The Faithless - Martina Cole [122]
As he looked across the room he saw his father and brothers standing up toasting him, raising their glasses with everyone else and, passing his daughter to her mother, he walked straight over to the table that held his family.
‘Welcome home, son.’ Paddy O’Casey extended his hand to Vincent, but his brothers all hung back, shy now that he was finally home, and aware of how far he had come up in the world. They knew they had not been as good to his little girl as they should have been, and they were nervous.
Vincent sensed all this in a heartbeat and, ignoring his father’s proffered hand, he grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and, in front of everyone, physically dragged him across the small dance floor and out into the car park. There he proceeded to hammer his father with his fists until he was pulled off by Bertie Warner and Derek Greene.
Looking at his father lying in the dirt he said quietly, ‘You robbed me, you treacherous old cunt. You took money that should have been for my Gabby and my baby. If I ever clap eyes on any of you I’ll fucking kill you, you got that? And that goes for you lot as well,’ he said to his brothers, who had followed him out to the car park.
The men nodded their heads, humiliated and ashamed.
Turning to Derek and Bertie, Vincent then said jovially, ‘Come on, lads, we’ve got a party to go to!’
The two men followed him inside, acutely aware that a young boy might have been sent down, but a very dangerous man had returned in his place.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty
‘You must be mad, Gabby!’ Cynthia was beside herself with anger and it showed. That her daughter could be pregnant again so quickly was a source of irritation to her.
‘Thanks for the congratulations, Mum, really appreciate it.’
Cynthia stopped herself from retaliating, instead saying levelly, ‘You’re only young, why tie yourself down again?’ But she didn’t mean a word of it; her daughter’s happiness was eating away at her, and the fact that Vincent was making a great name for himself was galling.
‘My Vincent and me want another baby – he’s missed so much of Cherie’s life, and we want to be a family, a proper family.’
The inference was not lost on Cynthia and she seethed with indignation. Vincent, however, was not a man to fuck, as the Jamaicans would say. He had already put the hard word on her, told her that if she pushed her luck he would come after her without mercy. He had explained in a quiet and patient voice that if his Gabby did not get the respect due to her, he would hunt her down like a dog. Those had been his exact words, and it had been hard swallowing, but she knew she had to. If she wanted to see little Cherie she would really have to restrain herself, and she was willing to do that for the child. She adored that little girl, and she knew that Vincent saw this love as her only redeeming feature.
The social worker was well off the scene now that Vincent had got his little garage, and was a productive member of society. She couldn’t tattle in the social worker’s ear any more about rumours and stories of her daughter’s wild ways, and how worried she was about her granddaughter’s moral welfare. Those days were long gone, and she knew it.
She forced herself to smile. If Gabby was pregnant she would need more help with Cherie, it stood to reason. This might actually work in her favour.
‘I just don’t want to see you losing your freedom, love, that’s all. Old before your time.’
That made sense to Gabby, and she smiled faintly, her eyes softer now. ‘It’s what we both want, Mum. Vince is thrilled.’
Cynthia didn’t answer; instead she put the kettle on. ‘Well, why don’t you leave Cherie with me, and have the weekend off to celebrate, eh?’
Gabby nodded. It was what she had hoped her mother would say, and she felt a hypocrite in many ways; after all, it wasn’t that long ago that she didn’t want the child anywhere near her mother. But that was before, when she didn’t have Vince