The Faithless - Martina Cole [88]
She was loved, by her nana and granddad and by Vince, and even her auntie Celeste – though she was getting stranger by the day. She had never left this house since the day she had walked back into it after Jonny was killed. Agoraphobia, the doctors called it though Auntie Celeste said that was shite, she just didn’t like going out and that was her human right. She had a point, albeit in a weird and wonderful way. All she did was eat and watch TV. She was rich as Croesus by all accounts, but even that didn’t have any impact on her; she gave most of her money away to charity or anyone who came and told her a sob story.
Gabby knew it drove her granddad mad, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Celeste was as right as the mail; that was an undisputed fact, even the doctors had told them. She had ‘retired’ from the world, that was how her nana put it, adding that that didn’t mean Celeste was a nut-job. But could she eat! She was half the size of the house nowadays, all chins and chafed thighs, but she had a good heart, and her eyes were alive with love when she looked at her family. In fact, if Gabby was honest, she actually believed that her auntie was one of the happiest people she knew. Go figure that one, Oprah.
But it was still her mother who was occupying Gabby’s thoughts now. She couldn’t rid herself of the terrible urge to meet with her, just to see what she was like now. Maybe she had changed, maybe she was a different kind of person, and if Gabby didn’t go to see her she would never know.
Gabby didn’t actually believe that for a moment, but it was a nice fantasy. Other kids took parental love for granted; some mothers stood by their kids through everything – even a rapist or a murderer often had the support of their parents, though Gabby suspected that was because they didn’t want to believe their child was capable of such heinous crimes. But neither she nor James Junior had ever had their mother’s love, and that hurt. Look at what had happened with poor James. He had got even worse and had ended up being sectioned. Gabby wondered if she had been in touch with him as well.
She sighed heavily again, and lay back on her bed. This had stirred her up inside, and made her think of times gone by that she would rather not remember. She turned her head and looked at the photo of her and her father she kept on her night table. It had been taken the Christmas before he died and he had his arm around her and they were both laughing into the camera. It was a lovely photo and anyone looking at it would never guess at the real Christmas they had endured that year – had endured every year with her mother in control, telling them what Christmas should be like. Cynthia thought Christmas was about having all the trappings. With all the wisdom of her age, Gabby knew that was where her mother always went wrong. Christmas was about people, about family – not things, not well-dressed trees and expensive presents, and a roast turkey that could feed a family of fifteen and still have enough left over for sandwiches. It was about enjoying the day, enjoying your family. Her mother had never known what it was to enjoy being with her family, that had always been the trouble.
Now she wanted to see Gabby, and Gabby didn’t know what to do about it.
She was meeting Vincent later, so she would ask his advice; he might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but he had a good heart. And he loved her, and she loved him, and that was what really mattered.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Vincent was thrilled. He had a good little earner thanks to Derek Greene, and he had just been recruited as a driver on his first ever bank job. He was almost sick with excitement, though he had been sure not to let that show. He had driven Derek and a few of his cronies over the last few years and he had made a name for himself as a good little runner. He always canvassed where they were going beforehand, making sure he knew the route