The slap was resounding, and Gabby felt the fury coming out of her mother’s pores. She also felt her own anger mounting; she would not give him up no matter what her mother said.

‘Who’s next, Benny fucking Hill? You stupid little mare, you better not have been doing something you shouldn’t! If he’s mounted you I’ll cut his fucking throat.’

Even Cynthia in her rage could see the absolute shock on her daughter’s face at the suggestion and thanked the powers-that-be that at least the girl hadn’t gone that far. But she could also see that her daughter had no intention of giving this idiot up, and that was what was really upsetting her. She would make sure this family of hers would not go to the bad, and would not show her up.

Such was the thinking of Cynthia Tailor.

Chapter Fifty-One

Mary and Jack Callahan listened to their granddaughter, Mary with a sympathy that belied the fact she agreed, in part, with Cynthia’s take on this state of affairs. Gabby was well and truly older than her years in looks, but not in any emotional capacity. She was all legs and make-up at the moment, and that was to be expected at her age. What the girl couldn’t see was that a few choice words on Vincent’s part, and her life as she knew it could be over and she’d be left holding a baby. Mary had never thought she would agree with that mad bitch of a daughter of hers, but on this she was right behind her. The boy was too old and too knowing by half. He was also too good-looking for his own good.

It would do Gabby good to go home for a while. In all honesty, since the episode with the kitten, Mary didn’t want the lad here either. He was a strange boy, with his vicious trouble-making and she pondered long and hard at how he had become so callous without her or anyone noticing. She supposed that was the way of the world these days. TV was to blame in her opinion. It made children adults before they were ready – even the soap operas were full of sex and violence, and the kids watched them as avidly as she did herself. Though, at least she was scandalised by what she saw. Mary closed her eyes; she felt very tired suddenly and her granddaughter’s voice was going through her head like a ninety-pound hammer.

‘Well, you should have thought of all this, Gabby, when you were sneaking around meeting that lad.’

‘But it’s so unfair, Nana, my mum is the . . .’

‘Don’t say it, Gabby, she’s still your mother.’

‘I hate her, I hate her guts.’