Hidden Heart (Love Is The Law 1) (14 page)

Kyle's crying picked up when he heard
the word blood, and Turner jiggled him on his knee, exasperated. "Come on
Kyle, it can't hurt that much."

"It's the shock," his
mum said. "Hang on. I know what makes it all better." She padded
through to the kitchen, and Turner hissed at Kyle as she went.

"We've woken grandma up now.
Come on, you're a big boy. Let's wipe your nose." He patted at Kyle's red
face with a tissue.

Kyle ignored him, clearly knowing
what was coming next. His eyes lit up as his grandma returned, clutching a
lollipop.

She had one for Liam, too,
forestalling any synchronised wailing, and soon both boys were happily rotting
their teeth. Turner could help but grin as the two boys sat on the floor, their
legs straight out in front of them, all bumps and bashes forgotten in a sugar
haze.

"Turner, have you seen what
Andy's done to the kitchen?"

He was immediately alert and
ready to throttle him. "What?"
Had he trashed it in a drunken
rage?
Nothing had been said by the boys, and he was sure they would be full
of tales if their daddy had gone crazy in their own house.

"Don't panic. I know you two
don't get on, but I don't know why. Honestly, you're not your sister's keeper.
He's done a really good job."

Turner stood up unwillingly, and
went through, only to find himself gasping in amazement.

Well, fuck me.
The kitchen
was a gleaming and freshly-painted palace to cookery and all that was stylish
and fresh. "No way."

His mum pressed in beside him.
"Hasn't he done well?"

Turner could have strangled
Riggers on the spot. "I was going to do this. I told Elaine. Didn't I tell
you, too? I was going to get Lee in on it."

"Oh, he just turned up with
all the gear and got on with it. I wish you two could get on a bit better. For
my sake? For the sake of the boys?"

"He was no good for Elaine."

"He's changed. People can
change, you know, if you let them. He's trying to be a good dad. He took the
boys to Blackpool yesterday. He was really upset when he brought them back,
because he hadn't been able to buy them all the toys that they wanted. Breaks
your heart, it really does."

"I'm sure." Turner
could only reply through gritted teeth.

"Elaine can see he's
changed, too."

"Oh god. She's not started
seeing him again, has she?"

"She might, and this time
you mustn't stand in the way. The kids need a dad. Anyway, I am sure he hinted
that you're working together. I didn't believe it, knowing what you're like. Is
it true? I thought you were doing that plumbing work with that other chap."

"We're what?"

"He said you have some work
to do together. You should go into painting and decorating. He's obviously got
a talent. And you could do the heavy stuff, like you're doing for that plumber.
When is that? Do you start tomorrow?"

Guilt gnawed at Turner.
"We're going to do one job together… general labouring, that's all. And
then, I've got other plans. A new direction. The plumber hasn't got a date for
me, and I can hardly nag him. So I've been looking at other things."

"Oh, what are you up
to?"

Turner didn't want to talk about
it. Any of it. Riggers was a liar and a cheat, and it dragged Turner down by
association. He turned and wrapped his arms carefully around his mum,
dreadfully aware that he could easily snap her. "It'll be a surprise. You
better go on back to bed; you look tired."

"I'm not sleeping, just
dozing." But she accepted his hug, squeezing him back with surprising
force. "Thanks, love."

Turner wandered back into the
living room where both boys were now engrossed in the children's channel on
television. While he'd been away, the television screen had seemed to have
doubled in size. A gift - no doubt stolen from somewhere - from Riggers.

He cursed the man, and sank onto
the sofa in a hate-filled mood. While the boys watched the antics of a
virulently coloured animate household object, he scrolled through his phone,
idly tidying up his contacts.

First to be deleted was the
editor at the paper that Emily had told him about. The interview would not be
going ahead, not now.

His thumb paused over Emily's
number. Delete? Call?
Was it even worth it, now?
He knew he had screwed
it up - or Riggers had screwed it up for him - and it was only a matter of time
before the shit really hit the fan.

Emily pressed the screen and the
tiny telephone icon flashed up. Who even had one of those old-style phones
anymore? Thinking about trivia like that meant she wasn't thinking about the
pressing issue.

Turner.

He answered, and she felt her
heart flutter. Part of her had been hoping he wouldn't pick up. As it was, she
now had to speak. It was a shame, then, that her mouth had gone so dry.

"Ugh," she managed.

"Emily." His voice was
flat and tired. She could hear high pitched sounds in the background, and
children's laughter.

"Uh, Turner," she said,
trying again.

He sighed heavily, his breath
making the speaker crackle. "I really didn't expect to ever hear from you
again. Riggers has been round. He told me."

"He told you? Of a plan the
pair of you had hatched
together?"

"Believe me, I didn't
know."

"Oh, don't make me laugh.
Believe you? After all that bullshit about going straight, for me?"

"I am."

"Crap. Don't you keep on
lying to me."

"Oh, Emily. It is true about
the job we're on tomorrow night. That's why I told you I'd be out of town for a
while. This was -
Kyle!
Put that down!"

She blinked in annoyance as he
was momentarily distracted from the conversation. She listened, curiously, as
he dealt with a brief spat between the twins. She was surprised to hear their
voices; after seeing them with Riggers, earlier, she could have believed they
were mute.

"Sorry, Emily. Sorry. Look.
I want to tell you everything. I really do. I owe you that, don't I? Come over.
I'd come and meet you but I'm babysitting - Riggers, handily, dropped them and
ran. And my mum is in bed."

She's ill
, Emily
remembered.
How ill?
"No, I don't think I want to see you again. I
just wanted to tell you that… that I'm…" her voice started to break.
Don't
cry, don't fucking cry, you can't let this creep know how much he's hurt you…
"I'm let down by you. I … believed you, you bastard."

"Emily, there's reasons, the
boys, I can't just…"

"Good-bye, Turner." She
ended the call and curled into a ball, but only shed a few tears. Her anger was
building in a red-hot ball, making her feel sick and shaky.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming
message. She hesitated, but she knew she couldn't fight her curiosity.
Damn
this instant connection.
She was suddenly very glad that things had gone
too quickly for even her to get linked up with him on Facebook - his profile
was quiet and unused, due to his prison time. At least there'd be no embarrassing
Emily Carrera is now single
to contend with.

It was, as she expected and
feared, from Turner.

It was just his address.

Damn him. Bastard. He knew how to
reel her in. No apology or explanation - just his street name and house number.

She swore she wouldn't go, and
knew that within ten minutes, she would be out of the door.

* * * *

Emily's heart was hammering so
much she realised she was in danger of a full-blown panic attack, something
she'd not experienced since her caffeine-fuelled finals at University. She
stopped on a street corner, and tried to surreptitiously glance through her A-Z
street map of Manchester. Turner lived in an area she wasn't familiar with, and
she always felt self-conscious consulting a map in a new part of town. She thought
it was like a blazing neon sign: "I'm lost! Mug me."

Breathe, breathe, breathe.
She worked her awareness from the top of her head to her feet, tensing and
relaxing each set of muscles in turn. She needed to ground herself and be
steady, so she reached out and touched the rough wall on her right, letting her
hand rest on the red brick.
This is real.

Gradually she felt calmer.

I could go home and forget all
about this. I've got a new career beckoning - I hope - and this can be chalked
up as just one more disastrous relationship mistake.

Was it even a relationship? It
was becoming one. I'd dared to hope.

Sick anger clenched in her belly
again. It was because of what they'd shared that she needed answers. It was
more than an idle fling, and he owed her the truth.

She walked on, stepping
carefully, keeping her awareness on her body, the pavement, and her breathing.
She wasn't going to turn up at his door in a hysterical rage - she was far too
old for all that nonsense.

His street was a non-descript row
of terraces. She thought she saw his Range Rover down a side street, but kept
going until she got to the front door of number eleven. All the houses faced
directly on to the street here, and the cars were double-parked along the
pavement.

She knocked hard at the door
before she could stop and think about what she was doing. The yellowing net
curtain in the window beside the door bunched up at the bottom, and a small
face peered out. Kyle, or Liam, she couldn't tell. She impulsively stuck her
tongue out at the boy, and he disappeared instantly.

Turner opened the door. He seemed
dishevelled, his tee shirt rucked up at one side, and there appeared to be
marker pen or paint or something on his hands. A flicker of surprise crossed
his face.

"You came," he said
stupidly.

She bit back a defensive
sarcastic comment. "I did."

"Ahh, you had better come
in." Suddenly he seemed reluctant to open the door any further. "Oh.
I'm sorry about the house…"

She waited, patiently, until he
had to relent and step back. The door opened straight into the main room, a long,
narrow space crowded with an oversized faux-leather suite, and a television the
size of a small English town. A yellow toaster was burbling gibberish on the television
screen, but the two boys were sitting on the sofa, staring at her with big
eyes.

"Thank you." Emily let
him close the door behind her, uncomfortably aware of the heat of him as he
reached past her. She didn't move away. She wanted to linger in his presence,
be absorbed into his body; and she wanted to store away the memories for the
future, when it would be less painful to look back on this time.

"Uh, can I get you a
brew?"

She was going to refuse, but the
presence of the two lads made her unwilling to start a potentially awkward
conversation in front of them. "Yes, please." It gave her a chance to
follow him into the kitchen.

"Oh, this looks nice. Smells
freshly done. You've been busy," she commented as Turner began the old
ritual of kettle and cup.

He glowered at her. "It
wasn't me. It was Riggers."

"What?"

They stared at each other for a
moment in confusion, Turner clutching a large mug in his hand as the kettle
began to hiss. Then he shook his head and almost smiled. "This isn't my
house. It's my mum's. I'm babysitting while she's in bed. She's… ill."

"Oh."

Emily waited, not speaking,
letting a silence form that he had to fill. Eventually, he did. As he turned
away to pour the boiling water into the cups, he muttered, almost defiantly,
"She has cancer."

"Ahh. I see. I'm sorry. I
did wonder."

Turner sloshed the teabags around
for a few seconds before dumping them on the drainer by the sink.
"Elaine's out having her nails done or something, I think. God knows
where, on a Sunday. Riggers was supposed to have the boys all day. I was here,
checking on my mum, and he turned up and dumped Kyle and Liam on me. And ran.
After telling me that he'd seen you, and he'd organised for us to go round to
your place tomorrow night."

Emily folded her arms and pursed
her lips. She still didn't really trust herself to speak, and she wanted to see
how much of a hole he'd dig himself into, if she let him go on and on.

And he did continue. "I want
to kill him. How did he get in touch with you, though? How the hell did he find
you? Did he follow you? I
will
kill him."

Emily snorted, a humourless
laugh. "He stole my purse, as it happens. I've got my number taped in it
because I can never remember it, so he rang me up and told me he'd
found
my
purse, and arranged to meet me. He was waiting outside."

Turner's eyes were blazing and Emily
hugged her arms tighter around her body. He looked dangerous. "He was
supposed to be babysitting the kids."

"They were with him."

"He must have come here
after he'd seen us in town, at that café, and picked them up, then come to meet
you. Why?"

"To ensure I didn't make a
scene." Emily was still feeling angry, but it was as much at Riggers as it
was at Turner. "He's a git."

Turner sighed. "I don't
understand what he's playing at. He honestly thinks that we can use you as some
kind of alibi. No court in the land would believe that. Why would a nice girl
like you hang around with two bits of scum like us? It's just nonsense."

"Well, he had his mate
taking photos, as some kind of insurance."

"It's just bullshit, it
really is." Turner looked up at the ceiling in exasperation, his adam's
apple bobbing sharply as he swallowed. "He's getting cocky and stupid and
he's heading for some jail time before long."

"And what about you?"

Turner looked down and met her
gaze, his eyes sad. He shrugged and licked his lips, saved from answering by
the sudden appearance of a woman in a dressing gown.