Cynthia’s mind was working overtime; on a couple of occasions lately she had felt as if she was being watched. Especially late at night when she parked her car, and now it seemed she might have been right to feel that way. Her son was back out on the streets, someting she had not envisaged ever happening. After all, he was as mad as a fucking March hare. But so-called care in the community meant all sorts were let out these days. Cynthia, being Cynthia, did not see his condition as anything to do with her; as far as she was concerned, he was just born like it. And that, as she was wont to say, was that. But she knew that he had a particular dislike of her after his father’s death. The doctors had warned her of that, and the feeling was mutual. She would keep her eyes open, and take the appropriate precautions. If he came on too strong she would report him without a moment’s guilt. She had a baseball bat she kept for emergencies, and she would happily wrap it round his head if the need arose. She had known he was on the out, but it had not occurred to her he would want to see her or, more to the point, confront her. But at least she had a heads up now, thanks to this daughter of hers. The same daughter who was happily taking away from her the only person she had ever truly cared about.

She forced another smile on to her face. ‘Well, he knows where I am, I suppose.’

‘Oh yeah, he knows where you are all right, Granddad told him.’ Gabby smiled at her mother, and the fear in her eyes was like a balm to her tortured soul. ‘So, I will take the last bits of Cherie’s stuff tomorrow, if that’s OK?’

‘’Course it is. I hope you’ll still let her stay here sometimes. I mean, once Vincent is home, he’s going to want you to himself I should imagine.’

‘Oh, he’ll have me and his daughter. That’s all he wants, Mum.’

‘Of course.’

Gabby wondered why, after everything her mother had done to her over the years, she still felt bad when she scored a point over her. And no one was more shocked than her as she heard herself say, ‘You’re coming to his party, Mum, aren’t you? It’s going to be great.’