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.

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.’