Gabby swallowed her disappointment; she knew she had to give it time, once they realised they could have fun with her as well as their nanny they would come round. But she could feel the ache of tears in her eyes and throat. ‘Well, you can go,’ she nearly said ‘home’, but quickly replaced it with, ‘back to Nanny’s soon. Now, who wants to go in the car?’ She knew little Vince would want that; he loved cars, he had inherited that from his father all right.

When they arrived at her granddad’s she saw Cherie sigh heavily. ‘I don’t like Great-Granddad Jack. He smells and so does his house.’

Gabby had had enough and, before she could stop herself, she said quietly but with emphasis, ‘You know that’s not true – that’s just what Nanny Cynthia says. My advice to you is get out of the car now, and keep your opinions to yourself in future. I really can’t believe some of the things you say, Cherie. You’re nine now, not four. Stop parroting my mother.’

‘I’m not parroting anyone. He smokes like you do and it stinks.’ She curled her lip in disdain as she spoke.

Gabby replied angrily, ‘Your nanny smokes.’

‘Not near us, she don’t. She knows it’s bad for us to breathe in all that crud and toxic fumes.’ The inference being that her mother didn’t care if she was poisoning them, because she didn’t care, period.

‘You keep your opinions to yourself, young lady. You are going in there and you are going to be a good girl. Do you hear me, madam? You will do what you are told for once in your life.’

If she had taken back her arm and beaten the child to the floor the effect could not have been more extreme. Cherie’s eyes filled with tears and she started to shake and, as Gabby looked at her in alarm, it brought back a memory. That was how her mother would act when she didn’t get what she wanted. She had seen her father buckle down at that stance, and she felt a chill of fear that this child was already too far gone from her. She emulated her nanny Cynthia in everything, and the poor thing believed that was right.

Gabby fought the panic she felt rising in her chest and, taking little Vince out of his car seat, she said as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Now out of the car, and not another word, OK?’

She was dreading telling the child they were staying the night. Little Vince went into his great-granddad’s happily but Cherie trailed behind. It occurred to Gabby that she had done the right thing; she spent too much time trying to please the child when she should be making her see who was the parent.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven