by Martina Cole
Gabby, he kept reminding himself, was very young, and she had made a very stupid mistake. He could forgive her that – of course he could – but he could not forgive her abandoning their child like this. She was promising to come and see him in a few weeks. She had missed the last few visits, and her letters had been sparse as well. Now he fucking well knew why.
He had missed Gabby, but he had also missed the baby. He hadn’t seen her many times but he loved that child. She was a pretty contented little thing, always smiling and beautifully turned out.
This was the worst bit about being in prison; the world outside carried on, and there was nothing you could do about that. When things went wrong, like this trouble with Gabby, he couldn’t help because he was stuck in here. Being helpless to do anything for the people he loved was worse than anything else he could think of.
Chapter One Hundred and One
‘Look, Cherie, look at the pictures with Mummy.’
But Cherie wanted to get off her mother’s lap, and sit with her nanny. Cynthia was holding a drink of apple juice, which she knew was Cherie’s favourite treat at the moment. She picked up the child and sat her on her knee smiling at her daughter’s crestfallen countenance.
‘Listen to me, Gabriella – kids are amoral. They go to whoever feeds them. It’s nothing personal, darling.’
Gabby smiled but her heart wasn’t in it.
‘I’ll have to get her ready soon, love. She goes to a playgroup a few hours a day now, three times a week. She’s making friends, bless her heart. While she’s there, I nip up the shops, or go to the gym. I love her, darling, but she’s a handful.’
Gabby felt she was being dismissed; she knew her mother was telling her she had better go soon. She made her feel as if she was holding the pair of them up somehow, was in the way. In fact, she realised that her mother had not even offered her a cup of coffee. She had only been there twenty minutes, if that, and she was already being asked, albeit politely, to leave.
‘I can wait at the playgroup with her . . .’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gabs, and, to be honest, I think you unsettle her. She has got into a routine, and Miss Byrne thinks she needs more structure in her life. Plus, I’ve arranged for her to go to tea with one of the little girls there. Dear little thing too, though not a patch on our Cherie!’
Gabby tried another tack. ‘But I’m taking her to visit Vincent tomorrow – he’ll expect to see her.’
Cynthia grinned then, and it was the old Cynthia for a few moments. ‘Well, not a lot he can do about that, girl, is there? He should have thought of that before he got himself banged up.’
‘But he wants to see her.’
‘Well, then, in that case, he’ll know what it’s like to want, won’t he? I promised Miss Byrne that I would do whatever is right for this baby and, at the moment, I don’t think you should be around her. Not until you’ve sorted yourself out. Drug addicts are—’
Gabby interjected, shocked at her mother’s choice of words, ‘Drug addict! I ain’t a fucking drug addict . . .’
Cynthia shrugged. ‘Drug dealer then. Let’s not split hairs, love. I don’t think it’s fair on this child to drag her from pillar to post, OK? It’s not about what you want or what I want for that matter, it’s about what is best for this little child.’
Gabby couldn’t argue with that, but it was all wrong somehow. She was Cherie’s mother, and she loved her baby. She had made a silly mistake, but she was already paying the price for that. Gabby was confused; her mother was pushing her away again, and she had a sneaking suspicion that somehow she had played right into Cynthia’s hands and lost Cherie. Now her baby had a new mummy, and that was Cynthia Callahan. Suddenly, with stunning clarity, Gabby could see that her nana had been right – Cynthia had only wanted the baby, and she had used Gabby to get what she wanted. She felt as if someone had slapped her in the face.
‘I’ll ring you, Gabs, and we’ll make arrangements for you to come over next week, eh?’
Cynthia was standing with the child in her arms, and Gabby knew she had been outfoxed, outmanoeuvred, and was now surplus to requirements.
Chapter One Hundred and Two
‘She can’t take our child for good, Gabby. Use your loaf.’
Gabby was sitting opposite Vincent and her heart felt like lead in her chest. ‘But I realise now me nana was right about her. All her interest in me was for one reason only – to get Cherie.’
Vincent wasn’t in the mood for this today. He was feeling out of sorts anyway; he had a cold coming, and he was suffering from cabin fever. It came on most long-timers two or three times a year. Especially the younger ones. Being banged up was hard work, and you had to get your head around it.
He took a deep breath and counted to ten like the gym instructor had told him to when he felt the urge to lash out. After he had exhaled slowly he said, ‘I can’t do this today, Gabby, I really can’t deal with you moaning. You had a capture, you fucked up. We’ve all done it. All you can do now is make sure you sort it out, and sort yourself out while you’re at it. But I can’t help you, and the more you tell me, the harder it is for me, because I can’t walk out that door and come to your aid. And that is difficult for me to admit. You reckoned your mum had turned over a new leaf? Maybe she has. Maybe she has that child’s best interests at heart. But Cherie’s our daughter. So all I can say is get the court case over with, plead guilty and do a deal. Then work at getting Cherie back. Prove to your mum, the social workers, King Street Charlie if necessary, that you are back on track, and it will turn out right in the end. OK?’
She nodded then, her lovely face white with apprehension.
‘Now, how’s your nana and granddad?’
Chapter One Hundred and Three
David Duggan was very impressed with his neighbour Cynthia Callahan, especially when she told him her daughter was a recovering addict, and she now had to bring up her little granddaughter. From what she’d said, it seemed the daughter was like her father – weak willed and always looking for the easy option. Poor Cynthia told him she’d done everything she could, but the girl was a lost cause, and she could not allow that to happen to her granddaughter, which he thoroughly agreed with. The child was a delight too, and he felt they were becoming quite the little family unit.
He had taken to staying over a few nights a week; the sex was unbelievable, and the breakfasts the next morning with the little girl crowing and making them laugh had become the highlight of his existence. He didn’t know what he would do without Cynthia now – she had become such a big part of his life. She was also a fabulous cook, and she had taken to letting herself into his flat and doing his washing and ironing for him.
That she used those opportunities to rifle through his desk, and get her hands on his bank books he had no idea. She always gave him back his keys, so he had no way of knowing she had already had a set made for herself.
David Duggan felt that he was a very lucky man to be given a second chance at happiness at this stage of his life. And he thanked God every day for bringing Cynthia Callahan into his comfortable, but rather dreary, life.
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Cynthia adored her granddaughter and the feeling was entirely mutual. As she walked her in the park, Cynthia planned the child’s life; a good school, private of course, and nice friends. Once she had fleeced David she would move on, this time to a nice London suburb. A place where the child would be surrounded by the finer things in life.
Oh, it was as if she had been given a second chance at happiness, and she was grateful to the powers-that-be for giving it to her. The only problem was Gabriella; she would always have to put up with her having some kind of role in the child’s life, but she would make sure that her input was minimal at best. It irritated her but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. Well, not for a while anyway.
The social services thought she was the dog’s bollocks, and she had made sure of that by being the picture of kindness
and generosity. They agreed that her daughter was still too immature to look after a child, and she pointed out how well Cherie had settled with her, which was not a lie either. Cherie was very happy, and why wouldn’t she be? She was waited on hand and foot, clean and well fed. She had only the best clothes and shoes too; she was like a little doll, and Cynthia loved to dress her up.
The doorbell rang and she went to answer it; she hoped it wasn’t David, expecting a cup of coffee and a quick feel – she really wasn’t in the mood today. Opening the door, a smile plastered on her heavily made-up face, she was amazed to see her mother standing there.
‘Hello, Cynth, aren’t you going to invite me in? The social worker’s just parking the car.’
Then, walking past her speechless daughter, Mary went into the large lounge and, kneeling down, she opened her arms to little Cherie and said happily, ‘Hello, my little lovely, your great-nana’s here to see you.’
Chapter One Hundred and Five
Miss Byrne had a feeling that something was not right between Cynthia Callahan and her mother, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what that might be. They were polite enough to each other, but it was forced, as if they were both playing a part. Which, of course, they were.
Mary couldn’t help but be impressed with Cynthia’s home; although it was clean as clean could be, it still had the smell and feel of a real home. Cherie’s toys were scattered all over the place, something that she had never seen in Cynthia’s house when Gabby and James Junior were little. The poor things had been terrified of making a noise, let alone a mess.
Cherie looked well cared for and happy and that was what really hurt Mary Callahan. Why couldn’t Cynthia have been that way with her own children? Watching how the girl put her arms up to her grandmother to be picked up, and seeing Cynthia, her daughter Cynthia, smiling at the child with genuine affection, even love, Mary knew then that Gabby was going to have a fight on her hands to get that baby back. Cynthia was besotted with the child, and she had never seen her besotted by anything or anyone before – except maybe Jonny Parker, and look at how that had turned out.
The social worker was watching the interplay with fascination; this was a mother and daughter who obviously had issues. At least contact had been established though. She felt she was reuniting this family, and was quite pleased with herself because of it. Suicide, she knew, could divide families, as had clearly been the case here, but with a little help and some counselling, who knew what might be achieved. When she said as much a few minutes later, she was amazed at the way the two women laughed as if they were never going to stop.
Chapter One Hundred and Six
‘Jesus, Jack, she’s living like a fucking queen! The place is beautiful, and I hate to say this, but little Cherie is thriving. That’s the only way I can put it – positively thriving.’
Jack Callahan listened with growing dismay. It seemed that his Mary had been right all along and, as he looked at young Gabby, he raised his eyes as if to say, well, you were warned this would happen.
Gabby swallowed back the tears that were threatening to fall. ‘Did she look all right then, me mum? Was she all right about you going round there?’
Mary laughed gently. ‘She had no choice. I had the social worker with me, and you know your mother – she could get an Oscar for her acting. I hate to say I told you so, but I did, didn’t I? She wanted that child and now she’s got her, and there ain’t a thing you can do about it.’
‘But I’m her mum!’
It was the petulant cry of a child, which, in reality, was all Gabby was. For the first time Mary Callahan wondered if Cherie might be better off where she was, but she forced that thought out of her head. Cynthia wasn’t a person you could trust in the long term, she never had been.
‘Well, all we can do is go through the proper channels and hope in the meantime that your mother gets fed up playing happy families. But I wouldn’t bank on the latter, Gabby. I can honestly say I’ve never seen her so happy. I never saw a woman so obsessed with a child in my life. She won’t let go easily.’
Gabby felt the weight of her mother crushing down on her; she felt like she had as a small child, unable to fight back against the might that was her mum, against the self-righteousness that her mother cloaked every word in. She knew she had been a very stupid girl. Caught up in Christine Carter’s lifestyle, she had been too busy enjoying herself and forgotten her responsibilities. She wouldn’t lie to herself about that. Lonely without Vincent she had liked pretending to be a carefree young girl, clubbing, having a drink, a few laughs. She had also enjoyed taking the Es, and smoking a bit of dope with people her own age. She had even liked the attention she got from boys, although she had never succumbed to any of their advances – at least she had that going for her. She knew Vincent had heard rumours, and he was desperately disappointed in her, but she also knew he understood that she was young and she had been foolish and he had forgiven her.
Well, she had to get herself together – work towards getting Cherie back and creating some kind of life for them both. It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew that if she tried, she could do it.
Jack Callahan hugged his granddaughter to him as if he knew exactly what she thinking, and she wondered for the thousandth time how she could have been taken in by her mother. Even knowing everything she did about her, all she was capable of, she had still trusted her. Well, she would never make that mistake again.
Chapter One Hundred and Seven
2003
Cherie looked at her mother and shook her head petulantly. ‘I’m staying at Nanny’s. We’re going to a party tomorrow.’
Gabby, at twenty-one, was used to these kind of conversations with her little daughter; Cynthia always arranged lots of trips and parties when she was due to have her for the weekend. Gabby had learned a long time before to ignore the child’s wide-eyed pleading. Once she was out of her mother’s house, the girl was a different child.
‘No, you’re not. You’re coming with Mummy.’
Cherie glowered at Gabby, saying loudly, ‘But I hate it at your house, and Nana Mary smells bad.’
Gabby was itching to put her hand across her daughter’s arse but she restrained herself with difficulty. Her mum would be straight on to the social workers, reporting child abuse, beatings and anything else she could think of.
Cynthia watched the exchange with a small satisfied smile on her lips. She had to give it to her daughter, Gabby was resolute. Well, she got that from her but, unlike her, she wouldn’t be able to keep it up indefinitely.
‘Nana Mary does not smell bad, and you know that.’
Cherie didn’t answer, she was waiting to see what occurred between her mummy and her nanny first. She knew they didn’t like one another. It worried her sometimes, but at other times it worked in her favour; it meant they vied with each other to give her what she wanted.
Gabby changed the subject. ‘Your daddy will be home in a few weeks.’
Cherie brightened up then. She loved her daddy, and she truly believed that he was training to be a fighter pilot. Like a lot of kids she had been told that story, it explained away the uniforms everywhere on the visits. Cherie opened her mouth but, after a dark look from her nanny, she shut it again.
‘The three of us will be together all the time then, and you can stay at Nanny’s at weekends, sometimes.’
Stick that one up your arse, Mother, and smoke it.
Gabby knew that Vince was determined to get them back on track, and he had been a diamond. He had given Derek Greene a tug, and money had miraculously appeared every week, as had a nice council flat and new furniture. She was now established as a blagger’s wife, and she was treated as one by everybody. It was amazing what the friendship of Greene and Warner could do for a body, and she was grateful for their help. She knew it bothered her mother as well, and she knew why it bothered her so much. But, as Vince said, he had earned his keep, he’d kept his trap shut and taken the fall for everyone. They owed him.
He was a very different Vincent these days; he was a man now, a big, handsome man and, like her, he had grown up quickly. She knew her mother would get the shock of her life when he came home, and she couldn’t wait. He would put her well and truly in her place, and she wanted to be there when he did it.
The social workers were still hanging round like a bad smell, and she had heard through the grapevine that her mother told them exaggerated stories about Gabby’s wild ways, and how she was still worried that her daughter was too immature to take care of Cherie on a regular basis. But Gabby was biding her time – she knew that fighting this woman was pointless. She knew the social workers wondered where all her money really came from, but they could go and fuck themselves; she was cleaner than a whistle. All she claimed was her Family Allowance and the minimum of benefits – that was it. But the drug conviction which, thanks to a good brief, had got her probation and one hundred and twenty hours community service, was still being held over her head like the sword of Damocles.
It was amazing really – if her mother had just kept out of it, she would be happily ensconced with her daughter now, and it would all be in the past. But that hadn’t been her mother’s plan. Right from the start, she had been determined to get the child, and she would stoop as low as she needed to make sure that happened. She had not allowed for the fact that Gabby was as stubborn as she was, when necessary, and so they were still playing this game.
