does is really no one else’s business. And there is nothing that links you to this story”-Gemma tapped the paper-“other than your word and mine. And we’re not going to discuss it again. With anyone.”
There was a long moment in which Gemma and Melody looked at each other, and Gemma wondered if she had made the right judgment call.
Then Melody stood, giving Gemma a crisp nod. “Thank you, ma’am. I won’t disappoint you.” Her round face was set with resolution. “And I can promise you something else. My father is going to pay for this, one way or another.”
The rest of Friday passed uneventfully, but Gemma was still thinking about her conversation with Melody as she drove to Betty Howard’s late on Saturday morning. She wondered how much her new knowledge would change her perception of Melody. Already she better understood both Melody’s doggedness in pursuing an investigation and her personal reticence. And although she sympathized with Melody’s desire to stand on her own merits, she thought it unlikely she would be able to keep her identity secret indefinitely. Gemma had kept her word, however, and had not told Duncan, but the omission niggled uncomfortably at her. She didn’t like his taking the fall for something that had been her fault. It had been she who had taken Melody to Lucas Ritchie’s club, starting the chain of events that had led to the story, but she couldn’t see any other alternative.
It was already hot, and she hadn’t felt like walking, although driving meant negotiating the jam on Portobello Road on market day. The boys had fussed about wanting to see Charlotte-Toby, in particular, was still coveting Charlotte’s pencils-but they’d had their own activities.
Duncan had taken Toby to his Saturday football match, whispering as he left that there was nothing he’d rather do than sit in the sun in the park and watch a bunch of uncoordinated six-year-olds chase a ball, and Kit was meeting some school friends at Starbucks to discuss an out-of-term project. Or so he said-she suspected there would be good bit more gossip and music swapping than discussion, but she was glad to see him getting out a bit more socially.
She had just found a parking spot near Betty’s flat when her mobile rang. Her heart skipped a bit when she saw it was her sister, although she had just talked to her mum that morning and Vi had said she was feeling fine.
“Hi, Cyn,” she said, hoping as always that if she started the conversation on an upbeat note, it might stay that way.
“Mum said you’re not coming to Leyton.”
“I’m not coming today,” Gemma clarified. “I told her I’d bring the boys tomorrow. They’ve got things on today, and I promised to see Charlotte-”
“Charlotte? That’s this little girl Mum says you’ve taken in?”
“I haven’t taken her in.” Exasperation was beginning to make Gemma’s head pound. “I arranged for her to stay with Wesley’s mother, and I feel responsible-”
“You feel responsible for someone else’s child and not your own mother?” Cyn’s voice had risen over the sound of her kids, Brendan and Tiffani, squabbling in the background. “Will you two just shut it?” she shouted without covering the phone, nearly splitting Gemma’s eardrum, and the noise level dropped momentarily.
Wincing, Gemma said, “Cyn, whatever is the matter with you? That’s ridiculous. Of course I feel responsible for Mum-”
“Do you? You haven’t seen her since she came home from hospital. She’s so-so frail, and I don’t-She seems old, Gemma, and I don’t know what I would do-” To Gemma’s horror, her ruthlessly unflappable sister sounded near tears.
“They’ve said it’s the chemo, Cyn,” Gemma hastened to reassure her. “Try not to worry-”
“And she asked me this morning about the wedding.” Cyn’s indignation had come back in full force. “What am I supposed to tell her? Have you done anything at all about making the arrangements?”
“I-I just haven’t had a chance. I’ve been busy at work, and-”
“Right. It’s always something, Gemma.” Cynthia’s voice had gone cold. “You don’t care who you disappoint. I’m surprised Duncan puts up with you. And you know how much Mum is counting on this. You’ll be the death of her if you keep on like this, you mark my words.” The connection went dead in Gemma’s ear.
“Cyn?” Gemma said. “Cyn?” Then, when it sank in that her sister had really hung up on her, she shouted, “Harpy,” at the hapless mobile and threw it onto the passenger seat. It didn’t make her feel any better.
With the things that had happened in the last few days, she had managed to put the wedding completely out of her mind. Now, all the weight of obligation came rushing back, and with it the nausea that had been nagging her since Sandra’s brothers had cracked her head against the Escort’s door. The interior of the car suddenly seemed unbearably hot and confining.
She got out carefully, fighting a wave of dizziness, and collected the holdall with Charlotte’s things from the backseat. This time she looked round before she leaned into the car, but that made her dizzier.
Then, feeling oddly disconnected from her feet, she walked the few yards to Betty’s building. As she went in and glanced up the stairwell, the climb seemed as daunting as Mount Everest. Slowly, gingerly, she made the ascent, stopping on each landing to ease the thumping in her head.
By the time she reached Betty’s flat and Charlotte ran into her arms for a hug, she felt she was the one most in need of comfort.
Charlotte had finally been persuaded to let go of Gemma and settle down with her pencils at the small table in Betty’s kitchen. She drew with grave concentration, while in the sitting room, Betty exclaimed over the clothes Gemma had brought.
“Her mama was that good to her,” Betty said softly as she refolded a little pink skirt. “Oh, I don’t just mean the clothes,” she added. “But you can tell, with the little ones, when they’ve been loved. And I don’t believe for a minute that this one’s mama left her of her own accord.” She added a neatly folded T-shirt to the skirt. “Not unless there was drink or drugs involved.”
“Not on her mum’s part, anyway,” Gemma agreed, but when Betty gave her a questioning look, she merely added, “I’d have heard something by now, I think, if there was anything like that.”
“Will she be all right if she goes to her granny?” Betty asked. “I do worry, and I haven’t heard a thing more from the social worker.”
“I know,” said Gemma. “I’m worried, too.”
The admission brought back her sister’s hateful words in full force. Was she as selfish as Cyn had said? Should she be doing more for her mother and less for Charlotte? But how could she not do everything in her power for this child, who had no one else to protect her? And if Cyn was right, was she letting Duncan down, as well? Was he losing patience with her?
“Gemma, honey, you’re right away with the fairies. Are you all right?” Betty was looking at her in concern, and Gemma realized she hadn’t heard a word Betty had said.
“I’m sorry. It’s just-” She couldn’t begin to explain what was wrong, and especially not in front of Charlotte.
“Look, Gemma,” said Charlotte, holding up her paper. She had drawn stick figures, the larger two red and blue, the smaller one yellow. They were a bit squiggly, but still recognizable as people. “That’s a mummy and a daddy and a little girl,” Charlotte informed her.
Gemma studied the picture with the seriousness it deserved. There were clouds, and a sausagey-shaped thing with legs near the yellow stick figure’s feet. “That’s very good, lovey. The little girl is yellow. That’s a happy color. And is that her dog?”
“Georgy,” Charlotte said. She still couldn’t manage the
“Maybe you can come over for a bit, this afternoon or tomorrow, if it’s all right with your auntie Betty here.” To Betty, she added, “The boys are quite smitten. As are the dogs,” she added, summoning a smile. “Sid, I’m not so sure about.”
“You should stay and have some lunch,” said Betty. “I’ve made a cold salad.”
“I’d love to,” Gemma said, although the thought of food made the sweat break out on her forehead. “I’d better go, though. Toby has a football match, and I promised I’d take him to the art store for some pencils like Charlotte’s afterwards.” She stood and kissed Betty’s cheek. “But I’ll ring you, and we’ll see about arranging a visit.”
