Page 21 of Two Hit Wonder

"He's making faces at that man."

They all looked. Robbie was standing in front of a businessman in a suit, pulling his nose up with one finger and sticking out his tongue. The businessman looked deeply uncomfortable.

"Robbie Campbell, get over here right now or I swear to God…"

Robbie trotted over, looking entirely unrepentant.

The platform announcement crackled overhead. The train to London was approaching. Maeve felt her stomach drop.

"Right," Glinna said. "This is it, then. Have you told Iona you're coming?"

Maeve concentrated very hard on adjusting her rucksack strap.

"Maeve."

"I'll call her from the train."

"You haven't told her." It wasn't a question.

"I was going to. I just… haven't yet."

Glinna's expression shifted into something more serious, the chaos of children fading into background noise. "That's not a good idea. You know that, right? Going somewhere new, somewhere with pressure and history and all of it, without anyone knowing you're coming? Without a support network?"

Maeve felt the familiar prickle of defensiveness. "I can handle it."

"I know you can handle it. You've handled worse. But handling it alone and handling it with support are two different things." Glinna put a hand on her arm, warm and grounding. "Call her. Before you get there. Let someone know you're coming. That's not weakness, Maeve. That's sense."

The train was pulling into the platform now, brakes squealing, windows flashing past in a blur of light.

"Fine," Maeve said. "I'll call her."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good. And make sure you phone me as well." Glinna pulled her into a hug, squashing Charity between them. The baby made an indignant noise but didn't cry. "Now go on. Before you talk yourself out of it."

Maeve picked up her guitar case and stepped toward the train. The doors opened with a hiss. She climbed aboard, found a seat by the window, shoved her rucksack into the overhead rack, and sat down heavily.

This was happening. She was actually doing this.

She looked out the window at Glinna, who was waving with one hand while trying to stop Isla from running onto the tracks with the other. Robbie was playing on the phone he’d taken out of Glinna’s back pocket. Charity was crying now, probably insulted by the hug. And Hamish…

Maeve's blood went cold.

Hamish was not on the platform.

In fact, Hamish was sitting in the seat directly opposite her, swinging his legs and grinning like a small, demonic cherub. "Hello, Auntie Maeve," he said cheerfully. "Are we going on an adventure?"

"Oh, sweet, sweet Jesus." Maeve lunged across the aisle, grabbed Hamish under the arms, and sprinted for the door. The whistle was blowing. The doors were starting to close. She thrust the child through the gap, directly into Glinna's startled arms, and stumbled backward as the doors slid shut an inch from her nose.

Through the glass, she could see Glinna's face, a mixture of horror and hysterical laughter. Hamish looked disappointed. The train began to move.

Maeve pressed her forehead against the window and let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in her chest for approximately seven years.

"Goodbye, Hamish," she muttered. "Please never do that again."

She made her way back to her seat on unsteady legs and collapsed into it. Her heart was still pounding. She'd almost accidentally kidnapped her best friend's seven-year-old. That would have been a fantastic way to start this whole endeavor.