The Faithless - Martina Cole [137]
Cherie shrugged. ‘It was all right.’
‘He’ll be home soon, and you’ll be able to see him all the time.’
Cherie gazed at her with her big, wide-spaced blue eyes, and the expression in them told her that was not something she was looking forward to.
Smiling with difficulty, she said gaily, ‘So, what do you want to do?’
Cherie looked at her brother and they both said in unison, ‘Go home.’
Gabby swallowed her disappointment; she knew she had to give it time, once they realised they could have fun with her as well as their nanny they would come round. But she could feel the ache of tears in her eyes and throat. ‘Well, you can go,’ she nearly said ‘home’, but quickly replaced it with, ‘back to Nanny’s soon. Now, who wants to go in the car?’ She knew little Vince would want that; he loved cars, he had inherited that from his father all right.
When they arrived at her granddad’s she saw Cherie sigh heavily. ‘I don’t like Great-Granddad Jack. He smells and so does his house.’
Gabby had had enough and, before she could stop herself, she said quietly but with emphasis, ‘You know that’s not true – that’s just what Nanny Cynthia says. My advice to you is get out of the car now, and keep your opinions to yourself in future. I really can’t believe some of the things you say, Cherie. You’re nine now, not four. Stop parroting my mother.’
‘I’m not parroting anyone. He smokes like you do and it stinks.’ She curled her lip in disdain as she spoke.
Gabby replied angrily, ‘Your nanny smokes.’
‘Not near us, she don’t. She knows it’s bad for us to breathe in all that crud and toxic fumes.’ The inference being that her mother didn’t care if she was poisoning them, because she didn’t care, period.
‘You keep your opinions to yourself, young lady. You are going in there and you are going to be a good girl. Do you hear me, madam? You will do what you are told for once in your life.’
If she had taken back her arm and beaten the child to the floor the effect could not have been more extreme. Cherie’s eyes filled with tears and she started to shake and, as Gabby looked at her in alarm, it brought back a memory. That was how her mother would act when she didn’t get what she wanted. She had seen her father buckle down at that stance, and she felt a chill of fear that this child was already too far gone from her. She emulated her nanny Cynthia in everything, and the poor thing believed that was right.
Gabby fought the panic she felt rising in her chest and, taking little Vince out of his car seat, she said as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Now out of the car, and not another word, OK?’
She was dreading telling the child they were staying the night. Little Vince went into his great-granddad’s happily but Cherie trailed behind. It occurred to Gabby that she had done the right thing; she spent too much time trying to please the child when she should be making her see who was the parent.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven
Cynthia had got herself sorted early, and now she was ready to go. She wondered briefly if she was taking things too far, but she knew that if she didn’t go far enough, it would be overlooked. Gabriella was gradually winning the social workers round to her side and, if that happened, Cynthia would be left with nothing. Surely they could see how well those children had blossomed under her care? So what if she was the grandparent? Their own mother couldn’t have done a better job of raising them. In fact, she had all but deserted them and now Gabriella expected to walk in and take them back, as if all Cynthia had done was for nothing. The thought of those kids stuck in that place with her and Vincent made her blood boil. They would never have a chance at anything.
She understood then that she had to do what she had planned. It was for the good of the children and, at the end of the day, they were what really mattered. She would do anything, literally anything, to see that one day she would have them for ever. All she had needed was an opening and