Hidden Sin: When the past comes back to haunt you. Julie Shaw

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       Chapter 3

      So this was the moment, was it? Come to get her? The moment she had always known might come, but had wished so hard never would. Christine folded her arms across her chest and buried her hands in her armpits so that Joey wouldn’t see that they were shaking.

      It took a couple of heartbeats before Brian met her eye. He opened his mouth and then closed it.

      ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘So what did he look like, this Mo, then?’ Her voice hadn’t betrayed her but she knew her burning cheeks might. She was grateful for the gloom in the room. ‘Older guy, was he?’

      Joey gave her a strange look. Or perhaps she was being paranoid. ‘I don’t know, Mam,’ he said. ‘Not old. Forties? Big bloke. Really smart. Seemed to know what he was on about, you know?’

      It figured. ‘So did he say anything else to you? Ask your name?’

      Joey shook his head. ‘He already knew my name. He called me Joey when he came over, so I supposed he must have already asked someone about us. About me. About the band and that. Exciting or what?’

      He seemed completely irrepressible. Smitten even, God help them all. Christine glanced helplessly at Brian, who cleared his throat noisily. ‘Well, you never know, son,’ he said, clapping Joey on the back. ‘But right now, it’s nearly one and we need to get that stuff inside.’ He looked down at Nicky, who was well away now, and beginning to snore. How did he do that? Christine wondered. Just be awake one minute and then spark out the next? Fifteen years in the nick, she thought grimly. ‘Let’s you and me go and get it in, eh?’ Brian was saying to Joey. ‘This one looks fit for nothing. And then bed.’

      He reached down for the discarded car keys and, dismissing Christine’s offer to help as well, followed Joey back outside to the van. Don’t panic. He mouthed the words at her as he went.

      Christine grabbed her pack of Benson & Hedges and lit one with shaky fingers. How could it be? But then again, why would it not be? She’d covered her brother with a blanket and smoked a second cigarette to the tip before the kit was all back in the house. ‘Up you go, love,’ she said to Joey when he’d stacked the last of it in the tiny hallway. ‘No sense taking it up till the morning, is there? Just head up to bed,’ she added, stretching up to plant a kiss on his cold cheek. ‘We’ll be up once we’re all straight down here.’

      As if they could ever be straight with her brother camping out in the front room. But Joey seemed happy enough, clearly too excited to clock the tension in her voice, and remembering to give Brian a grateful hug before he left them. Such a big lad now but still so much their baby. So loving – never afraid to hug his dad, even in public. God, the thought of that bastard Mo so much as sharing his airspace made her want to punch a wall.

      She went into the kitchen, her legs leaden. It was Mo. She just knew it. How many men of his description could possibly exist in the world? But back in Bradford? For fuck’s sake, why? And after all this time? What could possibly be here for him? Well, apart from his kids – and there were a few of them knocking about; that much she knew for sure. And not one of which, as far as she knew, had ever had anything to do with him. He spawned them and discarded them. That was what he had always been best at. So why approach her Joey? Surely to God he wouldn’t want to know Joey now? Not after all that had happened. Surely to God that would be that very last thing he’d do?

      She shivered as she put the kettle on, an action that was automatic. God, she wished her mam was still alive and doing it for her. Taking charge. Because she knew Mam would know what to do. Despite all her faults – and they’d been legion, no question – her mam had never been scared of anyone. Specially Mo. The man she’d loved. The man who had let her down so badly. The man who’d made such a calculated move on her own teenage daughter. On her. And she’d … God. It was no good. She couldn’t even bear to let the thought take shape. She grabbed the cigarettes again and lit another.

      ‘Look, love, I know what you’re thinking –’

      Christine turned around. Under the strip light, Brian’s face was pinched and grey.

      ‘I bet you don’t,’ she said, keeping her voice as low as his was. ‘I’m thinking how much I’d like to plunge a knife into his gut. It’s him, Bri. I know it is. It must be.’

      ‘Not necessarily,’ Brian said. ‘Come on. He can’t have been the only Mo in Bradford.’

      She stubbed out the cigarette. ‘A big black guy, called Mo? That would be one fucking massive coincidence.’

      ‘What about Paki Mo? Remember him?’

      ‘Mo, as in Mohammed. He said black, Brian, with dreadlocks. It’s him. It has to be. Trust me, I can feel it in my bones.’

      Brian went to put his arms around her, but she shrugged him off. She felt like glass. All sharp edges. Too fragile to be touched. ‘What will we do, Bri? What the fuck does he want with us after all these years?’

      She leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, feeling all the strength going from her legs. Brian took a step, pulled her towards him again, and this time she didn’t stop him.

      ‘I don’t think we should panic,’ he said eventually, speaking into her hair. ‘Even if it was Mo, we don’t know that he knows for definite who Joey is, do we? And even if he had an inkling, or someone told him, it could be that he was just curious. You know, to get a look at him or something.’

      ‘But who’d tell him? It’s not like anyone in their right mind would bring it up, is it? It’s not like he’s ever wanted anyone to know about it, is it?’

      She knew that for a fact. It had been the exact opposite. If she remembered right – though there was so much she’d been at pains to forget – he’d denied it outright, with contempt. I don’t have a son. At least, not with you, girl. Who in their right mind would ever lay down with a fucking tramp like you?

      ‘So maybe no one has told him,’ Brian was saying. ‘Maybe he has no idea. And even СКАЧАТЬ