Page 71 of Good Bad Girl

“All of it,” Clio says. “I know you don’t trust me, but please let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help and I’ll never trust you again.”

Clio wishes she could study the girl’s face instead of having to concentrate on the road ahead. She wants to look at her, talk to her, find out everything about her. Everything that she has missed.

“You have the same ring,” the girl says. Clio glances over and sees that she is wearing a silver ladybug ring, exactly like the one on her own finger.

Clio stops at a red light. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Unless it’s where my mum is, I’m not interested,” the girl replies. “We had a deal. You said to keep quiet and I kept quiet. You also said that if I got Edith out of the home that you would—”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And you’re out of prison, aren’t you? I’ll get you the money.”

“Keep it. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be a fool. I said I’d pay you and I will. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

“Ha! Is that a joke?” the girl says, staring out of the passenger window.

“I don’t want to lie to you. Can we hit the reset button? Start again?” Clio says.

“Thank you for the lift home, but after that I don’t ever want to see you again.”

The words wound Clio more than she would have thought possible. They drive in silence after that, so when the girl finally speaks it makes Clio jump.

“Take the next exit,” the girl says, and they turn off the main road before navigating a seemingly endless network of narrow country lanes. It feels a million miles from the city. The girl winds down the window and the fresh air tastes good. They drive through pretty villages passing old churches and quaint pubs. There are rows of tiny terraced old houses and Clio can see smoke rising from some of the chimneys. She notices pretty gardens and fields of lush green grass, an old stone bridge, a river...

“What river is this?” Clio asks.

“The Thames.”

“It doesn’t look like the Thames.”

“Rivers are like people. They change, they go where they haveto. Sometimes they don’t look like themselves but they’re still who they are.”

“Who told you that? Your mum?”

The girl glares at her. “Yes.”

“You love her, don’t you? Your mum.”

“She’s the best person I know,” the girl says without hesitation.

Clio thinks on those words for a while, wondering what to do with them. She feels jealous and grateful and happy and sad, all at once.

“This is it,” the girl says abruptly. Clio said she’d take her home—it felt like the least she could do, and she just wanted to spend some time alone with her—but all Clio can see is a country lane and the river. She pulls over anyway. “You said you needed to tell me something,” the girl says, already reaching for the door.

Clio turns off the engine. “Is there somewhere we can go?” The girl shakes her head and Clio fears she will open the door and run. “Here is fine. Can I ask you one question first?”

“One.”

“I don’t know what to call you. What’s your real name? I know it isn’t Patience.”

The girl hesitates. “Nellie.”

Clio beams, struggles not to cry. “Nellie! Short for Eleanor. That’s a very pretty name.”

The girl reallyisbaby Eleanor. The name is too much of a coincidence for it not to be true. Her eyes, her smile, her scowl, Clio suddenly recognizes them all. She wants to touch her so badly but knows that she can’t. She finally found her baby girl and her heart is breaking all over again.

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