here without you guys,” she mumbles against his chest. “And besides, I told Erin I wouldn’t be home… but you’d be proud of me,” she says, widening her eyes as she looks up at him. “I invited her to stay tomorrow night!” 

Otis sighs against her. The timing was both perfect and terrible. When things seem to just be realigning with Maeve, he was going. But he needed time with his best friend just as much as he wanted to be curled up in his home for the rest of eternity. 

Maeve lets go as she kisses his cheek and goes back to leaning on the bonnet of her car. “Why don’t you head off?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Maeve winces slightly. “No reason.” 

“Does the lack of reason have to do with your car?”

She looks from side to side. “No.” 

Otis shakes his head. That car will be the death of me, he thinks to himself. “When I’m back, we’re getting Jakob to look at it.” 

The look she gives him screams that she’s done talking about her car and its possibility of breaking down. “Shouldn’t you be on the road already? I’m sure Eric’s on the brink of a conniption waiting for you.” 

Otis nods, rummaging his way through the bags in the boot. “Oh! My reusable bags!” he says, looking through the boot.

“Forget the reusable bags, I’m sure you can get more while you’re there.”

“But mum made these ones and they’re far more sturdy…” he says, but her smirk and the way her arms are folded tell him that maybe he should leave them behind after all. “What?” he asks. “Are you mocking me?”

“I really did marry the biggest muppet in Moordale, innit? Please, if I ever get to the stage where I’m sewing Winnie reusable bags, smother me with a pillow.” 

“No can do, lady. I love you way too much to do that.” 

“Fine, I’ll do it - just make sure the pillow doesn’t fall off my face.” 

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” he says sarcastically.

Maeve puts her hands on both sides of her cheeks and pouts. “I know.” 

“Okay,” he starts, clapping his hands together. “I think that’s it! I’ve already received a message from Eric asking if we’ve left yet and I have our bags. Looks like we’re ready to go.”

Maeve’s smile is big and warm but he still worries about her. She’ll be fine, he reminds himself but he hadn’t been away from her in over a year. There’s a part of him that’s still sitting at the kitchen table, unwilling to leave and the other part is already in London, laughing with Eric. He didn’t want to leave her, he wished she could go. But the time apart was needed in a time where they’ve been drowning in each other.

She pouts again, tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. “Bring me back some Nandos, will you?” she asks with a wink.

“You wouldn’t find me in the place even if my life depended on it.” 

“I’m sure you’d be able to slip right back into your old job, not to mention you were the sexiest server there was…”

“You’re trying to grease me up,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Is it working? Are you going to drive me home a whole hoard of halloumi fries?” She looks up at him with sweet eyes and full lips. 

“Maybe. I’m sure that the chicken and three day old oil will hold up just fine on the car ride home.”

“You better get on the road before Winnie has a conniption too,” she says, pointing to her daughter who was almost half way out the window, begging for attention. 

Otis sighs. “I’ll miss you.”

Maeve gives him a kiss, almost swinging off his neck. “Can’t miss me if I don’t say goodbye…” she says. “And please, don’t lose our kid.” 

He chuckles, sliding into the driver's seat and buckling up. “We love you, wave to mummy!” he says, waving his hand at Maeve who still stands by her car. 

Maeve waves out but he catches a very brief middle finger and a loud cackle from her before she goes back to waving. 

Winnie blows kisses out of her own window before turning to her father as he reverses. “Are we there yet?”

“We’ve not even left, Winslow.” 

She sits quietly for a moment as they start off down the road. “Is Farfar Jakob coming with us?”

“No.” 

“Is Nanna coming?”

“No.”

“Is Jax coming?”

“Are you going to go through every single person we know?”

Winnie’s face screws up with thought. “No…” she replies. “Is Viv coming?”

“Winnie!” he groans. 

Several beats pass. “Is Steve coming?”

Otis hears him before he sees him. And then he’s smothered by his body before he gets to catch a proper glimpse. “OATCAKES MAN I THOUGHT YOU WERE SHITTING ME!” Eric screams at the top of his lungs down the street. “You got an eye problem, ma’am?” he says, straightening himself out and glaring at the passers by before grabbing Otis by the scruff of the neck again. “The lord was good when he gave me you!” he shouts in Otis’s face, squeezing his cheeks. 

Winnie is already in a trance watching the dogs and Adam is down on his knees, showing her how to pat them. Otis waits for a lapse in Eric’s shouting before taking his best friend back in his arms. “I’ve missed you so much, Eric,” Otis says, squeezing him harder. When Eric steps back he takes Otis’s hands in his and they both start jumping with joy. 

“Your dad always that excited to see people?” Adam asks Winnie. 

Winnie shrugs. “Not really. Mum says he hates people.”

“Me too,” Adam agrees, ruffling Winnie’s hair as he stands up. “New kid,” he grumbles, opening up his arms to give Otis a hug that he returns. 

Otis rocks on the balls of his feet as they stand outside in the chilly London air. “The old commune,” he sighs as he looks at the front of the old flat they all used to share. The ivy had grown more, spreading across the trellis. Trees that have started to overhang tell Otis just how long it’s been since he was last here. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the feeling of his old stomping grounds. 

“Hasn’t changed much since you guys left,” Adam grumbles. “Rick and Morty love it though.” 

“You should see what Adam’s done with the backyard,” Eric babbles, linking his arm in Otis’s. “It’s a kingdom for the dogs I’m telling you…” he says, dragging him to the front door. “Like imagine a backyard area that was fit enough for Bey and Jay’s dogs. That kind of level… and of course I didn’t lift a finger, you know how I get around nature.”

“Let me guess,” Otis starts. “It was modelled off something they’ve got?”

“Beyonce and Jay-Z don’t have dogs,” Adam corrects. 

Eric scoffs. “I’ve already told you this before, Otis. Keep up!” 

Adam and Eric were much the same, the epitome of opposites, but bouncing off a few similarities. Adam’s quiet meshed well with Eric’s boisterousness.  “New coat of paint?” 

“A funny yet slightly fucked up story,” Adam nods. “Woke up one morning after a night out, Lily had painted a big ass Glenoxi on the front of the house, had to get rid of it…” 

Eric shoots a glare at Adam. “I was all for the freedom of her creativity but…” 

“Huge ass, huge tits, serpentine dick all over the house,” Adam says with a grin. “There’s like twenty kids that live next door. Probably not the best idea to have a huge, gigantic octopus cock on the walls…” 

“Wasn’t a good look,” Eric says with a sigh. “Even though we own the place now, I guess we need to draw the line.”

“And we do draw the line. At cartoon extraterrestrial dick.”

Winnie smuggles treats out of the dog bag that Adam lets her hold and offers Rick and Morty almost its entire contents. “Do you like dogs, Uncle Adam?”

Adam shrugs. “More than I like a lot of people, little kid.”

“Why?”

“Because they don’t talk.”

“My mum says I talk too much,” she says, licking one of the dog treats before offering it back to Morty.

Adam laughs. “Couldn’t guess why.” 

Eric stands before Winnie with his hands on his hips. “I gave you the chance to get the dogs out of your system and yet you ignore me! Come here my little Winnie the Pooh!” he says with a shriek, scooping Winnie up in his arms. He dots kisses all over her face as she screws it up.  “I’ve missed you, my child!” 

She laps up the attention from Eric and Adam, always loving the two of them when they come to visit. Otis loves the shift in tone, he appreciates his friends and the distance from Moordale. He simply enjoys the smiles, the mid spring sun on their skin and the freedom of not being wrapped up in his own world, but of course, his thoughts wander to Maeve at Aimee’s, knowing full well she would have enjoyed the fresh but warming sun on her skin too, even with London’s chilling air. 

Adam and Eric usher Winnie inside, promises of chocolate nesquik being thrown around the room without a care in the world. Maeve hated nesquik, and Winnie wasn’t allowed it. Tooth rotting kind of stuff. It’ll make you have teeth like a shark... Winnie’s mother would warn her. 

Adam already had the glasses out and Winnie had spilt milk all over the bench. 

The flat was definitely his home away from home and there seems to be a weight lifted when he gets into the heart of it. There were still bits and pieces of them there. Amongst the photos of Adam, Eric, Rick and Morty were photos of when they lived there too. A bottle of Riccadonna still sits on their shelf that Maeve had been given by Sean the day they left Moordale and the four of them decided they’d only ever drink it if they all left the flat. There’s framed prints of Winnie’s hands and feet from when she was only days old. Maeve’s first published university paper still lives here and a photo of Otis stripped bare, running down the street on Maeve’s twenty first birthday.

There’s still odd things like Maeve’s best china sitting on the bench, her favourite tea pot, Otis’s tea strainer and his toaster Remi had ordered online to be delivered to the flat. Jean’s most prized painting of a vagina still hangs on the wall. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear Maeve would shout from their old bedroom to shut up due to the amount of Eric’s cackling running throughout the flat. 

“I need a run down, I need a play by play recount of what’s been going on,” Eric says, clapping his hands with each syllable. 

Adam scratches behind Rick’s ears and Winnie’s too who’s currently pretending to be a dog. “We’ve got all weekend…” 

“Oh,” replies Eric dramatically. “And what next? You’ll say we have an entire lifetime?”

“We do, don’t we?”

Eric scoffs. “We do not!” he says with shock. “I only have a little bit of time with my boy and my baby and I need to know ev-er-y-thing !”

Otis smiles as he sits down at the table, Winnie is already three nesquiks deep and he can almost hear Winnie confessing everything over the phone to Maeve tonight and Maeve’s scolding on the other end. “You know, Moordale’s Moordale. Nothing new happening there.” 

“You see my mum much?” Adam asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“When mum’s not off travelling the world, they’re usually out on the deck enjoying champers.” 

Adam grins. “Nice.”

Otis runs through what Eric might have missed. He feels like there’s so much to say, but he didn’t want to voice any of it. London’s air is too refreshing to be dulled down with the sadness his stories are laced with. “Things between M-A-E-V-E and I are going well.”

“Maeve,” Winnie says matter-of-factly, scrolling through her iPad with her feet up on Adam’s leg. 

“Scholar,” Eric says with his jaw dropped. “Genius, Einstein, academic, intellectual,” he runs off, shaking his head. 

Otis couldn’t disagree, because he had no clue she knew how to spell names other than her own. “Cat’s out of the bag, so I’m just going to go for it and hope she forgets about it by the end of the weekend.”

“Little kid, you want to watch me train some dogs?” Adam asks Winnie, “You can watch it on TV in the lounge?”

Otis looks at Adam sideways. “You have recordings?”

“Keep up, man,” Eric says, slapping his shoulder. “He’s got a youtube show, he’s like a fucking dog whisperer. Moordale could never!”

Adam leaves the room with Winnie. “Do you know who Madonna is? Because it’s her dog…” 

Eric leans in closer, this time with concern in his eyes. “Things are okay, right?” he asks, “Because I don’t think I could cope with my parents separating and this would be just as bad…” he says with a laugh that’s filled with nerves, Otis can tell. “... you’re not separating, are you?” 

Adam walks back into the kitchen. “Do you really think you’d be the last to know if they did break up?”

Adam had a point and Otis shakes his head. “It’s been a very long and winding road, but we’ve made it.” 

“George Michael!” Eric says, clicking his fingers. “Classic!”

Otis and Adam say in unison. “The Beatles.” 

Eric glares at Adam again. “Since when do you listen to The Beatles… traitor.”

Adam shrugs, taking a bite out of an apple. “Dad’s favourite.”

Eric grabs on to Otis’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “I’m just glad my babies are doing okay! You don’t know how hard I had to stop myself from driving to Moordale and throwing hands!” 

“Throwing hands? At who exactly? Me? Or Maeve?”

“Both of you! At the situation… I was going to kick someone’s ass, I didn’t care whose but I had a point to prove!” 

Adam just shrugs, taking another bite of his apple. “It’s true.” 

Otis looks around the kitchen at the mismatched seats and the brand new, shiny renovations that Eric and Adam had done to the house all thanks to money from the success of Adam and his dog whispering ways and Eric’s new stamp on London’s fashion scene. “Tell me you’ve done up the bathroom as well,” he laughs. “I don’t want to shower in toxic mould if I can help it. And I’m surprised Maeve and I haven’t got asbestos poisoning…”

“First thing to come out,” Adam says with a grin. “Took it out myself.” 

“You ripped it to shreds,” Eric says. “You totally destroyed it. We couldn’t even use it, we had to go and shower at Ola and Lily’s.”

Otis listens to them lightly argue over the absolute destruction of the bathroom as Eric’s laugh booms louder and louder. “What’s for dinner then?”

“Haven’t decided,” Eric shrugs. “We could get curry from down the road, Maeve’s favourite.” 

“And risk her kicking my balls in?” Otis laughs nervously. “Eh, it would be worth it if I got to send a photo to her of a bag full of extra poppadoms.” 

“Ooh,” Adam teases. “That’s very, very naughty of you,” he says sarcastically. “How will you live with yourself?”

“It’ll be hard to sleep knowing I did that to her, but I’ll survive.” 

“Curry then?” Eric asks. “While we sit here talking about how Maeve’s going to survive over a non-existent photo, there are people starving to death you know!” 

Adam shrugs again. “Don’t really feel like curry, innit? Feel like something homemade.” 

“Adam!” Eric warns. “Don’t you dare…” 

Adam gives Eric a menacing grin. “I’m doing it,” he says before turning his attention to Otis. “Can you make us a roast chicken meal?”

Eric pretends to fall off his seat, clutching on to his chest. “Both of you better enjoy your damn chicken, because you’re not invited to my funeral.” 

“What is it exactly that you don’t like about my chicken?” Otis asks, folding his arms. 

“The principal,” Eric whines. 

“Ah,” Adam says, raising an eyebrow. “The principal.”

“Makes sense,” Otis replies with a sigh. “That damned chicken.”

Eric’s singing was the first thing to wake Otis up, and it was as if Maeve had never left, because her message read;

-: Miss you, I hope you’re enjoying an offkey Rihanna song at 6 in the morning...

Joke’s on her, he thought. It was Nicki Minaj’s super bass…

Otis made chicken sandwiches with the leftover roast that Eric did not appreciate in the slightest. He’d made guacamole, but Adam had eaten it all before they’d even left the house. As a way to keep things child appropriate, they decided to head out to Battersea’s park.

Otis tightens the bucket hat on Winnie and pops her inhaler into his pocket just in case but she runs off without him even being able to tell her to be safe.

“She’s got weak lungs? Like you? Oh god, my poor baby! She has a friend that can babysit her, right? Right? Otis, you’re not answering my question… who’s going to be there to hold her hand at school if she has an asthma attack? Don’t make me move back to Moordale to do it, I used to do it for you - it’s running through the  generations.” 

“You’re like their grandfather,” Adam says, dropping a dog treat at Morty’s mouth. 

“Don’t you start taking the piss,” he says with a mouthful of chicken. “I gotta say, this is a good sandwich, oatcakes!” 

“I do try,” Otis says with a smile. “So you enjoy the chicken now, then?”

Eric shrugs. “It was more the fact that your chicken ruined your already embarrassingly low status - I still loved you though, you can’t break a brother’s bond.” 

Otis pulls out two cans of coke from the cooler and stacks them one on top of another which makes Adam sigh out loud, eyes rolling. “Sorry,” Otis apologizes. “It’s a bad habit.” 

“An entertaining one though,” Eric laughs, snapping his fingers. “I’ll die before that joke dies.”

“You two are the worst when you’re together…” Adam mumbles with a small grin. “I don’t know how I lived with it.” 

All three sets of eyes watch Winnie as she climbs over the playground, never stopping moving. “So,” Eric starts. “Ruby finally ready to have her silicon children with her husband? What was he again? Some cousin of the royal family? Do you think they’ll come out with lips like hers? Or are they fillers?”

“If Ruby has fillers, do you think that it’ll like, leak into the baby and then the baby will have fillers too?” Adam asks. 

“No!” Eric scoffs. “That’s stupid…” he looks from side to side. “Actually, i don’t know, I’m too gay to know if that’s logical when it comes to babies or not.” 

Otis shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “The baby wouldn’t come out with fillers no. And he’s not a cousin of the royal family - his grandfather owns the Marmite company.”

“Marmite?” Eric repeats, jaw dropping. “She makes him out to be the next Harry innit! The audacity of that girl. A fabricator and a deceiver.”

“Kind of clever though,” Adam says. “Everyone eats marmite. He’s probably loaded.” 

“Even worse,” Eric says, throwing his hands in the air. “Now I won’t ever be able to eat it without thinking I have Ruby’s husband in my mouth.” 

“Well,” Adam replies, lifting his shoulders. “That’s one way to look at it.” 

Eric leans his shoulder into Otis’s. “I’m still salty about you hanging out with her all the time… I shouldn’t be so easily replaced.” 

“You know you’re more than my best friend, Eric,” Otis reminds him. “You’re my brother, and Ruby and I have always been close too.” 

“Yeah, too close once upon a time,” Eric mumbles with a sly smirk. “Baby mama kind of close.”

“A very unnecessary exaggeration,” Otis says with a roll of his eyes.

Otis doesn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. If he could, he wishes he could turn back time and go back to living in the cramped apartment with Adam and Eric. Back when Winnie was a baby, or even earlier, when he and Maeve were still trying to figure each other out by living together for the first time. Everything was so new and bright. Why did things have to change? For a moment, he wishes he could ring Maeve and beg her to move back… maybe a fresh start is what they need. 

“Little kid loves it,” Adam says, pointing to Winnie. “Do you think you’ll have another one?”

Otis had never expected the question from Adam. And for a question he feels he gets asked all the time, from the old lady who delivers his junk mail, to the faculty staff at the high school and every single one of his evening clients that meet her when they overlap with Aimee dropping her off, it seemed to be less intrusive coming from Adam. 

Simply, he didn’t know. If it happens, it happens, he thinks. It had always been that way. That’s how it had been when they fell pregnant with Winnie, even with all the fear in the world and a whole lot of not knowing what to do with a baby, it just happened and they just fluked it. They’d tried for another, a whole year they tried but he still didn’t like the build up of pressure, the pressure of expecting something to happen that might not. He’d always hated pressure, from when he was a kid, through high school. As an adult, it was much the same. 

Otis sighs, leaning back on the park bench with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his daughter. “There’s nothing I’d love more than having another Winslow around the place,” he says. “But there’s nothing I love more than her and Maeve and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. So maybe, what I have is enough and I don’t need to ruin a good thing.” 

Eric snaps his fingers before banging Otis on the back. “Good answer, Otis!” he cries. “Father of the year! Husband of the century! You’re damn smooth, my friend!” 

Otis grins. At least Eric will always be there to hype him up when he doesn’t feel great about himself. 

Eric may have cried, but there were definitely tears from Otis’s end as well. And Winnie’s when she had to part with Rick and Morty, she begged for a dog from the moment she hopped in the car. 

When they’re about half way, Maeve’s name pops up on the screen on the dash that Otis answers. 

“Yellow?”

“Where are you then?” she asks, a slight edge in her voice. 

Otis looks in his rearview mirror to look at Winnie whose mouth is wide open as she sleeps and he smiles. “Oh you missed me?”

“Like a bullet to the brain…” she trails off. “I missed you probably as much as Eric misses you right now.”

Otis’s heart drops just a little bit, looking at the rearview mirror again as if London was just behind him. “I miss him too,” he says with a breath. “But I missed you more.” 

“Where’s Winslow? I don’t hear her interrupting.” 

“Crashed out, fell asleep after crying in hysterics over the dogs.” 

“Adam didn’t let them lick her, did he?”

“No,” Otis lies. “Of course not!”

“I ate toast for three days straight,” Maeve says with the breath getting knocked out of her, probably falling back on the bed. “So my stomach is hard and full of carbs.” 

“What happened to staying at Aimee’s?”

“Ugh,” she groans over the phone. “She wouldn’t let Steve cook because she’s trying to do this thing where she can prove to him that she can still do everything around the house even though she’s due at any moment now. So, Steve and I both were the victim of her terrible cooking.” 

“What about when Erin came over?”

“Meh, we both decided toast was as nutritional as we were willing to go, so, carb gut it is.” 

“Just as well I love carb gut,” Otis laughs. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.” 

“This is why I chose to marry you. You love carbs and carb gut, you’re the perfect gentleman.” 

“I better go,” he says, concentrating on the road. “Talking about carbs is not making this trip any faster…” 

Maeve sighs. “Get home quick, I miss you…” but there’s an undercurrent in her voice that tells Otis that something’s amiss. 

“You okay?” Silence. “Maeve?”

Her sigh is heavy and long over the phone, making it crackle. “My student, Lucy?”

“Mmm,” he replies quickly. “Is everything okay?”

“She reached out…” Maeve says with another sigh. “She’s pregnant, and she needs my help.”

Otis can feel it over the phone, the heaviness. The longing and the fear. Even being so far away, he can almost see the twitch in Maeve’s jaw and the sadness in her eyes. “Shit.” 

“Shit indeed,” Maeve says quietly, almost inaudible over the phone. “She’s scared, Otis. And I don’t know what to say… because no one ever said anything to me when I was sixteen and shit out of luck.” 

Otis nods to himself. “Be there for her, Maeve.” 

He hears a chuckle. “Only you could come up with the smallest sentence yet have it make the most sense. I love you.” 

He laughs back. “I’ll be home, then you can tell me all about it.” 

“I need you to make some sense of this fucking world.” 

“See you when I see you?”

“When you see me.”

She hangs up and Otis focuses on getting home. The house with big windows was waiting for him. He was going home. 

Chapter Text

Happy Abortion

For once, work was at the back of her mind and she didn’t want to go. It wasn’t so much work itself. It was that Otis and Winnie had only got home from their great London adventure and she’d rather stay home with them and listen to the great tales of Rick and Morty from Winnie. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear the dogs were great mythical beasts with the way her daughter’s eyes lit up when she spoke about them. Winnie loved the dogs, and if it weren’t for Maeve swooping in just in time, Otis would have fallen into the trap that Winnie had set of buying one. Or more. Their daughter was open to negotiation, apparently. 

The rain had set in for the day and the house, though dark from overcast hanging clouds, was only brightened and warmed by his presence. Though she could never say it out loud, the three nights alone in their home without him made a shiver course through its walls and her thoughts too loud to bear. He calms me even when he annoys me, she thinks. Her dependence on him almost cripples her. But thats love… stupid shit…

Aimee’s birth was nearing closer and closer and the watchful eye that Steve had over her almost unsettled Maeve. His caring hand always hovering just next to Aimee at all times, as if she might trip and fall or spontaneously combust on the spot. But Maeve couldn’t fault him for his fearfulness. A fear still gets lodged in her throat and shows its face when things are too quiet around her. But she put on a brave one instead and stayed with Steve and Aimee through Otis’s London visit. A fake face, the one that says I’m not dying inside… Aimee’s swelling belly made Maeve feel like her jaw was constantly tightened or her lungs forgot to work sometimes. 

Erin’s visit was full of too many quickly spoken words and awkward laughter on her behalf. Maeve tried hard to keep things light. But it’s always too hard when someone’s always trying to convince you of something… Convincing her of what, she wasn’t sure. She felt Erin tried to convince Maeve of everything, to prove she was telling the truth for once. It was too strained to be a mother and daughter. Erin didn’t know enough about Winnie or Otis to hold a proper conversation. Because she always mentioned how lucky Maeve was to fall on her feet. As if she didn’t fight for her own happiness. 

Maeve had already been standing out on their driveway for a solid twenty minutes with a packet of cigarettes when Otis and Winnie had arrived home the night before. She pulled them both into her arms and made them both pinky swear they’d never leave her again with an added; “I’ll kick you in the balls, Milburn, I swear…” in Otis’s ear to which he just kissed her harder. 

When they woke up in the morning, he and Winnie laid on the couch watching cartoons as she left. She loved them too much to let them go, Moordale felt like an entirely different planet when her heart still aches to be filled with their presence. She doesn’t want to be away from them, and next time she’ll take the leave to go to London with them. 

But today, she pulled herself out of bed because there was a scared young girl who needed her just like she needed someone all those years ago. 

Lucy had been mascara streaked tears on Maeve’s light grey sweater when she told her the news while Otis was in London. Lucy was late. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t know what to do. Or where to start. 

Lucy had a fear in her, Maeve could see it in her eyes. She could tell in the way she sat with a Moordale High rugby jersey on that was about three sizes too big for her, in her aptitude class with three essays sitting in front of her, all completed. And though the class is filled to the brim with bright futures and promises, there was mascara running down her face and lipstick smeared all over the jersey’s cuffs. She had a nervous shake in her leg and a stammer that she just couldn’t get rid of. It was the fear that Maeve was all too familiar mixed with disbelief.

Lucy asked for Maeve’s help. She needed someone to take her to the clinic. She couldn’t have a baby, not when UCL was on the horizon if everything kept going well, that’s what Mrs Marchetti told her. She’d read up about abortions online, and she’d made the initial consultation… she just needed it to be done. 

Maeve pulls over on the side of the road heading into the caravan park. Lucy had no liner on, her eyes were red and puffy but she puts on a smile when she sees the car. Another fake smile, Maeve notices. It’s all too familiar. 

Lucy throws a backpack on the floor of the car before following in behind it. “Hi, Ms Milburn.” 

“Hi…” Maeve says, eyeing the backpack on the ground. “Are you planning on doing a great escape or something?” 

Lucy gives a nervous chuckle, rubbing her hands on her thighs after putting on her seatbelt. “It’s just in case you can’t stay…”

Maeve hears the sadness in her voice, or the expectation that Maeve would just leave her there without a care in the world. She takes her hand off the gear stick for a moment, reaching out to pat Lucy’s hand. “I’ll be there with you right to the end, you need someone to drive you home anyways. It’s like they think you’ll get lost on your way home or something… and I don’t want you to be on your way home and pass out. My husband was shit scared of hemorrhaging…” she says with an out of place smile. “But he’s almost shit scared of everything.” 

“Your husband?” Lucy says. “Have… have you had one before?”

There was something unsettling about the memory. How is it that one of my worst days hold one of the kindest memories I have? She wonders. Otis… is the answer she comes up with. Maeve shrugs. “I did. Same age as you.” 

“Well, weirdly that makes me feel better,” Lucy replies. “In a slightly morbid way - banding together over abortions.” 

“When women come together, it’s beautiful regardless of the circumstance.” 

“Did some wise English teacher of yore say that to you when she told you of her past abortions?”

Maeve looks over to Lucy with a smirk and a glimmer in her eye. “Please, do not lose that spark when you go through this. It’s going to help you a lot when you’re at UCL with a scholarship,” Maeve encourages. 

Lucy falls quiet for only a moment. “I hope I won’t,” she says with a sigh. “I really want to get into UCL.” 

Maeve continues driving, glancing at Lucy from time to time, making sure that she was okay. “You’ll love it in London… and Mrs Marchetti has told me just how amazing you are in her aptitude class, she thanked me for the recommendation.” 

She takes another deep breath. “Why did you have an abortion? Was it to your husband?”

“I was young,” Maeve answers simply. “I was scared. I had no money, and I didn’t want to have a baby with the person I fell pregnant to… Who was not going to be my future husband, so fate had decided.” 

Lucy nods. “Then why was your husband there?”

Maeve shrugs. “He’s the kind of guy who’s always there when you need him. I asked him to pick me up, he had no idea what was going on. He brought me a bouquet of flowers and a sandwich. He never once judged me for it. He’s always just there .”

Lucy’s smile is small and hidden under her nerves, but it’s there. “This is rom-com kind of stuff,” she says with a fake shudder. 

“Boombox outside of a window style declarations of love?”

“Unfortunately, Ms Milburn, I’ll have to say yes…” Lucy looks outside the window. “But I guess everything worked out? You had your daughter and married your husband?”

“Fell pregnant during my last year at uni. Scared out of my mind, tried to ignore it - wished it away. My husband and I weren’t really experts on kids by any means, we lost my baby sister at school once when she was three. Ended up in the old Principal’s office. We imagined that situation but amplified when it came to parenting so we were definitely drowning in fear,” Maeve laughs. “But, I fell pregnant to someone I knew, at the very least, I wanted to spend my life with and it wasn’t all doom and gloom from there.”

Lucy’s smile can be seen from the corner of Maeve’s eye. “I like this story,” she says quietly. 

“We didn’t have much, and he had to get a fast food job in order to let me finish my studies, and I did, with one month left of my pregnancy. Had my daughter, Winslow. Had several meltdowns, my husband had far too many sleepless nights to ever be able to catch up. But the circumstances were different… I was ready at that time.”

“You didn’t lose your daughter somewhere on campus, then? It all worked out?”

“It managed to work out, but she’s only five, she could still get lost somewhere…” Maeve winks at Lucy. “She seems to be okay so far.” 

Lucy swallows loudly, rubbing her palms on her thighs again. “I’m really nervous.” 

I wish I could say something comforting, Maeve thinks. “It’ll all be over soon,” is what she comes up with. They arrive at the clinic, Maeve pulling over on the side of the road to park. Taking a deep breath, she looks over at Lucy. “Here we are.” 

Being outside the building throws Maeve back twelve years. It hasn’t changed much and she knows she probably drives past it several times a week, but for some reason, in this setting, it seems almost haunting. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing, her grip on the steering wheel tightens as she tries to think of what to say but Lucy speaks first. “I’ll go in. I’ll be okay.” 

“I’ll be in as soon as I park the car over there,” she says, pointing ahead. “I won’t be long.” 

Lucy nods and leaves her backpack in the car, but slowly walks up the stairs into the building. 

The car felt suffocating, as if it was closing in around her. Maeve winds down the window, but even the air is hot and sticky against her cheeks. “Fuck,” she hisses out loud, banging her hands on the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

Pull yourself together, you’ve done this before, she tries to tell herself but the voice rears at the back of her head, reminding her of how she felt all those years ago. 

She remembers the nerves kicking in, making her hands shaky and her chewing her lip raw. The feeling of having to let her guard down just a little bit to ask for help. The embarrassment of Otis finding her there. The sheer stupidity of getting knocked up at sixteen…

She can feel the sweat now, rolling down her forehead and her nails digging into her palms even from grip being around the steering wheel. “Just breathe…” she reminds herself. 

She allows herself a moment to take a breath, closing her eyes and waiting for a break of all the noise in her mind. 

“Yellow?” she can hear Otis chewing on something crispy on the other end of the phone. “You okay? How’s Lucy holding up? Is she in yet?”

Maeve simply sniffs loudly, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve and squeezes her eyes shut. You need to talk, idiot, she tells herself. She can’t even catch a breath though, she feels scared and sixteen all over again. She can feel the slowing of her thoughts from a drug induced haze, the clinical beeping. She’s still sitting in her car, but she can feel it all. “Ot -,” she can’t even finish his name. 

“Woah, Maeve,” he says on the other end of the phone. “Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming.”

Of course you are… because I can’t do anything without you… She sniffs again, taking a deep breath. “I’m sitting outside the clinic having a fucking panic attack over stupid, dumbass, sixteen year old Maeve and I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. She can hear him rummaging for his keys. “Winslow? Come and get your jacket, frog legs, you’re going to visit Nanna,” she can hear him putting on his own jacket. “It’s okay to be triggered by memories,” he says in a hurry. “To be almost reliving a moment in your life that’s been so impactful will always come with it’s stressors and triggers.” 

Maeve groans, leaning back in her chair. He’s therapizing me… “Otis, I don’t think I can be here for her. It’s all too much… and after everything. The miscarriage.” 

Otis falls silent on the other end. “Shit…” he replies. “Look,” he starts again. “You want to be there for someone you resonate with because you know exactly what kind of fear she’s experiencing now. You want to protect her and promise her everything will be okay, but it’s not okay on you and you can’t put yourself through this and suffer in order to help someone else, Maeve. It’s okay to not be okay.” 

Maeve’s sob echoes through the phone. He’s right , she thinks. The git is always right… “Then what should I do?”

“I’ll be right there.”

Tears stream down her face but he sits with her hand in his in the passenger's seat of her car, not saying anything. 

When she closes her eyes and focuses, she knows that she’s hurting for Lucy. She’s hurting for her sixteen year old self from years ago. She hurts for mistakes made and lessons learnt. She hurts . 

Otis rubs his thumb over the top of her knuckles, his soft hum filling the car as she recalibrates “I’m so stupid,” she says quietly. 

“No you’re not,” he says, turning to face her. His eyes are watering too. There’s sympathy right down in the depths of them that only she can see from years of reading him. Yes I am, she argues internally. 

She takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut, she pushes away all the thoughts. The thoughts that linger on her sixteen year old self and wishing someone was there that could have kept her safe. They linger on Lucy and how she’ll pray everyday for her success and her great move to UCL. “I’ve been out here for over forty minutes,” Maeve says with a groan, running a hand through her hair. “I told her I was going to park the car - she probably thinks I fucking drove the car off a fucking cliff with how long I’ve been out here.” 

Otis shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sure she’ll just be happy to see your face when you get in there - to know someone cares.” 

Maeve nods, opening her eyes she looks to her husband. “Can you come in with me please?” she asks quietly. “I don’t think I want to go in there alone.” 

He doesn’t even answer, he doesn’t have to. He reads me like a book no matter how many times I try to shut him out… Instead, he opens the car door and rushes around to her side, opening the door for her. She looks up as she remains seated, smiling at him. “I love you so much,” she says with a sniff before grabbing on to his offered hand and hopping out of the car. 

He holds her hand as they make their way to the staircase. “Good to see there’s no protestors,” he says with an awkward grin. “At fifteen weeks a baby can see light… I would have had to fight them off.” 

“You? Fight?”

“Hey!” he says with mock shock. “I fought them with understanding and great advice.” 

“Always your weapon of choice.”

“That’s how I fought for your honour, and now we’re married.”

It’s a step back in time in the clinic. Though completely changed, there’s still a sterile smell in the air and the feeling of dread that reverberates through the place. She spots Lucy’s blonde hair with her head sitting in her hands, a look of concern all over her. 

Maeve swallows but feels Otis’s grip tighten on her. “Let’s go and sit down next to her,” she says. 

Otis follows her lead, putting up his hand to wave at the young girl. Maeve takes a seat, and Otis takes one on the other side of Lucy, offering her his hand. “Hello, Lucy,” he says quickly. “I’m Otis.” 

Lucy gives a polite smile back. “Lucy.” 

Otis’s smile in return is kind and comforting and seems to be working on Lucy too, Maeve can tell, her shoulders soften and her jaw relaxes a little. “Nirvana fan?” he asks. 

Maeve looks down at Lucy’s purse that has a Nirvana badge on it. “More of a twenty seven’s club fan,” Lucy replies. 

“What’s that?” Maeve asks, appreciating the common ground between the two. 

“Just a very sad group of people,” Lucy answers. 

“Famous musicians who died at the age of twenty seven,” Otis clarifies. 

Maeve rolls her eyes. “Well aren’t you a happy bunch of people!” 

They all sit watching the flickering of the waiting room’s TV, reruns of Keeping Up Appearances seems out of place against the backdrop of the abortion clinic, but she’s grateful for the background noise. 

“You talk for a living?” Lucy asks Otis, folding her arms across her chest. 

Otis nods. “That I do.” 

She bites her lip and looks down at her feet. “Can you tell me this is going to be okay?”

Maeve notices Otis’s glance in her direction, a pleading look almost - as if he wanted to tell himself that everything was going to be okay as well. She gives him a look in return, letting him know that the best thing he could give them both right now, was some hope. “I once knew a girl who was scared, probably like you are right now, who tried to take on the whole world by herself. But it’s okay to need people to fall back on, and it’s okay to not be okay. You’re in safe hands, Lucy. These guys are health professionals and they’re here to make sure everything runs smoothly…” 

“And when I come out?” she asks in a whisper. 

Otis turns to look her in the eye. “You’ll be in safe hands again, because we’ll be here to fall back on.” 

“Lucy Hughes?” the nurse calls out. 

Lucy gives Maeve a fleeting look. “Can you come with me? Until you can’t stay with me any longer?”

Maeve feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up, the shiver runs down her spine. The ache in her chest. 

“Of course.” 

Maeve sat in the recovery room for the entire hour waiting for Lucy. She wiped tears, she took steadying breaths and she tried not to let it get to her. She brushed hair out of Lucy’s eyes as she came to and wondered if Otis was okay waiting for them in the waiting area as if he was an awkward, gangly teenager all over again.

Lucy starts getting her bearings, looking around at the room before settling on Maeve, she wears a smile and Maeve hopes that waking up and seeing a familiar face brings her some small amount of comfort. She wishes that when she woke up, someone was there to hold her hand when she was sixteen and all alone. But having Otis there to walk her home was more than anyone had ever given her. That gesture was proof to her sixteen year old self that she was worth caring about, and someone out there did . 

Lucy’s hair still clings to her damp brow that Maeve wipes down again. Lucy manages a weakened smile. “I feel out of it…” 

“You alright though?” 

“Mmm,” Lucy replies, arms rising then flopping down once she discovers all the cords attached to her. “Are all these attachments necessary?” she says with a breath.

“Pity the science experiment didn’t take, they were going with superhuman strength but somehow it didn’t work out…” 

Lucy manages a laugh. “Is that mousse?” she asks weakly, pointing to her bedside table. “Chocolate?”

Maeve's laugh is broken as a tear seems to slip through. “It is. Are you hungry?”

“Famished. There’s more room in my stomach for food now…” 

“Hey,” Maeve warns with humour. “It’s too early for abortion jokes.” 

“Oh, come on,” Lucy says with a chuckle. “This is the most appropriate time for jokes.” 

“Eat it up,” Maeve tells her, peeling the top of the custard off the punnet. “The sooner you get back on your feet, the sooner we can get you home safely.” 

“Splendid,” Lucy replies. “Back to reality.” 

There is a level of freedom Maeve feels as they walk out of the clinic and she wonders if Lucy feels it too. The unknown was scary, and the feeling of making a decision that even though is the right thing to do, makes you question your entire life and how you got here in the first place.. Otis stands at the foot of the staircase holding up a bunch of red roses and two prepackaged sandwiches that he’d got from the corner store, he wears a smile that’s both comforting and reassuring. Maeve can’t contain her smile, shaking her head as she follows Lucy down the stairs. “Fancy something to eat, Lucy?” he asks, holding out the roses in front of him to her. 

She simply nods, but her eyes settle on the roses. “Flowers?”

Otis hands them to her before offering her the sandwich as well. “I thought you might like a bit of cheering up,” he says. “Something to brighten your day.” 

Maeve doesn’t speak, but she holds onto his hand tightly as they wait for Lucy to eat. He’s always so thoughtful, Maeve thinks. And I’m like an anti-care bear… She remembers the bouquet he brought her when she’d just come out of the clinic and how he carried it with them all the way home, too nervous to hand them to her. The sandwich he’d brought, without him knowing, was the only thing she had to eat at home anyway. Knowing someone cared for her, and about her made her feel like she was going to survive another day. Maeve loves him even more for all of his caring nature and kindness. She hopes Lucy can feel it too. 

Lucy downs the sandwich and takes a can of coke from Otis while Maeve takes small bites of her own. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “No one else would have ever done anything like this for me.”

Otis rocks on his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets while both Lucy and Maeve finish eating. “Can’t have you going home hungry after all that. Remember to rest, okay? And don’t push yourself.” 

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay,” Lucy mumbles. 

Otis shakes his head. “If you have any issues, make sure to let Maeve know. This is serious, and it’s okay to take it seriously.” 

Lucy nods, smelling the bouquet of flowers with a smile that Maeve is happy to see. “Okay, message received.”

He rushes around the backdoor of the car before Lucy gets to it, opening it up for her. “After you, Madam…” 

She takes a seat and he shuts the door behind her before going around to the drivers door. Maeve catches his eye before he hops in and mouths; “Thank you.” 

He starts the car and Maeve looks in the rearview mirror to see Lucy staring outside as Otis starts driving down the road. “How do you feel about small talk?” he asks quietly. 

Lucy takes a breath, closing her eyes and says. “It would be good, thanks.”

Otis nods. “Tell me more about your love for Kurt Cobain.”

The car ride is filled with more chatter about Kurt Cobain and the Seattle grunge scene until they pull up at the caravan park. Outside of Lucy’s caravan sits a young man with long hair, ripped jeans and almost shaking with worry. Maeve watches Lucy’s face light up under the dim lighting from TV’s in the caravans surrounding. He stands up when he notices Lucy in the backseat, clutching his school books to his chest that Maeve knows for a fact he doesn’t read. 

“Thank you,” is all Lucy says as she jumps out and the boy rushes towards her, swinging his arm over her shoulder as she leans her head on it. 

“Who’s that?” Otis asks. 

“Jason,” Maeve says with a sigh. “Half of the reason today exists.” 

“Trouble?”

Maeve shakes her head. “ Young ,” she corrects. 

She appreciates the small things. How there’s wood stacked by the fire, Otis had put on soup in the crockpot before he left, the washing had been done and Winnie doesn’t feel anything different about her day. Winnie smiles as she runs around the house and when she comes back around, she falls in Maeve’s arms as she sits at the kitchen table. “Did you have a good day with Nanna, frog?” Maeve asks her daughter, dotting kisses on her cheek. 

Winnie nods while she twirls a strand of her mum’s hair around her finger. “Nanna had a yoni class so Farfar Jakob and I went fixing stuff.”

“Do you remember how to use a spanner?”

Winnie doesn’t answer, she’s off in a sprint again. 

Maeve watches Otis check on the soup then he takes a sip of his tea. In a moment that’s only brightened by the setting sun through the big windows of their house, she thinks on just how much he means to her. His caring nature never ceases to surprise and amaze her. His ability to calm every situation. The way that whenever she calls, he’s there. The loneliness she felt after their loss was from the two of them pushing each other away, but she knows, if she had asked, he would have been there. She mourns for the time they lost, and she grieves for the loneliness she felt, because she knows she should have never felt it, but he felt it too. 

“Do you know why I asked you to pick me up from the clinic? When I had the abortion?” she asks him. 

Otis looks at her, the deep blue of his eyes piercing through her. “Why?”

“Because you were the only person I trusted. You were the first person to ever be there for me, I barely knew you but you had already shown me more than anyone else had.” 

Otis shakes his head, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder, he slowly makes his way to the kitchen table. He bends down, kissing her softly on the head. “I loved you now and I unknowingly loved you then. And just like then, I will do anything for you.”

“As you continue to prove,” she says with a light laugh. “Today was tough,” she says honestly. 

He nods, taking a seat next to her, he places his hand on her thigh. “Confronting one of the biggest things that happened in your life, being thrown straight back into those old feelings and emotions yet having to remain strong to help someone else? That’s bravery, Maeve. And what you did for her - being there as her pillar of strength? Is more than a lot of people would give.” 

She knows what it’s like to not have a mum around to be there for support. To not have people you can rely on with your entire heart and soul. To feel alone through a process no one should ever have to go through alone. Today, she felt exactly like the kind of person she prayed for. The type of woman that she hopes Winnie can look up and know with her entire heart will never leave her to face things alone. 

“I was once told it's better not being a mum at all than being a bad one… and today, I think i’ve finally come to terms that I’m not a bad one,” she says in a murmur, putting her hand on top of Otis’s.

Otis shakes his head, looking straight at her. “You would never, ever be a bad mum, Maeve. You have far too much love and strength in you for that.” 

Maeve takes a deep breath. For once, she believes him. 

Chapter Text

Happy Birthday, Oh Joyous One

Otis wasn’t sure of what made him think of it, but he had been around for twelve of Maeve’s birthdays and in just a few more years, he would have been around for more of them than not. We’re getting old…  

Otis felt there was something fundamentally wrong with Maeve’s disassociation with birthdays. Always insisting she hated them, always arguing that it was in fact not her birthday. He could think of several of his most favourite birthdays of Maeve’s. The great binge-drinking session from their first year in London where he walked home with just his underwear on and she was dressed from head to toe in a suit made of sequins. The following year when they’d all gone to Manchester with Adam and they got lost for three days straight. Her first birthday with Winnie in which he managed to actually buy her gifts and say they were from their newborn so there was no way in hell she’d be able to whine about them. Her first back in Moordale with Sean at her side. He’d seen a lot of great birthdays with her, but it still didn’t stop her from pretending they didn’t exist. 

He knows she’s awake, he can tell by the way she tucks her head under the sheets and the giggle that escapes, probably from watching old vines on her phone. She’s avoiding him, but in a way that definitely keeps him sane and makes him shake his head with amusement. 

He rolls to his side, wrapping his arm around her waist under the blanket and she seems to curl up smaller in his embrace. “I know you’re awake.” 

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes you are, or you wouldn’t have replied.’ 

“Perceptive,” she mumbles. “What if I start snoring?”

“Snoring doesn’t erase the fact it’s your birthday.” 

“I don’t want it to be my birthday. Yet another reminder of how I spent almost ten months inside of someone’s body and how I had to eat their digested food,” she mumbles. 

“I’ll make sure to tell Winnie how much curry she ate involuntarily.”

Maeve’s laugh shakes the bed. “To think she hates the stuff. Poor thing.”

“And to think you were the one who told me about all the things you were forced to do against your will all those years ago…”

“I still refuse to accept I was forced out of a vagina.” 

Finally, she pulls the blanket off her head, smiling up at Otis with one eye closed. “Go on, get on with it then,” she says rolling over to face him. 

Her hair was hanging in her face, the light of the rising sun at five in the morning shining through a gap in the curtain. She lifts her hand and squeezes Otis’s cheeks together before giving him a kiss. “Happy birthday, love of my life,” he murmurs back. 

She peeps over Otis’s shoulder to his bedside table. Shit, he thinks. Maybe I should have got a present… but then I’d be at risk of a punch in the face… his internal battle is put on pause when she whispers. “It’s only five o’clock.”

“Oh?” he says with a wink.

“Did you just wink?” she asks, covering her mouth with amusement. 

“I’m trying to be flirty.”

“Oh, it’s working,” she says with a grin. “Keep going.” 

Otis pretends to think. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

Maeve shakes her head, closing her eyes as she giggles. “Disgusting. Continue.” 

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” he asks. “How’s that one?”

Maeve kisses him lightly on the lips. “Are you trying to pick me up?” 

“Is it working?”

“Oh yeah,” she says sarcastically, playing with the hem of his t-shirt under the blankets. “I’d let you marry me all over again.” 

“I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together,” Otis adds with a smirk. 

Maeve pretends to fan her face. “Ooh, Mr Milburn. You’re on fire today.”

He chuckles, pulling her closer to him with his arms around her waist. He buries his face into her neck, dotting kisses on her skin. He simply revels in the moment with her in his arms, a peaceful moment in their time where he finally feels it’s just her and him, and nothing in between. No loud thoughts or messy feelings. This was everything they had been missing and one thing they had been working hard for. It had been a long time since he’d taken the time out to lay in bed with no hurried rush out of the door or quick shower chats. There was no Maeve running around the kitchen with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth as she poured the coffee he’d made her into a travel mug and no toast crumbs on his shirt. It was just them two in the bed they share and her in his arms. 

He enjoys the sanctuary he finds against her skin, the feeling as she strokes the back of his hair and how her nails lightly scratch. The peace he finds in her gentle breaths and feeling her heartbeat. 

He feels her push against his shoulders so he rolls onto his back but the look she gives him makes his skin burn, especially when she bites her lip while she moves onto her knees. 

She straddles his waist and stretches her arms, raising them above her head and he places his hands on her hips, looking up to meet her eyes. “Morning sex?”

“It’s the morning,” she agrees. “I’m merely stretching.” 

“On top of me?” he teases, his mind running wild. “... are you trying to seduce me?” 

Maeve smiles again, looking menacing all the same. She’s going to kill me, he thinks, his fingers dancing along her hip bones. 

She leans down, kisses starting on his neck, moving up towards his lips before she bites on his lower one and trails back down. “Maybe I am,” she says on his collarbone. 

Otis’s breath catches in his throat. Even after all these years, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. How he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on earth and she chose him back. How when they’re this close, it’s like her hips were made for his hands and her lips fit perfectly on his. How even in a moment of vulnerability, they still manage to make each other laugh. “I do feel kind of bad that we’re about to have sex on your birthday. As if I feel that I’m your gift.” 

“Your gift can be shutting up for a second?” she says, kissing down his body. 

Otis’s stomach sucks in when he feels her breath on him. “Okay, shutting up,” he manages in a sigh. 

He leans back, concentrating on Maeve on top of him but the curtains move and the sound of the door smacking the wall is loud and jarring when Maeve jolts up, quickly rolling off him and taking the blanket with her, leaving Otis scrambling for the sheet. 

Winnie stands at the door with her blanket dragged behind her, “Can I come in?” 

Maeve sighs, rolling over to look at Otis, probably noticing his look of defeat but they both smile at each other. “Happy birthday to me,” she says with a smile. 

He smiles back and kisses her cheek as he straightens out the sheets and the blanket. “Come on, frog legs,” he calls out. 

Winnie leaps onto the bed, hitting his leg and trampling on Maeve at the same time. “Why are you awake so early?” she asks her parents. 

“I guess we’re pulling out the lies for this one,” Maeve says over Winnie while she snuggles into the bed. “Mummy and daddy were just not sleepy anymore.” 

“It’s mummy’s birthday, frog,” Otis adds. 

They both watch Winnie’s face light up. “Happy birthday, mum!” she says, throwing her arms around her mother. 

Maeve closes her eyes, smelling Winnie’s hair as she holds her. “Thank you, Winslow,” she replies. “My best present will always be you.” 

Winnie’s excitement towards the birthday doesn’t last long, seconds later she’s scrolling her iPad, ignoring what’s going on around her. “I’m up for trying again tonight,” Maeve says with a serious expression on her face. “Call it my birthday present.” 

Otis fakes shock. “I’m more than just an object you can use, you know.” 

Maeve’s mouth curls. “Slap a bow on your head. I expect a sexy dance as well.” 

“I’ll be sure to brush up on my sexy moves then,” Otis says with a wink, counting down the hours. 

“We’re taking over,” Jackson announces as he puts a box of decorations on Maeve’s desk. “Literally, we’re taking over the office. I didn’t realise we had so many birthday decorations at home, but that’s why I love you, Viv,” he says, rubbing her back. “You’re always so well prepared. You’re amazing.” 

Viv’s face lights up and she gives her husband a fist bump. “Her personality type doesn’t mesh well with what we’re about to do, but we’re going to do it anyways.” 

Ruby leans against the window of Maeve’s office at Moordale High while Aimee sits in her office chair with both hands resting on her stomach. Viv and Jackson have their heads together, sorting through crepe paper. “Viv,” Aimee says. “When we’re at school, do I have to call you Mrs Marchetti? Or am I still allowed to call you Viv? What about you, Jackson? Mr Marchetti? A bit formal, innit?”

Jackson tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted and Viv tries to stifle a laugh. “Viv and Jackson are fine, Aimee.” 

Ruby chimes in. “You can call me Mrs Walker if you like.” 

Otis hadn’t been to Maeve’s office in a while, but he finds all the little details that are dotted around the office show how much of herself she’s decorated it with. Photos of Winnie sit on the desk, framed pieces of her writing are along the walls and those of a few of her students that have graduated in the last three years they’d been home. Studies and papers that Otis had written are on the walls too as well as photos of when they were all at school. There wasn’t a lot, but there was enough to show how much pride she puts into her work. 

Otis smiles at the piece of writing that hangs on the wall that Adam had given to her. His name scribbled out and hers put in its place just like the award that only the two of them know about.

There was another piece that wasn’t framed but it was stuck to the whiteboard that had ‘Lucy Hughes’ scribbled on the bottom.

He reads over it briefly:

In ten years time, I hope to understand. 

I want to understand why people come and go, and understand why things happen that are beyond our control. Why people see something in me that I can’t always see, and why people believe in me when others don’t.

I hope to understand that I can be whatever I want to be, and I will be if I strive hard enough… 

Viv creeps up behind him. “That’s our ‘in ten years time’ project,” she explains. “Lucy‘s one of brightest, but I think she’s a testament to both her own and Maeve’s hard work. Anyways, Maeve is going to hate this,” she says, pointing at the crepe paper chains Jackson was fashioning. 

Viv had a point. Maeve would walk into her office and burst a blood vessel at all the streamers and crepe paper decorations that the crew had decided on, but he wasn’t one to burst their bubble. Viv and Jackson were the only ones that had to be in her presence for a majority of the day and they were both sick of her pretending the day didn’t exist when she was at work. They needed the extra hands to get it organised before Maeve arrived at nine so Otis managed to con Ruby in for the ride with a promise of coffee at the local afterwards. Aimee simply didn’t want to miss out, but he wasn’t so sure about having the pregnant lady who was only days away from giving birth and swollen ankles helping put anything up, so he all but strapped her to the chair and told her to rest. 

Otis tapes streamers to walls next to a photo of the current Quiz Heads. “You guys do realise that it’ll be my head on the chopping block for this, right?” 

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Ruby sniggers, trying to unstick her nails that somehow got twisted in tape. “Who in their right mind would be upset about people decorating your office for your birthday?” she scoffs. “And I thought I was a bitch…” 

“She doesn’t do birthdays,” Otis reminds her. “Never has, never will.” 

Ruby’s face is covered in disbelief. “What the hell have you been buying her to make her feel this way? You’re horrible. She should love birthdays.” 

His cheeks flush, pursing his lips together. “It’s kind of a running joke… I always buy her a diary because I know how much she hates presents.” 

“Oh Otis,” Ruby says, pinching his cheek. “She’s probably just saying that to not make you feel like shit for buying her the worst gift on earth.”

“I for one think it’s an amazing gift,” Viv says. “Practical. And there’s no better gift than the gift of organisation.” 

“I don’t think even in our seven years of marriage I’ve ever heard the phrase; ‘the gift of organisation,’ you’ve reached a new level of over the top,” Jackson jokes, kissing Viv on the head.

Aimee leans back in the office chair, munching on a ham and cheese toastie. “This is better than Eastenders,” she mumbles through chews. 

“Eastenders is trash, so that’s not hard,” Ruby replies. 

A banner that says ‘Happy Birthday, Maeve’ hangs just above the desk and the clashing of pink and green streamers made the four of them stand back with pride while Aimee sits amongst it all. Though he knows his wife will hate it, there’s a part of him that knows she’s got a little, tiny piece of her that lives right in the corner of her heart that will love it. 

Aimee pouts as she spins in her chair. “My cake looks like shit.” 

Everyone stares at her cake. It was sunken in the middle, some weird aqua colour that seems to have a hint of orange in it and is decorated with the words; ‘Happy birthday Mave’ on it, along with an ‘8’ birthday candle. “Ah, did Hagrid make this cake?” Jackson says, pointing at it. “The spellings a bit off, innit?” 

Ruby looks at him with disbelief. “You’ve read Harry Potter?”

Jackson just shrugs. “It’s Jax’s favourite.”

“It’s your favourite, and I have to read it out loud to you,” Viv corrects. “Nice reference though,” she looks at the banner hanging above the desk. “Is there a ruler in here? Or should I just pop out and get mine? These look a little crooked…”

Jackson shakes his head. “She’ll be here soon and you’ll be stuck up on a chair wasting your time on a crooked banner, just leave it?”

Viv doesn’t look satisfied but she listens anyways. “Alrighty then,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll be in the library sorting out the returns before class starts.” 

“Isn’t that what the librarians are for?” Ruby says, eyes glued to her nails. 

Viv shoots a glare at Ruby. “Getting ahead in work around the school shows that I’m a team player, something you wouldn’t understand.”

“That you are, my darling,” Jackson says, shrugging a backpack over his shoulder. “I, on the other hand, have swimmers to get into the pool, so I’ll catch you all later and I’ll make sure to get as many photos as possible of Maeve tearing us to shreds with one single look.” 

Viv follows after him. “I’ll call you later, Aims, to see how you are - feet up, fluid retention is a thing! See you guys later!”

Ruby just waves as she saunters out of the office and before Otis knows it, it’s just him and Aimee left in the room. “How did you get here, Aimee?” he asks. 

Aimee smiles as she snacks on a crumpet that appears to have come from out of thin air. “Steve dropped me off.” 

“Post sex crumpet, then?”

“You know me too well, Pleasure Master.” 

He chuckles, going to the other side of the desk and holding his hand out to her that she grabs. “Let’s go, Violet Beauregarde, I’ll drive you home so you and the beach ball don’t have to roll there.”

Aimee shakes her head. “Aimee Morley now, Otis. Steve and I got married, remember? You were there…”

Otis sets down one coke. He stacks the other two one on top of the other. Aimee eyes them curiously while Ruby gawks at them. 

“In the twelve years I’ve properly known you, Otis, you’ve always done that,” Ruby says snappily. 

“You could have just put them all side by side,” Aimee suggests, licking an ice cream she managed to con Otis into buying. “There’s plenty of space.” 

It wasn’t exactly how he had envisioned spending his day off, Maeve’s birthday or his Wednesday but it was. Stuck by his side like every Wednesday morning was Ruby who usually helped him balance his books as a way to get out of the house since she didn’t have to work. But today was a quiet day with no clients, so, hanging out it was. Though this time, Steve begged Otis to keep Aimee for the day, not trusting that she wouldn’t go into labour and so she tagged along. 

Steve was right to ask him to watch her. 

Aimee leans back on the park bench, hand placed on her back and her breathing staggered, but still, she enjoys her ice cream with a grin on her face. Small winces make their way through and Otis eyes her warily. 

“You sure you’re okay, Aimee?” Ruby asks, tearing her eyes away from her phone. “Your face is all screwed up… it’s weird.” 

“I’m fine!” Aimee says a little too cheerily to be convincing but Otis rubs her shoulders and lets her enjoy her ice cream. It’ll be the last thing she enjoys to herself in a few years, he thinks, smiling to himself. 

“So,” Ruby says, clapping her hands together. “Give us the four-one-one on things with Maeve. We know you gave her a very disappointing birthday present, but you haven’t really spoken about how things are… and you know we’re all dying to know,” she says with a roll of her eyes, but her smile and light nudge in the ribs tell him she genuinely means it. 

There was nothing to report. There shouldn’t be anything to report. This is how things are supposed to be and for the first time in a longtime, he felt both grounded and so happy he could fly. His Maeve was back, the one with the wicked ways, sharp tongue and the ability to kill him with one look. The one that he’d die a thousand times over for. “I think things are going well... “

Aimee nods. “We’re your therapists now, aren’t we, Ruby?”

Ruby points at Aimee. “You have a point, Aims. We should be getting paid for this!” 

Otis laughs, running a hand through his hair. “You guys have to help me to analyse everything and talk through some progress before I pay you for your time.” 

Ruby cracks open her coke, taking a sip without putting her lips on it. “I’m glad to hear things are going good, yeah? There’s nothing sadder than seeing you sad. You’re so… mopey.” 

“Well, no need to be mopey,” he says, sitting up straight next to Aimee and rubbing her back again. “Maeve and I talked. We talked more. We gave each other space and time, and now?” he says with a sigh. “I think things are finally coming back around.” 

Aimee closes her eyes and relaxes into Otis’s hands. “You’re not as good as Steve, but you’ll do… it’s like you’ve done this before!” 

Ruby groans. “He has!”

Otis silently laughs, rubbing a little firmer. “Maeve used to love when I did this for her when she was pregnant with Winnie.” 

“I can see why,” says Aimee. “You’re a natural. When I go into labour, can you come with me? I need you to massage my back while Steve is holding my hands.” 

“You want some strange twig man to come and rub your back for you?” Ruby asks with disbelief. 

“Well, yeah, you need to experience this for yourself!” Aimee answers. 

“Look at him, he looks like a rake!”

“Hello?” Otis says. “I’m right here!” 

He lets them keep arguing about who should be around for Aimee’s birth and Ruby’s absolute disgust with the whole process. As they bicker, he pulls out Maeve’s birthday present, another five year diary. He starts ripping out the pages dedicated to the day that doesn’t exist.

Maeve looks beautiful under dimming light. The sun was setting over Moordale and they walked along the river, she kicks a few rocks into the water and he swings her arm vigorously, a giggle echoing through the quietness. Otis loves it when things are this easy. No mundane things like work seeping in, no underlying pain being mentioned in whispered words. No bad memories, no bad blood. Just them two, in Moordale living their life. She hums when she plays with new earrings.  “A gift?” he asks, pointing at her ear with his free hand. 

“These?” she says, with a wistful sigh. “Erin bought them for me.”

“They’re cute,” he says, touching the bright pink jewels dangling from her ears. “You can tell she put a lot of thought into them.”

“There’s more important things to put her thoughts into,” she mumbles, kicking another rock. 

Otis shakes his head, gripping onto her hand a little tighter before loosening it again. “I think sometimes you have to cut her a little slack?” he says, wincing, ready for her to snap back. “Just a little, teeny, tiny bit?”

They had been back to Moordale for years, but things were never exactly easy between Maeve and her mother. Erin had been clean for as long as Winnie had been alive, making the steps necessary to be part of her granddaughter’s life, but Maeve couldn’t understand how she couldn't make those steps for her, Sean and Elsie - her own children, so she never saw eye to eye with her mother, only managing to string together as much of a relationship that she could for the sake of their own daughter. Maeve found it hard to forgive Erin for Elsie not being in Moordale anymore, but at least Maeve had made up for Erin’s lack of presence by seeing Elsie as much as possible. It was a vicious cycle, that even now that it’s broken, still shows up in Maeve’s mind. When trust is broken and shattered into a million pieces, it’s hard to convince yourself that things will ever be good again. 

Otis knows that. He never trusted his father. 

“Maybe a little bit,” Maeve says, looking out over the water. “But for now, let’s not talk about it.” 

He obeys her wishes, still enjoying the smile on her lips that shines in the evening sunset, the way her hair blows behind her and the happiness that radiates off her. “Do you remember when we moved to London?”

She laughs lightly, turning to face him she grins. “I’ll never forget - London was so scary to me.” 

“You suited London more than I ever did,” he replies quietly. “It was like you were made for the big city noise.” 

“It’s only because I’d never left Moordale, I was ready to go… you on the other hand,” she says with a wink. “Were scared to leave.” 

“I was scared to leave mum, I’m not going to lie,” he murmurs, bringing Maeve’s hand to his lips to kiss. “But I was even more afraid of you leaving me for the great city of London and I couldn’t ever leave you.” 

“Good thing you’re stuck with me then, isn’t it?” she grins. “Then I fell pregnant with Winnie…” 

Otis shrugs. “Greatest day of my life if I’m being honest.” 

Maeve cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah? It was my worst. I honestly thought I was going to die.” 

Otis shakes his head. I couldn’t ever have wished for anything better… “I knew I loved you, and I wanted to do the rest of forever with you, you know, sappiness aside, so when I found out, it just felt like it was meant to be.”

She tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, letting her lips linger a little bit to which he smiles against. “Even in my most panicked and scariest moments, you settled me. The only thing that got me through pregnancy, the puking my guts out and the late night study sessions that almost found me shoving my head through a wall, you were there.” 

“That’s what I signed up for…” Otis reaches into his satchel, pulling out a diary he’d bought for her present. Handing it to her, he says; “Just a little something to prove that I do give a fuck about the day you were pushed out a vagina against your will and how sorry i am for it.” 

Maeve glares at the diary, embossed with her initials: MM . She snatches it out of his hand before flicking through it quickly. “You’re a champ, Milburn.” 

“No more birthdays for the next five years - please refrain from punching me in the face!” 

She instead kisses him again. “I love it.” 

They continue walking, Otis attempts to sing pop songs that she hates and she follows alongside him. As it grows darker, he hears Maeve’s phone buzz.

“Aimee’s in labour,” she says, scrolling through a message from Steve. 

Otis isn’t certain, but he thinks he sees Maeve’s face shift. The look alone makes him wonder if the shift in silence was the sound of her heart breaking just the tiniest bit. 

Chapter Text

Uncertainty

The room smells like baby powder. It’s dusty pink and floral, but the overpowering smell of baby powder is explained when Maeve notices it on the walls. Otis leans into her ear; “Why are the curtains white like they’re covered in flour?”

“Baby powder.” 

Only Aimee could get baby powder on the fucking ceiling, she thinks. It was like a picture out of a magazine. Steve’s solid, burly arms holding the smallest, softest bundle of joy, Aimee’s hair is in soft curls cascading down her back, the sunshine streams through glass panels and the room is filled with natural woods and soft petals. What’s with all the roses when the baby’s name is Daisy? Go figure...  

Steve’s grin is so big, Maeve takes a step back and Otis jerks his head away, making her giggle silently. Of course he’s also threatened by the sheer amount of happiness pouring out of that extra large smile… “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asks. 

“She fucking tore me from head to toe!” Aimee says, phantom rubbing her empty stomach. Otis shook his head but pats Aimee on the back, giving her a comforting squeeze on her shoulder. 

Yes, Daisy is beautiful. She’s small and pink, her coos barely sound through the room and the way she slowly opens her eyes before falling back into a peaceful slumber makes Maeve’s heart ache and remain still at the same time. Birth is a gift that’s wrapped up in love and brought forward in the form of the gentlest of humans. Jean’s words - not her own. 

Daisy is wrapped in brand new linen which reminds Maeve that Winslow was not . Winslow was wrapped in bright blue blankets sent from Viv and Jackson. Her room was non-existent, she had a bassinet in the corner of the shitty room she and Otis shared when they lived in a flat with Eric and Adam. The bassinet had made its way through Eric and all his sisters, so she knew it was safe. Mrs Effiong said so, she promised it was the reason why her babies were so content and slept through the night. The bassinet held them tight, it kept them warm. And Maeve was not going to argue with a loving mother who raised all those children. 

Some of the items were Otis’s that Jean had kept. Hand knitted items from his grandmother, booties that Jean had made herself. Bits and pieces that Ola managed to find in the attic at Jakob’s place that her mum had saved and stored away. Ola’s sisters had two boys and Winnie was finally a girl that Jakob could cuddle as he reminisced about his own two.

The room they shared was small, their shitty double bed sat in the corner, too small for his long legs, still so big in comparison to the couch she was used to crashing on in the caravan. She hated the space when Otis wasn’t around, yet, it was frustrating that whenever he’d have to leave for a shift, he’d have to climb over her.  She breastfed with mismatched outfits on Winnie - top half blue, bottom half pink - and a handheld pump that she’d got from one of Adam’s clients who owned seven dogs. They were young. Things weren’t how she had imagined they’d be. But they were happy, and that was all that mattered. 

Aimee’s a picture of beauty in the morning sun. Daisy’s at her breast and Aimee still manages to laugh. I couldn’t laugh, not with all the stitches… Maeve manages to hold in a groan as Daisy feeds then falls immediately back to sleep. “Not like our Winnie, eh?” Maeve says to Otis. “She’d cry all the damn time.” 

Steve frowns. “I miss Winnie, we’ll be back to having her after school as soon as possible!” 

Maeve knows it's true. They love Winslow with their entire hearts, and she, them. She knows how much Steve misses the afternoon chats, but Daisy needs all their love and affection, especially when she has the cutest button nose. 

Otis fills the room with his chatter. She doesn’t really know what he’s saying, but he’s at least keeping up the conversation when she can barely keep her eyes on one thing. 

She’s not quite sure what it is. Is it the fact they’re surrounded by the smell of baby powder? Or that she wishes it was herself in the sun, rocking a baby that Otis could dote over? 

Maeve feels stupid when the room begins to feel like it might be spinning. Stupid fucking babies, she thinks. But then the guilt kicks in and she regrets feeling that way. But at least I’m feeling something… Otis’s smile settles on Aimee and he reaches out to brush his fingers along the baby’s fine hair, he chuckles when Steve says something about never sleeping and they all make small talk about the lack of sleeping. 

There’s an ache in her. It sits in her heart and in Otis’s loving smile over Daisy. Her own smile seems mechanical and when Aimee asks about milk, Maeve says she doesn’t know. But she does, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

Her moment of respite comes when Otis spots her laboured replies and tension in her jaw. “It’s okay,” he whispers in her ear. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” 

He clears his throat as if making an announcement - in this moment, she can’t even pick on him for his awkwardness, appreciating that it was going to save her. “We better go and pick up Winnie,” he says. 

Aimee and Steve both look like they miss Winnie. Maeve feels ridiculous for feeling any kind of pain. I need to be happy for my best friend… So she grins so hard, her face feels like it might break. Tears almost start prickling, the pain starts to retreat. They miss Winnie and she misses them too. They seem to shine in the light with the baby in their arms, and pain aside, Maeve knows they were made for this. “Tell her we’ll see her next week and she can come and visit the baby,” Steve says. 

“She’ll really like that,” Maeve manages, giving them a smile. 

She kisses Aimee and hugs Steve before following Otis out. And when they get into the car, he doesn’t let go of her hand. For some stupid reason, she feels lightheaded and the guilt comes on stronger because this shouldn’t be affecting her as much as it is. 

I’m an absolute fucking idiot...

Maeve couldn’t contain her excitement over a piece of paper. So much so, she read it out to Jackson as he was holding swim trials and she doesn’t actually believe he listened to any of it, but she was appreciative of his pretending to listen either way - if he managed to absorb even a third of the words she spurted out, she’d be happy and he was always fantastic at pretending to know what she was talking about. 

She’d read it out to Viv who had then read it back out to Maeve and they both gushed over it. It was that good. 

The subject was female writers, Jackson teased both his wife and Maeve for being too predictable but with the aptitude class being full with over half of the pupils being female, they thought it would be an insult to the great union of young women they’d been banding together in the few years they worked together. 

Lucy’s outlook on Emily Brontë’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ was both mystic and melancholic. He was enslaved by his love for Cathy. Maeve almost felt like Lucy empathised with Heathcliff, which was an interesting perspective on things. Considering most people found him either the epitome of an overly forlorn romantic, or an all round selfish brute, but she found underlying reasons to resonate with him, from his sad upbringing right down to his darkened and hardened demeanour. 

Viv sits across from Maeve at her desk, playing with a stress ball Otis had brought her for Christmas. “You know - ” Viv starts, squeezing the stress ball. 

“- the stress ball does nothing to help with the stress?” Maeve suggests. 

Viv groans, squeezing it again. “No, I was going to say -”

“- before you were rudely interrupted?”

“Ooh, I am going to kill you, Milburn,” Viv groans again. “As I was saying… no? No interruptions? Okay then,” she says, shaking her head. “Lucy is probably the brightest in the aptitude scheme, and I think that’s a testament to your hard work.” 

Maeve scoffs. She pushes all her students, even the weed heads and the rugby boys. It wasn’t her hard work if the teaching stuck to the students. Maybe it just stuck with Lucy. “Gotta have the brain to soak up all that knowledge though, innit?” 

Viv rolls her eyes. “That’s true, but you got to have the right teacher and tools in order to soak it up.”

“Maybe it’s the aptitude class?” Maeve suggests. 

“Are you going to sit there and say that you and I were in the aptitude scheme purely because of our own smarts?”

Maeve gives Viv a look of disbelief as she thinks her jaw is about to hit the table. Is this woman for real? She thinks. “Viv, you literally went to Cambridge. Of course that was all you!”

Viv shakes her head. “Ms Sands gave us the tools to make it or break it, you of all people should know that.”

Viv had a point, though Maeve knows she always has a point. If there were anyone on the earth that Maeve could trust, it was Viv. But regardless of how long she’d been a teacher for, she didn’t always trust in herself. Viv would always say something deep and inspiring about how brains are made for molding, and that’s just what they’d do - all sing-songy and laugh inducing, but Maeve simply couldn’t get over the fact that there were kids who needed pushing and needed to get a little drive in them and that was all on her. 

No amount of back toilet block cigarettes and caffeine highs when she was sixteen was ever going to prepare her for the feeling she has now. That maybe, deep down, she wasn’t a bad teacher and some of the kids were actually benefiting from learning from her. 

Maeve folds her arms across her chest and pokes her tongue out at Viv, but before she can start arguing with her, Lucy walks in. 

Viv drums her fingers on top of the piece of writing Lucy had handed in, her grin is huge and probably the reason why Lucy’s saunter had slowed to a stop. “You guys asked me to meet you here?...” she asks warily, eyes darting around the room. 

God, stop grinning, you’re scaring her, Maeve thinks silently, trying to hide her own laugh at Viv’s scary grin, she nods at Lucy. “Yes we did, take a seat Lucy.” 

Lucy slides the chair out next to Viv and gives her a glare before sitting down. “I did write that, you know?” she says, pointing at her essay under Viv’s fingers. “I know I don’t have a great track record, but it’s mine.” 

“I know,” Viv replies calmly. “Ms Milburn and I know. Side business just that - to the side - we know what is yours and whose it’s not.”

Lucy’s cheeks turn pink as she starts examining her nails. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry,” Maeve adds quickly. “You’re not getting in trouble.” 

“Quite the opposite, really,” Viv says, adopting her large grin again. “You’re only one paper away from being considered for the scholarship, Lucy!”

Maeve can tell that Viv was struggling to hold it in. They’d already argued about what’s considered the right amount of suspense, and what’s not. They’d discussed whether or not Lucy seemed like a person who enjoyed surprises, and if she didn’t. There was far too much discussion about it to appear like normal functioning adults right now. 

Lucy seems to pause again. Mouth not moving, eyes wide and her hand half held in the air from when she was inspecting her nails. Maeve smiles back at her. “I can help you through it if you like, I’ve been through it myself. Though, a fair few years ago now but it’s like riding a bike, isn’t it?” 

“There’s a risk of falling off…” Lucy mumbles. 

Viv’s eyes grow as she shoots a look at Maeve, asking for silent help. But Maeve’s look in return is not much different. Was that a dig at me? Maeve thinks. “I was thinking more along the lines that you’ll never forget…” 

Lucy just sits there, steadily breathing, hands now clutching onto the straps of her school bag. There was something off about her, but Maeve understands. In a world full of chaos, no matter if it’s sorted, still carries a level of uncertainties. Maybe she’s scared...

Viv knits her eyebrows together, leaning into Lucy. “Lucy,” she starts. “You know you can do this, and Ms Milburn and I will be here every single step of the way.” 

Lucy nods, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in. Maeve takes a deep breath, you’ve got this, Ms Milburn… “Are you scared?” Still there’s silence, but she moves in her chair a little bit, edging down lower. “I was scared too, you know.” 

“I was too,” Viv says. “I hadn’t ever left Moordale. I hadn’t been away from my parents. I wasn’t part of a big group of friends…” 

Maeve remembers the feeling of not being good enough. She wasn’t from a great family, people had spread rumours since she was fourteen, she didn’t fit in anywhere properly. “What’s getting to you, Lucy?”

Lucy takes a deep breath that’s only made a little more easier when Viv places her hand on her back. “I don’t fit in with them. I don’t have anyone. If I leave my sister, she’ll be stuck here by herself. I’m not good enough…” 

“Why do you say that?” Viv asks. Maeve hears her voice go up an octave, noticing the pain in her voice. The concern for her student. 

“Because I grew up in a caravan. I don’t have anyone. I make stupid mistakes,” Lucy answers, looking up the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. 

It was like she was looking at herself, twelve years ago. The same heartache, the same disbelief and distrust in herself. The same fear. The caravan Lucy hates, she did too. But looking back, it holds memories of the safest place she ever knew. The feeling of aloneness fills up over time when people enter your life and never leave. The abortion she stresses about will end up being one of the most important decisions she ever made and for the better. It doesn’t last forever and everything fades…  

Viv nods with understanding. “You’re one of our brightest, Lucy. Nothing can take that away from you. You’re wise beyond your years and you take everything we throw at you with grace and determination…” Viv continues talking in hushed tones, and Lucy sniffs along nodding. 

Maeve looks out the window of the Principals office. This is stupid, she thinks. But this is great… “Come on!” she says, standing up quickly. We’re going to the office.” 

Viv looks at her with shock but stands up too. “Where are we going?” 

“Office, Mrs Marchetti,” Maeve replies, giving both Lucy and Viv a menacing smile. “We’re going to get our confidence back.” We’re going to fuck shit up…

Viv picks up Lucy’s school bag and nods her head towards the door. “I guess we better follow Ms Miburn.”

Storming the halls again made Maeve smile, especially as she pulled Viv and Lucy down the corridors with her. When they got to the office, she slammed the door back; “I just saw a student attempting to key your car,” she says in a hurry and the office lady doesn’t hesitate in running out the door. 

Viv rocks on her feet, eyes darting everywhere. “Maeve, what if we get caught?” she hisses. 

“We’re the teachers, Viv. We can’t get in trouble.” 

Lucy’s look of confusion is just as entertaining as Viv’s. “What are we doing here?”

Maeve grabs the microphone off the desk and shoves it to Lucy’s chest. “I’m going to hold down this little button here,” she points to the desk. “And you’re going to read out your essay across the school.” 

“Why?” asks Lucy, shaking her head. “I don’t get it.” 

“Because everyone deserves to listen to how good you are at your craft. And how much you put into it.” 

Viv smiles again, pushing the microphone to Lucy’s chest again. “Do it. I for one would love to hear it spoken out loud. And remember, be cool, be calm and be confident.” 

Lucy purses her lips but they curl into a smile. “Hello students of Moordale,” she starts. “The tale of Wuthering Heights is centred around the biggest of brooding, self deprecating men in literature who falls victim to the passion of love and becomes obsessive in nature...” 

“ Men ,” Viv pretends to shiver. 

Maeve listens until she feels her mind zoning out. She notes Lucy’s smile, and the pick up in pace once she finds her feet. Taking a seat, she feels tired. But another day goes by and time doesn’t wait for anyone. Oh, how cliche…

Days had gone by and the tiredness never faded. She put it down to therapy and Otis agreed, but he didn’t quite laugh as hard as she did when she said that actually talking about your feelings and not bottling them up is exhausting. 

Jax and Winnie run around the house, with Winnie almost choking him to death as they swung around and around with her holding his school tie. “Inside voices and shit,” she yells out. 

“Kids, inside voices please,” Jackson calls out after her. “You really don’t change, innit?” he laughs, stretching out on her couch. 

Otis makes the coffee, the fancy shit from Sweden that she likes and places one in front of each of them. “Why is mine half full?” she asks. 

He gives her a lopsided, awkward grin. “I just needed to make sure it wasn’t so hot it was going to burn your mouth off.” 

“You gave me the one that’s low tide so you could drink the full one,” she argues back. 

“Oops, caught me,” he replies. 

Jackson rolls his eyes and sighs. “You guys argue about the weirdest things, yeah.” 

Maeve takes a sip of the coffee. Tastes like shit, she thinks but she drinks it anyways, needing the caffeine. “So, what owes us the pleasure then? The King himself.” 

Jackson shrugs, sipping away at his own coffee. “Geez, this stuff is good… nothing,” he answers. “Just coming to see how my therapy buddy is going.” 

Maeve notices the concern written all over Otis’s face. As a therapist himself, she knows it makes him feel uneasy that he couldn’t pick up the signs that she needed something just a little bit more. If she could put into words just how much he means to her, she’d be writing all day. Just because you couldn’t see, doesn’t mean you don’t care, she tries to tell him with a look but she thinks it goes unnoticed as Jackson keeps looking at her. “Oh, you know…” she starts. “Liberating.” Though the tone was laced with sarcasm, there was a whole lot of truth to the answer. “I have about twenty eight years to work through, but it’s worth it.” 

Otis gives a small smile against the rim of his mug. “It takes a great deal of strength to speak through things that are often repressed.”

“It does!” Jackson says, clapping his hands together. “Do you know it took me years to realise that talking about it actually helps? Especially when these people specialise in cracking the code of all those feelings.” 

Maeve snickers. And to think I kept all those feelings from the person who not only loves me, but is one of those people who crack the codes… “It does help.” 

Otis smiles again, his pride in Maeve so apparent, she feels like it’s washing over her. “I’m just happy that you’re both benefiting from it. At times, as a therapist, you can question whether or not your methods are working. But I'm glad to see that you find the therapist's methods positive.” 

“God, you’re so Doctor-y when you talk like that, you know?” Jackson laughs. “Little Doctor Dude.”

“You’re a guidance counsellor,” Otis scoffs, “You’re like a jedi for teenagers that think that their goal in life is to work at Browns and kids who don’t know why they’re getting detention for drawing dicks on the back of their library books. You’re Doctor-y in your own right.” 

Winnie and Jax walk into the lounge with a permanent marker, Maeve’s eyeliner and Otis’s vinyl of Stone Temple Pilot’s ‘ Purple’ . “You two are going to make my headache worse,” she groans, holding out her hands for them to put the contraband in. 

“That might be the reason why Jax and I escaped the house,” Jackson says, with a grimace. “We may have driven Viv to a headache…”

“Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Maeve says, shaking her head. “You two are like a loaded gun.”

“But I’m enjoying the Swedish coffee,” Jackson says. 

Otis laughs, patting Jackson on the back. “Well, you and Jax can stay for dinner?”

“See, Otis, this is why you’re my favourite Milburn,” he says, poking out his tongue to Maeve, 

She holds up her middle finger before standing up to head towards the hallway. “Have fun with your babysitters club, I’m going to bed,” she says. 

She’ll lie in bed with her stash of chocolate instead. 

“You look different,” Jean says, observing Maeve over the top of her glasses. 

Maeve looks at herself in the mirror in Jean’s hall and even Jakob peeps down the hallway to look at her. “My usual t-shirt and jeans for work?” Maeve replies. 

“Hmmm…” Jean replies, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She slides a coffee over the table to Jakob to which he downs in one go. As if it were fucking tequila, Maeve thinks, amused. She slides one over to Maeve too. “Coffee?” 

There was something off about the coffee. As if it wasn’t the same brand and everyone was in on this conspiracy that she wasn’t. “No thanks,” she grumbles as she takes a seat. 

Jakob has Winnie climbing all over him, half hanging off his back. “You don’t like the coffee anymore?”

She shrugs then folds her hands across her chest. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think Otis has been tampering with my stash and something’s weird about it.” 

Jakob clicks his fingers. “There is something different about you…” he replies. “Like you had a haircut.” 

Maeve runs her fingers through the bottom of her hair. “No haircut…'' What the hell is wrong with these guys?...

She looks at the coffee cup in front of her before taking a sip. “Yep, still weird.” Looking at the time she realises she needs to go. “Better run,” she says as she gets up, kissing Winnie on the head as she still hangs off Jakob’s shoulders. 

Jean follows her out the door all the way to the car. Maeve starts the ignition as it clicks over again. Piece of fucking shit, she thinks. “You’re still having car troubles?” 

No, obviously… “Yeah,” she groans. “I really need to invest in a new one.” 

“It’s a wonder it’s lasted this long,” Jean says slowly, eyeing the car up and down. “TIme to trade the old girl in, huh?”

“Huh,” Maeve agrees. “It’ll be a cold day in hell.” 

Jean laughs lightly. “Have you gone to see Aimee again?”

Maeve regrets ever opening her mouth to Jean. Her tone was always so calm and collected, but it still somehow managed to make her feel stupid. “No,” Maeve says with a sigh. “I know I should.”

“I really think you should, I think it is all too natural to feel the feelings you felt. To feel some fear, longing, slight jealousy. I know Aimee will be all too understanding.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Maeve says, feeling regret. “And I wasn’t there.” 

“You were there. Even in trying times, you were there.” 

Maeve nods as she tries to turn the car on again. “There we go,” she says with a grin. “Not too bad for an old girl, eh?” 

Jean pats the roof of the car. “You have a good day, and tonight try and get some rest - you look a little washed out.” 

“That’s just a nice way of saying I look like shit,” she mumbles to herself. 

Otis lies in bed with no shirt on and she leaves the bathroom door open so they can chat. She mumbles a sentence with a mouth full of toothpaste and her toothbrush that she knows he won’t be able to figure out. “What?” he calls out, lifting his head from his book. 

“I need a new car!” she calls out once her mouth is empty. 

She rinses out her mouth and all of a sudden, a hot flush takes over her. She turns on the tap, splashing water over her face and neck and looks at herself in the mirror. Maybe Jean was right, she did have bags under her eyes but she’d been resting better than ever, but she hasn’t been able to shake her slight headache and claminess for a few days now. Stupid change in seasons, she thinks. Everything is either too hot or too cold...

“You’re ready to let go of the car?” he asks. 

She clung onto it for so long due to the principle, but in a time where she’s trying to let go of everything, she thinks it means she should let go of the physical connections too. Time to move on…

“Time to sell the old girl,” Maeve says sadly from the bathroom. 

“Sell? Maeve, no one’s going to buy it.” 

“Their loss then,” she answers with a smirk, popping her head out from behind the door. “It definitely would have made some sixteen year old first timer happy. Good space in the back seat too…” 

Otis shakes his head. “Even more reason to destroy it,” he mutters. 

Maeve splashes more water on her face, trying to revive herself with the coolness of the water and her attempt to start binge taking chewy vitamin C tablets of Winnie’s with her morning toast. So far, no results. 

She pulls one of Otis’s old t-shirts over her head as she walks out, falling onto the bed with a thud. “I think I’m dying,” she whispers as she crawls up the bed and into the sheets. 

“Hey,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the back of her head. “You okay?”

“Everything is either too hot or too cold,” she groans. 

“Wow, okay, Goldilocks,” he chuckles. “You might need to see a doctor.”

“Mmm,” she agrees, pulling his arms around her tighter, finally letting her eyes rest. 

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Like shit?” She wasn’t sure. Everything seemed a little off and had done since... “Oh fuck.” 

“You okay?” he asks, kissing her cheek again. 

“Yeah,” she lies. “Just peachy.” 

Oh fuck...

Chapter Text

the greatest surprise

There was peeling wallpaper all around the room that Otis had built in to be his home office. Though the paper wasn’t at all old, but it still peeled. There were aspects of the home they had brain stormed and Aimee had mind mapped for them. So many pros and cons they’d run through when they built the house, though, some parts of the house never did get the opportunity to really feel like a home. He’s sure that if he looked through all the boxes, he’d find Aimee’s mind maps. He’d stored them for a rainy day. 

They moved to Moordale just over three years ago. Remi’s fucked up way of trying to give Otis a lifetime worth of gifts came in the form of land on the other side of the valley. Though the land seemed like an easy way out of missed birthdays, firsts and milestones, Otis knew it would be perfect for Maeve. She’d always wanted a home, a place to call her own and there was no better feeling than being able to give that to her. 

The land backs on to the river, and if you look out of the kitchen window just so, you  can see the water. And from the living room, you can see it in all its glory. It runs wild and rampant. It frosts over in the winter and flourishes during the summer. London was their home, but the calling of their true home came with Winnie’s birth. 

They upheaved a two year old Winnie from her London life, they packed everything they could into their shitty car and they drove all the way to Moordale, crashing with Jean and Jakob until their dream home was built. It was a team effort. Jakob did all of the plumbing, he did a lot of the handy work and taught Otis how to do things himself as well. Jackson helped where he could and Steve carried a majority of the items on his back. Builders came and went for months. 

There were still things that needed to be done, but the home office with intentions of it one day being up and running never came, the wallpaper was only slapped on just for the sake of having something on the walls. All their boxes were stored there and the half-arsed shelving he’d put up definitely without the help of Jakob was, quite frankly, an insult to his record collection. Maeve had been hounding him for years to sort it out and get his records on the shelf, but he never did. 

It was supposed to be the room in which he did all of his work out of, seeing clients at home was supposed to do just that - allow him to be more present at home. But his mum’s office was more convenient, as not being at home during the last twelve months was just easier than being in the four walls that seemed empty all the time. 

Now was the time that Otis decided that home was where the heart is and he needed to be here. For Maeve. For Winnie. For himself. 

“Isn’t it weird that you’ll be talking about other people's sex and relationships in your own house?” Ruby asks, attempting to hold up a panel of wallpaper for him as he slowly sticks it on while balancing on a ladder. “Kind of weird to talk about peoples’ sex lives when this is the place you have sex…”

Ruby was recruited to be his assistant for the next two weeks as he got fixing, but now he regrets not asking Jakob for help instead. The wallpaper is barely held up by her and her sorting skills left a lot to be desired as she went through boxes of their old things from London. 

“Weirder than talking about it at my mum’s house?” he replies. 

Ruby shrugs, moving the wallpaper. “I guess your mum was already a therapist though, wasn’t she?”

“As was I when I moved in here.” 

“Oh,” Ruby rolls her eyes. “You’re always so damn technical.” She takes a look around the room, after four days, they’d made a lot of progress and Otis was happy when he snuck in here early in the morning to admire their work. “It’s looking good, but what’s with all the secret handy work anyways?”

Otis gets off the ladder, brushing off his hands as he looks at the completed wall. “It’s just sort of the point why Maeve and I decided on all this,” he says quietly, happiness ringing through his words. “We moved back to Moordale to start this brand new shiny life where she’d teach and I’d work at home so I could be around more often for Winnie - in London I had this therapist gig on the other side of the city and it’d take me almost two hours to get home. We built this house especially for all of our wants and needs. Four rooms, a living room looking out onto the banks, an at home office that had enough space for my records, a study area in the kitchen for Maeve to do her marking while still being able to be part of daily conversations… She always wanted me around, and I never really was after we lost the baby…” 

He never really wanted to admit just how much a building had over them. To him, he often thought the house was nothing more than a house. But he knows he was lying to himself in thinking so. The house was their home. It was everything he ever wanted his family to be wrapped up in and it was everything Maeve always wanted and never had. It was where they came together, it was where their memories were made and where Winnie would grow up safe. 

Just as it was time for Maeve to give up her car, it was time for him to do the finishing touches on their life and home. 

Ruby nods with understanding, cracking open a can of coke and taking a sip. “I’m glad you’ll finally be getting shit together for you and Maeve,” she says, touching her can to the one Otis just picked up. “This office is an eyesore and I don’t want her thinking I’ve had a hand in this lack of decorating, so I’ll help you out.” 

“Thank you, Ruby, you always know exactly how to make me feel better,” he replies with a hint of sarcasm. 

“So you’re doing like a great reveal? Extreme makeover: home edition style?”

Otis looks at her sideways. “I mean, sort of… I guess. I just want to surprise her.” 

Ruby claps her hand to her face. “Does this mean that I’ll have to tell all your clients that you’re moving?” 

“Yes, Ruby.” 

“Fuck,” she hisses. “That’s going to take forever!” 

“That’s why you’re my admin lady!” he groans. 

“Imagine the amount of time that’s going to take.”

Maybe he should ring Eric and ask him to move home. He’ll do a better job running my appointments, he thinks. 

Winnie bangs her feet on the counter while she swings her legs and eats a bowl of grapes. Apparently, Steve and Aimee’s was cooler than their house because baby Daisy was cute and therefore, she wanted to move out. Having to reason with a five year old about why they can’t move out to live with friends at this age was an interesting part of parenting, Otis found out. 

“Did you know that babies can’t talk at all when they’re just born?”

“I know, it’s a lot different when they grow up, you know… they talk a lot .”

“Did you know that babies sleep all day and are awake all night, dad?” she asks him. 

Otis continues cutting carrots and chucking them in a bowl. More than you’d ever believe, he thinks. “I had a fair idea.”

“And they don’t eat anything, they only drink milk?”

“That, I was aware of. You know you were a baby, right?” he asks. 

Winnie scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“The fact that you think you weren’t a baby is quite ridiculous…” he mutters under his breath. “It’s true, you were a baby.” 

“I hate milk,” she says, taking a sip of her glass of milk. 

“Clearly,” he answers. 

There’s a knock at the front door and Otis throws a tea towel over his shoulder as he goes to answer. He swings the door open. “Jakob!” he says, stepping back. “Come in!” 

Jakob shakes his head but pushes a container into Otis’s chest. “Soup.” 

“Soup?” Otis asks, eyeing the container before taking a hold of it. “Why?” 

“For the sick person,” Jakob replies. “I’m off to check a sink down the road but I thought I would drop it off.” 

“Sick person?” Otis says before clicking. “Oh, Maeve?” 

“She’s as sick as a dog,” Jakob explains, hiking his tool bag over his shoulder. “Jean tried to get her to stay home this morning when she dropped Winnie off but you know how stubborn she is…” 

Otis is confused even though he remains clutching the container to his chest. She hadn’t mentioned anything when he messaged her at work this morning and she had been on and off for a couple of weeks, but didn’t seem any different this morning. “Ah,” Otis starts. “Yeah, of course. Thank you…” 

“Didn’t know if she was going to puke her guts out or pass out sleeping but she didn’t look good and Jean didn’t think she’d stay home today, looks like she was right, huh?”

“Huh,” Otis repeats. “No, she went to work today.” 

“Dedicated to all those snotty nosed kids,” Jakob chuckles. “It’s probably where she’s catching all those bugs from.”

That makes sense, Otis thinks. She probably caught something going around. “You’re right, schools are like Woodstock for diseases - they all gather there to party.” 

Jakob laughs again. “You’re a funny man, Otis,” he says with a breath. “Oh well, I better get going. Heat it up before she gets in, okay?” 

“Okay,” Otis calls out as Jakob turns to leave. “Thanks for the soup!” 

Winnie eyes the soup when he walks back in and places it on the counter. “Farfar Jakob’s soup isn’t that good,” she says with a slight shudder. 

He takes off the lid and smells it, pretending to choke as he puts the lid back on. “I think it almost knocked me out.” 

“Be careful!” his daughter warns. “I don’t want you to get sick too!”

Otis pulls out a pot, emptying the soup into it. Better get her soup on , he thinks, but he’s still unsure. There’s something sitting in the back of his mind that confuses him. “Frog legs,” he starts slowly. “Was mummy sick this morning?” 

Winnie shrugs. “She had a sore tummy, like she was going to vomit.” 

No shit… “And did she?”

“Yes, but she didn’t tell Nanna.”

No fucking shit, he thinks. She’s keeping something from me… “Interesting…” 

“Are you prying?” Winnie asks, suspicion in her eyes. “Mum says people always ask a lot when they’re prying.” 

One hundred percent I’m prying… “No, just interested is all.” 

“What’s prying?” she asks, taking a sip of her milk and growing a milk mustache in an instant. 

“Trying to get information out of people… asking a few too many questions.”

She grimaces. “I hate it when people ask too many questions.” 

“You’re your mother’s daughter, that’s for sure.” Funny considering every second thing out of you is a question…

He feels unsettled. As if thinking the thought would be bad luck. Maeve had been unwell for weeks now and felt all too familiar. All too strange. A hell of a lot fucking scary. He turns on the stove and puts the pot on it, stirring. I’m probably overthinking it, he thinks. It’s nothing. If it were something, she would tell me… wouldn’t she? 

The soup keeps his hands busy, but it doesn’t stop his mind. It keeps on ticking with the thought; ‘what if?’.

The front door clicks open and Winnie is off the chair in a hurry. “Mum!” she calls, darting past Otis and straight to Maeve’s waist. 

She manages to kiss Otis quickly before turning her attention back to Winnie. “Hello, frog legs!” Maeve replies, dropping her bags straight on the floor and scooping their daughter up in her arms. “How was your day, darling?” 

Maeve grins at Otis while Winnie fills her in on the goings on of a five year old and how much she hates Jax right now due to a debacle involving coloured pens but he can’t keep up with the chatter.

Otis looks for the little signs. Does she still look unwell? Does she have a temperature? Is there any difference in her being? Are there any signs? I’m an idiot… he thinks.There was a fear. He could simply ask, get it all over and done with. She’s his wife and he can just ask her. But there was a fear that sat in the back of his mind and tormented him because what if he was wrong? But he hates that he even feels like there’s something not quite right. 

He takes the soup off the stove then puts hot water into her favourite mug. Camomile tea, she’d appreciate it. 

Finally Winnie sets Maeve free, rubbing her eyes from a long day at school as she lies down on the couch. He takes Maeve into his arms and kisses her on the top of her head. “Long day?”

“The longest,” she agrees. “It was a fucking shit fight.” 

“That bad, huh?” he asks, rocking her from side to side. 

“Bad isn’t necessarily the word… but if I hear the faculty say that we’re being paid in the smiles of youths then I’ll have to knock them a new smile…” she says with a sarcastic grin. 

Otis takes a step back, flinging the tea towel over his shoulder again. “Fuck the faculty,” he says, throwing his fist in the air. 

“Yes, fuck them!” she groans. She points at the soup. “What’s that?” she says with a slight look of distaste. 

Otis cocks an eyebrow. “That?” he asks, his voice a little too high. “That’s Jakob’s soup… he said you were sick this morning and you might need it. I made you a camomile tea too.” 

He tries to pick up on something. Anything . Anything that might give him a hint or help him connect any dots that were floating around. But all he notices is a slight tilt of her head followed with a shrug. “Thank god,” she replies. “I think I need it.” 

She was a picture of beauty, but then she always is. He couldn’t help but notice the way she smiled in the sunlight or laughed with her head thrown back at every little thing Aimee says. Otis thinks Aimee’s happy that Maeve’s happy. And he’s happy to see that she is too. Things were a little easier this time around. Maeve’s shoulder’s don’t seem so stiff and her laugh is genuine in the sun as she holds Daisy. She runs her fingers through the baby’s fine hair and kisses her little fingers. She got hit hard last time, but this time, she’s met the situation with ease. She worked through it and he was proud of her for doing so. 

Maeve plays with the little sleeves of Daisy’s dress. “Did Jean make this?” she asks. 

Aimee nods. “Yeah, Otis, your mum visited the other day because Jakob is fixing the shower for us - she dropped the dress off, I didn’t know she could sew!”

Maeve tilts her head and looks at Aimee. “Aims, this is knitted.” 

“Yeah, sewed,” she replies, putting tea and biscuits on her kitchen table. 

Steve leans into Otis. “Don’t eat the biscuits,” he whispers. “I think she might have used baking soda instead of flour.” 

Otis eyes them, they’re flat and look like they might have been bubbly at some point. “Note taken.” 

Maeve plays with Daisy’s socks. “You finally got the gym up and running?”

Steve nods, playing with a biscuit without it getting anywhere near his mouth. “Yeah! We still need a receptionist and a few more trainers but we’re doing alright.” 

Aimee pipes up. “I’m thinking of becoming the receptionist!” she adds excitedly. 

The look Steve gives Otis and Maeve tells a different story, but he leans over to kiss Aimee on the cheek. “We just need you to focus on Daisy at the minute.”

Maeve looks down at Daisy again. “I can’t believe Winslow used to be this big.” 

Otis couldn’t believe it either. Did she really look that small? He wonders. He touches Daisy’s nose and smiles. “She never used to be this peaceful.” 

“Probably startled all the time by Eric’s Beyonce reenactments and Adam’s dog training,” Maeve laughs. “The entire house was chaotic so a crying baby fit in perfectly.”

“Agreed,” says Otis. “Now she’s a five year old going on fifteen…”

“When we picked her up from school the other day, she had Jax by the scruff of the neck!” Steve laughs. 

“I honestly thought she was going to kick him,” says Aimee. 

Maeve nods. “She’s a wild one.” 

“And I cannot imagine where she might get that from,” Otis winks. 

Steve smiles. “Aims and I were talking about Winnie the other night and how we hope Daisy grows up to be like her. She’s such a cool kid.” 

Maeve looks at Otis, pride in her eyes. “Yeah, she’s not too shabby.”

Aimee scoffs. “What an understatement! She’s the best kid ever.” 

Otis watches Maeve’s eyes light up. He can always tell exactly what she’s thinking when it comes to Winnie. The pride is always obvious, the small, one sided smile she wears when people tell her how similar they are. The over abundant love she has when Winnie’s mentioned and how she’s all too cocky about the fact that Winnie has her smarts. “Best thing to ever happen to us,” Otis says. 

Maeve nods. “And little Daisy will grow up and you’ll wonder where the hell the time’s gone.” 

The visit was calm, everything around them seems to settle and Otis enjoys the feeling of being content. The sun sets in Aimee and Steve’s home and they laugh over a second cup of tea and untouched biscuits.

But it’s when Maeve takes a sip of her third tea and she screws her face up, she palms Daisy off to him quickly and mutters. “I think I’m going to be sick,” that things seem to shift around them again.

She stayed in the shower while he brushed his teeth, at first, she just stood under the running water. She asked him to pass her the toothpaste and she stood there holding it while they spoke about her classes for a few minutes and the current Quiz Heads placement on a national scale. Viv had asked if she wanted to make the trip to London, but she declined.  He helped her wash her hair because she seemed a little too tired to do it herself. And as he walked out of the bathroom to hop in bed he saw her sit on the floor of the shower, letting the water wash over her. 

Maeve hops out of the shower after a few more minutes. “You haven’t heard from your mum, have you?” she asks, wrapping a towel around her body. She gives him a lingering look when she peeps from behind the door. 

Otis puts his book down on his lap, trying to read her properly. “No, why?” 

“Oh,” she replies quickly. “No reason… I just… wondered if she said anything,.” 

“Anything about what?”

“Wow,” she says, putting her hair brush down on the bathroom counter and putting her hands in the air. “Suspicious, aren’t you?”

He knows she’s joking, but there’s still something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I am a bit…” 

“Mmmm,” she says. But she closes the door of the bathroom. 

Otis goes back to reading his book. He hears clanging in the bathroom, a couple of hisses and then silence. Moments pass and nothing more seems to be coming from the bathroom, but he waits for her to come out. 

She opens the door slowly and he sees her peep around it again. “You alright?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” she replies stiffly. “I’m okay.” 

She still stands just behind the door, her eyes are big and glassy. As if tears were forming. Shit, he thinks. “Maeve, are you sure you’re okay?” Maeve finally opens the door properly, in her hand is a small box that he recognises, but he recognises her tears more. He pulls the blanket off him and jumps out of the bed quickly, rushing to her. He takes her hands in his. “You alright?”

She sniffs first, nodding and then letting out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, shit, I’m sorry, yeah, I’m okay.” 

When he finally lets go of her hands, he takes the box with him. Looking down, he sees it. 

A pregnancy test. 

His heart beats so hard, it’s like it’s sitting in his chest. He can feel it in his lungs and the test almost burns his hand. “Positive?”

It’s right there in front of him, two obvious pink lines. Her tears stream, but they fall on upturned lips. Her nervous smile shatters him but he takes her in his arms, holding her head to his chest. “I’m scared, Otis. But I’m so fucking happy.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says, laughing too, but stopping when the fear catches up. We can’t go through the pain again… 

“I didn’t know for sure, I wanted to be certain. I didn’t want to acknowledge it… I was stupid, but I was mostly scared,” she murmurs against him.

Her hair is still dripping wet and it was running down his arms as he holds her. Tears dampen his t-shirt and their breathing seems to be both unsteady and in sync. It was everything they had wanted, it was everything that destroyed them but in this moment, the feeling he tries to not let rear its head is hope. 

Hope would have to hold out a little longer. 

“I’m happy, Maeve,” he tells her honestly. “I’m scared too but I’m happy.” 

She sniffs again, this time, stepping back and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “I am too… but fuck, I don’t want this to happen to us again,” she says letting the laugh escape her again. 

He nods. “Neither do I, but we’ll make it through. You and I always do.” 

“We do…” she agrees. “Fuck.

“Well get you the best care,” he says, trying to comfort her. 

“I’m not some princess, I’m happy with public care…” she says, taking a seat on the bed. 

Otis shakes his head. “Maeve, this isn’t about that. We need to make sure you’re okay. It could be a hereditary thing or a health thing. We’ll get you the right care.” 

“You always worry about me.” 

Of course I do, he thinks. He sits down on the bed next to her, turning to face her. “It’s because I love you, Maeve,” he says. “I couldn’t have loved anyone harder, more fiercely, more recklessly or as frightening as the way I love you. When we lost the baby, I was scared I was going to lose you. When I did lose you, it was the hardest thing I’d ever gone through. Fuck ,” he forces. “Even when we found out about Winnie, my fear was that you didn’t want to do this with me. It was always you, I've told you that since I was sixteen and I’ll say it until we’re one hundred and six. I tell you with my dying breath , and even beyond that. It will still be you. You’re not just the person I love, Maeve. You’re my entire world, you’re my very being - the reason why you and I were put on this earth, in a small town with nothing. Because everything we ever needed was right here between you and I. I’m so proud of you, I always have been. You’ve battled wars that have made me cower behind you in battle. It’s always been you. I love you, Maeve.”

They sit side by side on the edge of the bed, he notices the small things like how the ball of her nose ring is on the outside and how she’s only in one of his old t-shirts. How his mismatched rugby socks look weird with his boxer shorts and she’d left the bathroom light on in her rush towards the bed. 

Her fingers are laced in his but this time, she’s stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, not the other way around. She doesn’t have tears, her lips are pursed and she seems to be breathing a little quicker than usual which was just as well, because his heart was absolutely racing. 

“I love you so much, Otis,” she whispers, leaning on his shoulder. 

He lets himself feel. This was great, but shit, he was scared. 

Chapter Text

Hello, Frog Face

“A mother’s body is a miraculous device. To be able to grow a body is one of life’s greatest achievements,” Jean says, rubbing her hands together. 

Maeve lays on Jean’s couch, feet up, grazing board sitting just next to her with Otis’s famous guacamole. Life cannot get better than this… “Mum!” Winnie yells out. “Can you come here please!”

Maeve groans before shouting out; “Why?!”

“Because!” Winnie shouts back. 

“I’ll get her darling,” Jean says, patting Maeve’s head for her to lie back down. “I’m sure she just wants you to watch her leap in the air or something.” 

She smiles to herself - a small win. Jean was doting all over her and making her more food than she’d ever be able to fit in, but she wasn’t as bad as Otis. Maeve’s trip to drop off a fresh loaf of bread was simply to escape the house. She wasn’t allowed to lift a finger and now, she knows how Aimee felt all those months ago when Steve wouldn’t even let her breathe without him attempting to do so for her. There was only so much leg elevation she was willing to do before she snapped at Otis and started lifting his legs in the air. He laughed, but she didn’t. So, escaping was the only way to go. 

Plucking some grapes from the grazing board, she places them in her mouth and rests her hand on her stomach. It was a small bump, maybe even smaller than the last bump she had. Five months haunts her now that she knows the feeling of loss at this point in time. Even being only weeks away from six months, she still feels like she’s sitting in the old feelings, but keeping busy helps her and she can’t keep busy when Otis all but ties her to the couch and never lets her move. 

So, Jean’s place it is. Maeve enjoys the food, she enjoys the conversation woman to woman. What she doesn’t enjoy are the various breathing techniques Jean tries to force on her or the many stretches that are good for calming and, of course, the pelvic floor training she makes Maeve do while she sits down. Twenty three year old Maeve managed to humour Jean over the phone while she sat in her flat in London, but being here in Jean’s presence was harder to hide. 

“How’s Otis’s work from home going?” Jean asks as she comes back into the living room. “He doesn’t always let me come in and have a look around for fear of disrupting the feng shui…” 

“I think it’s more that he’s OCD over his record collection and he doesn’t want anyone touching them,” Maeve replies. “But he’s got a good set up and the clients love him.” 

“And you didn’t want to be there today?” Jean calls from the kitchen. 

“No,” Maeve grumbles. “If I have one more sex deprived old woman touch my stomach, I’m going to hurt someone.” 

Jean walks back into the lounge with a cup of tea, handing it to Maeve. “It’s all about perspective,” she laughs. “They’re probably happy to see you and Otis happy after such a long lapse.” 

She nods. She’s got a point, she thinks. She always bloody does . Grabbing a cracker, she takes a bite before saying; “Do you think everything is okay?” she asks, rubbing her stomach. 

Jean looks at her over the top of her coffee cup. “Yes, do you feel okay within yourself? A mother’s instinct trumps all..” 

She does. She feels absolutely fine, that’s why she was so scared - anything could happen. “I just feel so small… I feel like I should be bigger, but I don’t know what to expect.” 

“Well, everyone carries differently. A body changes and adapts every time. Have you spoken to Erin about it? Genetically, you might have some similarities.” 

“I was as big as a house with Winnie,” Maeve sighs out loud. “Usually if I ask her anything to do with pregnancy, she doesn’t really remember.” 

“Oh,” Jean replies quietly, understanding Maeve for all that she doesn’t say. “If you have any concerns, you really should speak to your obstetrician, Maeve, they have the tools to help you in many ways. Not just medically and physically, but emotionally and mentally as well!"

Maeve couldn’t tell Otis all that sat in her mind all day. How sometimes, the scariness of even feeling anything inside her made her panic that something wasn’t right. Erin’s insistence that everything would be fine and she was oh so lucky to be having another baby didn’t help at all. At these times, she loves Jean for all of her wisdom and kind heart. 

And food. She loves the food. 

“I’m seeing all the people,” Maeve tells her, making Jean smile with relief. “Otis has insisted I go as a private patient, I get the top care and on top of that, he does all the washing which is a win on my end.” 

Jean shakes her head. “He’s a worry wart, that one.” 

“I managed to talk him out buying a wheelchair,” Maeve adds, rolling her eyes. “I think he wants me to finish working now.” 

Jean gives Maeve a sympathetic look. “Can’t crucify a man for being too nice.” 

She laughs lightly, eating more from the board. She couldn’t crucify him. She couldn’t love him more. The battle of being so enveloped in love versus her usual need for total control and independence has always been tough for her, but in a time where she’s most vulnerable and scared, she loves him wholeheartedly for his understanding. I’m fucking lucky… “Being too nice is definitely in Otis’s makeup,” Maeve replies. Hearing Winnie shout from down the hall while playing makes her add; “Something our daughter didn’t inherit, I see.” 

“What she did inherit is your strength and slightly offbeat charm, she’ll be interesting when she grows up…” Jean says with a wink. “You might have your eyes, hands and ears full with that one.”

Great, Maeve thinks. The universe is going to punish me.

The smell was both nauseating and comforting at the same time. As she walks up to the back block of toilets, she closes her eyes and waddles her way towards Lucy who was puffing a cigarette. “It’s okay,” Maeve calls, putting her hands in front of her eyes. “I don’t see anything.” 

Lucy groans, tucking her cigarette behind her back and shooing Maeve away. “I may be a shitty student, but I draw the line at being shitty towards my pregnant teachers,” she laughs. “Ms Milburn!” she groans as Maeve continues towards her.

Maeve shakes her head, lifting into the air a piece of paper before stopping just in front of Lucy. “New Docs?” she asks, pointing at Lucy’s shoes. 

Lucy attempts a moonwalk. “Saved damn hard for them.” She drops her smoke to the ground, grinding it into the dirt. “What's with the piece of paper?”

Maeve grins at her student. She couldn’t be prouder. After a long year and a half packed with tears, laughs and hardships, it had all paid off. Lucy’s sister’s new job paid for the Aptitude trips along with a bit of help from her and Otis. Having won the award for best sixth form writer in the whole of Britain, Lucy’s future couldn’t have seemed brighter. There was a pride that Maeve felt whenever she watched Lucy succeed. But today, she couldn’t wait for her to get back to class in the morning to deliver the good news with Viv. She had to tell her now. 

She holds up a piece of paper to Lucy’s face. “This is your unofficial word that someone in our class has been granted the scholarship to UCL.” 

Lucy’s grin was wide and her eyes started to glisten. Shit, Maeve thinks. Don’t cry or I’ll cry… “Unofficial?”

“Officially unofficial. And I can’t say names, of course. But it is definitely one of my students and said student may have just bought a brand new pair of Doc Martens… maybe as a reward?”

Lucy’s jaw drop was enough to set off the waterworks. Being overly sensitive was not Maeve’s thing but ever since the dabrcle of crying over Happy Hubert in the first few weeks of her pregnancy, Aimee’s story of mixing the baby’s whites with Steve’s darks and Jean’s latest penis additions to the walls in the form of art, she doesn’t do much to try and prevent the tears anymore. “I…” she whispers. “I can’t believe it!” 

Before Maeve can say anything else, Lucy throws her arms around her neck and hugs her. Pushing her surprise aside, she hugs her back, patting her as Lucy’s sobs run through her body. “You don’t need to cry, Lucy,” she comforts her, sniffling into her hair. 

“No one else believed in me except for you and Mrs Marchetti,” she sobs. “I do have to cry!”

Maeve smiles, still stroking her back. She knows the feeling all too well. The judgement and the disinterest. No one wants to deal with the girl who seems too rough… “ You believed in you, Lucy. And that’s all that matters.” 

She sniffs, letting a laugh escape, she rubs her nose with the back of her hand, black liner running down her cheeks. “Yeah but you pushed me,” she says, taking a breath. “And Mrs Marchetti always pushed me in aptitude and now I finally…” her voice trails off. 

“You finally get to get out of Moordale?” Maeve says, encouraging her.

She nods, wiping her own tears. “My sister has only got back onto her feet,” she says quietly. “And I’ll be leaving her and my nephew.” 

“If I can tell you anything, Lucy. It’s that she’ll understand and you can’t babysit everyone forever. Trust me.” 

Lucy sighs. “I know…” 

“Are you excited?” Maeve asks, patting her shoulder. “You’ve got a few more months to go, but it comes around quickly.”

Lucy grins again, finally coming to terms with the news. Flicking her lighter on and off, she looks at Maeve. “I better work hard these next few months then, huh?”

“Imagine what you could produce between now and then to be able to take with you to UCL!” 

“A few good pieces, methinks,” Lucy says, tapping her chin. “With the help from you and Mrs Marchetti, I could get a really good portfolio sorted.” 

“The uni students of London better watch out!” 

“Moordale Caravan Parks finest,” Lucy says with a wink. “Anything I need to know about London?” 

“Don’t worry if you miss the trains. London is big, but if you stay around campus, you’ll be fine. Get all your earrings from Primark because they have the best sales. Grab coffee at The Attendant, club all night, you’ll catch up.” 

“What about food places?” 

“Nandos,” says Maeve. “Late night Nandos feasts.”

Otis  sits on the couch with Maeve’s feet on his lap, playing with the hem of her jeans. She tries to talk him through the show she’s been watching for months now, running him through the ins and outs of money laundering but he’s too caught up in rubbing her stomach with his free hand. 

Though she keeps talking, she can tell his mind was elsewhere. Probably stressing over me, she thinks. “How was your day today?” 

He still sits in his work clothes. Or what he considers work clothes. That was the perk of working from home, his home clothes have now become work clothes with his button up shirts and skinny jeans that weren’t skinny at all and were baggy around his bony knees. She sighs as she thinks about how the button to her own jeans were now cutting into her belly and she really ought to consider buying new clothes. I fucking hate this part of the whole thing… She tries to move around on the couch to loosen the pressure on her stomach. 

The sweet relief comes when Otis notices her discomfort, undoing her button with one hand and shaking his head. “Stop wearing these pants,” he says sternly. 

“They’re my favourite,” she moans. 

“They can be your favourite in a few months time…” he sighs. “My day was good!” he answers. “Super Trooper guy is down to his last sessions.” 

“He still needs to see you?”

“He’s worked his way through the whole ABBA discography, he needs a lot of work.” 

Maeve chuckles next to him, grabbing his hand, she places it on her stomach when the baby does a few rolls. “It’s settled - the baby hates ABBA.” 

“What do you think it is?” he asks. “I hate not knowing, how are we going to prepare for a baby when we don’t know the gender?”

“Because when we had Winslow you knew and you still complained that we weren’t prepared enough,” she argues. 

Otis rolls his eyes. “I just really thought we should have invested our money on an electric bottle steriliser.” 

“We did, Otis,” she says shaking her head with amusement. “ But for some reason you thought we needed two.” 

“One for pre sterilisation and then normal sterilisation.” 

“It’s a baby, not a fucking china doll.”

“She was,” Otis mumbles. “My little doll…” 

Maeve keeps holding onto his hand. “This is it,” she murmurs. “This is our life… it’s you, me and our babies…” 

“Isn’t it funny how something as amazing as life can appear to be so ordinary -” 

“Nah,” Maeve cuts him off. “It’s extraordinary.” 

“It is,” he agrees. “We fell in love, we have Winslow. And another baby on the way, we live in our own home, we both do what we love. We just are and it’s satisfying.” 

“It is,” says Maeve, rubbing her belly with his hand, guiding it around. “I still get scared sometimes.” 

Otis takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “I think we’ll always live with this fear until our son is out.” 

“Son?” Maeve scoffs. “We are not having a son.” 

“Unless you know something I don’t know, then there’s a possibility that we are.” 

“You have a point,” she admits. “I don’t know anything you don’t.” 

“You know a lot of things I don’t,” he chuckles. “You always have. You know more than me.” 

Maeve rolls her eyes, sitting up on the couch and leans in to kiss his cheek. Resting both her hands on her stomach, she laughs. “Like? Elaborate please…” 

“You just want to listen to me gas you up,” he nudges her shoulder with his. “And, I shall.” 

“Go on then.”

“Well you know when I’m about to make a fool of myself, you know when I take things too seriously, you know how Winnie likes her sandwiches cut and how to pretend like you’re listening to my mum without making it obvious that you’re not. You know how to con Jakob into doing things around the house and how to make each and every one of your students more motivated to do their work. You know facts about things I could never figure out. You’re just an all round upstanding citizen.” 

“Well, I can safely say I’ve never been called that before,” she laughs in reply. “But I love you. You always seem to say the right thing.”

“Why thank you.” Maeve feels his eyes on her. “Are you okay?”

Just great… She inhales deeply. “I’m scared all the time.”

He nods, grabbing hold of her hand, he squeezes it tightly and instantly, she’s reminded that he’s there and won’t leave. “If it makes you feel better, I’m scared too.” 

“Not better,” she groans. “Actually a little bit worse.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think that one through.” 

“I just don’t want to go through it all again. But at the same time, if everything works out, I don’t know if I’ll be a good mum to two kids…” she replies quietly, almost in a whisper. “I’ve only really found my feet now after almost six fucking years. What if that’s like, my quota or something? What I’ve I’ve exhausted all my good mum juice? What if this is it? You’re so good at being a dad and I’m just so… grouchy.” 

Otis shakes his head so hard, Maeve can’t help but reach over and grab it with two hands, stopping him. He frowns. “Firstly, I don’t think there’s such a thing as good mum juice or a quota of love that a parent can hold for their children. I think it just grows as the family grows. And you’ve always been a good mum. Since the day we decided on having Winnie, you’ve been the best mum ever.” 

“I ate way too much curry for that to be true,” she groans. “She hates the stuff and I think it’s from the torture of force feeding her it in the womb.” 

Otis grins. “If you’re guilty of eating too much curry whilst pregnant, I’m sure Winnie will get over it. It doesn’t seem to be bothering her thus far.” 

“Who knows. Maybe she’ll grow up and it’ll be something she’ll have to go to therapy for. A fear of curry.” 

“Just as well I’m a therapist.”

Maeve beads her eyes, glaring at him. “You always have an answer for everything…” 

“Seriously though,” Otis starts. “You’re the best mum there is. You’re understanding, caring, you’re always there for her. At times you have to be the bad cop to my good cop, but that’s only because I don’t have the guts to stand up to Winnie,” he laughs. “You’re you and that’s the best part about it.” 

Maeve kisses his cheek again. Yeah, I am me and that’s not always the best thing… “Your optimistic views always leave me feeling warm and fuzzy…” 

“And your pessimistic views always leave me amused.” 

She grins at him. “And that’s why we’re in for the long haul.” 

Maeve stares at the door. She feels stupid for worrying about it so much, but Sunday’s were the one thing she thought she could rely on her mum for and she had been doing so well with keeping up the Suday afternoon visits, she didn’t think Erin would flake out so easily. 

“She’s only an hour late,” Otis reminds her, pulling up his sleeve to look at his watch. 

Late is late… “On time is late,” she mumbles, stirring her coffee. “I wasted my one coffee a day on this. What a disappointment.” 

Otis frowns. “You can have another one when she gets here.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to enjoy it once she’s gone. If she bothers coming.” 

Winnie continues leaping around the kitchen table, almost banging into it. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep jumping around like that, frog legs,” Otis warns. 

So, naturally, she continues, almost hitting the table leg with her own leg. “Dad told you…” 

Winnie stops. “Where’s Nanna Erin?” she asks. 

“Good question,” replies Maeve. Winnie starts dunking biscuits into her mother’s coffee and eating them. “Does this count as giving our daughter caffeine?” she asks Otis. 

Otis shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to say it’s not a big deal.”

“Great, thank you for making the executive decisions,” she smiles, but it still falters a little. 

“Mummy,” Winnie starts. “Are you sad because your mum isn’t here?”

Maeve tries to force her smile a little more. Smile, damn it, she thinks. Your daughter can tell you’re sad. “I’m fine, froggy.” 

Winnie frowns, leaning on Otis’s legs and throwing herself back into his arms. “I’ll wait at the door until Nanna Erin arrives.” 

Her heart aches a little bit. This is always the way it is and nothing was going to change that. She was used to it, always waiting for Erin to come back to her, always thinking things needed to change and hoping they will. She couldn’t say she wasn’t proud of Erin. The changes she had made in the last five years were something Maeve never thought she’d ever see. But it didn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when she still slacks off. This was the time she needed her mum more than ever. To tell her that everything was going to be okay and guide her through the whole motherhood thing for her second time around. But she never really got it at all, so she’ll never understand… She feels like calling Jean instead, asking her to come and eat the victoria sponge with them over a cuppa. At least Jean was a great mum. 

“I’m sure she’ll arrive,” Otis tells her quietly. “She’s not missed a Sunday cuppa in years.” 

“That’s why I’m worried.” 

“If you’re worried, call her?”

“I shouldn’t have to call her. I’m not her mother.” 

“Ah,” Otis nods. “Okay.”

He drums on the table with his fingers, taking slow sips of his coffee every now and then as if he was preserving it until Erin arrives. Maeve just stares at the front door as Winnie stands guard, peeping through the window every couple of seconds. 

“Here she comes!” Winnie shouts, jumping up and down on the spot. “I can see her!” 

Finally, Maeve feels like she can take a breath. It was always the worst feeling for her - waiting on her mum. No matter what happens in their life between the two of them, there was still this underlying fear that something might happen to Erin and she wouldn’t know. Five years clean, Maeve thinks. She’ll be okay…

Winnie stops jumping, peering through the window again. “There’s someone with her.”

“Fuck,” Maeve hisses, hauling herself out of the chair. “What is it now?” Police? She wonders. Child welfare? Her AA sponsor? 

Otis hurries to the door, peering through the window in the same way Winnie was. “Holy fucking shit,” he hisses. 

“Language!” Winnie snaps. 

“What?!” Maeve says, pushing Otis out of the way. “What is it?” 

Before Maeve has the chance to look through the window, Winnie opens the door. “Hello, Winslow!” Erin says, arms out to grab her with a grin. “Sorry about the tardiness, had a visitor innit, and you know how he likes to fuck around.” 

Maeve’s face falls blank. This has to be a fucking joke… her heart drops and she feels tears pooling on her lash line. Don’t cry, don’t cry… “What the hell?” she whispers. 

“Frog face,” Sean grins, bouncing on the spot. “Bit of a fancy place for you, innit? You gonna let me in or we are going to catch up about the old days out here in the cold?” 

Stepping up the stairs, he ruffles Winnie’s hair with his hand. “Mini frog,” he says, kissing her on the head. “Nice to see you, you’ve grown a centimetre or two, how old are you now? Two?”

“I’m almost six!” she says cheerily.

“That’s how long you’ve been incarcerated for,” Maeve manages to spit out, still in shock.

Otis takes Sean in for a hug. “Good to see you’re out, man!”

“Good to see my sister hasn’t killed you!” Sean laughs. Finally, he makes it to Maeve, only noticing now with the different angle, her stomach. His mouth drops. “Knocked up?” he says slowly. “Again?” 

“It kind of happens when you’re in a loving marriage and shit,” she says with a small smile. “Don’t act so surprised.” 

Sean places both his hands on either side of her stomach. “Woah…” 

She takes a moment. She wants to scream at him, kick him out of the house. Yell and swear at him that he’s been gone and she’s needed him. It’s always been the two of them and he keeps leaving her. She needs him to promise that he won’t go again because she needs him. He looks into her eyes with a smile that reminds her of when they were kids. All alone while their mum was out. Hiding in the bedroom, not sure of when they’d see Erin again. She throws her arms around his neck, holding him close. 

She feels it, the sob that wracks through his body. The feeling of her brother’s wet tears against her and the feeling that he was finally out of prison and home again. “I’m so sorry, Maeve,” he begs. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry.”

“Just fucking promise you won’t do it again,” she says, her own tears streaming. “I can’t keep losing you, Sean.” 

He nods, pulling away he wipes his eyes and claps his hands together. “Who’s up for a cuppa then?” he sniffs. “We don’t get well brewed tea in prison.” 

Erin takes a seat next to Winnie, pointing out things in a book Winnie has forced upon her. Otis works in the kitchen, telling Sean about the brand new Swedish coffee Jakob’s sister has sent and Maeve chews along the outside of a biscuit. 

Finally, there’s some sort of normality on her side of the family that she can be happy about. It needs a lot of work, but they’re hers and she’s happy that it’s at least a start. 

The house with big windows feels complete for the moment. If only people could see in from the outside, they’d see she’s content.

Chapter Text

the feeling of togetherness

It doesn’t matter how much Otis follows Maeve around, the amount of glares Eric shoots at her or Aimee’s shrill shrieks that she needs to sit down, she simply won’t sit down. 

Otis’s jaw hurts from the constant teeth grinding and constant tension that radiates through his temples. He watches her lift food out of the oven and he feels like he’s about to burst a blood vessel. The roast chicken is unsteadily held in her hands just beyond her very large stomach. He’s had enough. He rips the chicken out of her hands. 

Maeve shoots him a glare that rivals Eric’s and she leans back on the counter, chest heaving from the sheer effort of trying to do everything around the house single handedly. “I could have done that,” she hisses. 

Otis knows better than to fight her. Just nodding in reply. He’d been on the receiving end of her attitude that left a lot to be desired for the last two weeks. She wasn’t so snippy last time, he thinks as he watches her tear at the loaf of bread Adam had brought over baked by his mum. She shovels it into her mouth with at least a tablespoon’s worth of butter smeared on it. A satisfied moan escapes her mouth and finally, he sees her crack a smile. She tugs on the hem of her dress, or, at least what she can grab of it, just to see it ride up her stomach again. 

He lets go of the knife he was using to cut the chicken and walks over to her slowly, hands in the air as if in truce. “You sure you don’t want to change into your trackies?” he asks, bending over to pull the dress down himself. “No one will mind.” 

At first, the glare is like daggers until it softens into a small pout. Otis brushes hair out of her eyes and softly kisses her. To say the last nine months had been a rollercoaster was an understatement. Wading through every emotion and working through it, he found it hard to keep afloat. But the main problem was fear . The unknown. The pure uncertainty . He’s ripped out of his thoughts when Maeve lays her head on his chest and Eric’s cackle echoes through the kitchen followed by Winnie’s scream of excitement. 

Looking out of the back door, he looks over the gathering on his patio. Eric’s got his hands full with Daisy. Steve, Aimee and Ruby are picking at the grazing platter which makes Otis’s smile a little too smug against Maeve’s hair - to think she didn’t want it , he thinks happily to himself. Adam has both Rick and Morty by his feet while he talks to Jackson and Viv and both the children, Winnie and Jax are by their feet copying the dogs. 

“I don’t want to wear anything,” Maeve snaps, lifting her head, probably after realising that she had still promised to cook. “I want to lie on my couch with as little as possible on while you do all the cooking and I do nothing.” 

Otis holds back a laugh by biting his lip. “Maeve,” he says slowly. “No one wanted to have this party, it was all you. You invited them here.” 

“And you let me,” she groans, rolling her eyes.

“You’re nine months pregnant, I wasn’t about to fight with you.” 

She sighs, nodding with the understanding that she started this. “I just really wanted you to have a good birthday before I push this kid out,” she mumbles. “Something to say thanks.” 

“For what?” he laughs. 

“For putting up with me. For putting up with my psychotic ass. For having to deal with yet another child that is half Wiley and therefore probably psychotic too.” 

Otis grins. There wasn’t ever a time since he was sixteen where he wouldn’t put up with her. Through their great move to London, sharing a house with Adam and Eric, through sex clinics and late night whispers outside of her caravan.Through wiping tears over Erin, Sean, their lost baby. Staying up all night watching Winnie when she was born and being shit scared. “I’d choose you and our psychotic children forever and ever.” 

Again, he’s met with her smile. “I’m sorry about the birthday. I hate it. But it’s yours. I hope you’re enjoying yourself anyways…” 

“Well, you managed to get Adam and Eric here all the way from London, that’s got to count for something.”

“He’s obsessed with me. With the baby. He wants to watch me give birth, you know,” Maeve says with a shudder. “I couldn’t think of anything worse. He feels like he missed out when I didn’t let him in to see Winnie. I think I’ve got the only vagina he’s ever had an interest in.” 

Otis raises an eyebrow. “You’re probably right.” 

“Are you two love birds going to stand in here all day ignoring us or are you going to entertain us?” Eric says loudly, his head poking in from outside. “Except for you, beachball,” he says, pointing his finger at Maeve. “I have been watching and you’re on thin ice. Don’t make me force you onto the bed! Shame on you!”

Maeve leans into Otis’s ear. “See, he wants me…” 

Otis tries to hold a chuckle in. “How’s the guacamole going?” he asks. 

Eric looks behind him. “Aimee ate the entire bowl herself.” Leaving Maeve, Otis goes to the fridge and pulls out another bowl, making his way outside. “How many bowls do you have in there?” 

“A good host is always prepared.” 

His best friend groans. “Oatcakes! You’re not a suburban house mother of four, stop being so efficient!” 

Otis stands next to Rick and Morty and watches Maeve waddle her way out to the patio. Steve pulls a chair out for her to flop onto which she does very uncomfortably, but she’s met with a glass of juice in her face - also offered by Steve. “You sure you’re okay, Maeve?” Steve asks. 

Otis eyes her suspiciously but the very obvious fake smile she gives Steve is enough to convince Otis that maybe she’s just generally tired. Nothing to worry about, he ressures himself. “I’m fine,” she replies with gritted teeth. 

Aimee sits next to her, absentmindedly rubbing Maeve’s shoulders which Otis can see she’s enjoying. “I’ve got some clothes in the back of the car, you have to remind me to give them to you before we leave later,” she says with a vacant smile, looking out over the river. “They’re all frilly and pretty!” 

“We don’t know if we’re even having a girl, Aims,” Maeve tells her but the small cringe she flashes to Otis says a little more than that. It’s probably the fear of frills…

“Cut the frills off and they’d be fine for a lad too!” she adds excitedly. 

Adam’s deep voice sounds beside Otis. “What’s it like being a dad?” he asks. 

Otis jerks his head back a little, somewhere in between the abruptness of hearing the voice pop up behind him and the seriousness of the question. Even having lived with Adam, Otis never really managed to get much out from him apart from the occasional penis joke that only Lily really appreciated. Adam’s eyes widen and quizzical. “Ah,” Otis starts, trying to think about it. He loves Winnie. He truly didn’t believe he’d ever move anything more than Maeve. Having loved her since he was so young, he never ever thought that anyone could rival it. But from the moment he saw Winslow, everything changed. “It’s pretty much the most awesome, humbling, awe inspiring feeling you could ever experience. And I’m excited to go through it all over again,” he explains. 

Adam nods, raising his eyebrows in understanding. “It really seems like it, new kid,” he says, looking over at Winnie who was currently on her hands and knees, barking at Jax. “You make me kind of realise that not all dad’s suck…” 

Otis sighs, underlying sympathy escaping with his breath. “Well, I know you don’t have a fantastic relationship with your own father, but I’m sure that if you and Eric ever wanted to go down that road, you’d be a fantastic dad.” 

Adam bolts up from out of his seat, a small grimace on his face. “Don’t really like kids though, innit?” he shudders. “Snotty nosed punks.” He walks away. 

Otis doesn’t even get an opportunity to take reach for a drink before one is being dangled in front of his face, manicured nails clicking on the can. “Coke?” Ruby asks. 

He takes it from her, cracking it open as she takes Adam’s seat. “Enjoying my birthday bash?” he asks. 

Ruby gives a deadpan look. “Bash? Come on, Otis. This is a normal sunday gathering at best. Just this time we have to put up with Eric and Adam and Eric’s insistence that he’s better than us because he’s all bright lights Londonite.” 

She mumbles something about a Gucci belt, some offhanded, definitely not impressed comment about the Dior watch and how much she hates London, preferring Berlin. 

“Can you believe it’s been over ten years since we became friends?” Ruby asks, drawing Otis out of his thoughts. 

There was something quite pensive about her question, as he looks around, he sees the smiles of his friends or the more tight lipped smile of Ruby, the more forced one of Maeve as she sits uncomfortably in her chair with both hands resting on her stomach, rising and falling with every breath. The afternoon sun gives an ethereal glow over everyone. He can’t believe it’s been over ten years since all of their lives came crashing to a halt, forever intertwined.

She snaps her fingers in front of him. “I can’t,” he says quietly, letting the sun soak into his skin. Relishing the last few days until everything crashes again, this time in his little family, and they welcome a new baby into the world. 

Ruby’s smile grows, tilting her can of coke to his, she says; “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” he repeats. 

“To Moordale,” she says before taking a sip. “To thanking god that’s not me pregnant to you over there…” she mumbles. 

Otis pretends to be insulted, clutching his chest. “Sixteen year old Otis is currently hurt by that statement, I told you I would have stood by you with every decision you made.” 

She looks over to Maeve, tilting her can in Maeve’s direction. “No you wouldn’t have,” she tells him. “Not if she was around.” 

Before Otis can defend his honour, Jackson flops down next to them, bowl of guacamole in hand. “What’s the recipe,” he mumbles, mouth full of corn chips that were flying out of his mouth. “I’d pay good money for it.” 

“LIES!” Eric calls. “DO NOT ENCOURAGE THE SUBURBAN MOTHER, JACKSON MARCHETTI!” 

Jackson gives a wry look. “I don’t get it, man. It’s like Eric has something against flavour .” 

“He has something against the coolness levels of my food,” Otis corrects, holding his middle finger up to Eric. 

Eric gasps. “You’ve been around your wife too long. Come home to London. We’ll get you back on track,” he says with a wink. 

Otis gives Jackson the guacamole recipe that made Jackson bow in his presence for the rest of the night. Ruby beat Aimee at several rounds of cards and Viv tried to explain to Adam the plot of Glenoxi, for him to go back to London with. Eric sat by Otis’s for the entire evening and Maeve was at his side. 

For the moment, life is perfect. 

Days had gone by and as much as Maeve struggled to walk, she didn’t want to be induced and Otis couldn’t fight her on that. 

Helping her step out of the shower, she splashes water all over him, but he wraps the towel as best as he can around her. “Winnie told mum that the baby is a parasite and you’re merely the host, today.” 

Maeve laughs, throwing her head back. “She’s not wrong.” 

Maeve waddles into the bedroom, taking a seat on the bed, Otis follows behind her with her pyjamas. “I’m more interested in seeing what she tells the kids in her class. How the baby is wearing a skin suit made out of your body? Because Jax told me that one.” 

She pretends to ponder on it. “I did mention something about a skin suit…” she says, tapping her chin. 

“Ah,” Otis says, pulling the old t-shirt over her head. “As long as the baby doesn’t take over your mind,” he says, tapping his head. “That’s when we’ll have problems.” 

She slowly gets up off the bed, right hand placed on her lower back. “I’ve got a doctors appointment tomorrow,” she explains. “I’m about this close to telling them to cut the thing out of me.” 

“Hey!” Otis calls, head popping out of the bathroom with his mouth full of toothpaste. “There will be no cutting things out without me being there!” 

“It’s alright,” she winks at him. “Aimee will be there.” 

“I should just cancel my last client…” he says, pausing the brushing again. 

“No, ABBA guy can’t risk another day filled with Waterloo without you,” she replies. 

Otis joins Maeve in the sheets, throwing a couple pillows on the ground that he doesn’t use. She moves closer and rests her head on his chest before he leans in to kiss her on the forehead. “I really, really love you, you know.” 

She nods, her eyes slowly closing. “Well, out of the seven billion people on the earth, you chose me and I will forever be grateful.” 

He sighs, letting the warmth of her body calm him. The thoughts of tomorrow’s goings on and his daughter who fought him to the bitter end for ice cream in the room next to him. There’s a peace that runs through the house that he made for his girls. 

It feels like his eyes are only closed for a split second before he feels a warmth spreading against his legs. “Maeve?” he asks, whipping the blanket away from their bodies. Searching for something, anything, as he scrambles out of the bed, hands tangled in the sheets. 

Maeve looks between her legs, shock on her face but a calm; “Fuck!” escapes her lips. 

“What?!” he almost shouts, panic running through him as he keeps clinging onto the bed. 

“I think my waters broke.” 

Austen has more hair than her sister did. She’s pink and wrapped up in the same blanket that Winslow was when she was born. She has big, round eyes that look just like her mother’s. She was born in spring warmth. 

She’s perfect. 

Maeve is still tender all over, but she’s so happy to be home. Winnie’s excited squeals don’t let up though and Maeve is so close to taking Jean up on the offer of having her. Just for a few nights. Just to pretend to feel like she’s having some sort of break, even if it is just a break from the noise. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, Winnie is asleep on the couch having watched TV for almost the entire day, making Maeve’s guilt soar. But she sits next to her with baby Austen in her arms and Otis stroking Winnie’s hair out of her eyes as she lays in his lap.

The birth was quick, everything was over and done with within three hours and she was home in time for lunch the next day. Otis had cried as he held his second daughter in his hands, all bright pink and squinted eyes as she entered the world. Being home was a feeling she’d never be able to explain. It was like she was complete. Happy. 

She was so happy to be in the house with big windows, looking out to the world around her. 

“Do you want a break?” he asks. Of course I do… “No,” she decides. “I’m okay.” 

She didn’t want to let go of the tiny bundle. 

Austen’s tiny sighs are barely audible but she picks up a tiny hand and presses it to her lips. “Oh god,” she groans. “We have two daughters.” 

Otis raises an eyebrow. “And?” 

And they’re probably going to kill us… “What if they’re like me?” she says, grimacing. “What if they’re all chippy and angry at the world.” 

“They won’t be,” he laughs. “And if they are, they’ll be smart, funny...” 

She loves the way he always tries to calm her, but this time, she’s unsettled. “I can see it now. Two overly brooding girls, somewhat angry, a little unhinged...I hope they’re more like you.” 

“Awkward and gangly?” 

“Yeah,” she teases. “No, intelligent, understanding and the most amazing people on this planet.”

Otis leans over to kiss her cheek. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest.” 

Maeve keeps playing with Austen’s hand, observing her little nails. “I can’t believe we have two of them!” she exclaims. 

“Children?”

“ Girls !” Maeve continues. “You were so adamant we were going to have a boy… how could you!” she laughs, squinting her eyes at Otis and his absolute betrayal. 

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” he shrugs. 

“Well,” Maeve starts, “Winnie definitely has a lot of you in her so I think we’re safe with her but Austen,” she says, looking down at the baby in her arms. “Maybe she’ll end up being more me? Maybe she’ll be the dark horse we need to keep an eye on.” 

“Does it work that way?” he asks. 

“I don’t know! I’m new to this too you know!” Otis laughs at her hysteria and she feels her eyes rolling at him. He’ll learn the hard way, I guess, she thinks, laughing internally. 

“I’m glad to hear you don’t have any other families of two daughters out there to have proven your theory on how family dynamics work,” he tells her, suppressing a smile. “But I’m happy with my three girls and regardless of what traits they inherit, we’ll be fine.” 

Maeve brings her baby to her lips, lightly kissing her chubby cheeks. “We’ll see if daddy believes that when you and your sister have hit your teen years…” she whispers. Let’s hope they’re more like him, for my own sanity...

Otis rolls his eyes. “We’ll be fine, Maeve,” he insists.

She’s not sure if she believes him. 

Jean was always so nice when it came to Erin. The niceness was sometimes unpalatable, especially when Erin would make unnecessary comments about how nice Jean’s house is, but Maeve knows exactly how hard Jean worked for her house and keeping it. Making it a safe space for Otis to grow up in, and now that he’s an adult, he loves coming home to the place that held a lot of his best memories, Maeve knows. 

Sean eyes the penises that adorn the walls and Maeve creeps up behind him as he stands staring at a painting, unsure if it’s an actual painting of a penis, or a very obscurely created mountain. “You’re squinting pretty hard at that picture, is that how girls stare at you? Hard to see, is it?” 

Sean elbows her but she’s met with a smile. “Oh ha-ha,” he says sarcastically, folding his arms over his chest. “So,” he looks around. “How the other half lives, huh?”

She looks out of the living room doors that open up to the deck, overlooking the same river that her house looks out onto as well. She follows Sean as he steps outside, giving Otis a quick look as he shows off Austen to Jakob. Once outside, Sean lights up a smoke and she leans against the railing. “Jean and Jakob were excited to hear you were coming for dinner too.” 

“Wouldn’t pass up on a free meal, would I?” he laughs. His face turns serious, but still wears a small smile. “Got me a gig at Browns,” he tells her. “Might not pay for a house like this, but it might actually get us out of the caravan park, and that’s a start.” 

There is a feeling of relief that comes over her. She didn’t like that her mum and brother were still stuck in the caravan, but she couldn’t keep saving them. At some point, she had to stop worrying about them and focus on her own little family, but at least working at Browns is something. A small win. “That’s amazing news!” she says, shoving his shoulder. 

He shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m in my thirties and I’ve never lived in anything other than the caravan, it’s pretty shitty when you think of it like that.” 

Maeve notices the longing in his voice,  but she shoves his shoulder again. “Cheer up, Charlie,” she tells him. “Better late than never, right?”

Again, his eyes run around the house, overlooking the view, the soft chatter inside Jean’s house. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help you out, Frog face,” he mumbles. “You’ve got some pretty decent fucking people inside that house and they love you. They look after you better than I ever could…” 

She wants to argue, tell him he’s wrong. That she always needs her big brother and that will never change. But she can’t. “I love them,” she says quietly. “It’s a real family, like the one we always dreamed of,” she says with a humourless laugh. 

“I guess it is…” 

Maeve reaches out for her brother’s hand, holding it in her own. “You know you can be part of it too…as long as you don’t get locked up again, innit.”

Sean chuckles, lifting his head to the sky, watching the changing colours. “Alright, I got it. No more illegal activity!” 

Jean opens the door, stepping out, Erin follows her. “You know,” she starts loudly. “Regardless of what kind of therapist I am, I’m a somewhat decent listener, though I’m sure Otis would disagree, but you can always talk to me if you need someone to talk to if things ever get hard, right?” 

Erin smiles gently at Jean, pulling out a smoke, placing it between her lips and lighting it up. “Yeah, that would be nice actually, thank you Jean.”

“No problems at all!” Jean replies, throwing her hands in the air. They both take a seat out the outdoor setting and Maeve watches, frown etched on her. 

Otis must notice it as he walks outside, wearing a look of concern. When he gets to her, he whispers in her ear; “What’s the problem?” 

She doesn’t want to admit that the fact that her mum was fitting in so well here with Jean made her worried. “Mum,” is all she replies. 

He says; “Ah,” with a look of understanding and a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This is our family, Maeve,” he tells her. “Everything is going to be okay.” 

This time, she believes him.

Austen was fast asleep in her bassinet that was on Otis’s side of the bed. Just like Winnie, her arms are sprawled out above her head and a pouty lower lip sucks in and out as she breathes.

Maeve thumbs through a book while she’s in bed that she’s attempted reading two times already but she just can’t seem to get into it, getting distracted as Otis walks out of the bathroom. “She’s asleep?” he asks. 

“Yep.” 

“And frog legs?”

“Fought me about the position of her pillows,” Maeve sighs, rolling her eyes. 

Otis shakes his head. “Sorry I left you out there to battle the wars without me, but I did appreciate the extended shower.” He slips into bed next to her, linking his hand in hers automatically. “You’re grinning.” 

Maeve looks at him sideways. “And what of it?” she snaps. 

“Why are you grinning?” 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes she answers; “Well fucking hell, I won’t smile ever again then!” 

Otis laughs. “I just haven’t seen you smile that big in forever.” 

“Observant aren’t you... “ she teases, leaning her head on his shoulder. They both stare ahead at the bathroom door at nothing. Just simply existing. This is what life is supposed to feel like…

“Keep smiling,” he tells her. “I’m enjoying it.” 

She gives him a toothy grin with squinted eyes. “This good?” 

“Maybe not as scary…” he says, faking a shudder. “Less teeth.” 

Maeve clings onto his hand a little tighter. “I love you, Otis Milburn.” 

“And I, you, Maeve.” 

She takes a deep breath. “I always wanted a house with big windows,” she murmurs. “Something that would make me feel like I was protected. But I figured it out.” 

“What’s that?” he says, sleep filling him. 

“It’s you. You’re my home.”

Chapter Text

in a house with big windows

If it wasn’t frowned upon to kill your own family, she would have done so already. Though socially unacceptable to talk about such things, she’s free to think whatever she wants in her own mind.

It isn’t that she doesn’t like them. She loves them with her entire heart and soul, but there was this underlying feeling of drowning. It’s all consuming. They’re everywhere and always so… happy . She cringes at the thought. Her father is always so smiley and her mother, always so involved and encouraging. If it isn’t bad enough that her mother is her English teacher, it makes it worse that she always pushes her to try her hardest as a member of the aptitude scheme. And she does . But Mrs Marchetti is not only her aptitude teacher, she’s one of her parents best friends and also her best friend's mother. The whole thing is fucking incestuous, she thinks. 

Winslow Wiley Milburn lies in her bed that’s in the house with big windows. Said windows have curtains that aren’t completely shut and therefore let the light stream through just the tiniest bit. For a moment, she feels almost like a vampire, hissing at the sun as she pulls the blankets to her neck. Thinking only briefly on how much a ticket to London might be to see her uncles Eric and Adam. How maybe, if she begs them hard enough, they might let her move in. 

That maybe, knocking off her family one by one might be easier than trying to save for a ticket to London. 

  So she lays in bed, thinking about what the house might feel like if there was a dead silence through it and just how perfect life might be. There’s a singing that echoes through the house. The loud, constant bang of her sister’s feet against the kitchen counter and her father’s yelling at said sister to stop kicking. “But my food is so nice, this is how I show my appreciation…” Winnie hears Austen argue. 

Just as Winnie grabs her pillow, throwing it over her head and holding in a scream, there’s a loud knock at her bedroom door. “Get up, frog legs!” her mother calls. “You’re going to be late for school!” 

She throws said pillow at the door and definitely not imaginarily at her mother. Well, not really. She doesn’t take kindly to being forced to get up, but she also doesn’t take kindly to her mother ripping her a new asshole if she gets into the kitchen with an attitude…

Knocking her lamp off her bedside table, she reaches for her phone, reading through at least twenty messages from Jax with one eye open, the other shut. All messages sent between five that morning to now. Fuck me , she thinks. Poor bugger must have been in the pool at the break of dawn…

In a brief moment of respite from her father’s singing through the house, her mother’s nagging at both herself and her little sister and the banging against the kitchen bench, Winslow takes a moment to appreciate that she’s not the sorry sucker in the pool. She’s the one laying in her bed, waiting for some sort of life changing, awe inspiring feeling to overcome her and get her out of bed. 

Finally rolling out of bed when she’s met with a message that says; - I’ll be over in an hour yeah? From Jax. But she rolls too far and ends up on the floor, knocking the breath out of her. As she lifts her head, she sees her sister standing in front of her, eye to eye with Austen’s bright pink, over worn Chuck Taylors that she refuses to throw out. “What the hell are you doing on the floor?” she asks, milk moustache covering her lips. 

“What the hell are you doing in my room?!” Winnie hisses, hurrying to get up off the ground. “Go and wipe your lips, you look like an idiot.” 

Austen beads her eyes, peering at Winnie over her piece of toast. “Did you sleep down there?” 

“Yeah,” she replies sarcastically. “Just set myself up down here, trying to ignore the metaphorical confines of limiting myself to only sleeping on a mattress,” she kicks the bed for safe measure, hurting her foot at the same time. “Suck it, prison of sleep!” 

“You’re weird,” Austen quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve before crunching into the toast. “Mum said that she’ll leave you behind if you don’t hurry up… but dad he’d take you to school if you miss the ride.” 

“I’m walking,” she says, waving her hand at her sister’s face. 

Austen’s eyes light up and her mouth forms and O. “Ooh,” she sings-songs with a grin. “You’ve got a date!” she gives Winnie a toothy grin that convinces her that this might be the greatest thing she’s ever heard in her ten years on the planet.

“It’s not a date ,” Winnie groans. “And if I catch you saying that again, you’ll pay.” 

“Pay what?” Austen asks, confusion written all over. 

God, is she daft?... “Pay. You know. You’ll pay for it?” 

“I don’t get it.”

“ God !” Winnie groans, trying to shut the door in her sister’s face. “Just fuck off, will you?” she snaps, leaning on the door, forcing Austen out. “Just go!” 

Austen takes a step back that makes Winnie fall quickly against the door and it slams loudly against the frame and her body falls harshly against it. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet for only a second before hearing a; “Mum! Winslow was swearing at me!”  

“Stop the swearing, will you?!” her mother yells out through the house. 

Now, she packs her bag in silence, each book on the receiving end of her pure, unadulterated frustration. 

Doctor Milburn, or so she likes to refer to her father when he’s dressed in his baggy t-shirts and what are supposed to be skinny jeans that are also baggy around the knees, places a cup of coffee in front of her. 

“For you, frog legs,” he says quietly. “I think you’re definitely your mother’s daughter and you might need one or five of these before you start the day… but I don’t encourage the consumption of caffeine by teenagers on more than a one cup a morning basis, I do encourage being a contributing member of society and if caffeine helps with that, then so be it,” he shrugs, sitting down next to her. 

Otis picks up a piece of toast from his plate and Winnie follows suit, toast always seeming to taste better when it’s someone else's. “Thanks dad,” she mumbles with a mouth full of toast and coffee. 

Maeve leans against the bench, a mug cradled in her hands and her lip between her teeth. “Try not to swear at your sister, Winslow,” she says, eyes fixed on the window looking out to the patio where Austen was attempting handstands. “You know how much she whines and whines when you swear at her,” she gives Winnie a wink. 

Winnie smirks. “She whines and whines anyways.” 

“Yeah, but don’t give her reasons to do it more than usual,” Maeve explains. “It’s bloody draining!” 

Winnie notices the looks between her parents. Eyes darting to each other, then back to her. Eyes on her toast. They’re definitely not getting my toast, she thinks, but the way her father opens and closes his mouth tells her he’s about to get started on some sort of lecture. “What?” she asks feebly. 

Maeve inhales sharply. “Well, god, you know how much I hate these sorts of conversations…” 

“This isn’t about the missing record is it?” 

“No,” Maeve starts but she’s quickly cut off. 

“The WHAT?!” Otis asks, pushing back in his chair. He’s about to go and tear his collection apart…

“Dad!” Winnie quickly says, reaching out for him. “It’s okay, Jax has it, he’s about to bring it back like now!”

Her father eyes her but he slowly settles back into his chair. “Promise?”

“Promise!” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“As I was saying!” Maeve says loudly over the other two. “Your father and I just want to talk about something…” 

Winnie’s not sure what it is, but she feels unsettled. Her cheeks start flushing for no reason, her heart beating faster. There was something off about this. “You’re not having another baby, are you?” Both her parents burst into a hysterical laughter that makes her both annoyed and even more paranoid. “I’m going to take that as a no…” 

Maeve takes another sip of her own coffee, shaking her head. “Winnie, we want to have the sex talk with you.” 

Ah, she thinks. This is why I feel weird… Her intuition was impeccable, she was somewhat proud. She stares blankly at her drink, running her fingers around the rim. “Why?”

“Because,” Otis starts. “It’s a very healthy progression and such a natural progression in your life. We want to know that you feel enveloped in love and support during this time.” 

Winnie holds back a roll of her eyes. She hates it when her dad uses his therapy gargin, it’s always so weird but spruced up with his kind, understanding words that he uses. “I was brought up with a sex therapist grandmother and father, I’ve got this, guys,” she says, shooting a forced grin at her parents. 

Maeve scowls. “Winslow, this is serious… you’re almost seventeen, it’s bound to happen.” 

It’s bound to happen, she repeats in her mind. And it has… She thinks a little too much about Jax’s shaky hands and how her feet got tangled in his sheets. How she was a little too toothy and ended up biting him and how in the end, they were both sweaty and trying to silently laugh in his bedroom. All for the sake of learning. That’s what they agreed on. Couldn’t very well talk about sex if they hadn’t done it, right?

“Frog?” Otis asks, eyes full of concern. “You know you can always talk to us about it. If you’re not sure or you need a soundboard.”

Maeve points to herself. “That’s us, we’re the soundboard.”

Winnie gives a smile, taking another bite of her toast. “Got it,” she repeats. “Soundboard.” 

Both of her parents are pleased with the answer, Maeve walking over to kiss Winnie on the head. “You haven’t had sex yet, have you?” she says, stroking hair out her eyes. “You can tell us honestly.” 

She’s torn about wanting to be honest, but not wanting to make a big deal about it. Not everyone’s parents are sex crazed maniacs, they don’t always have to tell their parents everything… Winnie blushes, but she shakes her head. “What?” she laughs. “No, of course not.” 

Otis’s exhale sounds too much like relief for Winnie to want to back track now, but he nods his head towards the door. “Looks like your walking buddy is here…”

Looking up to the kitchen door, a head pops up in the window with a grin. “Morning all!” he calls before opening it up. 

Winnie groans, slumping down further in her seat. It’s not that she hates him. Not really. Well, not at all. She hates the way he’s always so cheery, the way he always smiles at everyone and is over enthusiastic about life in general. The way he always says; “Morning all!” when he picks her up. The way he’s a natural in the pool, on the stage and when it comes to stupid trivia about the world that she knows she should know, but she doesn’t. She hates that he’s perfect. And that she wishes that maybe, he’d be perfect for her . 

He saunters into the kitchen, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite. “Don’t look so excited to see me,” he says, landing heavily on the chair next to her. “What’s up with you?” 

“Sex talk,” she mumbles, getting out of her chair and swooping up her bag in one move. “Don’t get too comfortable, they might try and have the sex talk with you too....” 

“No,” Otis says, laughing. “That’s a right reserved for parents and trusted adults!” 

But before Maeve can finish saying; “See you at school!” Winnie’s dragging Jax out of the door.

She takes a deep breath of fresh air. Moordale may be small and suffocating, but it sure was beautiful, she couldn’t deny it. She kicks rocks along the ground as Jax follows behind her, hands in his pockets. “So, how did the sex talk go?” 

Winnie can hear the slight cockiness in his tone, she definitely can read the smug smirk he has written all over his face. “What?” she hisses. “Are you hoping that I told my mum and dad we boned?” 

“Boned?” he laughs. “Made love you mean?” but he catches up, bumping his shoulder into hers. “No, I’m just trying to figure out if I should be keeping a low profile from your mum. Maybe tomorrow when I pick you up, she might have a shotgun to my head.” 

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic,” Winnie laughs. “And isn’t usually the father who stands at the door with a shotgun?” 

“Well,” he starts. “Usually, but your dad is the kindest man on earth. It’s your mum that’s scary… and you’re…” he trails off. 

“Go on,” Winnie challenges. “Say it.” 

“You’re so much like her, and you’re scary so....” 

“Not scary enough for you to not want to have sex with me,” she mumbles.

They walk in silence, Jax popping his chewing gum loudly as she watches his feet kicking along with hers. They had been best friends for as long as she can remember, in the same class for their entire lives except for in Primary when they were eight and they were separated which Winnie can say, hand on heart, was the worst year of her life. They’d been through everything together, from Frankie Thompson’s attempt at trying to beat Winnie in a running race that Jax had sabotaged for her. From the awkward end of Primary disco in which his date stood him up, the weird first week of High School and the time Jax forgot to bring clothes to school for after swimming and she had to run all the way to his house to save him. There wasn’t anything that that hadn’t been through together, and she didn’t see it ending anytime soon either. 

There was, however, the time they decided to sleep together and she never did recover in the feels department, so, Winslow Milburn was stuck with feelings she definitely didn’t want and definitely didn’t know how to work through, regardless of how many of her father’s ‘talk it out’ methods she knows off by heart. 

It’s like Jax has read her mind when he pipes up and says; “I love you way too much for you to be too scary to make love to,” he corrects. “You’re my best friend.” 

Winnie forces a smile, letting the words that she’s been saying to him repeat in her mind put from his mouth. ‘You’re my best friend…’ she regrets laughing it off, from pushing him away. For convincing herself that he’s just a friend. “You’re a fucking git, aren’t you?” she laughs, a little too fake for her liking. She digs her elbow into his ribs. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” he says, pulling out his phone and reading from it. “You have a client at morning break and one at the pool after school.” 

“Do you know their problems?” she asks, happy to divert her thoughts away from her very, very trivial problems of her own. 

“Cindy Larkin’s doesn’t know what to do with Max’s obsession with her boobs and Ashar Amir’s got a problem with failing to get to completion…” 

“Wow,” Winnie says, raising an eyebrow. “Why is it that you sound so much more professional when you read our appointments out to me than I ever do?” 

“Probably because you’re a little rough around the edges.” 

“Yeah,” she agrees with a sigh. “But my dad is Otis Milburn. He’s as professional as they come…” 

Jax shrugs. “And my mum’s Viv but I still don’t know shit about trigonometry.”

That’s a lie, she thinks. Your the top of our year for trig…

Aptitude class was good until Viv started reading Winnie’s writing out loud. She’s not ashamed of anything she writes, but it still embarrasses her. It’s always a little awkward listening to her words come to life in the form of the very passionate Mrs Marchetti. 

Hurrying out of classes, she makes her way to the bathroom, putting her middle finger up as someone comments on her jeans, obviously not realising that taste is a thing and retro is cooler than skinny jeans and ripped jeans are a thing of the past. “Tapered jeans,” she yelled out. “Look them up!” 

Once she gets to the basin, she touches up the dark liner of her eyes. She messes her brown hair just a little. Flat is not cool, she tells herself. 

She rushes out again, making her way to the assembly hall, she brushes past Jax who’s leaning against the wall outside before heading up to the mezzanine. Once up the stairs, she’s face to face with her newest client Cindy. “How’s it going then?” she asks. 

Cindy is frantic, pacing the floor. “Marchetti said you could help me out?” 

“Depends,” Winnie replies calmly. “What’s the problem?”

“Have you even had sex before?” Cindy asks with a slight snigger. 

Winnie doesn’t want to think of the technicalities of it like the fact that she did have sex with intentions of having done the act actually helping out with giving advice in her business. “Yes…” 

Cindy gives a sigh of relief, rushing over to sit next to Winnie. Before Winnie knows it, she’s opening up. 

She gives advice, something vague about tits being metaphorical. She doesn’t believe her own advice, not in the slightest. Max is a boob guy, there’s nothing deep and meaningful about it. But Cindy buys it and therefore, she pays for hers and Jax’s next trip to the city and that was all that matters. 

They deserve a little holiday after all the hard work they put into the business. 

She watched Jax swim for a solid hour before Ashar Amir turned up, tears brimming in her eyes which is something that Winnie really doesn’t know what to do with and comforting people is way outside of her professional skill range. Having told her she doesn’t need to concentrate so hard on the actual completion and focus more on just enjoying herself and her body, Winnie was satisfied that she had done a decent job today. 

She waits at the pool while Jax climbs out. She didn’t want to catch herself objectifying his body in any way, but it was a lot harder than she had anticipated, especially as he’s dripping with water right in front of her. But she remains cool, she flicks her hair over her shoulder. She tells him it’s fine, she’ll wait for him to get dressed and they’ll head home together. 

“Hey frog legs,” sounds behind her and Winnie spins on her heels, forcing a smile that she’s not sure will tell her mother that she was staring at her best friend, or maybe just convince her that she enjoys spending time by large bodies of water.

“Hey mum,” she says, sinking into her mum’s embrace as she drapes her arm over her shoulders. 

“Thinking of joining the swim team?” she asks curiously, raising her eyebrow at Winnie.

“Nah,” she replies, trying to look away. “Just enjoy being around large bodies of water…” 

Maeve chuckles, leaning her head on Winnie’s. “How was your day?”

Quite ordinary, she thinks. Which is the way I like it… “Not bad. Viv read my writing out to the class and, naturally, I died a little inside.” 

Maeve laughs. “Well, at least she didn’t read it out over the speaker to the entire school…”

“I would have already forced myself six feet under if that had happened.” 

“I’m going to see Aunt Aimee, you coming? Cuppa and scones, her specialty!” 

Winnie holds in a shudder, thinking about the bricks that she would have to force down. “Nah, I’m okay. I told Jax I’d walk home with him… You know how scared of the outdoors he is,” she jokes. 

Maeve kisses her on the cheek. “See you at home then. And please try and spare your father the hassle by not tormenting your sister.”

“Can’t guarantee it!” she calls after her mum. “She’s just so tormentable!” 

“That’s not a thing, Winslow!”

“Well it oughta be,” she mumbles to herself.

They got home and Otis had made them guacamole and chips. Jax’s favourite, but not hers. She’s swamped under a pile of social studies notes, yet Jax is simply enjoying the ride, eating all the food and laughing with her father. “You got to give me the recipe to this one day, I swear it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Jax exclaims. 

Otis looks at him over the top of his glasses. “Your dad makes this.”

“There’s something missing though,” Jax says with a frown. “It’s not quite the same.” 

“It’s probably the most important ingredient.” 

“What is it?” Jax asks, almost on the edge of his seat.

Just as Otis answers with; “Love,” Winnie mouths it along with him. 

Jax clicks his fingers with a laugh. “You got me, man. That’s it!”

Austen bangs her feet against the kitchen bench as she does her homework, the rhythmic hitting tapping into Winnie’s brain just so , making her crazy. “Can you shut up?!” she hisses at her baby sister. 

“Cut it out, pet,” Otis warns over his cup of tea. “Your sister might just attempt murder.” 

Jax and Otis both chuckle in unison, but Winnie grinds her teeth. If only her father knew. Austen just laughs menacingly. “Jax,” Austen whines. “Are you Winnie’s boyfriend?” 

Winnie notices that the question doesn’t seem to annoy him even half as much as it annoys her. He gives her a calm smile. “I’m a boy, I’m her friend. You figure that out.” 

Austen gives her sister a satisfied look. Note to self, she thinks. Kill the ten year old... 

“You know,” Otis chimes in. “Your mum and I started dating when we weren’t that much older than Jax and Winnie…” 

Winnie feels embarrassed. Or like her guts was turning inside out, or like she wants to yell at her father. Or that she wants to yell at her sister . She’s not sure where her frustration lies, but it does lie somewhere in her kitchen. Jax laughs it off but she does not appreciate the insinuation that maybe they’re dating, or that maybe they should be just because her parents found each other in High School. Mostly, she feels mad because the feelings she has towards the boy sitting at her kitchen, eating her food are exactly that - feelings that she does not want to feel . 

She gets up from the table, pulling Jax by the arm. “Time to go, I think!” 

“Oh, but I was just getting to the last of the guac!” he argues but he gives up, giving Otis a weak smile as he’s dragged from the kitchen. “Thanks for the snack! See you guys in the morning!” 

Winnie drags him from the kitchen all the way to the end of the driveway, only moving out of the way as her mother drives in. “Going home, Jax?!” she asks through the window. 

“Apparently so!” he answers. 

Maeve continues up the driveway and Winnie is left with Jax’s smile on her and a nervous grin back at him. “See you tomorrow then?” she says. “You’ve already told my entire family, so you better live up to the promise.” 

Winnie turns away but is pulled back when Jax’s hand is on her shoulder. “Winnie, wait.” 

She turns around and meets his eyes. Unsure of what she can see in them, she squints a little harder just to end up feeling stupid. You cannot actually read eyes, Winslow… “Yes?” 

“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” 

She pinpoints something in his look. Concern. Maybe pining… she isn’t so sure. “Of course.”

“And that nothing will come between us?” he says, tilting his head to look at her. “Right?”

“Of course,” she murmurs, watching his lips move and the nervous steps he takes from side to side. 

“Good,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, but I think I’m going to ask Clara Jones out on a proper date,” he says excitedly. “And I needed to get your blessing!”

Winnie can hear something in her. It’s shattering, More like an intense crashing inside of her. There was no blessing, it was only heartbreak. It feels the same as the way her mouth feels as it forcibly tears itself into an awkward smile and she manages to move her body and hands just enough to be convincing. “Oh my god, dude!” she shrieks. “Of course! Go get her, tiger!”

Jax throws his arms around her, it makes her heart feel worse. It also makes her want to throw both her hands around his neck. You can’t kill everyone, Winnie, she tells herself. “I love you, Winslow! And nothing will ever tear us apart, you hear me? We’ve been friends our entire lives!”

Time means nothing, she thinks. Unless you’re rapidly running out of it… another murderous thought that she must push to the side. “You’re stuck with me for life now, innit?”

Jax laughs but his face screws up, peering into the distance. “Is that your mum peeping through the window?”

Winnie groans. “The house has such big fucking windows,” she mutters. “You’d think she’d stop trying to hide behind the curtains to watch me. I can see her.” 

Later that night when she’s in bed, eyes squeezed shut, silently cursing everyone around her she feels her mother’s hand on her hair, stroking it back. “She’s always so chippy,” she moans in a whisper.

“Wonder where she gets that from?” her father replies, humour laced in his own hushed voice.

Her mother clicks her tongue. “I hope she realises we’re here for her, every step of the way…”

“Even the step where Jax is in love with my daughter?”

“Shush, Otis!” Her mother whines. “You’ll wake her up.”

“You know I’m right. He loves her. They’re just too young to see it.”

“If it’s true, I’ll break his skinny legs,” Maeve mutters.

She pretends to sleep a little longer. Enjoying the quiet banter around her, mind racing with the thoughts that maybe her father is right. And if he is, she hates Jax even more.

Winnie loves that her mother calls their home ‘the house with big windows’ . Even for all her messy mind and guarded heart, she knows this is always where she’s most safe.

At home.