by Martina Cole
Cynthia was looking at the child with such love that even Mary wondered if she had been wrong about her daughter. Could it be that she wanted a second chance at motherhood?
Watching Cynthia, Gabby was completely convinced that there was genuine love in her mother for this child of hers. It hurt, knowing that she hadn’t felt that way about her or her brother, but she was glad she felt like that about little Cherie. The baby had so few people in her little life – her father was banged up, his family had no interest, and this was the day of her great-auntie’s funeral. Her family was shrinking by the day.
So, as useless as her mother was, Gabby would welcome her into her daughter’s life and take whatever her mother had to offer, for as long as it lasted. Gabby was so desperately lonely, and she needed other people in her life. At this point, even her mother was preferable to no one. She knew her nana would think she was mad, but what could she do? This was Cherie’s grandmother and she owed it to her to try and build a few bridges. As bad as her mother could be, she appeared to be enamoured of her grandchild. That was enough for Gabby, who, alone in the world with a new baby, was desperate to have a family again.
They had buried Celeste, and they felt her loss keenly, especially Mary who had always had a soft spot for her younger child. She had tried, in her own way, to make their lives easier. Now Mary had to watch her granddaughter forge some kind of relationship with her mother – the same woman who was responsible for the death of the daughter Mary had buried this day.
Chapter Ninety-Four
‘It’s not like that, Nana!’
Mary shrugged aggressively. ‘How is it then, Gabby? Tell me and your granddad. We’re interested. Only your mother was never what we would call a frequent presence in your life, so we’re amazed at how often you seem to be seeing her.’
Gabby couldn’t explain how hard it was to walk away from her mother these days. She believed she had genuinely changed, and she wanted to make amends. But her nana and granddad couldn’t see that. She knew they had reason to feel like they did, but this was still her mother they were talking about, Cherie’s nanny. In producing this child she felt, for the first time in her life, like she had done something good in her mother’s eyes, and she was enjoying that feeling. It was almost as if Cynthia was loving her through her baby, and that felt good. All her life Gabby had felt there was something wrong with her; if her own mother couldn’t love her, then who could?
‘Oh, Nana, I know you think I’m wrong, but she has changed. She loves little Cherie like we do! Please, Nana, don’t ruin this for me.’
Mary was shocked at those words. As if she would ever ruin anything for this girl, or the child she had produced. The only person who had ever ruined anything for her she was now welcoming back into her life with wide open arms. And no good could come of it, she would lay money on that.
She understood why Gabby was desperate to make some kind of connection with her mother, even after everything had happened. When all was said and done she was her closest kin. Mary was being forced to sit back and wait and then eventually pick up the pieces, because unfortunately she knew, as sure as she knew her own name, that this reunion could only end in tears.
Chapter Ninety-Five
As Jack Callahan looked at his wife, he felt the power of her, as he always had. She was stronger than he would ever be and it had taken her heart attack to make him appreciate just what a good woman he had bagged all those years ago.
Now he could see she was hurting. She had buried a child – something no parent should ever do. It was the wrong order of things; a child should bury its parents, not vice versa. And it had upset her that Gabby was all over her mother like a cheap suit.
‘It can’t last, Mary. You know Cynthia like I do – she’ll fuck it up and Gabby will see her for what she is.’
Mary shook her head sadly; if only that was the case. But she had seen Cynthia looking at her grandchild, and she recognised that look. She had felt it herself many years ago. Cynthia saw an opportunity to make up for her mistakes; all the wrongs she had committed counted for nothing now that child was there. She thought of that baby as a new page to be written on, a new canvas to paint in her own image. Cynthia would not let this baby go, not now. Not when she had an in on its life.
Mary had felt the same when Cynthia had produced Gabby and James Junior. It was like a second chance at motherhood. When you became a grandparent, it was like God handing you a child without the pain of bearing it. And you were given something that was even more precious than your own kids, because it was your kids who had produced it in the first place.
It hurt a great deal to see Gabby forgetting what her mother was capable of and welcoming her with open arms. But what could she do?
Cynthia was on full charm offensive, and that was not an easy thing to ignore. She was playing on the fact that Gabby needed her mother, but Mary knew that Cynthia would soon lose interest. She always did, leaving a trail of death and destruction wherever she went.
Life was hard for a lot of people, Mary knew, but it seemed at times her family had it much harder than most. Cynthia saw to that; she had always been responsible for their problems.
‘She will eat her up and spit her out, Jack. Cynthia wants that child, but she doesn’t want its mother.’
Jack nodded in agreement. ‘’Course she does. Think about it – she’s kicking forty, she has nothing in her life – never had anything in her life if she’s honest with herself. A baby will be something new to her; after all, it won’t know her, will it? Not like everyone else does. A baby loves whoever feeds it.’
‘That’s what worries me, Jack. Not the baby so much, but our Gabby – she has always wanted her mother to love her, admire her, care for her.’
‘That’s human nature, Mary. But Gabby ain’t a mug – she will see that this is all a fucking act, and she’ll aim her out of it.’
‘But I’m not so sure she will, Jack. She needs Vincent, needs him by her side. She’s missing him, she’s all hormones and wanting. She wants to be loved, and she wants to be loved by the people who matter. But I hope you are right, mate. I really hope you are right.’
Chapter Ninety-Six
‘Look at her go! She is as clever as a bag of fucking monkeys.’
Gabby could hear the pride in her mother’s voice and she swelled with pride herself. Seeing her mother with her little daughter made her wish that she had been like that with her once. Cynthia certainly seemed a happier person now though. In fact, Gabby had never seen her mother like this before. She was lighter in herself, almost like a normal person. She almost seemed to enjoy her daughter’s company, and it was no secret she couldn’t get enough of her granddaughter’s. Gabby knew her nana didn’t like it, but she couldn’t help herself – the pull of her mother was too strong. She had dreamt of having this kind of relationship with her for years. Daydreamed that they went shopping together for clothes, had lunch together, had fun together. Now they were finally doing those things, and it was all because of Cherie.
Cherie was gorgeous. She had a wonderful smile as well and, now she was crawling, she was becoming a little person – a little person who looked at her grandmother with love and happiness.
‘Come to me, my little angel.’ Cynthia picked the child up and carefully laid her on the changing table. As she expertly changed her nappy, she crooned away in her own particular brand of baby talk, before saying to Gabby, ‘Leave her here tonight and have a night off, love. Go and visit your mates, have a few hours to yourself – young mums need that.’
Gabby wasn’t sure.
‘Look, Gabs.’
Her mother had taken to calling her that again and she liked it, it made her feel she was finally a part of Cynthia’s life.
‘You can have a nice bath in peace, do your hair and, best of all, you can have a full night’s sleep. This little one is teething, and I haven’t got any plans tonight. You can pick her up tomorrow.’
It did sound tempting, she had to admit.
Gabby looked around the spare room in her mother’s penthouse, which was kitted out like a movie star’s nursery, and she was awed by it. It was pale lemon and white, and it even had stencilling on the walls. It looked wonderful. A lot nicer than the bedroom the baby shared with her at her nana’s. She knew that Cherie would be OK here, but she still wasn’t sure about leaving her. Her nana would go mad if she left her overnight; she seemed to think Cynthia was up to no good. She wished they could see her and Cherie together – it was sweet to watch.
Cynthia was not going to take no for an answer. ‘When was the last time you were a young girl, eh? When was the last time you got your gladrags on and had a night out with your mates? Had a few drinks, let your hair down? It’s not good for you being stuck in with a baby all the time, even one as lovely as our Cherie. We’ll be here waiting for you.’ She smiled at the baby in her arms. ‘Won’t we, darling? We’ll wait for mummy, won’t we? How’s that mate of yours, the one I always thought was a bad influence?’
‘Christine Carter? Oh, she’s still around, pops in to see me sometimes. Now she is always out somewhere!’
Cynthia laughed with her daughter. She knew exactly what Christine Carter got up to – she was a byword for whoring and drug-taking, by all accounts.
‘You should ring her, go out with her. You’re not a kid any more, are you? I bet she’ll show you a good time!’
‘I could I suppose, she does love a night out. But Vince . . .’
‘Vince is in the nick, love, and I’m sure that if he had the chance of a night out he would take it without a second’s thought for you or anyone. Blokes are like that, love. Anyway, you’re not married to him and, while he’s away, why should you be locked up too? He should have thought of that, love; if you want my opinion, I think you deserve a night out.’
Cherie gave one of her big gummy grins and the matter was sealed.
A little later on, Cynthia handed her daughter fifty pounds in cash. ‘Have a good night, sweetheart, and don’t worry about little Cherie – she’ll be safe as houses.’
Gabby hugged her mother then, overwhelmed by her generosity and, when her mother hugged her back, she felt as if she had won the rollover on the lottery.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Mary’s voice was angrier than Gabby had ever heard it and, putting the pillow over her head, she groaned. ‘Not now, Nana, I’m tired out.’
Mary opened the curtains and dragged the quilt and pillow from her granddaughter’s bed. ‘’Course you’re tired out – you’ve been out on the lash for two days. It’s Sunday, love, and you are getting up and you are going to go to your mother’s and you are going to get your baby. Remember your baby? Cherie, ten months old, little bundle of happiness?’
Mary saw the ravaged look on the girl’s face and sighed heavily. The last few months she had started going clubbing – whatever the fuck that was – and Gabby had apparently taken to it like a duck to water. She was out more than she was in, and the upshot was that Cherie now spent more time with her grandmother than she did with her own mother.
That Cynthia was behind this newfound freedom, Mary had no doubt but, at the moment, Cynthia could do no wrong in Gabby’s eyes. She was all ‘me mum this’, and ‘me mum that’. Like Cynthia was suddenly the fucking oracle or something.
Mary was even more worried because she had found little pills in Gabby’s bedroom drawer, and she guessed they were those things called Es they were always talking about on the news. They were dangerous – people had died taking them.
She looked at her granddaughter’s emaciated body; she had lost a lot of weight, and she often appeared spaced out, that was the only way she could describe the vacant look on the girl’s face. That was Christine fucking Carter’s fault; she was known on the estate for everything from drugs to thieving. Now Gabby thought that Christine Carter was the epitome of council house chic.
Gabby was already asleep again, and Mary sighed, knowing it was pointless trying to talk to her while she was like this. In a way she sympathised. Gabby was little more than a child herself and she was tied down with a baby, with the father locked up on the Isle of Wight. With her mother on the scene, she felt her baby was being well looked after – it was with its nanny after all who doted on the child – so Gabby could go out and have a good time. Mary wasn’t so old she didn’t understand human nature, and if it was once a week she would have encouraged it. But it was now nearly every night. It was as if once Gabby had tasted freedom, she was hooked and wanted more and more of it, but at the expense of her baby daughter. Cherie had not been to their house in ten days, and that bothered Mary. The social worker was not impressed either, and that did not bode well.
She walked slowly from the room and, making a cup of tea, she wondered at how this would all finally pan out.
She didn’t have long to wait for the answer to her question.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
‘My mum’s too old to have the baby full time and so Cherie would be much better off here. I think Gabriella would prefer it too.’
Miss Byrne nodded in resignation; as nice as this woman seemed there was something off about her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘Are the police sure she was selling the drugs?’
‘Quite sure. She sold them to an undercover policewoman,’ Miss Byrne responded bluntly.
Cynthia rolled her eyes in annoyance. ‘For God’s sake, what was she thinking! She has a little baby to care for and she does something that stupid. I admit I had my suspicions – I mean, she’s always out. I knew she was taking something, I just didn’t know what.’ She gave the baby a rusk then fastened her into her high chair. ‘She’s so young, too young really to have a baby. I would have suggested an abortion but my mother would have none of that, of course. And now this little darling is here we wouldn’t be without her, but . . .’ She left the sentence unfinished but Miss Byrne actually felt herself agreeing with the woman’s opinion.
‘So you are happy to keep the child until we deem Gabriella capable once more to take over as the primary carer?’
Cynthia wondered if the woman had swallowed a dictionary; she bet that kind of talk went down a bundle on the council estates. ‘If you mean will I take on my granddaughter until my Gabriella is on her feet again, then yes.’
Miss Byrne agreed. ‘Quite. Well, everything seems fine here and, I must say, the nursery is lovely. She really is a lucky little girl.’
Cynthia preened at the praise and, after she had shown Miss Byrne to the door, she picked up her granddaughter and said in an excited voice, ‘It’s just me and you, kid! Just me and you!’
Hugging the child to her, she made a mental note to give Christine Carter a few quid; after all, without her none of this would have been possible.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
‘What possessed you, child?’
A couple of nights in the cells had certainly sobered Gabby up, no doubt about that. She looked terrified.
‘Drug-dealing! That I should live to see the day!’ Mary was heartbroken at the news, and it was this that made Gabby feel worse than ever.
‘I wasn’t, Nana – at least, that was the first time I’ve done it. Christine asked me to do it for her because she felt ill. I only did as I was asked, I know it was stupid . . .’
Mary shook her head in disbelief; how could this girl be so stupid? ‘First time, or fiftieth time, it will make no difference to the courts. And you had drugs in your system – that’s all come up on the blood tests. So you’ve lost your daughter. Guess who has her at this moment? Your mother, and I can tell you now you will have a hard time getting her back.’
Gabby groaned with shame and hurt. This was like a nightmare, a nightmare of her own making. Sitting in that stinking cell had made her think about her life, and she was not impressed with herself, so God knew what her mother must think of her. But then, her mother had encouraged her to go out and enjoy herself – she eve
n gave her the money to go out and have a good time.
It was odd, but from that first night out clubbing, she had felt for the first time in years like a teenager. Surrounded by music and other young people, she had felt she belonged. This was what she should be doing. If she had used her head she could have been doing it without the responsibility of a baby and, as much as she loved little Cherie, she missed her freedom. She had known she was safe with her mum who loved the child. It wasn’t wrong to leave the baby with its grandmother, was it?
But she had to be honest with herself now. It wasn’t leaving her there that was the problem, it was that she left her there so often. Pretending that it was just because she knew her mother loved it, she had allowed her to become Cherie’s main carer. Cherie didn’t even want to come to Gabby any more, she just wanted her nanny. And who could blame her? Oh, she had been such a fool! And now she had a conviction for drug-dealing hanging over her. She felt sick.
‘Will I go to prison, Nana?’
Mary shook her head in despair. ‘I don’t know, Gabby, I honestly don’t know.’
Chapter One Hundred
Vincent O’Casey read the letter with growing anger and resentment. That his Gabby had been so foolish was one thing, but to find out that his child was now in the sole custody of Cynthia Callahan was quite another. After what Gabby had told him about her upbringing, he was not at all happy that his child was now at that woman’s mercy. Yet, according to this letter, her mother was now a changed character, and she was helping her daughter to get back on her feet.