Page 8 of Final Betrayal

‘I’m being pragmatic.’

‘Ooh. Big words now.’

‘Yeah, and you’re a big girl, so quit the melodramatics and act your age.’

‘Yes, Mam.’

Katie held her at arm’s length. ‘I’m serious. We’ve been through some bad times. Both of us. And Mam has always been there for us. I think it’s time we cut her some slack and helped her out.’

‘What has that got to do with me enjoying a rare night out?’

‘Everything.’

‘You’re talking like a jigsaw puzzle, and I’m sick as a dog.’

Katie stepped out of the way just in time as Chloe puked all over the toilet seat. She realised the lid was coated in Vaseline too. She coiled Chloe’s hair around her fingers and waited until her sister raised her head.

‘Can we go home now?’ Katie said.

‘Yeah. I think that’s a very good idea. But …’

‘But what?’

‘Don’t tell Mam.’

Katie laughed at the childish plea. ‘I won’t tell her if you promise not to throw up all over our new bathroom.’

‘Pinky promise.’ Then Chloe turned and vomited once again.

*

One down. And I’m not finished yet. I pull off the Teflon apron and gloves and roll them up with the paper hat.

I have to have two of them. That was the plan all along. To cause as much confusion as possible. But I knew it would be hard to deal with two together, so I have to go back for another. I thought I wouldn’t have the stomach for it, but now that I’ve dispensed with the first one, I feel thirsty for more. That feeling. It was like an electrical surge through my body. A torrent of life infused me while she spluttered out of existence.

I dump the clothing in the boot of my car and take out a fresh sealed pack, then sit and watch. I have an eagle-eyed view of the club. I look on as two girls come out the door, one holding the other upright. Easy prey. Easy pickings. But should I deviate from my plan? Or keep them for later? The urge to take them now, to make their mother pay for her wrongdoing, is all-encompassing. Will I ever have another opportunity to get them both together? Possibly. If I’m clever enough.

With it all settled in my mind, I let the seat back and wait.

SEVEN

Baby Louis was snoring lightly but Lottie was wide awake.

She couldn’t sleep until her girls were home safe. She usually wasn’t this pent up, but some unknown and possibly unrealistic feeling of foreboding was crawling through her blood tonight. She had to do something, because they were not answering their phones. Maybe she’d have a soothing warm bath. Throwing back the duvet, she padded across the newly carpeted floor, relishing the warmth between her toes, and stepped into the bathroom.

‘Oh Holy Mother of God,’ she said. The white ceramic-tiled floor and walls were smeared with fake tan. It was like a troupe of actors had used the small space to get ready for a stage performance. She traced the edge of the integrated shower tiles above the bath with a finger. It came away smudged brown.

‘I’ll kill them. Both of them,’ she whispered. Picking up discarded items of clothing, she dumped them into the wash basket and with all thoughts of a relaxing soak in the bath scuppered went downstairs to heat a mug of milk. One of her mother’s remedies for sleeplessness.

The milk didn’t work. She paced the hallway, phone in hand. It was now past two o’clock. Their curfew was one a.m. For sure she was going to kill the pair of them. Why had she allowed Chloe to go out? She argued with herself in the silence. But she knew she had to trust her girls, even though they had a habit of finding trouble. Or did trouble find them?

Her bare feet slapped against the hall floor. She couldn’t go out to look for them. She had the baby to watch. Unless she roused Sean. She tried Katie’s phone again. Dead. She tapped Chloe’s number. Same thing. Why didn’t they charge their phones? She toyed with the idea of calling Boyd to see if he’d go out to look for them. No, she dismissed that thought. He’d tell her she was being overprotective and to let them live a little. Her new resolution of being a better mother was quickly evaporating, and still she couldn’t shift the quiver of unease fluttering at the base of her neck.

Where the hell were her daughters?

Penny Brogan knew she had a wide smile on her face and that her cheeks were flushed. She felt slightly giddy, and it wasn’t just from the last two shots Ducky Reilly had dared her to drink. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips, trying to feel the memory of his. Ducky was a friend. Just a friend. But after the last Jägerbomb, she’d kissed him. Leaning against the scratchy wall behind the seats in the smoking garden. And oh my God, she’d never have guessed in a million years how good it would feel. She was glad she’d worn her lace knickers and not a thong, because she could still feel his hands moving beneath the elastic waistband of her shimmery dress and his fingers toying with the knickers. She shivered with delight. His hands on her bum. Searching and probing. A soft squeal escaped her lips now as she stood outside the nightclub wondering where the hell Amy had gone. Stupid bitch. Should have waited the five minutes.

She glanced at the screen of her phone and realised it was half an hour since she’d last seen her friend. Why hadn’t Amy waited? But Penny wasn’t going to allow that inconvenience to dim the glow that was warming her body. She couldn’t even feel the rain.

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