Author's Note: Welcome to chapter 10!
Her lungs burned and each small breath made it feel as though her chest were in a vice as she laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and she was truly beginning to wonder if this was what it felt like when one was dying. For going on a week now, she had been having a hard time catching her breath and the bouts of coughing she was having were just horrendous. It got so bad some days that she would end up vomiting and that only made her feel ten times worse, but was her husband concerned about her or her health in the slightest? Did he stop thinking about his needs and wants for even a minute to consider hers? No, because that was too much to ask.
Rather than doing all he could to care for her and help make this period – however long it lasted – the tiniest bit easier for her to bear, he was doing the total opposite of that. He was doing all he could to avoid her and create as much distance as possible between them so he could go on ignoring the fact that she was unwell. He essentially banned her from their bedroom the other night, telling her to go and make up the bed in the guest room and sleep in there on account of all her coughing making it hard for him to sleep. Since he'd been taken on at the coal pits, he was more miserable than ever and it was the last thing she really needed at the moment.
A glance at the little clock on her nightstand told her that it was half past four, so she had been lying there for six hours at this point and still hadn't succeeded in getting a wink of sleep. It would be pointless to try and do so now though. Ciarán would be up soon and he would come in should she still be in bed by then, telling her to get up before walking over and making her do it himself were she to try and argue with him on the matter. No, it would be easier to just go and get his breakfast sorted and then she could come back to bed for an hour or so when he went to work. It wouldn't do a lot, no doubt, but a little rest was better than none in her mind.
Using the little strength she had, she pushed back the covers and got up before walking across the room to the chair near the door and reaching for her dressing gown. She pulled it on, making sure she tied the cords tight about her waist since she knew it would be freezing in the kitchen, and then she made her way from the room before tiptoeing down the stairs. It wouldn't do for her to be loud and wake her husband earlier than planned when she was already in his bad books. If she were to do so, no doubt she would be made to hear all about it for the rest of the week and there was nothing to say she could be patient with him for that long while this ill.
There was a chance she would snap at him and that would only make things even worse.
Well, if things could get any worse at this point.
Walking into the kitchen, she set about making a start on Ciarán's breakfast and it wasn't long until she heard him on the staircase. She chose not to turn around when she heard him enter the kitchen with the hope that it would make him leave her be, but she was wrong as per usual. He came up behind her and she could feel him against her back as she poured the beans into the saucepan on the stove. "You still kept me up half the night with all that noise, so don't blame me should I not be in the best mood when I get home tonight," He said in her ear, his lips brushing against her skin while he spoke. "You better give this little act up soon, girl, I swear."
"I keep saying it's not an act," She told him in a hoarse voice. "Believe me, if I could sleep at night I would."
He muttered something in response and turned to walk away from her and head over to the table, but just as he made it there he heard her start coughing and turned in place to watch her catch it in the pit of her elbow. "You really are disgusting…" He shook his head at her, pulling his face. "Coughing all over my food like that."
It took her a moment or so to get her coughing under control and her chest was killing her, but she fought to get her breath back and then looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm not a complete idiot, whatever you believe. I coughed into my arm, not all over your food, and if you were that concerned by it you would do it yourself."
"I wouldn't degrade myself to such a level," He glared at her. "You expect me to do a woman's work? Really?"
"No, but a man who genuinely loved his wife would," She retorted. "My father used to do it for my mother."
He snorted. "Your father is no man, trust me, he's no authority and he lets that wench just walk all over him."
"Don't talk about my parents in that way."
"Oh, I would have thought you'd have no objection given the way you spoke to them before you married me."
"You…" She fought back tears as she turned her back to him. "You don't need to remind me."
"I think I recall your exact words being that you hated him for refusing to give me his blessing," He pushed a hand through his hair. "You told him and your mother that you were moving to Ireland with me the moment the documents were signed. You could hardly wait to be free from them and their controlling, meddling ways."
Deep down, she wanted to turn around and scream at him to shut up and never mention either of them again. She wanted to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about and he was fabricating the whole thing, but that wouldn't change the fact that it was really the truth. If there was one thing she regretted more than taking him as her husband then it was the way she left things with her parents. It was awful and downright appalling, the way she spoke to them the last time they were together before she relocated to Ireland. She longed to write and apologise, telling them they were right about everything and she was foolish, but Ciarán refused to let her.
Plus, there was nothing to say they would even read the words she wrote.
It was more likely they would just tear the letter up and throw it on the furnace because she would.
"Your father loved you more than anything else on earth, you know," Her husband's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I know all about how they failed to get pregnant for years and years and years, but then you arrived and changed everything for them. You were his 'princess' which is a terribly girlish term to use in my opinion, but again this is your father we're talking about. He gave you everything you desired even when your mother told him not to spoil you and the man's only real crime was to adore you, but you were so ungrateful for that. You took all that generosity and all that love and just…well, you threw it back in his face and broke his heart."
"I do love him, Ciarán, whatever you may think." She told him tearfully, putting his breakfast on a plate.
"You have a right funny way of showing it," He chuckled while watching her carry his food over to the table. "Your parents are probably relieved they no longer have to put up with you. I would be if you were my wain."
She looked at him for a moment. "Mmm, well, you don't have to worry about that because I'm not."
"Fortunately." He grumbled.
"Fortunate for whom?" She spat. "Because I assure you that one of us is much more fortunate than the other."
Choosing not to give him any time to respond to that, she set the plate in her hand down on the table and left the kitchen to make her way back to her bedroom. Only when she was in there did she truly let herself break down, leaning back against the door, and her loud and harsh sobs did nothing to help her chest as she slid to the carpet beneath her feet. It didn't bother her if Ciarán heard her or not at this point. He could say what he liked to her normally and she would take it on the chin and try not to let it bother her too much, but the way she left things with her parents was such a sore spot for her and it was one that he genuinely loved to play on.
All she wanted to do was make peace with them, but he would never give her the chance.
She wanted to let them know how sorry she was and that she should have listened to them, but she couldn't.
And that was something she would carry around with her for the rest of her life.
If she wasn't coughing then she was battling to breathe and if she wasn't battling to breathe, she was itching.
It hadn't started until about noon, the incessant itchiness, but it came on suddenly and with a vengeance and it was driving her insane. Initially, while reading on the sofa, she thought it was nothing to be all that concerned about and so she ignored it. It just got worse in time though and it got to a point where nothing she did took her mind away from it, so she decided to pull the sleeve of her dress up and that was when she noticed them. All the large, nasty, irritated red blotches that went all the way up her arm. Her other arm was just as bad and when she went upstairs to look in the bathroom mirror, she noticed they were covering her neck and face also.
It worried her to no end, the sight of it, and she was certain there was something deathly wrong with her until she gave herself no choice but to calm down. She returned downstairs and made herself some well sugared tea to calm her nerves before going to sit in the lounge again. It was only on her way back in that she noticed the horrid dark patch on the wall and it all began to click into place for her. It was the mould making her so sick. She thought she managed to get it all when she was cleaning and that she did a good job, but it clearly started to come back and she failed to see it. Most of her time was spent in the lounge too, meaning she was exposed.
It was her hope that her health would begin to improve if she was able to get rid of the remaining mould, so she got a bucket of boiling water, a scrubbing brush and the bar of soap and she must have spent a solid hour going at it. Working herself so hard was probably one of the worst things she could have done though, looking back now while curled up on the sofa with a blanket, because she felt worse than she had before and each tiny breath caused her so much pain. "I know, I know, Mammy was silly to do that," She rasped, resting a hand on her bump when she felt the baby move. "But my being ill mustn't be doing a lot of good for you, my darling."
When she felt it push a tiny hand or foot against her palm in response to her touch, she managed a tiny smile. Her stomach was rounding out more and she was feeling more of its little kicks and movements now she was entering the fifth month of pregnancy. It was a lively one, there was no doubt about that, and it seemed to be under the impression it was time to play when she got into bed each night, but she wouldn't change a thing. It was hers, the one thing her husband couldn't take from her and was voluntarily choosing not to control, and it felt wonderful. It was getting harder and harder to remain patient, but there were just four months left to wait.
Four months until she could hold it.
Four months until she could stroke its tiny hands and study its tiny features
Just four months until she had all she ever really wanted.
Smoothing a hand over her stomach when she felt the baby start to relax again, she sighed and thought about all she was going to have to arrange in the coming months. She would have to walk down to the doctor's soon and request her name be put on record. Regular appointments were something she would likely be in need of as the time for her to give birth approached, so once that was in order she could think about sorting things for the baby. It would need cloths, clothes, a cot or something along those lines to sleep in and a number of other things, no doubt. How on earth she was going to obtain those things though, that was what really worried her.
Ciarán would be no help and she no longer had Aoibheann who was willing to let her have all she needed.
She still had the cot the girls used when they were babies and a number of tiny cardigans she was planning on letting her have, but that never happened. Her kindness and the generous spirit she had were only two things she loved about her. In all her life, she'd never had a friend as loyal and special as her and she knew for a fact she never would again. It was unlikely they would ever reunite and that broke her heart because she hated the way things were left between them – much like with her parents – but she hoped she knew she really did love her. Her friendship meant the world to her and it was something that she would never stop being thankful for.
It was hard to think of all she lost and all she potentially could have had should it not have been for Ciarán.
Years ago, back in Scotland, before he came along and ruined everything with all his lies and his manipulation, she was sweet on the boy down the road and there was no denying he felt the same. Faolan was always a quiet soul, one who hated being the centre of attention and preferred to keep himself to himself, but even at the age of sixteen he was a real gentleman and he never failed to make her blush and set her heart racing whenever he spoke to her. It always occurred to her that she would marry him someday and they would settle down on the farm when his father handed the deed to him. It was the thing she – well, both of them – wanted more than anything and they so very nearly had that when she caught Ciarán's eye in the packed public house that night.
If she hadn't let him get his claws in, no doubt her life would be perfect at this moment.
Her husband would love her, he would be thrilled she was carrying his baby and she would be so content.
Like Ciarán said to her not long ago though, this was a choice she made.
He manipulated her into marriage, that was true, but no one held a gun to her head and forced her to sign all those documents. She could have backed out any time she liked and none of this would have happened, but it didn't go like that and she made the choice to be legally known as Margaret Bates rather than Margaret Akins.
It was a terrible choice, but it was hers and one she could never – despite her longing – go back and change.
Once again, it was nearing midnight and her husband still hadn't bothered to come home.
It was the third time in the space of a week and she was getting tired of it.
If he only stayed out all night one time then she wouldn't think too much into it, but it was getting ridiculous at this point and the longer he stayed away from home the more her thoughts wandered. In the beginning, she truly tried – though she had no idea why – to make up reasons in her head for him to stay gone until dawn, but she was slowly beginning to accept that the real reason behind it had been staring her in the face all along.
He was being unfaithful.
Of course, she had no concrete proof of that and there was no telling what he might do to her if she so much as dared to bring it up without any, but that was the only conclusion she could come to at the moment. It was the only one that truly made sense too, honestly, because where else would he be? He wouldn't go so far as to spend the night on the streets just so he didn't have to come home to her and the pub had closing hours, so it made no sense for him to stay out unless he was with someone. One would think it would hurt her deeply, the mere thought of him in the arms of another, but it didn't bother her to the extent even she imagined it would.
In her mind, he left her long ago.
It was no secret that she meant nothing to him, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for him to do this.
Honestly, if there was one thing that hurt her most about thinking he might have taken a mistress was that he had managed to lure in another. He was no doubt promising her the world and more and putting her on such a pedestal, but she had no idea it was all a lie and he was incapable of truly loving anyone other than himself. She should probably hate her for getting involved with a married man – though he no doubt conveniently left out he even had a pregnant wife at home – but her heart bled for her more than anything and all she wanted was to tell her to run before it became too late to do so. Before she found herself in the same position she was.
In her heart though, she knew she had no way of achieving such a thing.
Her husband was just going to continue ruining lives wherever he went and there was nothing she could do.
Absolutely nothing.
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this chapter! I would love for you to let me know what you think if you have the time to do so and I will see you all in the next one.