Bad Blood. Julie Shaw

let her in till the baby was safely born, but it felt all wrong that there was no one there for her, and once it had been she’d be grateful for a friendly familiar face.

      And Josie was glad she’d come back, because the baby was born just as she’d been finishing up her WRVS sandwich and, as all was apparently well, she’d been allowed in almost right away. And right away, the suspicions she’d had for a while had been confirmed.

      ‘So it is his, then?’ she’d asked. Though she hadn’t really needed to. Christine’s drawn, anxious expression had said it all, really – said in an instant what she’d been unable to say for the whole sodding pregnancy. But which Josie had worked out all by herself.

      But had Lizzie? It hardly bore thinking about.

      Christine sniffed, a single tear running down one pale cheek as Josie peered into the little plastic cot beside the bed. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Oh, Josie. What the fuck am I going to do?’

      Josie found herself overcome with a terrible rush of fury. The bastard. The sodding bastard. She had to work hard to keep her voice light because it was all too close to home for her. ‘He is, mate. He’s gorgeous. No thanks to his twat of a father. Doing the mother and then the daughter? That’s pretty low. Chris, what happened? You have to tell me. Come on, truth. Did that bastard rape you?’

      This suggestion only produced a fresh bout of tears. ‘Oh, Josie …’ Christine started.

      ‘He bloody did, didn’t he?’ Josie fumed. ‘Fuck, Chris, why didn’t you tell someone?’

      But Christine was shaking her head. ‘It wasn’t …’ she began again. ‘Josie, I … Josie, I let him. I can’t lie. I …’

      ‘You what?’ Josie could almost sense her pulse throbbing in her temples. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to calm herself. It was always like this. ‘How exactly did you let him, Chris? Was this a thing that was already going on with you? Please don’t tell me you –’

      ‘No! Josie, God, no. He’d never been like that with me before. Which was why it was all such a shock. He was just like there, and Mam was out, and we had some wine – he’d brought some wine with him – and …’

      ‘And one thing led to another? Christ, mate. What were you thinking?!’

      ‘I was drunk, Josie.’

      ‘I’ll bet you were. I’ll bet he saw to that bit for you.’

      ‘And it was like I was kind of there but not there … and …’ She trailed off, remembering, and put her hands to her face.

      ‘Great. So he slipped you a pill as well, did he? Christine – Jesus.’ She sighed heavily. ‘That utter, utter bastard. He did you good and proper, didn’t he? What were you thinking?’ she said again, because that was what she kept coming back to. ‘No, scrub that. You weren’t thinking, were you? Incapable of thinking, more like. The bastard.’

      Christine pulled a paper towel from the dispenser by the bed. ‘I don’t know how I could have been so bloody idiotic, Josie, I really don’t. So bloody soft …’

      Josie blinked at her friend. ‘Not soft on him? You being serious?’

      Christine shook her head immediately. ‘I told you. I don’t know what I was thinking,’ she said, but there was something in her tone that told Josie otherwise. That whatever nonsense he’d spun her to get her into the sack was still swilling around in her head even now. A whole nine months, and a whole baby, later.

      ‘Chris, truth now. It was just that one time? You’ve not been –’

      ‘God, no!’ Christine’s response was too immediate to be anything other than truthful. ‘Christ, no! He’s not been near me since and I wouldn’t let him, either!’

      But Josie still wasn’t sure she had the full unvarnished truth. Not where Christine’s feelings were concerned, anyway.

      ‘So does he know? Has he sussed it? Christ, that was so bloody unlucky.’

      ‘Tell me about it!’ Christine said. ‘I nearly died of shock when I realised.’

      ‘And you’ve always known it must be his, have you? All along, I mean. For certain?’

      ‘Course,’ Christine said. ‘There’s not been anyone else.’

      ‘So does he know?’

      ‘Course he does. I told him straight away. I didn’t know what to do, so –’

      ‘So he told you what to do, did he?’

      ‘Pretty much. He told me to get rid of it and when I said I wouldn’t, he told me – well, he basically told me to sod off. That I could do what I liked and that he’d deny everything even if I didn’t get rid of it. He didn’t seem to care about what mam would think …’

      ‘And that surprises you, does it?’

      ‘No, but … I just thought … I didn’t know what …’

      Her eyes were brimming again. A vale of tears, Josie mused, looking at the sleeping newborn in the cot beside the bed. How could something so beautiful come out of such shit? She put one arm around her friend and reached for another paper towel with another. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Come on, mate. Blow on that. That’s the way.’ She nodded towards the cot. ‘So you never wavered? You know. In keeping him.’

      Christine shook her head. ‘Not once, Josie. Never. I know what you’re probably thinking. That I’m an idiot.’

      ‘Some would say that, yes.’

      ‘But I just couldn’t. Not in a million years. It would be like getting rid of a part of me. And –’

      Josie kissed the top of her head. ‘You don’t have to explain, mate. I know. Something of your own. Something to love. Someone to love you. I understand.’ Then she smiled ruefully. ‘Christ, I sound like a bloody soap opera!’

      Christine balled the paper towel. ‘My life is a bloody soap opera!’ she said, with feeling. ‘But at least now I can get out of it. Get away from that shit hole. Get away from her and make a life of my own. But, look, Josie, you’ve got to tell her for me. Tell her before she comes here. Give her a chance to –’

      ‘To what? Build up a proper head of steam before she gets here?’

      Christine shook her head. ‘Just to get used to the idea before she arrives. Not that he’s Mo’s kid. Just that he’s a half-caste. Just to get her used to that idea first.’

      ‘Love, you’re not thinking straight. You think she won’t work it out? Really?’

      ‘She’s no reason to if I deny it. And that’s what I plan on doing.’

      ‘And you’ll say it’s whose, exactly? Like who exactly might be in the frame, here? Like you really think if you tell her it’s some anonymous bloody Indian bloke she’s going to believe that? Like, say, Imran? I think you’re clutching at straws, love, I really do.’

      Christine looked across at the cot. Reached a hand out to touch her baby. ‘She’s going to kill me, isn’t she? She’s going to hate him for ever. Even if I …’ She started sobbing again. ‘She’s going to kill me.’

      Josie sighed as she reached for her handbag. ‘I’ll try her again now, okay?’ she said, squeezing her friend’s arm, then passing yet another paper towel to her. What a mess. What a complete fuck-up. ‘I’ll see what I can do, okay? See if I can at least get it down to life without parole.’

      Josie put the payphone to her ear again, reflecting on the irony that she’d initially thought it a bonus that Lizzie had picked up. She’d not expected her to – thought she’d probably