Stolen. Paul Finch

and I’m the child?’ Cora said heatedly. ‘Or as if you have a monopoly on common sense?’

      Lucy sat back again, feeling admonished.

      ‘For all the reasons that you constantly warn me against him, I dumped that man thirty years ago. And in the process I condemned myself to a lifetime of anonymous single-motherhood. All this happened before you were even wearing nappies. Now, some might argue, given the pillar of righteousness you’ve become, that my sacrifice was worth it … and that maybe I’m finally entitled to a little me time.’

      ‘Mum … you’re not actually thinking of getting back with him?’

      ‘Lucy … just because you don’t want a man in your life, that doesn’t mean I don’t.’

      ‘But he’s already with someone.’

      Cora shrugged. ‘You think that’ll bother your father?’

      ‘What?’ Lucy was aghast. ‘You’d be happy to be the other woman?’

      ‘I …’ Fleetingly, Cora struggled with this dollop of common sense. ‘Of course not. It’s just that I …’ Again, she had trouble articulating. ‘I really liked Frank. Back then, I mean.’

      ‘You left him easily enough.’

      ‘The decision was far from easy, trust me.’

      ‘You’ve had loads of chances to get to know other guys. I know you’ve been asked out at least three—’

      ‘None of them measure up, Lucy. That’s the trouble.’ Briefly, Cora was wistful again, lost in a dreamy past. Only to snap out of it suddenly. ‘Anyway, it’s easy for you to talk. You’re young, you’ve got your looks, your health …’

      ‘So have you.’

      ‘But you’ve still got years ahead of you. The pages on my calendar are turning fast.’

      Lucy didn’t know what to say. The idea of her mother taking up with a notorious gangster was intolerable, of course, the antithesis of everything she stood for. But ultimately this was her mother’s business, not hers. Did she really have a right to intervene?

      ‘If you want the truth,’ Cora said, ‘I think Frank’s feeling the years too. He might have that ex-porno queen, or whatever she is, in his bed, but she’s not like a real wife, is she? She won’t keep him a tidy home, she hasn’t raised his children.’

      ‘So now you’re saying Frank McCracken’s missing his family?’ Lucy scoffed. ‘A family he hadn’t even met until a couple of years ago?’

      ‘God, you can be harsh when you want to.’

      ‘I’m stating a fact. And I don’t want you to get hurt.’

      ‘You’ve a funny way of showing it.’ Cora threw down her napkin and stood up, much to the surprise of the waitress, who had just arrived with their first courses.

      ‘Mum … please!’ Lucy tapped the tablecloth placatingly. ‘Come on … don’t be silly.’

      Cora sat down again but looked grumpy. Rather nervously, the waitress served their dishes. The twosome ate in sulky silence.

      ‘Obviously this means more to you than I thought,’ Lucy said when she’d finished her starter. She dabbed at her mouth. ‘But you know the situation with him and me. As soon as word gets out, we’re both finished in our respective careers.’

      ‘And do you really believe that, Lucy?’ Cora scrutinised her in a firm, motherly way, as though trying to wheedle the truth out of a deceitful child. ‘Do you? Honestly?’

      Again, Lucy considered this. Coming clean to her bosses about who her father was would be a huge risk. How would they ever be able to take her seriously as a police officer again?

      ‘Just say, for the sake of argument,’ Cora ventured, ‘that I did start seeing him –’ Lucy suppressed a shudder ‘– do any of your lot even know I’m your mother? I can count on one hand all the times during your career when other police officers have been to my house.’

      ‘It’s not just that,’ Lucy replied. ‘Look – Frank McCracken’s a hardened criminal. Oh, I get it, don’t worry. That refined aura, that rough-diamond charm. He could win anyone over. But he’s a murderer. He’s surrounded by murderers. I can’t stress that enough. The man he works for is one of the most feared gangsters in Britain. He’s literally a homicidal maniac.’

      Cora looked unimpressed.

      ‘But you know all this already, don’t you?’ Lucy said, deflated.

      ‘I’m not saying I’m about to tie the knot with him. I just don’t think we can keep pretending that he isn’t part of our lives. And quite clearly, neither does he.’

      Again, Lucy didn’t know how to respond. All this had come completely out of left field.

      ‘If you insist on it, I won’t thank him for the flowers,’ Cora said. ‘But this won’t be the last time I hear from him. I can feel it in my bones.’

      I’d love to know why, Lucy suddenly wondered. What is he up to?

      Was it conceivable – was it even faintly possible – that Cora was right, and that McCracken was hankering after a proper family? If so, he surely couldn’t imagine that she and her mother would provide that?

      ‘How’s work anyway?’ Cora asked, trying to change the subject. ‘Sounds like you had a busy day yesterday.’

      ‘Yeah …’ Lucy frowned as the waitress removed their plates. ‘I had a bit of a score, but it was none of it very edifying. Think of the quietest, leafiest neighbourhood you can, and there’ll be monsters there. Hiding behind the privets and the chintz curtains.’

      ‘And yet some of the lowliest people in society are exactly the opposite.’

      Lucy shrugged. ‘Good and evil don’t make class distinctions.’

      Briefly, Cora stared at nothing. ‘And no one looks out for them.’

      ‘Well … we try to.’

      ‘You think so? What happened to that bloke Walter Brown?’

      ‘Walter who?’

      Cora relapsed into thought. ‘I didn’t know him very well. Gardener … but he had a drink problem. Lost his job, lost his flat. For a time, he was selling the Big Issue at the top of Langley Street. Then he went missing.’

      ‘I’m sorry, what?’

      ‘Used to see him every Wednesday lunchtime, when I went shopping,’ Cora said. ‘He was a nice man, when he was sober.’

      ‘What do you mean, “He went missing”?’

      ‘One week he just wasn’t there. A week later, there was a young girl selling it. I asked her what had happened to Walter. She said she didn’t know. They thought he’d just moved on. But he wouldn’t have moved on, I’ll tell you. He was a Crowley man. Been here all his life.’

      ‘And did no one report this disappearance?’ Lucy asked.

      ‘Like who? He didn’t have a family, didn’t have any friends.’

      ‘So, there’s no actual evidence that anything bad happened to him?’

      ‘No, but let’s be fair, Lucy … if I was to tell you this about a neighbour, someone who actually lived in a house and paid their taxes, I reckon the next thing you’d do as a police officer would be to knock on their door, to see what was what.’

      Lucy mulled this over and was sad to admit that it was probably true.

      Homelessness was a major story in Britain today, and rightly so given that it was a national disgrace. At one time, you’d only see those poor wretches