The Faithless - Martina Cole [129]
She had tried to tell her nana and granddad about how her mum was behaving these days, but they both dismissed it out of hand, saying she was after something, just as she had been before. Gabby understood that they didn’t trust Cynthia, but even if she was after Cherie, now that Vincent was back he would never let anything happen to them.
Having him there made her so happy – she just wished he was home more. She knew that it had taken lot of work to get the garage off the ground, and he wanted to make a success of it. It was all for them so she shouldn’t really moan too much.
Cherie had her little bag packed, and was impatient to go with her nanny Cynthia now. She had brought all her drawing books with her; she loved drawing, and her nanny Cynthia had got her an easel which she loved painting on. She had a white smock just like the real painters in a book her nanny showed her.
Cynthia really thought the child had a talent, and she was determined to see her make the best of it. She could be the next Tracey Emin, that was Cynthia’s belief. She knew with certainty that this little girl had a brilliant future ahead of her, and she would move the heavens to see she got the chances Cynthia felt had been denied to her. She saw herself in little Cherie, saw her as she would have been with different parents, with people who could have given her a proper start in life. Cynthia blamed her parents for the way her whole life had turned out, and her son’s life as well. She believed with all her heart that her mother had had more say in James Junior’s upbringing than she did and, consequently, the blame for his condition lay at her mother’s door.
It never occurred to her that dumping her children at will, not loving either of them, and placing impossible demands on them might have had something to do with her son’s illness and her daughter’s desperate craving for love. In fact, Cynthia was proud of her Gabriella; she was doing all right, and so long as she let her have Cherie she would remain in her good books.
It was Vincent that Cynthia had the main problem with these days. He didn’t like her having too much to do with the child. She knew she had to sort something out there. He needed taking down a peg or two. Since he had been released he thought he was the dog’s gonads – well, what man didn’t?
She smiled at the thought of bringing him down, and she drove back to her house lighter in spirit, with her little Cherie chattering away beside her.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six
The Golds had been watching the bank in Borough Green for the last few weeks and they knew down to the last detail who went in and who went out, at what times the bank was quiet, and when it was busy. On one specific day in every month, the bank held over one hundred thousand pounds before it was taken away by guards. Today they were sitting in a small coffee bar, watching the handover with interest.
There were three men outside the vehicle, and two inside – one driving, the other riding shotgun – so they were going to need to get the safety deposit box before they hit the inside of the back doors. It seemed to be a doddle.
The guards appeared very complacent, joking with the manager, and acting very relaxed. That was the beauty of carrying out robberies in small villages; they looked sleepy, and no one thought anything bad could happen in them. With sawn-off shotguns and the element of surprise to their advantage, this would be over in minutes.
Pleased with the day’s findings, the Golds got