The inference was not lost on Cynthia and she seethed with indignation. Vincent, however, was not a man to fuck, as the Jamaicans would say. He had already put the hard word on her, told her that if she pushed her luck he would come after her without mercy. He had explained in a quiet and patient voice that if his Gabby did not get the respect due to her, he would hunt her down like a dog. Those had been his exact words, and it had been hard swallowing, but she knew she had to. If she wanted to see little Cherie she would really have to restrain herself, and she was willing to do that for the child. She adored that little girl, and she knew that Vincent saw this love as her only redeeming feature.

The social worker was well off the scene now that Vincent had got his little garage, and was a productive member of society. She couldn’t tattle in the social worker’s ear any more about rumours and stories of her daughter’s wild ways, and how worried she was about her granddaughter’s moral welfare. Those days were long gone, and she knew it.

She forced herself to smile. If Gabby was pregnant she would need more help with Cherie, it stood to reason. This might actually work in her favour.

‘I just don’t want to see you losing your freedom, love, that’s all. Old before your time.’

That made sense to Gabby, and she smiled faintly, her eyes softer now. ‘It’s what we both want, Mum. Vince is thrilled.’

Cynthia didn’t answer; instead she put the kettle on. ‘Well, why don’t you leave Cherie with me, and have the weekend off to celebrate, eh?’

Gabby nodded. It was what she had hoped her mother would say, and she felt a hypocrite in many ways; after all, it wasn’t that long ago that she didn’t want the child anywhere near her mother. But that was before, when she didn’t have Vince by her side, and was at this woman’s mercy. Those days were long gone.

It would be nice to have a weekend alone with Vince. Cherie was a handful, constantly wanting her father’s attention. But that was to be expected – he had not been in her life properly until now, and Cherie, the little madam, was making the most of him being there. For his part, Vince loved his pretty little daughter, and she knew he was happy at the prospect of another baby.

‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll pick her up on Sunday afternoon.’ Gabby walked into her daughter’s bedroom which her mother had decorated to perfection, and hugged the little girl to her. ‘You be a good girl for your nanny, OK?’