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‘Will you tell Alec?’
‘No, I can’t. It would kill him. All he’s ever wanted is a family of his own, and he’d end up getting himself shot over it. It’s not worth him dying over. He’ll move on, eventually, and meet a nice girl and be able to fill her with babies.’ The thought of him with someone else made my blood boil, however hypocritically. ‘No-one else can know. Swear you won’t tell.’
Maeve’s eyebrows furrowed before she nodded with a sigh. ‘Alright, I won’t tell him, but I still think you owe it to him to let him know.’
He deserved to know, but knowing would be too painful. It was a secret I was going to have to keep from him. For his safety, and for the baby’s. Harold would kill them both otherwise.
‘Here,’ Maeve said, fishing something from her pocket before placing it in my hand. ‘You ought to have Mum’s necklace back.’
‘Thanks you,’ I said, slipping it around my neck and clasping it at the back before carefully wrapping the pregnancy test back in the foil and slipping it up my sleeve. It wouldn’t be able to go out the way it came it, so I’d have to find alternate means of getting rid of it. The rubbish bin definitely wasn’t a safe option, with Harold’s penchant for control.
Maeve stopped before we exited the bathroom, letting her hand graze my stomach as she smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to being aunty M.’
I shared her smile before removing her hand and gripping her fingers in my own.
‘We still have nine months before then. First, I have to get through the wedding and survive that long.’
THIRTY-SIX
ALEC
The house was cold and darker than I remembered as I stood in the kitchen. Logan had had my payment laundered and put straight into my account, and I stared at the six figure total on my phone screen bleakly.
I didn’t want it.
I wanted Esther.
The phone landed with a clunk as I tossed in on the counter, pushing my face into my hands. What could I do? Nothing. Useless as ever.
Outside the window two kids played, running through a sprinkler and filling the air with their tinkling laughter. Their mother sat on the front step drinking from a mug while their father came up behind her. His fingers grazed her hair gently as she leant back against his thighs and the soft, warm scene broke me. It could have been us, given the time and freedom to be with one another. Esther could have been my happily ever after, and I could have been hers. Beneath the mafia princess exterior was a passionate, warm, wonderful woman who just wanted to be appreciated. I wanted to be the person giving that to her. To at least have the chance to try.
A timid knock on the door tore my eyes from the scene across the road. I’d been so lost in my head that I hadn’t even seen anyone approach the door. A glance out of the window had me sighing with relief. It was only Gladys.
My elderly neighbour stood on my doorstep clutching an ancient tin and set me with a warm smile when I opened the door.
‘Welcome home lad, thought you might like a biscuit or two.’ She entered the house without an invitation and made her way to the kitchen, ruffling around in my cupboards until she located some tea. It should have been rude, made my heckles raise, but the familiarity encased me like a cosy blanket. As if she was the granny I didn’t have.
‘I can do that,’ I said, taking over the tea preparation and directing her to a seat.
‘How were the travels?’
I’d given her a key when I’d left so she could get in if there were any emergencies, but I’d fobbed her off with it being a business meeting abroad. I hadn’t expected to be away for weeks. I sat across from her, her kind eyes making my chest hollow. I wanted to talk, to spill my agonies, but I kept it in as always.
‘It was alright, there were a few complications, which is why I was gone so long.’
Gladys watched me as she sipped her tea, pushing the open box of cookies toward me. ‘I don’t think that’s the truth, Alec.’
I swallowed as I took a biscuit, taking a large bite and closing my eyes as the sweet, sugary delight hit my tongue. God, I’d missed her baking.
‘I... There’s a lot to know to understand.’
‘I’ve nothing but time, as you know.’
Could I tell her? Would she hate me if she knew what I was?
‘You know I grew up in care, and that when I left, I was on my own. Well, I struggled to find employment. Without an address, places wouldn’t take a risk on me, and without a job, I couldn’t get a place. Eventually I was picked up by a gang, and started doing low-level jobs for them.’
‘Illegal jobs?’ she asked, picking out a small biscuit of her own and dipping it into her tea before taking a bite.
