Текст книги "Down London Road"

Автор книги: Samantha Young

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

27

I had difficulty finding sleep that night. I finally drifted into unconsciousness in the wee hours of the morning and was awoken at ten thirty by the loud bing of a text notification on my phone.

It was from Uncle Mick, reminding me that I’d agreed to go flat hunting with him. That was fine. Probably better to keep my mind off my fight with Cameron anyway.

I’d swayed back and forth on the whole thing during the night. Part of me felt like our argument was ridiculous, that it was ludicrous to be feeling this much pain over misunderstandings. I wondered if they were all misunderstandings of my own making. Three times I almost picked up the phone to call Cam, to talk it through, to try to make sense of all the drama. I’d watched crap like this on the telly, read about it in books, and although I’d enjoyed the angst of it all, I’d rolled my eyes and thought of how it never really happened in real life. People weren’t that stupid.

Well, we were.

I was.

In the end I didn’t call him. I decided my wounds were still too fresh to talk to him just yet. Since I was sixteen years old I hadn’t been without a boyfriend, and during the months in between relationships, I’d been on the hunt for a boyfriend. I’d spent so much time believing Mum and Dad, believing I was nothing, that instead of putting effort into fighting the hateful crap they’d fed me all my life, I’d bought into it and thus clutched on to men I believed had all the attributes I lacked.

Cam had been different from the start, but I’d still launched myself into a relationship with him. I’d begun to rely on him. More than that, I’d begun to rely on his opinion of me as a person to make me feel better about who I was. I was more than a little cut up inside at the thought of losing that good opinion – or worse, that he’d never really had a good opinion in the first place.

I shook my head at that thought. Even though my mind was all over the place because of him, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he’d never seen more in me. Everything he’d done for me, all the looks he’d given me, the affection, the tenderness, it couldn’t be fake. I knew it couldn’t be fake.

Maybe taking a day away from each other to calm down was best. We could talk it out tomorrow.

Chest aching, I nodded to myself. That sounded like a plan.

I got up out of bed to see Cole off to school. He took one look at me and he knew. ‘You and Cam have a fight?’

‘Bloody clairvoyant,’ I muttered irritably under my breath as I passed him to make some tea.

‘I’ll take that as an aye.’

I grunted.

‘Is it bad?’ He suddenly sounded worried and very much like a little boy.

I looked at him over my shoulder. Cole was trying to act cool, like a fight between Cam and me was no big deal, but I knew he would be anxious about what it meant for his friendship with Cam. I shook my head at him. ‘We’ll be fine. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’

Relief glinted in his eyes as he gave me a sympathetic smile. Sympathy from Cole. I must really look like crap.

I closed my eyes. God, I hoped Cam and I could fix this.

I loved him.

Heaving a heartfelt sigh, I opened my eyes and squealed.

Spider.

On my mug.

‘Cole!’ I yelled, frozen on the spot.

‘Spider?’ he asked casually, his footsteps coming closer.

He knew my squeal so well.

‘Mug.’

I never moved a muscle as Cole calmly tilted the mug out of our kitchen window, depositing the spider on the sill, much as Cam had done with the humungous spider that had been in his kitchen. I felt a wave of longing at the memory of that day and tried to squash it just as quickly as it had risen.

Cole gestured the mug at me and I made a face. ‘Bin it.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Just wash it in hot water.’

‘If you think I can put that mug to my mouth without forever remembering that those spindly, hairy – eeeeeh’ – I shuddered – ‘legs were on it, you’re mental.’

With another eye roll, he threw the mug in the bin and I slumped with relief.

Damn all the spiders of the world. They were putting a serious dent in my road to independence. When Cole came over and kissed my hair before going to school, I knew I had progressed from looking like crap to just looking pathetic. Still, his affection gave me the warm fuzzies and for a moment I forgot my worries about Cam.

I hurried in the shower and got dressed in something comfortable for flat hunting with Uncle Mick. As I was passing Mum’s bedroom, I sighed in exasperation. Mum hadn’t popped her head out of her bedroom for days, and the only reason I knew she was alive was because I heard her snoring. It occurred to me as I stood in our quiet flat that I hadn’t said a word to her in a week. Not one word. Maybe that’s a good thing, I thought with a surprising amount of sadness. Maybe I would never learn to think more of myself if I continued to let Mum get close enough to poison my attempts. And maybe if I thought more of myself, I wouldn’t feel so irrational over Cam’s friendship with Blair.

Then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Uncle Mick and I were lying on the hardwood floor of the two-bedroom flat on Heriot Row. A street that was mere minutes away from Dublin Street, it skirted the north side of Queen Street Gardens. More importantly, it was just around the corner from Jamaica Lane, where Olivia had just signed a lease on a one-bedroom flat above a coffee shop. It was all coming together for her. Proving it’s who you know once again, Clark managed to get Olivia an interview at the university library. They’d been impressed with her postgraduate degree in library science from the States as well as her six years of work experience. They had taken her on, on a temporary contract to be reviewed for permanency in six months’ time.

She seemed happy. Nervous but happy.

Mick was worried.

Since Olivia had started her new job today, I’d offered to accompany Mick to see the unfurnished flat that was so close to his daughter’s new home. Unfurnished wasn’t ideal, but the location was. The rental was under the Carmichael banner, so Ryan was the one viewing the flat with us. When we suddenly lay down on the floor, our eyes studying the level of craftsmanship in the decor, Ryan had stared at us wide-eyed and then said, ‘Uh, I’ll wait outside.’

Uncle Mick and I used to lie like this when he took me on jobs with him. During our lunch break we’d lie down on the dust sheets and talk nonsense to one another. Today, I wasn’t in the mood for nonsense. I was in the mood for answers.

‘Are you going to tell me why you keep hovering over your adult daughter like she might disappear or shatter into a million pieces at any second?’

Mick heaved a sigh, rolling his head to the side to look at me. His golden eyes were soft with affection for me, but I could still see that glimmer of sadness at the back of them.

‘I’m a father. I worry, baby girl.’

‘Is it because she’s carrying all this guilt about Yvonne?’

‘She told you that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘My girl is tough, just like you, and she’s going to be okay. I know that. But I’m her dad and she’s moved to a new country, left all her friends behind, and is starting over. I want to make sure she’s okay, and I’ll worry if I can’t be near her. So what if I have to put up with bad paintwork in order to do that?’ He gestured to the main wall, where the paint had dried in uneven brushstrokes. ‘Something happens, she needs me, she calls me, and I’m literally seconds away.’

‘So you’re taking this place, then?’

‘Aye.’ He sat up, pulling me with him. ‘Fancy a trip to Ikea?’

I grinned. ‘Lucky for me today was payday.’ Mick looked confused. ‘I can go a little accessory mad when I shop at Ikea.’

‘Ah.’ He chuckled and helped me to my feet.

As I dusted off my bum, I became aware of the heat of Mick’s sudden and intense scrutiny.

I looked up and raised an eyebrow at his grave expression. ‘What?’

‘I’m worried about you, too.’ He brushed my hair off my face, stroking my cheek with his callused thumb. ‘You look tired.’

Shaking my head, I gave Mick a glum smile. ‘I had a fight with Cam.’

He frowned. ‘About what?’

And so I laid it out for him, telling him about Blair and my insecurity over their friendship and my worry that Cameron would never really respect me the way he would respect someone like Blair.

‘All that’s going on in your head?’ Mick asked in disbelief.

Confused, I nodded slowly.

‘Jesus Christ, woman. I doubt very much Cam was thinking any of the shit you threw at him last night. It probably felt like it came out of nowhere. You know, men don’t think like women.’

‘Well …’ I pulled a face. ‘That’s because you have the emotional capacity of a shot cup.’

Mick huffed in amusement as we met Ryan outside. ‘I’ll take it, son.’ He nodded at him.

‘Great.’ Ryan beamed. ‘Let’s get you back to the office so we can sign all the forms.’

We followed Ryan down the street as he talked at someone on his phone. Everything about him was so polished, so rehearsed. I actually couldn’t believe that only four months ago I would have been attracted to the douche bag.

Douche bag?

Oh, Christ, I was spending too much time with Cole these days.

‘Back to my earlier point,’ Uncle Mick suddenly said, drawing my gaze away from Ryan’s well-tailored jacket. ‘I think you’re overthinking the whole thing. I think you’ll find that boy cares a great deal about you and would be willing to compromise. And I can tell you for a fact he didn’t mean what he said last night. You know we all say shit we don’t mean when we’re angry.’

‘You think he cares a great deal about me?’

Rolling his eyes (someone else was spending too much time with Cole, too), Mick sighed. ‘Of course he does. Jesus Christ, girl. Get your head out of your arse.’

I’d been planning on popping down to Cam’s before my shift at the bar that night, but when I tried his door there was no answer. Since he hadn’t texted me or called me, I thought perhaps it was a good thing anyway. Maybe he needed time away from me to cool down.

I received a text from Joss before heading to work, explaining she wouldn’t be in tonight because she’d caught a bug that Declan had picked up at school and couldn’t keep anything down.

Lovely.

She said Sadie was covering for her.

Brian greeted me cheerily at the door to the bar and introduced me to our new doorman, Vic. He was this huge, hulking Polish guy I wouldn’t want to mess with. I smiled hello at Vic and got a stoic nod back. I raised an eyebrow at Brian. ‘What happened to Phil?’ Not that I would miss him.

‘Left us for greener pastures,’ Brian replied with a shrug.

Mimicking his shrug, I went inside to find Sadie and Alistair working behind the bar. Su still hadn’t found a replacement for Cam, so Alistair was back to covering the shifts that he could. Sadie was a twenty-one-year-old postgrad student who usually worked Monday nights. She seemed like a cool girl. She was outgoing and funny and very smart. We’d only worked together a few times, so I didn’t really know her that well, and tonight would be busy so I didn’t imagine that would change in any way.

Three hours later the place was packed. The three of us were worked off our feet and I hid in Su’s office during my break since the sound level was much quieter in there. I also obsessively checked my phone, but Cam still hadn’t got in touch. Biting my lip, I wondered if I should be worried, but then it occurred to me that I hadn’t contacted him either, and maybe he was sitting looking at his phone, worrying about why I hadn’t texted him.

God, I hoped so.

When I got back to the bar, it was so busy I thankfully didn’t have time to dwell on my relationship. In fact my head was so into work that when the guy first pushed his way to the front of the bar and leaned across it I didn’t recognize him. I shot him a quick, irritated look, not having much patience with anyone who shoved himself to the front of the queue, but I hurried down the bar to get a beer for my customer, not registering who he was. It wasn’t until I stretched back up from the fridge and realized he’d shoved his way down to the end of the bar to be near me that I took the time to really look at him.

Grey-blue eyes stared at me out of a rugged, older man’s face. His hair was cropped close to his head, but I could see the sprinklings of grey among the dark strands. There were attractive lines around his eyes, and his face hadn’t softened with age. It was still rough-hewn. His powerful shoulders and chest suggested he was still as fit as he’d ever been.

Those hard eyes glittered at me and I felt my world flip upside down.

‘Dad?’ I mouthed, disbelieving that he was standing at the bar in front of me.

I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. No. I wanted to run home, grab Cole, and then hide.

‘Jo.’ Murray Walker leaned across the bar. ‘Good to see you, lass.’

I found myself stumbling towards him, the pounding noise of chatter and music fizzling to a quiet murmur. I put the beer on the bar with a trembling hand.

Murray eyed my shaking fingers and smirked as he turned his gaze back on my face. ‘Been a long time. You’re all grown up. You’re even prettier than your maw was.’

‘Hey, can I get served?’ an irritated girl beside Murray asked. The irritation melted to fear when Murray whipped his head around to glare at her.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, loud enough to be heard over the music, hating myself for the quiver in my voice.

‘Been trying to find you for fucking ages, ever since I got out.’ He grunted, his face twisting into that familiar expression of hate. ‘Bitch took off and didn’t tell me where you were going. Then I did a google search on you the other week there and where did you crop up but in a picture with a multimillionaire from Edinburgh. The article said you worked here. It was an auld article like, but I thought I’d try my luck.’ He flashed me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

My whole body was shaking now. The blood was rushing in my ears, my pulse points throbbing and my stomach churning. I clasped my hands behind my back, trying to still the tremors. ‘Wh-what do you want?’

Murray’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over the bar. I instinctively moved back. ‘I want to see my son, Jo.’

It was my worst fear realized.

I feared it more than I feared Murray Walker.

‘No.’

He curled his lip at me. ‘What?’

I shook my head, eyes blazing. ‘Never. I’ll not let you near him.’

He huffed, seeming amazed at my audacity. He slammed a hand on the bar with a twisted smile. ‘I’ll let you think on that very carefully, lass. See you soon.’ And just as quickly as he’d appeared, he melted back into the crowd.

The noise, the music, came flooding back and I staggered against the bar in absolute shock.

‘Jo, you okay?’

Blinking rapidly, seeing little dark spots all over my vision, I turned on unstable feet to find Alistair peering into my face in concern. ‘I feel –’

‘Whoa.’ He reached for me as I swayed towards him. ‘Okay, you’re taking a break.’

‘Too busy …’ I murmured.

Something cold was pressed into my hand as Alistair led me towards the staff room. I glanced down at the bottle of water. ‘Sadie and I have this, so just take a minute or two. You’re probably dehydrated. It’s hot in here tonight. Go on, drink up,’ he insisted, and then once he was sure I was obeying his order, he hurried back out to the bar to help Sadie with the customers.

My heart was still pounding. I gazed at the wall. Trying to process what had just happened.

Murray Walker was back.

He was still a mean bastard.

And … Cole. He wanted to see Cole. I shook my head, bending over on a gasp as tears pricked my eyes.

No. Never.

Fuck.

What was I going to do?

I took a taxi home that night, terrified that Murray would be waiting outside the bar for me. He wasn’t. Still …

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

This could break me. I could curl up and cry and become that little girl he’d abused. I could run to Cam.

But Cole was mine to protect. He’d always been mine to protect. And anyway, Murray was just playing with me. He’d had no interest in wanting to see Cole when he was in Cole’s bloody life, and now he’d come to me. Not Mum. Me.

Then I did a google search on you the other week there and where did you crop up but in a picture with a multimillionaire from Edinburgh.

The bastard didn’t want Cole. He wanted money.

He was going to blackmail me for money.

Stupid asshole. I didn’t have any money!

I shook my head and turned on my side, pulling the covers tight around me. I’d just tell him that Malcolm and I were over and I didn’t have access to his money any more. I was pretty sure that then he’d go slithering back into his little hole in Glasgow.

That was it, settled then. There was no need to tell anyone about this. Murray would be gone before I knew it.

Sleep evaded me for another night.

28

Thankfully Cole put my subdued behaviour the next morning down to the reigning silence between me and Cam.

‘You should talk to him,’ my little brother had advised as if it was the most obvious solution in the world. I’d just nodded at him and promised him I was nipping down to see Cam before work tonight.

Cam still hadn’t texted me.

Then again, I still hadn’t texted him.

Zombified from lack of sleep, I didn’t do much that day. When I popped out for some groceries I felt as though eyes were following me the entire time, paranoid that Murray had found me again. I hurried home and stayed in the flat for the rest of the day.

When I was sure Cam would have returned home from work, I threw plenty of concealer on the dark circles under my eyes and walked down to his flat on shaking legs. I didn’t know what to say to him, where to start …

I’d worked myself up into such a nervous mess that it was sort of deflating to discover that he wasn’t home.

That had not been an outcome I’d imagined when I’d been guessing as to how our conversation would go. Mostly I hoped it would conclude with a lot of apologies from both of us, Cam agreeing never to see Blair again and then taking me wildly on his couch.

If he wasn’t home, none of those things would happen.

A little nonplussed, I moodily returned to the flat. Cole was having dinner at Jamie’s after school and returning home later that night. He was of course under strict orders to inform me when he got back to the flat. Strict orders or not, he had been getting a little lax lately with keeping me informed. Well, with thoughts of Murray riding me, baby boy would not be getting away with radio silence tonight. I’d be on his back like hair on a gorilla.

Determined to at least see Cam’s face (I missed the asshole, goddammit), I knocked on his door on my way out to work. Again there was no answer. I pressed my ear against the door, but there was no sound of movement, no sound of the television, no music.

Where was he?

I glanced at my phone as I left the building, wondering if I should text him, make the first move, and it vibrated in my hand. My heart leaped into my throat as the message envelope blinked at me. Relief rushed through as I swiped the lock screen away and saw Cam’s name.

Think maybe it’s time we talk, baby. Can you come down to the flat tomorrow morning? Please. x

I sucked in the fresh air, feeling at least one weight lift off my shoulders. I nodded, as though he was there in front of me, and quickly sent him a reply.

I’ll be there. x

I was just getting on the bus for work when my phone vibrated again.

I chuckled and settled into my seat. A smiley face. A smiley face was always a good thing, right?

Joss was still unwell, so I was working with Sadie and Alistair again. Alistair inquired immediately if I was feeling better, and I lied and told him I was fine. It was nice of him to ask. Alistair was a sweet guy. I was glad, however, that we’d been so busy the night before that he hadn’t noticed Murray’s appearance. If Alistair had seen the interaction between us, he would have known something was wrong and he would have peppered me with questions. He was a sweet guy, but he was also a nosy bastard, and if I hadn’t given him answers, which I wouldn’t have, he would have sought out Joss for them. Joss would then be involved and well … she had a way of unearthing all of my secrets.

It was just as busy as it had been the night before, and I was a jittery mess. I got drink orders mixed up, I dropped not one but two glasses, and in general caused Alistair to raise his eyebrows so many times he could have been mistaken for a Muppet.

When the time for my break arrived, I couldn’t have been more relieved. I threw back water, staying away from anything with caffeine in it, since it would probably only make my nerves worse, and I pulled out my phone. Cole still hadn’t texted me.

I rang him.

‘Uh, hullo?’

‘Uh, hullo?’ I sniped. Sometimes worrying could turn me a mite crabby. ‘You were supposed to text me when you got home. Are you home?’

I heard him sigh heavily and had to stomp down on my aggravation so I didn’t scream at him. ‘Aye, I’m home. And when are you going to start talking to Cam again so you can stop being a total –’

‘Finish that sentence and die.’

Silence governed on the end of the line.

I scowled. ‘Are you still there?’

He grunted in response.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ I tugged on the end of my ponytail, wrapping my hair around my fist. ‘You locked the door, right?’

‘Of course.’ He sighed again. ‘Jo, is there something else bothering you?’

‘Nope,’ I answered quickly. ‘Just, you know, I worry, so next time I ask you to text me, text me.’

‘Fine.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.’

With another grunt he hung up.

As I blew out the air between my lips in relief that he was home and safe, I noted the envelope in the top left-hand corner of my phone screen. I clicked on the unopened message. It was from Joss.

The Reign of the Vomit is over! Hope you’re not missing me too much:)

I choked on a weak laugh and texted her back.

Are you telling me you’re well enough to be working but aren’t? Tut tut, Mrs Carmichael, tut tut. x

Two seconds later my phone binged.

I was well until you called me that:

Better get used to it x

Fuck!

I laughed for real now, shaking my head. She was worse than a bloke. Poor Braden had his work cut out for him with that one.

Feeling somewhat better, I returned to the bar, praying the evening would be over quickly. For the next few hours I couldn’t help but scan the crowds for Murray’s face, but as the night wore on and he didn’t show, I started to feel antsy. Part of me had wanted him to appear so I could get our confrontation over with. The sooner he realized I wasn’t with Malcolm anymore and didn’t have the kind of money he was after, the quicker he’d get the bugger out of Edinburgh.

Last night I’d called a cab to pick me up at the door of the bar, but tonight I was feeling defiant. I was still angry at myself for reacting to Murray like I was ten years old again and defending myself against his fists. I didn’t want him to know I was frightened of him. I didn’t want him to think he had that kind of power over me. I wanted him to think he’d never left a mark on me.

So I (in retrospect, stupidly) took my usual route home – walking to Leith Walk in hopes of grabbing a taxi with its light on once I got there.

I stood on Leith Walk for five minutes, waiting for a taxi to turn down the wide road. The only one that did was mobbed by a small group of guys. As the taxi drove away, I stood there for a minute, listening to two drunken girls across the street shout names at one another.

I was starting to get uneasy standing there alone. It never usually bothered me because Edinburgh was still so alive at this time in this area – people were still out and about, witnesses to halt any nefarious intentions of a creepy stranger. But I had goose bumps and the hair on the nape of my neck prickled. I whipped my head around, scanning back up the road I’d just walked down. I couldn’t see anyone watching me.

With a weary huff, I decided to just walk home. It was a fair wee walk at this time and I didn’t particularly enjoy walking down the very long London Road, but I didn’t want to hang around any more.

I was just about to turn the corner on to Blenheim Place when something made me look back. Call it a sixth sense, a chill down the spine, a warning …

My heart shot up into my throat.

A dark silhouette was a few yards behind me. I recognized the lope. Growing up, we called it the ‘hard man’ lope. The gentle but forced swagger of the shoulders, chest puffed up, steps deliberate. It was usually adopted by men when they were going into some kind of ‘battle’. My dad had walked like that all the time, though. Then again, every second of every day he’d treated life as one big battle and everyone as an enemy.

Murray Walker was following me.

I quickly looked in front of me, and without really even taking the time to think about it, I took the path up the cobbled streets of Royal Terrace instead of London Road. It ran adjacent to London Road on higher ground, but I knew there was a path by the church that would take me into Royal Terrace Gardens. I raced into the entrance, and the climb burned in my muscles, but I pushed on, taking the wide path that veered steeply up along the outskirts of Calton Hill. The precipitous pathway would eventually slope downward and bring me out on to Waterloo Place, and from there I’d go west back on to Princes Street. Then it was north to Dublin Street.

All that really mattered was misdirecting Murray.

He couldn’t know where we lived.

I was so panicked at the thought of him finding the flat that I didn’t think clearly and I didn’t see the error in my plan.

Me. Alone. On a dark, rough, muddy pathway. At night.

The adrenaline was pumping through me as I marched upward. I attempted to listen for the sound of footsteps behind me, but my heart was racing so hard it was pulsing blood in rushing waves into my ears. The palms of my hands and my underarms were damp with cold sweat, and I couldn’t breathe properly, my chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. I felt sick with fear.

When I finally heard the heavy footsteps behind me I glanced back and saw my dad’s face under the wash of moonlight. He was pissed off.

All the determination I’d had earlier to stand and face him and show him he didn’t scare me just disappeared. I couldn’t let go of that little girl who was terrified of him.

And so, like her, I tried to run.

My feet slapped against the steps as I ran upward as hard and fast as I could, wishing I could conjure up people, witnesses. But no one was there.

I was alone.

Except for the pounding of heavy boots behind me.

At the hard, warm grip of his hand around my arm, I made a noise of loud distress that was quickly muffled by his other hand clamping down over my mouth. The smell of sweat and cigarette smoke flooded my nostrils as I fought him, my nails biting into his arm, my legs trying to kick out as I was dragged off the path. I lost my grip on my bag with my pepper spray as I fought him.

I wasn’t strong enough, and now I was unarmed.

Murray slammed me back against the rocky, grass-covered slope of the hillside and pain shot through my skull before shooting all the way down to the tip of my toes. Tears leaked from my eyes as he held me there, his large hand around my throat.

I grunted against the other hand that was still clamped over my mouth.

He tightened his grip on my throat and I stopped squirming.

Despite the fact that his face was mostly cast in darkness, I could still make out the anger that stretched his features taut. ‘Trying to give me the runaround?’ he hissed.

I didn’t answer. I was too busy wondering morbidly what he was going to do to me. My body began to shake hard, and I lost complete control of my breathing. He felt the gulping breaths behind his palm and smirked.

‘I won’t hurt you, Jo. I just want to see my son.’

Knowing it would bring me physical pain, I still shook my head ‘no’.

Murray’s smirk grew into a smug smile, as though he’d won something. ‘I suppose we better come to an arrangement then. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and you’re not going to scream. If you do, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.’

I nodded, wanting at least one of his disgusting paws off me. As I stared up into his face, I saw not for the first time how there was nothing behind his eyes. I didn’t think I had ever met anyone in my entire life who was as callously selfish as this man. Was he really my father? There had been no connection between us other than that of abuser and victim. To me he’d been the reason for the knot in my stomach when I heard his rattling old banger of a car pull up to the house. The affection I’d felt for Mick, the eagerness to see him, the warm contentment of safety he gave me, was exactly what I should have felt for this man. But a man was all he’d ever been to me. A man with mean eyes and even meaner fists. For the longest time I’d despaired that he didn’t love me as a father should. I’d questioned whether there was something wrong with me. Looking at him now, I wondered how I could ever have questioned myself. I wasn’t the problem. He was. He was the shameful one, not me.

I sucked in a deep breath when he let go of my mouth, but he put more pressure on the hand around my throat as an extra warning to be quiet.

‘Now.’ He leaned into me and I could smell the beer and cigarettes on him. He hadn’t been in Club 39, but he’d obviously been in one of the bars near it, waiting on me. ‘I might just give up my right to see the wee man if your boyfriend made it worth my while. Say a hundred grand?’

I knew it. And straight to the point. He didn’t even care. He was as soulless as he’d ever been. How could someone be that way? Was he born soulless, black to his rotten core? Or did life make you that way? How could you hurt your own children and not feel like a monster? Maybe a monster was too far gone to realize he’d become one …

‘I stopped seeing Malcolm months ago. You’re out of luck.’

He squeezed my throat and panic suffused me. I automatically grabbed his hand, my nails biting into his skin. He didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m sure you can persuade him somehow.’ He pushed his face into mine, his breath reeking of smoke and stale beer. ‘I had myself a bonnie bairn. She’s fucking useless but bonnie. It’s a commodity, Jo. Use it or I’ll come for Cole.’ He let me go and I sucked in a breath, my fingers brushing my neck to reassure myself that his hand was definitely no longer there. ‘If I wanted to, I could become a right pest in your lives, lass.’