The Faithless - Martina Cole [100]
Even her granddad Jack had to acknowledge that Celeste wasn’t right these days, and seemed to be becoming more and more entrenched in her TV world by the minute. She talked about Trevor McDonald as if he was an old friend, and she argued that Michelle Collins was not a bad person, she was just Cindy Beale.
Now that she rarely got out of bed, the smell was not good. She was not even forty years old but she looked sixty at least.
As she went into her aunt’s bedroom, Gabby wrinkled her nose at the odour; it was sweet, but overpoweringly so. Gabby knew it was the Parma Violets her aunt sucked all day long, but it still made her want to heave.
‘Fancy a take-away, Auntie Cel? You name it, I’ll eat it!’ This was getting boring; she did the same thing every night now, and each time she got the same answer.
‘Nothing for me, sweetie. How’re you and junior doing?’
Gabby sat on the edge of her aunt’s bed and she said sadly, ‘We’re doing fine. And you?’
Celeste looked into her niece’s eyes and saw the beauty in her face; it was the same innocent beauty her mother had possessed, except with Cynthia, it had masked her true nature. ‘I nearly had a baby once, but I lost it. I lost a few actually. I thought it was terrible at the time, but now, well, how lucky was I, eh? I never had to tell them the truth about their father, never had to lie to them either.’ She coughed gently before saying earnestly, ‘I’m dying, Gabs, I have cancer of the uterus. I told the doc not to tell your nana. You know how she flaps about everything. But I’m telling you in case I don’t see this little one born. No, don’t be sad, I want to go. What kind of life is this for anyone, eh? But I want you to know I will miss you, and I loved you like you were me own.’
Gabby looked down into her aunt’s face which still held the vestiges of her former prettiness and, choking down a sob, she held her to her breast as if she was the mother and her aunt was the child.
‘I’ll miss you, Auntie Celeste.’
Celeste smiled through her tears. ‘No, you won’t. When I go it will be a relief for you all, but not as much as it will be for me. My life was a waste, don’t let that be your life. Promise me, darling, you’ll make your life mean something.’
‘I’ll try, Auntie, I’ll try.’
But even as she said it her heart and her waters were breaking.
Chapter Ninety
Vincent O’Casey was tired out. He had been in the gym all morning and then cooked all afternoon. One good thing about Parkhurst – on the SSB unit at least you weren’t on constant lock up. It was still hard though. Knowing that Gabby was due at any moment, he was like a cat on a hot tin roof. All the other lags were chafing him, but he took it in a good-natured way. The fact that he had not named names had gone a long way to making his stay in nick quite easy. It wasn’t ideal, but it was bearable, and Derek Greene had made sure of that, as had Bertie Warner. The Manchester boys treated him like some kind of mascot, and he appreciated it – it showed him that what he was enduring was not for nothing. The hardest thing to bear was that his little baby would be born without him, and he knew his Gabby needed him. She had no one really, except her old grandparents and they were fucking ancient. Nice people, but not exactly in the first flush of youth.
It was pointless dwelling on it now. The first thing he had learned was that the outside world was something you had no control over, therefore you must not let it do your head in. He knew better now than to let his thoughts wander too far from the normal. But with his Gabby on the verge of giving birth to his first child, a child he would not see until visiting day, it was getting harder and harder to pretend it was happening to someone else.
He consoled himself with the thought that he had not dropped anyone in it, that he could hold his head up. But it still didn’t make up for being banged up in here while his girl was alone and pregnant on the outside.
As he was walking back to his cell,