Her first attempt had been lousy – she had been too young and she had had her children with the wrong man – but now, with this little one, she felt she had a chance to redeem herself, make her life mean something. She could turn this child into a good person. If she was left with her mother she would end up like her mother. A teenage unmarried mum, a fucking waster, worth nothing – nothing of value anyway. Not as far as Cynthia was concerned.
The baby was like a magnet, and she felt a pull that she had never felt before in her life. She wanted this child. And she would move heaven and earth to get it.
‘She was my sister, Mum. I have every right to be here.’
Mary looked into her daughter’s face and wondered what was the real reason this girl of hers had turned up on her doorstep at Celeste’s wake. She could hazard a guess, but she was sure she would be wrong. Cynthia had not even wanted her own children, so why would she want a grandchild? Mary had felt she had no choice but to let her into the house and then she had seen the naked hunger in Cynthia’s eyes as she had looked at little Cherie in her bassinet.
When Cynthia marched into the sitting room and immediately bent over the cradle to pick the baby up somehow Mary knew that her daughter had seen the child before, and she had felt as if she was witnessing a crime. Never had Cynthia been that gentle with her own children.
‘If you’re feeling maternal why don’t you go and visit your son? I’m sure
he
could do with a bit of motherly interest.’
Cynthia held the child to her as she said dreamily, ‘Why don’t you have a day off, Mum? I know I made mistakes, but this is my grandchild and, whether you like it or not, that is the truth of the matter. She reminds me of my Gabriella at the same age. She’s such a lovely child.’ Cynthia knew that Gabby could hear her from her bedroom and she continued in a hurt voice, ‘I hope you don’t alienate this child from Gabriella like you alienated her from me. I was already aware I had made a big
mistake marrying James, but it was you my kids wanted, wasn’t it, not me. You made sure of that.’
Mary was incensed. ‘How dare you! I took your kids in when you got fed up with them. I loved them like my own.’
Cynthia knew that was the truth, but she ignored it and said in a placating manner, ‘Please, Mum, it’s Celeste’s funeral. Have a bit of respect.’
Mary was so furious at the words of her daughter she was rendered speechless. How could she say that to her, after all she had done! Her daughter was a manipulator who used everyone around her. Well, she would not use
her
any more, those days were long gone.
‘You are welcome only to pay your respects. After that you can piss off.’
‘I must say, Mum, that is you all over.’
Cynthia hugged the child to her; from her first contact with it she knew that this was a child that was meant to be with her. She loved it. The child was perfect in every way, like her little Gabriella when she was born, except now Cynthia was older and wiser, and she finally understood what flesh and blood meant. What made women kill for their kids, and what life was all about. She had never realised until this moment. The moment she had held her grandchild in her arms.
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.
‘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.
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.’
‘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.