by Emmy Ellis
“Oh, well. I did try to do it nicely.” She walked off into the kitchen, smirking.
God, I fucking hate her.
“I’ve had a bid for the pubs,” she called through, “from an anonymous buyer. It’s a good price, so I think I might sell. Maybe after the annulment, though.”
“I don’t want any of your money, if that’s what you’re thinking. Go ahead and sell now. I couldn’t care less.”
“I can’t guarantee they’ll still buy your beer.”
“You’ve only been buying my beer to keep my mouth shut anyway,” he shouted.
“You know me well.”
He went upstairs and gathered his things, then made his way to the kitchen. “Right, I’ve got my stuff, so I’m off.”
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind about taking me to the ball? It’s for a good cause. You aren’t going with anyone else by any chance?”
“I don’t even know what bloody ball you’re on about, so if you don’t mind, I’m going. I’ll see myself out.”
Chapter Ninety-Three
Gracie stared at the table, downcast.
“I did tell him I’d told you everything, love. I’m sure he’ll come and see you one day soon,” Mum said.
“But how long is he going to leave it? I’ve sent him texts and everything, letting him know we need to talk. The baby will be born before he turns up.”
“All I know is that he said soon.”
The doorbell rang its jolly jingle. God, the last thing Gracie needed was to make small talk with one of her mother’s friends.
Mum got up to answer the door, coming back into the living room, a smug grin in place. “I said it would be soon, but I didn’t realise how soon.”
Gracie looked up and knew when she saw Jonathan standing there she could forgive him.
Mum left the room.
He explained. Gracie forgave.
Chapter Ninety-Four
Rebecca was busy in her study. Gracie and Jonathan would be in the lounge for a while to come. She was safe to do her little note.
“It’s all coming to an end, Leona,” she said quietly. “Soon, I’ll have got you back. And serves you right.”
Finished, she waved the paper in front of the fire. Happy the glue had dried, she addressed the envelope and popped the note inside. It had given her a fit of the giggles this time. Surely Leona would guess who’d been sending them now.
Time would tell.
“I’m just going out to the postbox,” she called, smiling when she got no answer.
Gracie and Jonathan were busy, sorting out the rest of their lives.
While Rebecca was busy sorting out hers.
Chapter Ninety-Five
UGLY LITTLE LEONA, HANGING ROUND AT SCHOOL
PROFESSING LOVE TO OTHERS, SHE IS SUCH A FOOL
ENDING UP WITH NO ONE, THROUGH LONELINESS SHE’LL WADE
UGLY HORSEY LEONA, THE HAGGY OLD MAID
“Nothing better to do with their time,” Leona said.
The flames were consuming the note as reality dawned.
It was that damn Rebecca sending the notes.
Dashing forward, she tried to get the half-burnt paper out of the fire, but the tongs wouldn’t grip it. She’d go to the police. Tell them all about the woman who’d been hounding her for months with poison pen letters.
Reality dawned again. She couldn’t do it. She had no evidence.
She had burnt each and every one.
Chapter Ninety-Six
Harry still couldn’t get over Mickey running off like that. The stupid bastard must have got cold feet because of the rumours going round that he’d killed Cardigan. Harry hadn’t even offered to put the record straight now that Sam was dead—he was the only one to fear reprisals from. The Brothers were in on it and wouldn’t give him any hassle.
He reckoned he ought to feel guilty but didn’t. The thing was, Mickey had his own mind, and if he’d decided to fuck off into the sunset and start a new life elsewhere, good luck to him. Harry missed him, though, had been at a loose end to begin with, but Greg and George had taken him under their wing, giving him a job now they’d taken over the manor.
Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew it was to keep him close. Let him know they were breathing down his neck despite them being happy he’d offed Cardigan.
It’d be all right. He’d keep his mouth shut, act dumb when people asked him if he knew who’d done it if it wasn’t Mickey. That Debbie bird, Peony, she’d come along to his gaff with her questions, but he’d put on an act and made out he was clueless.
He had a feeling she might cause him some problems if she kept digging, but he’d deal with her if it came to that. Shame, because she was an all right sort really, and he wouldn’t mind having her all to himself in the parlour.
Maybe that was what he’d do. Wheedle his way in, keep her sweet, at the same time finding out her plans on how she’d catch Cardigan’s killer.
If The Brothers had taught him one thing, it was to keep your enemies close.
Well, give him time, and he’d be as close to Debbie as he could get.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
December already.
Rebecca and Gracie stood in the entrance of the ballroom at The Grafton, ready to greet the guests. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, festooned with large red-and-gold balls, thick tinsel, and hundreds of fairy lights. A huge balloon net filled to the brim hung down, ready for later when everyone was in high spirits.
Many donated gifts sat on the auction table, waiting for the wealthy to bid for them. Rebecca was planning to have a brand-new building built for the homeless.
She automatically went into host mode, smiling until her face stiffened, shaking hands until her arms ached.
A breeze of men and women entered, and by half seven, Gracie looked apprehensive.
“What time did Jonathan say he was coming?” Rebecca asked.
“He didn’t…”
“Mr Rogers, how wonderful.” Rebecca smiled at the man in front of her, gritting her teeth. If Jonathan let her daughter down again, she’d swing for him. Grin permanently fixed, she greeted on.
Then he came through the doors, rushing in with that incorrigible smile of his.
It’s all right, it’s going to be fine.
Rebecca glanced over at Gracie. “What is it, darling? Is it the baby?”
Looking back at Jonathan, Rebecca found her answer.
She’d be swinging for him all right.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Jonathan walked closer to Rebecca and Gracie. “What?” he said, laughing. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Jonathan,” Leona said, “don’t walk off. You’re always leaving me behind.”
Leona?
He turned. “What the hell d’you think you’re playing at turning up here?”
She smiled. “Whatever do you mean? You asked me to come.”
He spun to Gracie, fucking fuming. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know she was coming.”
Gracie and Leona glared at him with hate.
“Really, Jonathan. You should have known better,” Rebecca said.
Pale, Gracie barged past Leona. Jonathan followed, leaving Rebecca and Leona facing one another. Gracie dashed into a taxi, and it pulled off. Another came along, but Leona rushed out of The Grafton and got in.
She wound down the window. “Upset, are we, darling?”
Jonathan wanted to kill her. “Piss off, you nasty bitch.”
“Drive on, cabbie,” she said, closing the window.
He stood there, at a loss. What the fuck was he meant to do now?
Chapter Ninety-Nine
February had arrived so quickly. The tiny girl was beautiful, and Gracie couldn’t believe it was all over.
“Well done, darling. I’m so proud of you,” Mum said.
Gracie gazed down at her new baby. She looked the image of her father, downy blonde hair in soft tufts. Even squashed up and with her hea
d out of shape, she was a wonder.
Gracie’s emotions when she’d left The Grafton that night were indescribable. The tears didn’t come straight away. She was so shocked she found it hard to determine just what she’d been feeling. Hate, certainly. An all-consuming hate for Jonathan and his lies. Telling her they’d start from scratch, when all along he’d been playing games, bringing his wife with him.
Just what he’d hoped to gain she didn’t know, and as the taxi had pulled up outside her home, she’d got out, paid, and went indoors, the chill of the evening clutching at her like witches’ fingers. She’d stood looking at herself in the hallway mirror, startled, eyes wide.
Lifting her dress, she’d studied her bump. She had no man to help raise her baby. And thank goodness for that. She didn’t want to tell her child that its father had been a bastard, using her and lying through his teeth.
She’d walked up the stairs, and the tears came then, sudden and without warning. For all he had shown himself to be, God help her, she still loved him. She was sure he was a wonderful and caring man, but his behaviour that evening had proved otherwise. And she’d have to live with it.
He’d tried to ring her many times, sending texts. Her answer was always the same. Go away. Even when he’d told Mum he was now free from Leona, after a slight glimmer of hope, Gracie had told her to say she wasn’t interested. She couldn’t trust him again. She’d done that once already, and look where that had got her. Nowhere but hurt and broken.
She was so beautiful, this baby girl. Should she deny her the father who was hers by right? Or should she let them form some kind of bond so Gracie wasn’t reproached in years to come?
Yes, she’d have to let father and daughter meet.
“Ring Jonathan at his office, Mum. He needs to know she’s here.”
Chapter One Hundred
Rebecca would never forgive Leona for as long as she lived. Turning up at the ball like that, destroying her daughter’s life. How dare she?
She’d long since believed Jonathan when he’d pleaded over the phone that it had all been a big mistake. He hadn’t known Leona was coming. Everything had been finalised, and he was free to be with Gracie.
He wouldn’t give up, she’d give him that. He was intent on making Gracie his wife. He had it all planned, he’d said. And Rebecca knew if he’d just give her daughter time, one day she’d listen.
Rebecca wasn’t about to let Leona win.
The envelope she’d been given by Leona before she’d marched out, triumphant from The Grafton, had nearly boiled her blood. Leona thought she was so clever, but Rebecca had wanted her to know it’d been her who’d sent the notes. And Leona knew all right.
Opening the envelope, Rebecca had looked inside a card with a queen chess piece on the front. In carefully cut-out newspaper letters, it read: CHECKMATE.
“I’ll give you checkmate,” she’d seethed. “I won when I bought your pubs, you stupid bloody woman.”
She picked up the phone to dial Jonathan’s number.
Chapter One Hundred and One
As Jonathan was about to lock the office, the desk phone rang. He turned back and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello.” Rebecca. “You have a daughter.”
His stomach flipped over. “How…how is Gracie?”
“She wants to see you. Let you meet the baby.”
Relief. A breakthrough. “When?”
“Now?”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Hands shaking, heart pumping, he got into his car and sped off in the direction of the Lynchwood’s. He’d make Gracie see everything could be all right. He had so much to say to her, he didn’t know where to begin. But Rebecca had said she wanted him to meet the baby. Was that all it was?
But it’s a start.
Pulling up outside the house, he took a deep breath and walked up to the front door. He went to knock, but a midwife came bustling out, tired-looking but with a smile.
“Are you the father?” she asked, all jovial.
“I am.”
“Well, you’d better get on in. They’re waiting for you so they can name her. She’s a little Miss Nobody at the moment.”
He stepped inside and closed the front door, spotting Rebecca in the kitchen, putting the kettle on, and she turned, pointing upwards. Grateful she was using tact in allowing him to go up alone, he smiled at her and ascended the stairs.
He approached Gracie’s room. Small sniffles came from inside. Alarmed she might be crying, he pushed the door open just a little, relieved it wasn’t her. She was fast asleep in a sitting position against the pillows.
The baby snuffled, eyes closed, rubbing her little fists on her mouth. His baby. His girl. Walking over to the Moses basket beside the bed, he gazed down. Immediately, love hit him. He wouldn’t be able to live a life seeing her only sometimes. On weekends. He wanted to watch this prized bundle grow up. Wanted her to know her daddy—as a daddy not a stranger she was shy with at first until she got used to him again.
He rubbed his palms together to get them warm. He was going to pick his girl up, give her the first of many cuddles. Shower her with all the love. Give her the love he couldn’t give her mother, because she wouldn’t let him.
He reached down and placed his hands around his child and brought her to his chest. Gingerly, he moved her so she was comfortable, afraid to break her. Afraid to hurt her. She was so fucking precious. He’d do anything to protect her. Lay down his life.
He sat on the bed and stared down on her again. Button nose, dinky ears, dainty fingers. Oh, she was lovely, beautiful. The best baby in the world. Because she was his. His and Gracie’s, and they’d made her together.
“Isn’t she lovely?”
Jonathan jumped, startled that Gracie was awake. How long had she been watching him?
She was beautiful, too. A new mother. His heart contracted with so much love for his two girls he reckoned it’d burst. He had to make her see it.
“Just like her mother,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan…”
Panicked, he said, “I know things went wrong, but I want to work it out. I can’t tell you what these past months have been like without you. And now with the little one here…”
“What shall we call her?”
It only took a moment for him to think of a name. One that summed up everything he felt. “Hope.”
“Hope it is then.”
“Will we…?”
Gracie shook her head, and despite his joy at having his daughter in his arms, Jonathan’s world crumbled.
Chapter One Hundred and Two
All right, Rebecca wasn’t going to do this, but one more little dig with the knife wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Placing the folded white paper in the envelope, she went out to the postbox.
Chapter One Hundred and Three
Leona opened the envelope and pulled out the card. She’d put the past behind her, and now it all came tumbling back. Rebecca was up to her old tricks, restarting the war between them. Tears sprang to her eyes as she read the card. Would she ever be happy in her life? Would she ever know the joy these people were feeling now? And it was Gracie all along? God…
JONATHAN AND GRACIE PROUDLY ANNOUNCE
THE BIRTH OF THEIR DAUGHTER, HOPE
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Debbie sat at the bar in The Angel an hour before the shift started in the parlour. The place was packed. She’d taken to having discos on Friday and Saturday nights, and with the pub being just along the way from the nightclub, people squeezed inside to get pissed-up, giving their body the fuel to keep them warm while standing in the long queue outside. The weather was shocking, so cold she shivered at night even with the heating on fifteen and a great big duvet over her.
Harry had been trying to get cosy with her a month or so after Mickey went ‘missing’, and she’d rebuffed him so far, saying she didn’t want another emotional attachment so soon after Card
igan’s death. But last night—or the early hours when she’d stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come—she’d thought of something. From the shifty way Harry acted every time she’d mentioned Mickey killing Cardigan, she was sure he knew something.
What if she let him into her life, making out they were a couple, playing out the whole charade with him thinking she trusted him enough that he’d admit who’d done it?
Hence her sitting here now. Harry was due any minute, and she glanced at the massive clock to count down the seconds. With two to go, she looked in the mirror behind the bar and watched the double doors as best she could, what with people standing in front of them. Harry was tall, and she spotted the top of his head when he arrived. He pushed through the crowd and stood beside her, smiling.
“What’s all this about?” he asked.
Wouldn’t you like to know. She smiled back and settled her arm in the crook of his. “I’ve had another think about your offer. You know, us getting together.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Hmm. I’m willing if you are.” She stroked his arm.
He grinned so wide she almost felt sorry for him. This would be so easy.
“Too fucking right I am,” he said.
She sealed it with a kiss, all the while thinking: Let the game begin.