Free Precious Things by Kelly Doust

makeup and exercise books, and glossy magazines with lurid headlines like ‘HOW TO PLEASE YOUR MAN IN BED’ and ‘TEN TIPS FOR TOP ORGASMS’. Stepping over a pile of dirty underwear and T-shirts to close the window, Maggie felt sick imagining Pearl stumbling across Stella’s magazines – she could almost read already, and the graphic pictures of half-naked models inside left little to the imagination.
    Maggie noticed the bedside table and saw the open drawer poking out a few inches. Taking a quick look over her shoulder, she slid it open a bit more. There were piles of ticket stubs, cheap pots of nail polish in various shades of neon and inky black, as well as a lighter. What was that doing in there? Maggie pulled out the drawer further and saw a soft pack of Marlboro Lights shoved towards the very back. Beside a ten-pack of coloured condoms, unopened.
    Cripes! Maggie thought. She knew Stella was a normal, hormonal teenager, but wasn’t it a little soon to be getting into this already? Honestly, though, what did she know about modern teenagers? Fifteen did seem rather young, but it looked like someone would have to have a chat with Stella about birth control. She could just imagine what Tim would say – it had better be her who did it.
    But why is this my responsibility? Maggie thought with frustration, slamming the window shut. I don’t feel like I’m ready to deal with any of this yet. What about her own mother – where’s she? They had barely heard from Louisa once Stella moved in, and Stella remained steadfastly tight-lipped on anything to do with her. Neither Tim nor Maggie had any idea what had gone on between them, and Louisa was proving to be equally elusive on the matter.
    Maggie chewed a fingernail, wondering if she should poke around a bit more, but nervous about what she might find. Just then, she heard her phone ringing on the nightstand. Running out of the room, she slammed the door shut behind her.
    â€˜Hello?’ Maggie said, snatching up the phone on the last ring and belatedly realising it was her friend Rachel.
    â€˜Mags. Hi. Sorry to call you in the morning – I know it’s always a bit of a struggle. But I need to talk. Have you got a sec?’
    Maggie’s eyes flickered to the alarm clock beside the bed. ‘Just a couple of minutes, actually – I have that television segment on this morning, I’m just about to leave.’
    â€˜Oh! The one on Mornings with Penelope Smiley . . . I forgot, sorry. I won’t keep you then.’ Rachel sounded upset. ‘I’m just . . . I’m in a bit of a dilemma . . .’
    â€˜It’s okay, I’ve got a minute or two.’
    As Rachel told her the news, Maggie’s eyes widened and she found she had to sit down.
    â€˜Where did you meet him, then?’ she asked when Rachel eventually paused for breath.
    â€˜At work.’ Rachel rushed on. ‘Where else? Oh, Mags, I don’t know what to do . . . He’s just so gorgeous. And . . .’
    â€˜And what?’ Maggie asked, hearing the slightest tinge of sharpness enter her voice.
    â€˜We’ve already . . . you know,’ said Rachel. ‘Last night. What should I do?’
    Maggie sighed. ‘Oh, Rachel . . .’ The words escaped her lips before she could help herself. All she could think about was Rachel’s wedding to John, a staff photographer for the Daily Mail , and their glamorous Henley-on-Thames ceremony just a year earlier. They had looked so happy together, Rachel with her flaming red curls, smiling up at John as he tipped her on the dance floor.
    Maggie and Rachel had met years ago, while Maggie was still working as a loss adjuster for a large insurance firm and Rachel was interning in their public affairs department. Rachel now held a very senior role at Broadcast Music, an organisation responsible for collecting licence fees for British artists and composers. Maggie had always