Neither was I.
During the weeks that Sephy had been away, I'd fed Callie Rose, changed her nappies, stayed up with her when she couldn't sleep, cleared up her little puddles of vomit – and relished each moment. I'd also hugged her and kissed her and loved her as my own. I watched as she became more aware of me. I thrilled as she calmed down when I picked her up. My heart soared when I blew raspberries on her tummy and she laughed joyously. It was like having Lynny and Callum back, like they'd both been reborn to me. I had someone who relied on me again. Someone I could be there for, day in, day out. And someone who needed me. Being with Callie Rose every day convinced me that there was something, someone worth carrying on for.
And then Sephy came home.
And each time Callie Rose cried harder when Sephy picked her up, I was secretly glad.
And every time, Sephy got something wrong, I was there to shoo her out of the way and take over.
Sephy grew more and more tense as I watched her and never let her out of my sight. I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't stop. So the inevitable moment came when Sephy confronted me.
I came home one afternoon from shopping and wandered unsuspectingly into the living room to find Sephy waiting for me. She stood in the middle of the room with a large suitcase at her feet and a crying Callie Rose in her arms.
'What's going on?' I asked, my heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings.
'Meggie, I've decided that Rose and I are going to move in with my mother. Not for ever, just for a while until I get my bearings again,' Sephy told me.
The bottom fell out of my world and I started freefalfing with panic spiralling relentlessly round me.
'You can't do that,' I told Sephy.
'Yes, I can, Meggie. It's for the best. I'm just waiting for my taxi to arrive and I promise I'll phone you when I get to Mother's house,' said Sephy.
'I won't let you leave.'
'You can't stop me. Meggie, this isn't working and if I'm ever to have any kind of life with my daughter we need some time alone.' Sephy was ready to leave the room, leave my house, leave my life.
'You set foot out of this house and I'll be on to the Social Services before the front door is closed,' I warned her.
Sephy spun round. 'What did you say?'
'D'you really think the Social Services will allow Callie Rose to live with a drunk and a mental case?' My tongue began to dig feverishly at the gap opening between us. 'D'you think I'd let you take my granddaughter away from me so you can have a second chance at killing her—'
'SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!' Sephy screamed at me. 'I never tried to kill her. I'd never hurt my baby. Never.'
Callie Rose started crying even louder and harder when she saw Sephy shouting at me. My granddaughter reached out her arms towards me. I stepped forward to take her, but Sephy backed away. She tried to hold Callie Rose to her but Callie wriggled harder to get out of her mum's grasp, holding out her arms to me again.
And I was glad.
'If you want to go to Jasmine's, you go right ahead, but you're going alone.'
'If I want to leave and take my daughter, there's not a damned thing you can do to stop me,' Sephy told me, a look on her face I've never seen before.
'Maybe I can't, but I'll take you to court and sue for custody – and what's more, I'll win. Your dad doesn't want anything to do with you or Callie Rose and neither you nor your mum is exactly competent. You're not taking my granddaughter away from me.'
'You know my mum doesn't drink any more. And I'm better,' said Sephy.
'Let's see what the courts think, shall we? Let's see you hold Callie Rose in court without her screaming for me. See how much of an impression that makes on the judge.'
'And you'd do that?' Sephy asked quietly.
I could only just hear the words over Callie Rose's crying. I took a look at Callie Rose and Sephy, a good look. And it was only then that I realized just what I'd been saying. My words had flown out like bullets, but now they were ricocheting around the room, and Sephy wasn't the only one they were hitting and hurting.
No, I wouldn't do that, I wanted to shout. No, I'd never do that. You're Callie's mum, you're Callum's love. I love you as my own. But please don't take my Callie Rose away. I'll die if you take Callie Rose from me . . .
Those words I wanted to say were in my eyes and in my heart.
But all Sephy had to hold onto were my desperate threats. And hold onto them she did.
That was the last true conversation we had. I took Callie Rose from Sephy's unresisting arms and watched as she picked up her suitcase and took it back upstairs.
That day I won.
That day I lost.
And now the inevitable has happened. Sephy is going to marry Sonny. I knew from the minute Sonny turned up at our doorstep all those years ago that this moment would come, but it didn't make it any easier to take. Poor Sonny. All those years of curt animosity on my part and he could never figure out why. But now I knew what I must do. I had to show Sephy what I'd been too ashamed to say all these years.
And the only way to do that was to let her and Callie Rose go.
forty-two. Sephy
I heard Sonny's new song on the radio today. I'd heard a lot about it but this was the first time I'd actually heard it for myself. After only one week on release, it was already number nine in the charts with a bullet. Michaela in our local music shop reckoned it was a dead cert to get to number one. But every time it came on the radio, I deliberately ignored it – turned off the radio or switched stations.
Until today.
Today I decided to stop being quite so cowardly and just listen to it. Funny how Sonny and I had worked together for years and the couple of songs we'd sung and released together had never achieved the kind of success that Sonny had almost instantly found on his own. As a song-writing team, writing for others, we did fine. As a duet, we just didn't seem to click.
Maybe some things were just not meant to be.
Now that we were no longer together, I missed Sonny more than I ever imagined possible. How many times had I picked up the phone, ready to call him and say anything he wanted to hear? Then I'd always put it down, telling myself in no uncertain terms that I was better off without Sonny or any other man clouding my life.
But I was having more and more trouble believing that. The moments spent trying to convince myself that I'd done the right thing were getting fewer and farther between.
Had I made the biggest blunder of my life? Sonny was my dam to stop the memories overwhelming me. At least he was at the beginning of our relationship. And what did he get out of it? Not much. Only me. But that was evidently not enough. Not content with my body, he wanted my love as well.
And God knows I'd tried, but I didn't love him. I tried to make myself feel for him some of what I'd felt for Callum, but it just wasn't there. I wanted the same burning, yearning, tidal wave of insane passion I'd felt for Callum. But even when Sonny and I were making love, part of me held back, watching and waiting and wondering. So that couldn't be love.
Could it . . . ?
How I wished I could make myself feel. I was fond of Sonny but that seemed to be as far as I could get. And I had no idea how much it was eating at him – until I heard his song. It had a gentle melody, hauntingly beautiful. Just a guitar to begin with, then soft background drums and a piano. There was a solo guitar riff in the middle and I had to admit the song was one of his best. I guess it worked because it'd come from his heart.
'And now, for my song of the week,' announced the DJ, talking over the musical intro. 'Ménage à trois by Sonny.'
I've never dipped in kinky
That ride just ain't for me
Don't need no writhing masses
To set my genie free
I don't want five, four's a crowd
Hell! More than two is one too far
I just need a single touch
Don't need a ménage à trois
And all I ever wanted
Each wish on ev
ery star
Was you, your love
All to myself
And no ménage à trois
See, when we lie together
Just me – and him and you
Every time your lips meet mine
He's kissing your lips too
And every time I touch you
He's been there before me
Don't try to reassure me
How can you even see me
When he's standing in the way?
Should I just call it a day? Yes
I guess it's time to walk away
And all I ever wanted
Each wish on every star
Was you, your love
All to myself
And no ménage à trois
I wish I'd never touched you
But my love has roots too deep
So if I want to keep you
I've no choice but to treat you
Like the couple that you are
I'm never going to win this
It's a waste of time to try
We make love, you fall asleep
I lie awake and cry
I'm throwing in the towel
It's time for me to fold
You both live on the inside
I'm out here in the cold
And all I ever wanted
Each wish on every star
Was you and your love
All to myself
And no ménage à trois
Oh, Sonny . . .
forty-three.
Rose is 11
The rain finally stopped spitting on my hood. I shook my head and then pulled my hood down. The sun was already out, shining gleefully through the remaining grey-white clouds. But I was soaked. My socks felt damp and my back felt unpleasantly warm and clammy but I wasn't sure if the rain had found its way past my hood and down my back or if it was just perspiration. I unzipped my coat, welcoming the fresh breeze blowing round me. The pavement glistened from the downpour and rain raced along the gutter into the open mouth of the drain at the side of the road.
School was over for another day. In a few more weeks, junior school would be over for good. Soon I'd be starting at senior school and I was actually looking forward to it. I really couldn't wait. Neither could Mum. She was almost as excited as I was.
'Hi, Rose. Wait.'
I turned to see Tobey chugging up behind me. My heart sank like a fossilized poo. What on earth did he want? The last time we'd been together, we'd ended up having a big argument. And the time before that. And the time before that. Tobey and I did nothing but clash like angry cymbals these days. Tobey fell into step next to me. He was wearing jeans, a T-shirt with 'Whatever' written all over it in graffiti-style writing and a denim jacket.
'How did you do at your Heathcroft High interview?' asked Tobey.
I shrugged and carried on walking. 'OK, I guess. They offered me a place.'
'Same here,' Tobey told me. 'They offered me a full scholarship.'
'Congratulations. Is Heathcroft High your first choice?'
'Of course. Why? Isn't it yours?'
'It wasn't, but it is now,' I admitted. 'Mum's keen for me to go there. She says the headmistress Mrs Paxton is fantastic.'
'How does she know?'
'Mrs Paxton was a teacher at the school when Mum was there,' I told him.
Tobey was stunned. 'Mrs Paxton must be ancient.'
'Oi! My mum isn't that old,' I replied. Although I must admit, I'd thought exactly the same thing when Mum told me about the headmistress.
'It'd be fantastic if we were in the same class,' said Tobey.
'Yeah,' I said dryly. 'Because we really don't see enough of each other as it is.'
The look on Tobey's face made me instantly regret what I'd just said.
'Are you trying to tell me something?' Tobey asked quietly.
'No, Tobey. It was a joke. You do remember those, don't you?'
Tobey forced a smile. 'Even if we are in the same class, that doesn't necessarily mean that we'll be sitting next to each other.'
'Tobey, read my lips – it was a joke.'
'Maybe it'll be a joke when it grows up,' Tobey suggested.
'Pook off!'
'Charming! You'd better not let your Nana Jasmine hear you use language like that.'
'Pook doesn't mean anything,' I replied.
'Tell that to your nana when she hears it. Besides, it's the context that counts,' Tobey informed me loftily.
Sometimes he was so ruddy smart, he was almost unbearable. Tobey had spent years telling me tale after tall tale just to prove how ruddy smart he was. And I can't even remember all the times I'd got into trouble for believing him.
But not any more.
I'm eleven now. Not some kid who believes everything she's told. And certainly not from Tobey Durbridge, thank you very much. If Tobey told me blood was red, I'd deliberately cut my finger to check first.
'I hear Ella was being her usual self today,' said Tobey.
I shrugged. I didn't want to talk about Ella Cheshie. It was bad enough having to put up with her during school without talking about her after school as well. It's funny-sad about Ella and me. She was my good friend for a while – until the first time she came round my house to play. After that she didn't talk to me for ages and was always partners with someone else when we did games or dance at school. I tried my hardest to be friends with her but she'd barely even speak to me. And once she found new friends she started being nasty to me. She'd do things like come up behind me and mess about with my hair and call me a spaghetti head or string hair just because my hair just hangs and is really limp. But when it's just me and her and no one else around, she calls it blanker hair. That really made me mad the first time she said it. I pushed her against the wall and she tripped over. Then she ran over to Miss Gardener and told on me. Tell-tale, snitching poo-head! I guess snitching runs in their family. Miss Gardener sent a letter home and Mum had to come to the school. Mum hardly said a word in the head teacher's room and she was silent in the car all the way home. I thought when we got back, Mum would scream at me. But all she said was, 'I'm very disappointed in you, Rose.' She shook her head and looked at me with that look she sometimes gets that makes me feel like a maggoty piece of rotting meat. Then she went out and I didn't see her for the rest of the evening.
Ella still calls me spaghetti head but only when she's got her friends around her. She's too scared to do it when we're alone. I still get angry when she calls me things like that, but I don't want another letter going home. And that's not all. Whenever I answer a question in class, she pulls stupid faces and she doesn't particularly mind whether or not I see her. Silly cow! And she's going to Heathcroft too – worst luck.
The strange thing was that as Ella got nastier, her brother Lucas got nicer. Mum and I sometimes saw them at the shopping centre. Mum and Nichelle would nod politely to each other without saying a word and Ella just ignored me or looked right through me. But not Lucas. He was different. Every time he saw me – which I must admit wasn't very often – he'd say hi or smile or wave or something. They were the strangest family. It was really hard to know where I was with any of them. They were what Nana Meggie called 'too now and then'. I knew that Lucas was already at Heathcroft but he was in the year above me.
'Is it true Ella made you cry?'
'No way,' I flared up. 'Ella couldn't make me cry in a million years.'
'You make it sound like no one could,' smiled Tobey.
I thought about it. 'No one could,' I decided.
'What a load of crap. Anyone you care about can make you cry.'
'No, they can't.'
'Yes, they can,' Tobey argued. 'Even I could make you cry.'
'I thought you said only those people I care about could do that,' I said.
Tobey glared at me, then marched off. I opened my mouth to call him back but then decided against it.
After all, he started it.
forty-four. Sephy
&nbs
p; I carefully applied my burgundy lipstick. I could hear the crowd in Specimens, laughing and loud, even through my closed dressing-room door. Here I was, back in a restaurant-bar, but not as a customer. I was about to do the one thing I'd promised myself I'd never do again. How I hated singing in public. The memories of my short stint as a singer with Jaxon, Sonny and Rhino were still raw and sore. And now I didn't even have the luxury of a band to back me up and stem the feeling of isolation singing in public gave me.
But money talked.
And it hadn't spoken to me in a long while 'cause I was almost stony broke. Even though my mum is paying Callie Rose's school fees, I'd insisted on paying for everything else myself. But the uniform and the school meals and the books and stationery on top of my normal bills had eaten large chunks out of my savings. And now that Sonny and I were no longer working together, money was too tight to even mention. I spent most of my pregnancy without two pennies to rub together. I wasn't about to go through that again.
Nathaniel Ealing, the Cross owner of Specimens, had advertised for a singer for Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays in his restaurant. Someone to play the piano mostly, but sing old favourites occasionally and definitely when requested. Just the sort of thing I loathed.
But thou shalt pay bills!
The dressing room wasn't too bad, a little bigger than our bathroom at home. And there was a plug-in heater in one corner which actually worked. The walls were an uninspiring pale green colour. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling but at least there were decent lights around the mirror. I surveyed my face critically. My lipstick needed some gloss on top of it. And another layer of mascara ought to finish the job. I was just giving my hair a final pat when the door opened. Nathan, the owner, popped his head round the door. He was a tall man, taller than me by at least a head, and he wore his designer suit with a casual style, like it was no big deal. He was extremely good looking and what's more, he knew it, but it didn't rule his life. He wore his hair very short and had pure honey-brown eyes, framed under strong, straight eyebrows and full lips which curved easily into a smile. I'd watched him as he greeted his guests, flirting with the women and making the men feel like he was one of them and not just the owner of one of the most successful scenes in town. Nathan knew every aspect of his club, from how many bottles of ginger ale he had in stock out the back, to when the electricity bill was due, but for all that he wasn't afraid to delegate. I guess that's why his manager, Ron, told me that Nathan was a great boss to work for. Nathan gave one hundred per cent and he expected and got no less from his employees.