Mary nodded, wondering why she had bothered asking Cynthia in the first place. Mary Callahan could see that this daughter of hers was eaten up with jealousy about Celeste and Jonny, and she also knew why, though she wouldn’t bring it up in front of her husband. He’d love to go on about it, to use it as another stick to beat his daughter with. It was strange really because Cynthia had always been his favourite – until she was about thirteen. Then the fastidious ways that they had laughed at and her determination to act like the lady of the manor had ceased to amuse them. Jack had suddenly realised that his daughter was ashamed of him. Not only that, but she also despised him. Despised them all and wanted to be nothing like them. She had only stayed a Catholic because the nuns had beaten the religion into her, and it was the one thing she knew would cause a complete break from her parents. Jack Callahan was a lot of things, but he was a devout Catholic and there was no way he would countenance his daughter turning her back on her faith. And Cynthia, for all her airs and graces, was secretly frightened of having this front door closed on her once and for all. Mary could see that. And, deep down, she needed them more than they needed her.

Cynthia saw a momentary flicker of sadness on her mother’s face, and stood up to put her coat on; she didn’t want or need her pity. Just because she wouldn’t settle for less than what she deserved didn’t make her a bad person. In Cynthia’s book it made her a winner, a fighter, a survivor. A council house and making do would never be her life, she was determined about that much anyway. She would sort out their financial problems, and put all this behind them.

When her mother left, Gabby sighed deeply. Her mother could even make the air seem heavier with her presence, but Gabby hadn’t understood until then the force of certain people’s personalities.

She was beginning to understand that only too well now.

Chapter Sixteen

Jimmy was tired and it showed. A lot of it was to do with being married to Cynthia; she had worn him down to nothing. It saddened him that none of his friends visited any more. Cynthia could cook a beautiful meal, pour them good wine, but her very nature stopped people from wanting to be in her company for any length of time. She only bothered with people she thought were class, with people she thought were a cut above. Unfortunately, those were the very people who saw through her like a pane of glass, much quicker than her own kind anyway. She was neither fish nor foul as his old grandmother used to say. She didn’t really fit in anywhere.