The Faithless - Martina Cole [108]
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