The Faithless - Martina Cole [128]
She shook her head. ‘No, nobody. He’s a loner, a strange boy. I wish I could help you more.’
Five minutes later they were ushered out of the front door and, seeing the number of locks she had on it, they realised that she had been preparing for her son coming for her long before they had arrived on the scene.
‘You keep yourself safe now, Miss Callahan, and, if he comes near you, ring the police immediately. All the forces are looking for him, so try not to worry.’
Cynthia closed the door and locked it, every bolt and chain, then she went around the house making sure everywhere was secure.
In the kitchen she poured herself a large vodka and tonic and then, smiling slightly, she wondered if he would have the guts to turn up here. Burn her out! She’d like to see the little fucker try.
Picking up the phone she rang her daughter. If he went near her grandchild, she’d skin him alive. The only good bit of all this aggravation was that they’d have to lock him up again and, hopefully, this time, they would throw away the bastard key.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five
‘Look, Gabby, all men are the same, they get you pregnant but they have no real interest in the actual pregnancy – it’s only the baby they are interested in, and even that wanes after a while.’
Gabby sighed. Did her mother really think she was helping? The worst thing of all was she had a feeling that what she was saying was true. She was heavily pregnant and Vincent was never in the house for any length of time. The garage was doing well, and that pleased her; they were beginning to save some money, and they were moving to a new council house before the baby was born. But he was out from early morning till late at night.
Cynthia looked at her daughter and felt the urge to shake her. What was it with this girl? She couldn’t see what was under her nose – she had bagged herself a blagger, and blaggers were not known for their homing instincts. She should think herself lucky she had a man out grafting for her – not that she was that enamoured of her daughter’s ‘partner’ as they called them nowadays. He looked down his nose at her, and did not bother to hide his indifference. Dislike she could cope with because it meant she’d made an impact at least. Indifference, on the other hand, meant she had not had any effect on the idiot in any way. He ignored her completely, which really pissed her off, and the fact that her daughter didn’t even defend her to him really annoyed her as well.
‘Any news on Nutty?’
Gabby rolled her eyes and said huffily, ‘Will you stop referring to James like that? They haven’t found him yet. God knows where he is by now.’
Cynthia snorted then. ‘Fucking Broadmoor is where he should be, locked away for good.’
‘He’s your son, Mum!’
Cynthia snorted again. ‘Stop fucking saying that, he’s nothing to do with me! Anyway, he’s over eighteen – he’s his own person now, responsible for his own actions.’
Gabby didn’t answer; it always amazed her that her mother could just push the blame away from herself without a second’s thought. She rubbed her belly – she was feeling awful today.
Seeing her daughter’s discomfort Cynthia said, ‘Get your stuff, Cherie, you’re coming home with Nanny.’ She held a finger up to her daughter in protest. ‘Not a word, you need your rest. Now, I’ve put a lasagne in the fridge, and I’ve got your ironing. So stop panicking and put your feet up.’
Gabby felt a rush of gratitude to this woman who she alternately loved and hated. Since Cynthia had seen how ill she had been with this baby she had been a diamond. She even talked about the baby as if she was looking forward to it, which Gabby thought she secretly was. Cynthia was buying little bits for it, and she had got out Cherie’s old cot, so she must be expecting the child to stay there on occasion.
For the first time in years, Gabby felt a modicum of contentment in her mother’s company as they chatted and laughed. It was as if