Her baby kicked and she smiled; at least her child was strong and healthy, that was something she supposed. She was determined to be the antithesis of her own mother; everything her mother had done for her and James Junior, she would do the opposite. She figured that at least that way, she would have to be doing something right. But having a baby was a scary thing. A little person was going to depend on her for everything, from being fed and changed, to being loved and wanted. Well, this child would have all of that and, even though its father wasn’t around, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be. It was legally impossible for him to be there, and she would explain it just like that when the time came. It was so much better than being told your father had been nicked.

She was due soon, and she knew it would not be pleasant. In all honesty, she was frightened of what it entailed. She wished she had a mum to turn to. Her nana was great, but she was so old and, in truth, Gabby didn’t want to worry her more than she had to. Her nana and granddad seemed to have aged almost overnight, and she knew it was because of her auntie Celeste.

Celeste was a shadow of her former self, and the really worrying thing was she didn’t eat a thing now, she just lay there, on her bed, watching her programmes. Her granddad called her the Radio Times, because she knew every TV schedule, even Sky’s back to front, making them all wonder if she ever actually slept. She believed the BBC was quality programming, but she claimed to prefer the shows that didn’t make her feel like they were being condescending to her. She loved American talk shows, especially Oprah, and believed Jerry Springer had a place in that society, albeit not at the top end. It was surreal talking to her, because unless she had watched it on a TV programme she wasn’t sure it was really true. She talked about Dr Phil as if he had come to the house and diagnosed her himself. She was really big on self-diagnosis. According to an episode of Oprah, she was losing weight because her good angel was helping her. After all, angels were real, weren’t they? Celeste bought it all, hook, line and fucking sinker. She claimed to understand forensic pathology as well as if she had studied it at university, and was sad that most murder cases she read about in the papers didn’t have access to the same resources that they did on TV shows. And why not? she demanded. Where was Dr Sam Ryan when you needed her?