Gabby felt the weight of her mother crushing down on her; she felt like she had as a small child, unable to fight back against the might that was her mum, against the self-righteousness that her mother cloaked every word in. She knew she had been a very stupid girl. Caught up in Christine Carter’s lifestyle, she had been too busy enjoying herself and forgotten her responsibilities. She wouldn’t lie to herself about that. Lonely without Vincent she had liked pretending to be a carefree young girl, clubbing, having a drink, a few laughs. She had also enjoyed taking the Es, and smoking a bit of dope with people her own age. She had even liked the attention she got from boys, although she had never succumbed to any of their advances – at least she had that going for her. She knew Vincent had heard rumours, and he was desperately disappointed in her, but she also knew he understood that she was young and she had been foolish and he had forgiven her.

Well, she had to get herself together – work towards getting Cherie back and creating some kind of life for them both. It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew that if she tried, she could do it.

Jack Callahan hugged his granddaughter to him as if he knew exactly what she thinking, and she wondered for the thousandth time how she could have been taken in by her mother. Even knowing everything she did about her, all she was capable of, she had still trusted her. Well, she would never make that mistake again.

Chapter One Hundred and Seven

2003

Cherie looked at her mother and shook her head petulantly. ‘I’m staying at Nanny’s. We’re going to a party tomorrow.’

Gabby, at twenty-one, was used to these kind of conversations with her little daughter; Cynthia always arranged lots of trips and parties when she was due to have her for the weekend. Gabby had learned a long time before to ignore the child’s wide-eyed pleading. Once she was out of her mother’s house, the girl was a different child.

‘No, you’re not. You’re coming with Mummy.’

Cherie glowered at Gabby, saying loudly, ‘But I hate it at your house, and Nana Mary smells bad.’

Gabby was itching to put her hand across her daughter’s arse but she restrained herself with difficulty. Her mum would be straight on to the social workers, reporting child abuse, beatings and anything else she could think of.

Cynthia watched the exchange with a small satisfied smile on her lips. She had to give it to her daughter, Gabby was resolute. Well, she got that from her but, unlike her, she wouldn’t be able to keep it up indefinitely.

‘Nana Mary does not smell bad, and you know that.’