Deep Waters by Kate Charles Page A

years ago.’ She swirled the dregs of coffee in her mug. ‘Any water left in that kettle?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Mark took the mug from her, rinsed it out, and spooned in some instant granules.
    ‘He said he’d stand by me when I fell pregnant. We got married .’ Brenda’s voice was weary, not emotional; this was all ancient history. ‘But he hadn’t bargained on twins. If it had been just one, he might have stuck it out. Maybe, I don’t know.’
    Mark handed her the coffee wordlessly.
    ‘He came to see me in hospital, after,’ she went on. ‘Brought me a manky bunch of flowers. Half dead—probably got them off a skip or out of a rubbish bin, if I know him. Kissed me, kissed the babies. And that’s the last I ever saw of bloody Kev Betts. Good riddance to him, I say.’
    ‘But it must have been very difficult for you, with two babies.’
    She blew on the coffee, took a tentative sip, stirred in a spoonful of sugar from the bowl on the table, and shrugged yet again. ‘Oh, it was. Me mum helped all she could, of course. Couldn’t have managed without her. I had to work all the hours Godgave. Cleaning. I’d drop the twins off with Mum first thing, then collect them in the evening. But they didn’t turn out too bad, for all that,’ she added. ‘At least they learned the value of hard work.’
    ‘Your daughter,’ Mark said. ‘Di? Where is she?’
    ‘Oh, she’s done well for herself. She always said she didn’t want to be a cleaner like her mum. So she got proper qualifications, like. Nursing. She loves it.’ She favoured Mark with a proud, motherly smile. ‘Chazz said he’d give her money so she could quit her job, but she wouldn’t take it. Not a penny.’
    ‘Chazz hasn’t done too badly, then.’ He didn’t mean it flippantly , but realised as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it probably sounded that way.
    ‘My Chazz was a hard worker before that “twentyfour/seven” lark,’ his mother said sharply. ‘As soon as he left school, he got a job with a removal company. You might not think it to look at him, but Chazz is dead strong.’
    ‘Yes, I’m sure he is.’
    ‘He was lucky to win that show,’ Brenda allowed, ‘and lucky that all them modelling jobs have come his way since. I mean, he is a good-looking lad and all, if I say it myself. But if he had to go back to humping furniture about for them removal people, he could do it. My Chazz is a good lad,’ she added firmly. ‘Good to me, good to Jodee and the baby.’
    At those words, her face crumpled, as if she’d managed to forget about Muffin for a few minutes and had only just remembered her.
    Mark made an immediate effort to distract her. ‘What about Jodee?’ he asked, perhaps unwisely. ‘How do you get on with her?’
    Brenda mastered her trembling lip. ‘Jodee is like a daughter to me,’ she stated. ‘Ask her—she’d tell you the same. Close, like family should be. Not like that useless mum of hers.’
    ‘It must be great for them to have you living with them, to help out with…’ Mark had been about to say ‘babysitting’, but changed it at the last moment to a limp ‘…everything.’
    ‘I do keep the place clean,’ she admitted, looking round the spotless kitchen with pride. ‘Mind, we could afford help. But it keeps me out of mischief.’
    Then, to Mark’s astonishment, a whole range of emotions played over Brenda’s face. She dropped her mug, splashing herself and the table with hot coffee, put her hands over her face and sobbed. ‘It weren’t my fault,’ she wailed. ‘It weren’t nobody’s fault! Di said, and she’s a nurse. Di said it wouldn’t have made no difference. Muffin would of died, even if someone had been at home!’

Chapter Four
    ‘Did I tell you that Maddie Fleming has a new grandchild? Another grandchild?’ The emphasis in Laura Anson’s voice was unmistakable.
    Callie risked a quick look at her brother, expecting a roll of the eyes in her direction, but his eyes