Page 34 of Quinn, By Design

“An accidental overdose, like your friend’s mum.” Saying the words always made Lucy’s bones ache. “Anyway, I was fostered for a while before social security traced Grandpa and Gran. They said they wanted me.” Lucy had been back in the care home a week when she got the news. She’d cried herself to sleep. Under the bedclothes, big, silent sobs she couldn’t seem to stop. Hope had jostled with relief because her gran and grandpa were already on a plane to come and fetch her.

“That’s half an answer. You were ten. You’d lost your mum and whatever security you’d known, and been handed over to strangers. Even if they chose Mike and Carol Brady for your foster family, you must have been terrified.” His sober assessment invited the truth.

“The couple were decent, especially her,” she hesitated, because shehadbeen terrified. Cold and lonely, but she’d refused to be helpless. “They took in lots of foster kids.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He deliberately didn’t look at her, concentrating instead on ladling curry into the bowls.Could he guess what was coming? Her experience wasn’t unique.

“There was an older boy there. He overheard gossip about Mum.” Lucy fell silent, and Niall glanced over his shoulder. In her head the words sounded simple, unemotional, but self-loathing and anger were Sumo wrestlers circling in her belly, each trying to gain the upper hand. “That she worked as a prostitute. I woke up to find him naked in my bed one night.”

“Feck!” He was at her side in seconds, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek resting on her crown.

“He didn’t expect me to fight back. I screamed and screamed.” Her cheek pressed against Niall’s chest, the steady beat of his heart anchoring Lucy to the present. “The woman was there in seconds. They called the police.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lucy lifted her face. His expression held anger on her behalf. “I believe you are. He was surprised I’d fight back, given my mum. He said that.” Lucy had celebrated every punch she’d thrown. It wasn’t until Niall asked his question about Tomas Bechet that she worked out she froze when she was helpless.

“He was an idiot as well as a rapist.” Niall kissed her forehead.

“She was and wasn’t a prostitute.” Lucy’s hand curled in his sweater, keeping him close because a lot of people refused to see shades of grey.

“You don’t need to explain your mum.” Niall Quinn respected her privacy, making it easier to confide hard truths.

“Mostly, she worked in retail. But it didn’t pay enough for her habit. So she slept with men who could get her the drugs she liked.” She paused. Even now, the addiction upset Lucy more than the prostitution. “Or occasionally to pay the rent.”

“Addiction’s an illness.” His acceptance was another comfort.

“Mum was very matter-of-fact about sex. She liked it, and claimed she liked most of the men.”

“You’re also not responsible for your mother’s actions.” He worked his fingers down her spine, massaging each vertebra. “Nor for her relationship with her parents.” He released her and turned back to the bench. “I need to reheat the curry.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Lucy apologised.

“Me neither, but we should try.” He returned the bowls to the microwave and blasted them for a few seconds. “I’ll bring them through. The other room should be warm by now.”

“Thanks for this.” Lucy sat on the edge of the lounge, taking a small mouthful of curry, the bottle of beer at her feet. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“I should be thanking you. Otherwise, I might have forgotten to eat tonight. And, feck, my mum would call that ungracious.” He almost blushed. “It’s good to have company.”

“Do you mind if I put my feet on the sofa?”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Heeling off her shoes, Lucy curled her feet under her, settling more deeply into one corner of the sofa. He seemed to relax as well. “Who’s singing?” she asked.

“Leonard Cohen, a poet who was famous years before you were born. A bit depressing.” He hit the remote, and silence enveloped them. The mood shifted to companionable. Lucy had eaten a few meals with him now and had the rhythm. “If you eat some more, so will I,” he said.

She chewed another mouthful.

“Why haven’t you seen your friends in the last few months?” he asked, before slapping a hand to his forehead. “I’m an eejit. You were at the shop all day and with Cam the rest of the time. It’s also why I never bumped into you at the house.”

“Life’s got in the way lately. Kelly’s travelling for work and Clem’s swamped with work and life. Grandpa wanted me to tell him what was happening in the shop.” Except she knew now that was only part of his plan.

“Cam wanted to know what I was doing as well. Did he make you show him pictures of new stock?” He set his half-empty bowl on the floor beside him.

“Grandpa wanted to distract me from the fact he was dying.” It had taken every ounce of Lucy’s self-control to sit with him every night without screaming at him not to leave her.

“I didn’t see Cam with your clarity. I admire your fearlessness.” He took her unfinished bowl and added it to his own. “But pretending he wasn’t dying was never going to fly.”

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