Chapter 66

66

Lottie watched Greg shuffle from foot to foot in his shiny leather shoes. He could have left after Katie and Rose, but he'd remained. Did he think he was safer answering questions here without caution than at the station? She'd find out.

‘Sit down.'

He sat at the table, folding his arms. She sat opposite him.

Taking out her phone, she scrolled and then turned it towards him. ‘Know her?'

‘What? Who is that? Is she dead?'

‘Yes.'

‘I don't know who she is.'

Lottie scrolled to the last image on her photo app. The photo she'd taken from the personnel file at Cuan. ‘This is her alive.'

He scrutinised it. ‘I can't say I've ever seen her before and that's the truth.'

She sensed he was sincere, but with McKeown having access to his database, it would be easy to check. That was if Aneta had used her real name.

‘Can I leave now?' he asked.

‘What are you doing with my daughter?'

‘I didn't know she was your daughter. I met her at Fallon's the other night. We had a few drinks and I took her out for a meal last night. That's it. She's a lovely person and I like her. End of.'

‘I don't think it's anywhere near end of . Stay away from her.'

‘Don't you think that's for Katie to decide?'

She had enough on her plate without interfering with her daughter's love life, but she didn't like Plunkett or his business. No matter what she did, though, she'd incur Katie's wrath.

‘Go on, get out.'

When he'd left without another word, she ran her hand through her hair. A headache was taking root and she was starving.

Katie returned with Louis wrapped up in his jacket and with a small rucksack on his back. ‘I'm taking Gran home. We're staying the night with her.'

‘We need to talk.'

‘Not now, Mam. I can't take much more of your interference. We can talk tomorrow. Come on, Louis.'

Lottie watched them leave, without even a kiss from her grandson. She was about to switch the oven on when Sean loped in. ‘What's for dinner?'

‘I'm about to rescue these goujons. I'll throw on a few chips and call you when it's done.'

‘You okay, Mam?' Sean asked.

‘No, but am I ever?'

‘Good point. How's the case going?'

She looked at the suitcase, then realised he meant the investigation. ‘Going round in circles. Be a star and bring in the cardboard box from my car.'

‘Sure.'

She spread frozen chips on an oven tray and put them in to cook. Glancing at the mess of potatoes in the sink, she was about to clear it up when Sean deposited the box on the table.

‘Do you want me to watch the chips?' he said, pointing at the oven.

‘Not at all. I'll give you a shout when they're done.'

She made a coffee for herself after he strode out. Sipping the hot liquid, she considered the box. ‘I hope to Jesus nothing jumps out,' she said, grimacing.

Magenta hated it when they fought, which was all the time. Her head ached and she scratched her spots.

‘It has to be chickenpox,' the woman said. ‘That school is an incubation hub. Why do you always bring home germs? You're useless. Like him.'

Magenta had to agree about him.

‘It's like a pox on all your houses, as Jesus said,' the woman continued.

Magenta wasn't sure Jesus had said that, but when she spoke you had to believe her. She was charismatic that way, while also being the cruellest person Magenta could imagine. Would she turn out like her? She supposed she would. She felt like twisting her heel on his head until he could no longer shout in protest. Yes, she supposed she was more like her than like him. Was that a good thing? Maybe.

She tried hard not to squirm like he had done. But the slap across the side of her head put paid to any bravado she could muster. A second slap sent her sprawling across the floor. An anger she rarely allowed to erupt burst through her body like a swirling froth and she could not stop the words spilling from her mouth.

‘I hate you, you bitch. You keep me here like those women he brings home to you. I hate both of you!' She got up off the floor and fled before another slap arrived.

On her bed, she scratched the spots until they bled.

And then she felt better.