To preface, this fic is based on the novel though the characters have the appearances of the television series (as they are quite opposite in the book, notably with Jackie and Maggie).
Dedicated to Sarah.
1975
Jackie Jackson had always been an ugly crier, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, with red-rimmed eyes, swollen lips, and big streaks of mascara running down her plump cheeks, she thought she looked like Frankenstein's monster. She felt about the same, too. The pregnancy had made her heavy and stiff as the dead, and with deep stretch marks running up her stomach and along her arms, she even looked stitched-together.
She was seventeen years old and already eight-and-a-half months pregnant with her first born—a daughter, her mother and everyone else told her, because the babe was sitting high and Jackie looked (and felt!) as wide as a house. Even Freddie had told her as much, which hurt, but she always laughed before she cried about it.
That's what she was doing now; crying over Freddie, and her mum, Lena, was annoyed. Only three months ago, the two had gotten married and lived together in a council flat only a short bus ride away, and already Jackie had shown up in tears no less than ten times sobbing over something her inconsiderate husband had done. Even her dark-eyed beauty of a younger sister, Maggie, was fed up with the mess her sister had become.
'Give it a rest, will you?' said Lena from the sitting room, as Jackie blew her runny nose on a wad of toilet paper. '...You don't need to make a show out of yourself. You're certainly not going to impress us.'
'He was shagging around!' Jackie spat nasally in response. 'I could smell it on him when he come home last night!'
'Well,' said Lena through a scoff. 'Of course he is. Look at what he's come home to.'
Immediately, she regretted her words. Even Maggie peered over from her spot on the settee. Of course, what she'd meant had been that Jackie was a weeping mess, but the poor girl had as much self esteem as she had sense, ever since she'd married that reckless gangster. And so, the scream and loud slamming of the bathroom door, as well as the noisy sobbing that followed, were both expected and dreaded by Lena and her youngest daughter.
'What did that do, Mum?' said Maggie, annoyed.
Jackie pressed her back to the door and sank down onto the floor, wailing wildly. Of course, part of it was to get that attention she craved. She'd always been a stroppy little mare, loud-mouthed and at the center of the attention. Her need to be in the limelight had only grown since her five year-old sister was born, and now the much prettier, kinder, and sweeter of the two Summers sisters was the subject of all of Jackie's jealousy and hate. Even her Freddie had made a comment or two about the girl that had driven a stake in her heart.
And yet, Jackie Summers, now Jackie Jackson, didn't direct any anger at her husband. For every time he'd insulted her weight, which had grown exponentially in her pregnancy, she remembered one that he'd commented how nice her cleavage looked in a dress. He wasn't all bad, she thought. And her mum was right: who'd want to come home to a wailing cow with a belly as round as the moon, grown-out roots, and makeup streaking down her cheeks?
She lifted herself from the cold, tiled flooring and waddled over to the sink. She looked a mess, but it wasn't completely unfixable, she thought. She splashed a bit of water on her face and rubbed the thick layer of foundation and mascara off her cheeks with a towel. Setting it down, she then ran a brush over her long, feathered hair to pull the loose strands back in place (Freddie had said she looked a bit like Farrah Fawcett, so she'd kept it styled like that for some time now). With a little bit of lipstick, in her baggy chiffon blouse, sequined shorts (which she insisted on wearing, even though they were far too tight on her now), and thick-heeled boots, she almost looked like a rock star.
She remembered when Freddie had treated her like one. Oh, hell, they'd had a ride. They were so completely in love with one another that it didn't matter that his mother Maddie scrutinized her every move, or that her own parents had told her Freddie was bad news. When they'd started seeing each other, no one else mattered. Even if the Earth collided with the sun, she wouldn't have cared, as long as she was in her Freddie's arms when they burnt up. She'd fallen arse-over-tit and couldn't get up.
He'd been good to her, too. Made her feel like she was the Juliet to his Romeo. Which was why it hurt so bloody bad to think he might be treating another woman like that, puffing her up like his sun and stars while he's got a pregnant wife, crying herself to sleep at home.
They're just slags, she reassured herself. He'll be done with them once he's done with them, and then he'll come back. They always do.
Now that she thought of it, all of the great icons of romance seemed to end in tragedy, and she was beginning to know why.
When Maggie Summers emerged from the door, Jackie had sunk down onto the toilet, pressing her red face to her hands. She was sick of crying, sick of feeling lower than dirt, and sick to her stomach, now that the baby started wriggling around inside of her. She looked about ready to pop any day now, and she sure as hell felt like it. She just wanted the thing out, if only to look good for her Freddie again.
Jackie peered up through her fingers with an envious eye. Her sister had always been prettier, even as a baby, with big, glossy brown eyes and rosy cheeks, and she'd grown into a lean girl with long, silky hair and a friendly smile. Jackie knew that once the girl hit puberty, she'd always steal the spotlight, and she was dreading the day when low-cut shorts and midriff-bearing shirts started finding their way into the Summers' laundry pile.
Jackie's only claim to fame had been that she'd developed early. Even at twelve, she was being sought after by men, and at fourteen she looked like a proper young woman. She'd grown a large bust and dressed to show it off, and though she'd never really been thin, her curves had been in all the right places.
Now, she was going through what she should have been at twice her age; her breasts had sagged and her belly was large and wide, too. She saw the women in those mother's magazines with their tight, toned bellies and their perky breasts and glowing faces. All lies, she thought, and then bitterly wondered what her sister would look like pregnant. The vindictive part of her wished she'd drop out and sag like she and their mother had, but knowing Maggie, she'd probably look young and beautiful at eighty.
And Maggie wasn't dumb enough to get knocked up and married at seventeen. All Jackie could see in her future was a couple more kids heaved into that shabby flat of theirs, but Maggie had the world at her fingertips.
Jackie hated her for it.
'You know, you shouldn't wear those boots,' said Maggie, sitting on the edge of the tub. 'Your feet probably don't feel too good in those. —And you shouldn't smoke!' The sudden interjection was due to Jackie pulling out a pack from the nearby cupboard. 'It's bad for the baby.'
Maggie had always spoken like a girl three times her age. It was easy to forget how young she was when she both looked and sounded like a teenager. Not even ten years old and she was already more mature than her loud-mouthed, teenage sister.
'And what do you know?' said Jackie stubbornly, lighting up without a second thought. 'You're a kid.'
'Yeah, and smarter than you,' retorted Maggie, and she immediately regretted it. She always had to be so careful around her older sister, always had to be the mature one. Jackie was so touchy those days, and ever since she'd been with Freddie, it had only gotten worse.
'Look,' she went onto say, softer now that she saw her sister was on the brink of angry tears again. 'Why don't you take a bath and get cleaned up, yeah? You'll feel better, and so will Freddie when he sees you, alright?'
Even as young as she was, she knew mentioning Freddie would get Jackie to agree, at the bleached-blonde nodded, standing weakly while Maggie went to starting the bath.
If people like this, more chapters will come.
