The Faithless - Martina Cole [151]
Cynthia fell sideways on to the white leather sofa. She could hear a gurgling noise that was almost comical. The blood was still spraying out everywhere like a crimson mist, and she was glad, glad the lying, two-faced, murdering whore was finally shutting her big, filthy mouth up. She hoped she was in as much pain and terror as her little boy had been when he was fighting for his last breath, expecting to be saved by this woman who had started the fire in the first place so she could get what she wanted.
Gabby hit her mother again and again, each blow easing the knot inside her, each blow easing the hate she had inside her for this woman who had been the bane of her whole life.
She looked down at the bloodied form and, for the first time in years, she felt almost at peace. Her mother’s face was unrecognisable, a deep red gash that was pumping out blood at an alarming rate.
Gabby looked at the woman she had hated nearly all her life. Then she sat down on the ladder-backed chair her mother was convinced was an antique, put her face into her bloodied hands and cried.
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine
‘Fucking hell, Vince, when your lot go they don’t muck about, I’ll give them that!’ Bertie Warner’s voice held a tinge of admiration in it. ‘Maybe I should give her a job on the firm!’ Bertie laughed at his own joke.
Vincent looked around the room, and shook his head in amazement that his Gabby was capable of this kind of violence. But then, after what she had told him, he understood it to an extent. All her life Cynthia had done everything possible to destroy those around her, and it seemed that now, finally, one of those people had retaliated and in a spectacular fashion.
Gabby was still sitting on the ladder-backed chair. Her face and hair and clothes were sprayed with blood, but the strangest thing was, for the first time in years, she actually looked at peace.
‘She did it, Vince, she fucking killed our baby. She torched our home so she could keep our kids with her. Keep them in her power. Everyone had to be in her power, had to do what she wanted; she would never be happy with anything else.’
Vincent went over and held her gently. She felt so frail, her body was so slender still, even with the pregnancy, and he knew that this had been coming for a long time. He blamed himself – if he had not been away so long, none of this would have happened. He should have been there for her and for his kids, instead of rotting away in prison. But that was the chance you took in his game, and you had to accept that or you would go off your head. His old cellmate used to say hindsight is a wonderful thing, but it was fucking foresight that people needed.
Bertie looked at young Vincent, as he still thought of him, and wondered at a man who could be so calm in the face of such carnage. Gabby had literally taken her mother’s face off – this was the act of someone who had reached the end of their tether.
He nudged Cynthia’s body with his foot none too gently; if she groaned he would finish the slag off himself. He smiled. Just as he thought – as dead as the proverbial dodo. Good riddance to bad rubbish, he was glad she was gone. He had had his own axe to grind with her; after all, she had taken out one of his closest friends. He cleared his throat noisily and said, ‘We better get this place cleared up before Lily Law comes a-snooping! You take her home and sort her out, son. I’ll deal with this little lot.’ He sighed theatrically. ‘Thank fuck she lived in this end house – bit more privacy, if you know what I mean!’
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty
Gabby was lying on the bed; such was her relief at the knowledge her mother could never interfere in her life again she almost felt lighter in her body. Even the pain of her hands couldn’t bother her. It was as if the heavy weight she had carried all her life had been taken away from her and, consequently, she felt better than ever, mentally as well as physically. She felt no remorse