The Faithless - Martina Cole [132]
Vincent stayed silent; he didn’t know how to answer that statement.
‘Do you want me to take Cherie with me? I can take her to school, the usual – it’s best to keep to a routine with kids. There’s going to be a lot of running about with the funeral to arrange and everything. And, well, my dad isn’t going to be much use, is he? My mother did everything – he can’t even boil an egg.’
It was strange talking to Cynthia like this, she seemed almost normal, caring even. Vincent knew she loved his daughter, of that there could be no doubt. It was just a pity she had never felt like that about either of her own kids.
As if reading his mind, she said, ‘I was never a good mother. I found the kids got on my nerves a lot of the time. I suppose being lumbered with James didn’t help – he was hard work, Vincent. Not that he meant to be, but he was so weak. I had to sort out everything, from the bills to the washing and the cooking. Everything. I think I just wanted to be free, you know? Free of all the responsibilities. And my mum, well, she wanted the kids there all the time, and I got into the habit of letting her have them.’ She smiled and her whole face was transformed. ‘I suppose that’s where Gabby gets her mothering skills from – she certainly didn’t get them from me!’
For the first time ever, Vincent felt himself warming to Cynthia, disarmed by her honesty.
But Cynthia on full charm offensive was hard to resist; many men had found that out to their cost. She saw him softening towards her. Well, when she was finished with him, he would be her best mate, she would see to that. Although he might not be around too long if she had anything to do with it. At least this way it would allay any suspicions he might have about her. She wanted him to believe that she had his Gabby’s best interests at heart, that she had simply found her maternal instinct later than most women, and that she would always be there for his children, as well as Gabby.
It was so easy. Men were such fucking children – all you had to do was tell them what they wanted to hear, act the little housewife, and Bob really was your uncle and Fanny your aunt.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty
‘It’s a lovely day – cold but sunny. A fine day to have a baby!’
The Jamaican midwife was trying to make Gabby laugh and, to be nice, she smiled weakly. But she had only just buried her nana Mary, and now the pains were ripping her to pieces. She knew it would be worth it, that her baby would be born perfect, and she would have a proper little family. She wished her nana was here though; it was hard without her.
She saw Vincent walk into the room, and she smiled tragically. Then another pain gripped her and she grimaced as the noise of the air leaving her body sounded like a loud fart and she laughed with him, as he said, ‘Fuck me, Gabs, what hole’s this baby coming out of!’
She bore down, and felt the baby crowning, watching Vincent as the miracle of birth was revealed to him. She hoped he wouldn’t be put off with all the blood. But far from being repulsed, he was entranced. Pleased as punch to be there and, as their second child, and their first son, slid into the world, she saw only pure joy and amazement on his face.
As he cradled their little boy in his huge arms, she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She finally had what she had always craved. Now she had a real family, and it felt good.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One
As Cynthia held Vincent Mark Two, as his father referred to him, she was once again overwhelmed with the feeling of belonging he engendered in her. It was as if he was her child, the same emotion she had experienced when she had first seen little Cherie five years before. That her Gabriella could produce such perfect children with that dolt she had lumbered herself with was, in itself, amazing. But, once again, this child looked like her. It had her eyes and the same shaped face as her, as well as that sovereign-coloured hair – blond with red streaks – which had always made her