Motherlove by Thorne Moore Page A

and a bit of heat if she was careful, and with an occasional bit of shoplifting, she got by. Waiting for Gary to come home.
    She was stiff on the mattress. Aching. He really had hit her hard. She couldn’t feel the baby moving tonight. Maybe it was dead. The thought left her numb with helpless grief, but there was nothing she could do about it. He was her man and if he chose to kill it, or kill her, or throw her out on the streets again, how could she stop him? She’d never said it, even to herself, but she’d known he would go mad when he found out. That was really why she’d stopped going to visit him in prison. Putting off the moment. She just hoped now he’d come round. Maybe he’d come home flush and feeling generous towards her. Maybe…
    She was too cold to sleep, and yet she must have because she woke with a start when the quilt was snatched off her. It was still dark, lit by the glow of the street lamps, strong enough for her to see Gary standing over her. Staring down at her.
    She shivered. She couldn’t tell if he was still angry or what.
    â€˜Get us something to eat,’ he ordered.
    She struggled up. It was difficult in her state, getting up from a mattress on the floor. As soon as she was off it, he flung himself down in her place, dirty boots raking the quilt as he groped for his cigarettes.
    She put the kettle on, opened cans, made tea and beans on toast with ham. Not much you can do with one ring and a grill that half works. She placed the plate on the table, but Gary grunted, so she gave him the plate where he half lay, half sat, on the mattress, and watched him shovelling the food into his mouth.
    He wasn’t talking, so she cleaned out the remainder of the beans from the battered saucepan, first with a spoon, then with her finger. The taste reminded her she was famished. She helped herself to another biscuit, then handed him the packet.
    He grabbed her wrist, his eyes running over her, head to foot. ‘Too late then, for an abortion.’
    â€˜I’m eight months, Gary. They wouldn’t do it now.’
    â€˜Have you seen a doc?’
    She shook her head. The local surgery, busy with old dears and bright mums with pushchairs had been too alien. She didn’t like doctors. Too many memories of unfriendly examinations.
    â€˜Okay.’ Gary nodded. Pleased? ‘That’s good. No one knows, right?’
    What did he mean? She knew. He knew. Everyone who took one look at her knew.
    â€˜You listening? You haven’t gone telling doctors you’re pregnant. They haven’t got you booked into hospital or anything like that. Right? So no one knows.’
    The woman who fixed up her weekly giro knew. But no need to tell Gary that. Lindy shook her head.
    â€˜Right. So you keep your mouth shut about the baby, and when you’ve had it, we get rid of it.’
    She went cold inside, colder than the icy fog. ‘You wouldn’t kill it, Gary.’
    He laughed, cruelly, then like he was just laughing it off. ‘We dump it, that’s all. Leave it somewhere. No one need know nothing. Right?’
    She wanted to say ‘But I want my baby,’ but she didn’t dare, so she began to cry.
    Tears never worked on Gary. ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch. If you’d got rid of it in the first place, there wouldn’t have been no trouble. Your own stupid fucking fault. If you want to stick with me, you dump it. And you want to stick with me, don’t you, girl.’
    She sniffed back her tears and nodded.

CHAPTER 3
    i
    Kelly
    A long gravel drive led up to the house. Nothing like the farm tracks Kelly knew, but a farm it officially was. Some rare breed of cattle on one side, and an organic wheat crop on the other, sprinkled with wild flowers among the green spears.
    Roz was looking out of the window, apparently serene, though her fingers were twitching on her skirt.
    â€˜Nearly there. We’ve made it.’
    â€˜Yeah. It’s