It was several minutes before she reached for it, undoing the ribbon with trembling hands. The contents were no surprise. Two blue baby shoes. These even smaller, more delicate than the last. Jodie took them out, held them in one hand. So tiny.

Why was Victor doing this?

Revenge for her part in his sentence?

She’d had no choice. And she knew from their solicitor that Victor had been given none either, giving up the rights to his child in return for a lighter sentence. Maybe he held her and her mother responsible for that and the shoes were a symbol of loss.

She pushed her hair back with an unsteady hand. Impossible to know what he meant. As a fourteen-year-old child, she’d adored Victor but she didn’t know a thing about the man he was now. He obviously knew where she lived… why didn’t he simply knock on her door?

Because he wanted to make her suffer. It was the only explanation. Perhaps Emma Carlton was right and she should go to the police. They might have found one pair of baby shoes amusing, perhaps the delivery of the second would have more impact. Or would they simply dismiss it as a foolish prank that wasn’t causing any harm.

Jodie held the shoes to her cheek, feeling the softness. A symbol of loss. A reminder of what they’d had. What they’d made together. A baby boy, born, despite what everyone had said, of their love.

She put the shoes on the table, crossed her arms around them, and laid her head down and wept.

23

Jodie allowed herself a few minutes’ self-pity before straightening. She was tempted to throw the baby shoes out. It would have been the sensible thing to do but, instead, she brought them upstairs, put them with the others, and shut the lid of the box with a snap. She was tired trying to second-guess Victor. She’d no idea what he hoped to achieve by sending her the damn shoes… if it were simply to unsettle her, he was doing a good job.

She’d like to have spoken to Flynn but wasn’t sure she could keep the sadness from her voice so was half glad, half disappointed when he sent a text rather than ringing.

I hope you’re missing me. Looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday.

It wasn’t quite as satisfying as hearing his voice, but it cheered her a little all the same and she considered ringing him for all of two seconds before deciding against it. She might be tempted to tell him about the interview and, worse, who it was with.

They barely knew each other. He didn’t think she was tough enough to be a sales rep, but then, he knew little about her.

She read his text again and tapped out a reply, keeping it simple.

Yes, and me too, x