TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "YEAR" - MAGGIE'S STORY

For reasons too complicated to explain, I'm not posting more of "Santa's Thrift Shop." Instead, we're switching to "Maggie's Story", a novella I began some time ago. This heartfelt and funny tale is on my schedule to complete this year. 
Tuesday Tales will be helpful in jumpstarting this story in my head. I hope you enjoy it. It's a prequel to one of the Mathattan Dinner club books. 
Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for stopping by. 

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London, England, Thirty years ago

 “Just don’t get preggers again. Okay?” Her mother whispered.

“It’s not like I’m going to take up with some random stranger, Mum,” Maggie said, twisting a handkerchief in her hand.

“Just be a good girl. Do what they tell you.” Her mother patted her hand.

“I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-two,” the young woman mumbled.

Maggie glared at her mother. A loud whistle startled the women.

“Time for me to go.” With a quick wave, Maggie’s mother exited down the gangway as the ship prepared to depart.

Maggie Chadwick spotted the woman making her way to the underground to return home. Glad to have this bad seed off her hands, I bet. Sure, she’d gotten knocked up –every mother’s nightmare. Maggie never expected Nigel to bug off to Wales.

Broken-hearted and penny-less, Maggie had given up her small flat in London and moved back home with her family. Though she didn’t want it, her mum maneuvered her into having an abortion, explaining to her daughter it was the only way to get a fresh start. Maggie didn’t want a fresh start –she wanted Nigel and, especially, her baby. But it was 1979, she claimed to be a modern woman. It shouldn’t bother her much, but it did.

“You’ll have more, dearie, when you’re ready. The legit way. Married and all. You’ll forget this soon enough,” her mother had said.

Maggie didn’t agree, but kept silent.

With no money and her dad threatening to toss her out, she had no choice but to go along. After the procedure, she stayed in her room, crying, for three weeks. That’s when her dad took steps. He called the relatives in New York City.

“At least I’ll have some peace in me own home,” he’d muttered after he’d made arrangements.  

“Bootin’ me off to the relatives. Washing yer hands of me, eh? Nice, dad. Real nice.”

“What do you expect me to do? Cryin’ all day long, not lookin’ for a job. I can’t afford to keep you, lass. Go to New York. Maybe they can talk some sense into you. And stay away from men!”

It was useless to argue. He was a hard-working man who pinched every penny. She knew he’d resent her for the money it cost to get rid of her.
"It's just for a year, Maggie," her mother said. But Maggie knew the truth. 

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