Her granddad Jack came in to the room with two cups of tea, and she smiled at him dreamily, ‘She’s gone, Granddad, and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt.’
Jack sat on the bed carefully and, taking her hands very gently in his, he said seriously, ‘Listen to me, love, you will. When this sinks in you will realise the enormity of what you have done. Now, I’m not saying that what you did was bad but, love her or loathe her, and I certainly loathed her, she was still your mother when all was said and done. That will be the thing that will play on your mind.’
Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Gabby said honestly, ‘I won’t let her ruin the rest of my life, Granddad. She’s ruined so much of it already, I can’t let her ruin the rest. I’m glad I did what I did; it’s just a shame that someone didn’t do it to her earlier, then my little boy would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have her blood on my hands. She was not a person who had any right to decency or kindness, she was not a person to aspire to be. She was cruel, and she was evil in many ways. She took what she wanted from anyone, she was nasty, vindictive and she never threw me a kind word. She was the reason my dad killed himself, why Auntie Celeste went off her head, and why my brother never knew a happy day in his life. I don’t feel a second’s guilt over that bitch, so don’t worry about me, OK? I’m fine, better in fact than I have been for many a long year. Me and Vince have a chance now, we can be a real family and Cherie won’t have her dripping her poison in her ears at every available opportunity. I am actually looking forward to the future now, and that is something I could never say before today.’
Jack picked up his tea from the bedside table and drank it quickly. He heard the truth in the girl’s words. ‘I’m glad to hear it, love, I just don’t want her on your mind.’
Gabby laughed softly. ‘No fear of that, Granddad. I feel free, really free for the first time in my life. It’s as if I can finally breathe again. I paid her back for my boy, and for everyone she ever contaminated by her touch. So don’t worry about me, mate, I have never felt better.’
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-One
‘“No, officer, I haven’t seen or heard from her for days.” ’ Detective Sergeant Smith laughed as he spoke. ‘That’s all we hear, sir. It’s as if Cynthia Tailor has dropped off the face of the earth. There’s nothing at her house – she’s gone, lock, stock and barrel. The neighbours said a moving van turned up and was gone within an hour. It’s as if she never existed.’
Dectective Inspector Williams nodded. This was a really strange affair; he knew there was skulduggery afoot but actually proving it would be impossible.
DS Smith continued, ‘It seemed she had scammed quite a few men over the years, sir – it could have been one of them she was running from. A David Duggan made a criminal complaint against her but she seemed to have swerved that with ease. But, on closer inspection, she wasn’t what you would call a model citizen, if you know what I mean?’
DI Williams shook his head. ‘I know exactly what you mean. Cynthia Tailor, Callahan that was, could start a fight in an empty house. But the point is now, where the fuck is she?’
DS Smith laughed then as he answered. ‘Your guess, sir, is as good as mine.
‘What about the daughter? Didn’t she have her children at one point?’
DS Smith nodded. ‘From what we can gather, sir, the daughter is as baffled and bewildered as we are. Heavily pregnant now and lost her little boy in a fire. She seems to think her mother has done a moonlight flit. Her expression, not mine. She doesn’t seem unduly worried about her and, as for Cynthia Tailor’s father, he thinks she will turn up, as he said in his own words, like the proverbial bad penny.’
DI Williams sighed. ‘Leave it with missing persons then, we’ve done all we can.’
DS Smith nodded once more and left the office of his superior. He was in line for a forty-grand bonus for this little piece of work, and he was absolutely thrilled about it. He wondered what part of the new M25 Cynthia was now resting in. He would put his money on a slip road, but she might be holding up a flyover. Either way, there was no way she was ever coming back, of that much he was sure.
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Two
Vincent looked around his new house and smiled in satisfaction. It was lovely, and he knew that they would be very happy here. It was a new start for them, and that was something they needed desperately.
As he looked at Cherie’s pretty face he smiled at her, and she tentatively smiled back. ‘You can decorate your room any way you like, sweetheart.’ She was only happy when she was getting something – mainly her own way. She was related to Cynthia all right. ‘Go and help Mummy with the bags, would you?’
She skipped off to do as she was told. Since she had been away from Cynthia she was becoming easier to handle, but it was the change in his Gabby that was the real eye opener. She was like a young girl, laughing, easy with herself and everyone around her. It was as if Cynthia’s death had unleashed the real Gabriella Tailor. He hoped that she stayed this happy always, because although he loved the old Gabby – always had and always would – now he felt as though he had been given another woman to love alongside the old one. This one made plans, had ideas, was sure of herself, whereas the old one had always been frightened to be happy because it had never lasted for her. Now she was strong, strong in every way. And he loved her with all his heart and soul. This was the beginning of the rest of their lives, lives without the burden of Cynthia Tailor and what she entailed.
Picking up Gabby, he carried her across the threshold and her high laughter drew the attention of the passers-by who could not help but smile at such complete and utter happiness.
Epilogue
Richard O’Casey, known affectionately as Ricky, was laughing his head off, and he was obviously enjoying his day out. His older sister Cherie was grinning at him, and he was grinning back. As they ran back to their parents, they were holding hands.
Richard had the unmistakable Callahan eyes, and the sovereign-coloured hair. He was a good-looking and a happy boy. Cherie was growing up and she could easily pass for older than she was, with the unmistakable Callahan femininity she exuded. Vincent watched her like a hawk, as did Gabby. Cherie knew all this and she had made sure that she acted how they wanted her to act; that way she got a lot more leeway, but she was already a terrible liar, who had an eye for the men, not boys, men. Gabby feared there was far too much of Cynthia in the girl, but that was to be expected – she had been her role model for so long. Gabby suspected she was a lost cause, but they were determined to do the best they could for her, and make her into a better person because they loved her in spite of everything. It was hard work though – if Vincent had not been as strong-minded as he was, Cherie would have been walking all over him by now. She already knew how to captivate any males in her vicinity.
Ricky, on the other hand, was a wonderful little boy, who enjoyed life, and understood the word ‘no’. As he looked at the gravestone, he said sweetly, ‘Great-Granddad Jack’s down there.’
They smiled at his words. ‘That he is, my little lovely. He’s with your great-nana Mary – she would have loved you!’ Gabby wished her grandparents could see them now.
Vincent held Gabby’s hand, and he squeezed it affectionately as she looked down at the grave of the only two people who had ever cared about her when she was growing up.
Cherie watched them both warily; she hated the way they were always hanging off each other. And how could her dad hold her mother’s hands? They were awful – all scarred and deformed. If she had those hands she would wear gloves all the time.
She glanced across the cemetery at her uncle James’s grave. They put flowers there as well, though why they would acknowledge a nutter like that she didn’t know. She would never understand her family, not if she lived for a thousand years. Since her nanny Cynthia had gone on the trot they had all acted like it was Christmas every day. Well, she missed her nanny and she couldn’t understand why she not taken her with her. She sai
d to her mum then, ‘I wonder if we’ll hear from Nanny Cynthia this year?’
Gabby shrugged. ‘You never know, she could turn up out of the blue. I wouldn’t put it past her.’
Vincent O’Casey looked at his family and felt that, after everything, they were finally getting on track. He had bought his garage back now, courtesy of Derek and Bertie. He tuned up certain motors for certain people for certain jobs; it was very lucrative, but nothing that could put him back in the nick. He loved his freedom too much to do anything to jeopardise it, and he loved his family too much to leave them ever again. As he looked at his wife, because they were married now, and saw the little bump under her coat he felt a great wave of happiness. He hoped this baby was a girl. They were still young and they had their whole lives ahead of them.
Cynthia Callahan was dead and gone, buried all alone and far away from the people she was supposed to love. Her days of dictating other people’s lives were past. It was just them now, and they were happy, really happy. Unlike Cynthia Callahan, they knew the value of love, and they knew the value of loyalty. And they were determined that they would be happy despite everything and everyone who had tried to destroy them. After all, as Mary Callahan had always said, what can’t kill you can only make you stronger. They had faith in each other and in their ability to live a happy life, and that wasn’t bad for starters, was it?
‘Who fancies fish and chips?’
Richard was jumping up and down with sheer excitement and even Cherie looked keen. They walked away together as a family.
As they neared the cemetery gates, Gabby looked back to where her brother lay alone. Just for a few seconds in the autumn sunshine she thought she saw her, Cynthia, standing by his grave. She looked lost, unhappy, sorry. Gabby knew it was a trick of the light, but somehow it made her feel better. So she closed her eyes and said quietly, ‘Goodbye, Mum.’
Then, smiling, she followed her husband and kids to the car.
Martina Cole, The Faithless
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