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easy as I'd first thought.
    'Tell you what, why don't I cook a late dinner for us back at my place to make up for it?' said Cara. 'I have to warn you though, I'm not a very good cook.'
    'I am,' I said truthfully. 'If you provide the ingredients, I'll do the cooking.'
    'It's a deal.' Cara grinned enthusiastically. 'D'you want to meet me at my house?'
    'No. I'll come here at nine,' I decided. 'Then I'll walk you home.'
    'Thanks, Steve. I'll see you later then. And I'm sorry about the film.'
    'Don't worry about it,' I said. 'See you later.'
    And I headed out the door. I made sure to turn back and give her one last wave though. Girls like that sort of thing. How easy was this? Stupid, stupid cow. She called me her friend, but her saying it didn't make it so. She didn't know me from a bar of soap and already I was being invited back to her house. Tonight, she'd be the last one left in the shop to lock up. It'd be just me and her. I was looking forward to it. I was going to be teacher.
    And Cara was going to learn that it really didn't pay to be quite so trusting.

eighteen. Sephy

    Dearest Callie,
    I got talking to the woman in the next bed to mine today. She only came in yesterday. She's really lovely. Her name is Roxie and I'd put her somewhere in her mid to late twenties – although I'm useless at judging people's ages. She had a son a couple of hours ago and she's leaving tomorrow. Lucky cow! I wish I could get out of here. But then I think about what I've got waiting for me, a horrible flat with a view of a brick wall out of the one and only window, and wonder why I'm in such a hurry to leave? I don't want to take you back there, Callie, but I've got no choice. I promise you this though, it'll only be for a little while. Once I get on my feet again, I'll get you the kind of place you deserve.
    I thought Roxie was like me – no family. But I got that very wrong.
    It was seven o'clock at night and I'd just finished feeding you. As I put you back in your cot, I looked up and Roxie caught my eye and smiled.
    'Your daughter is very beautiful,' she said.
    'I think so,' I replied. 'But then I'm biased!'
    Swarms of people were beginning to flood down the ward.
    'Are you expecting company?' I asked.
    'I'm not sure. My partner's working in Sheeley up North and he can't get back until tomorrow afternoon.'
    'What does he do?'
    'He works for National Rail as a track layer so he's up and down the country, going where the work is,' Roxie replied. 'My brother and sisters might visit though.'
    'How many sisters have you got?'
    'Three.' Roxie smiled. 'And one brother, Jaxon. Oh, there he is.'
    I looked down the ward and watched as a tall, blond man with shoulder-length hair marched down the middle of the ward like he owned it, a guitar slung across his back. The man didn't look much older than me. As he got closer, I saw he had blond eyebrows and, more strangely, blond eyelashes which made his eyes the first thing you noticed. His ice-blue eyes were oddly hypnotic, like a snake's eyes. They stood out because there seemed to be nothing for them to hide behind – or under.
    'Hi, Sis!' Jaxon bent to kiss his sister's cheek before scooping his nephew out of her arms.
    'Jaxon, this is Sephy. Sephy, this is Jaxon Robbins, my brother.'
    'Hi, Jaxon,' I smiled.
    He barely nodded in my direction, his attention on his family.
    'So what's the sprog's name then?'
    'My son's name is Sam,' Roxie said loftily, before giving me a long-suffering look. 'And he's not a sprog.'
    'Sprog? What's that?' I asked.
    'An ankle-biter, a little 'un, a rug rat, a—'
    'Thank you, Jaxon. I think Sephy gets the idea,' Roxie interrupted.
    'I've never heard any of those phrases before,' I smiled.
    'That's because they're nought words. Not everything in our lives has been dictated by Crosses. We noughts have our own language, you know. We need to keep something that's just for ourselves,' said Jaxon, looking directly at me for the first time.
    'Fair enough,' I told him after a