out of the door, easily side-stepping her grandmother, grabbing Vicky by the waist, burying her head in her mother’s midriff, wide eyes and cheeky cheeks looking up. “Mummy!”
Vicky picked her up, resting the wriggly little legs against her hip. “Oh, you’re almost too heavy to be carried, my girl.” She kissed her on the head before spinning her around. “How’s my baby?”
“Granny made me tablet!”
Vicky put Bella down, rolling her eyes at her mother. “Mum, I told you not to give her that stuff.”
“I don’t remember you complaining when you were her age.”
“With the number of fillings I’ve got, I wish I’d hated the stuff.”
Bella tugged at Vicky’s coat. “What’s for tea, Mummy?”
“Cheesy pasta, your favourite.” Vicky smiled at her mum. “I’ll need to drop her off tomorrow at half seven. Got to get in early.”
Mum climbed back up to the top step. “That’s fine, I suppose.”
“Thanks, Mum. Bella, say goodnight to Granny.”
“Night-night, Granny!”
Vicky led Bella back to the car, the child’s little hand tugging at her pinky, the skin soft and unblemished. She put Bella in the car seat and kissed her forehead, drinking in the sweet smell for a few seconds. She got behind the wheel and started the engine, following the loop round before heading down North Burnside Street, the tall post-war houses standing between them and home. “How was your day, Bella?”
“Good, Mummy. After playgroup, we went up to Arbroath and walked along the cliffs. Grandad saw a friend and he let me walk his dog! Can I get a doggie?”
Vicky turned right at the end, chip shop smells making her mouth water. “We’ll see when you’re a bit older, Bells. You’ve got Tinkle. You like cats.”
“I love Tinkle, Mummy, but I’d love a doggie just as much.”
“Let Mummy think about it.” Vicky drove on in silence, adjusting the mirror to keep an eye on her daughter, hoping it would be another thing she’d eventually forget. School next year — peer pressure had been bad enough in the eighties . . .
She turned left into Westfield Street, pulling up in front of her house. She got out and helped Bella from her car seat.
Bella hopped out of the car then skipped down the path. “Hello, Tinkle!” A small tabby swarmed around her feet, the purring audible from the gate.
Vicky joined her at the door, fishing around in her bag for keys. She hung Bella’s possessions on a peg, draping her own coat and bag over the top, then joined them in the kitchen. “Come on, Bells, let’s get your tea on.”
“I’m not that hungry, Mummy.” Bella perched by the cat bowl, an open sachet in her hand, stroking Tinkle as she ate. “My wee tummy’s full up.”
“Did Grandad teach you that?”
Bella closed a zip over her lips.
Vicky knelt and kissed her, holding her close for a few seconds, wishing she had a lot more time with her.
Friday
28th March 2014
Chapter Eighteen
E xcuse me. I’m looking for DS Dodds. Is he around?”
Vicky looked up from her desk. A young girl, maybe sixteen at most, stood there — red hair, freckles. Glasgow accent, lilting and slightly nasal. She held out a hand. “DS Vicky Dodds.”
“Oh, sorry.” The girl blushed then shook it. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Zoë Jones.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m the IT analyst. DCI Forrester said to ask for you.”
“Okay.” Vicky examined her for a few seconds. The strap of the girl’s laptop bag scythed between her breasts and bumped off her exposed midriff. Definitely older than sixteen — despite the face, Zoë had the body of a grown woman, curves and all.
Vicky patted the empty chair next to her. “Take a seat.”
Zoë perched on the edge of the chair, barely denting the fabric, and started emptying her bag, placing the laptop and charger on the desk. She slid the desk forward to reveal the power supplies behind and leaned over to plug in her laptop. She sat back and crossed her legs before
Vicky picked her up, resting the wriggly little legs against her hip. “Oh, you’re almost too heavy to be carried, my girl.” She kissed her on the head before spinning her around. “How’s my baby?”
“Granny made me tablet!”
Vicky put Bella down, rolling her eyes at her mother. “Mum, I told you not to give her that stuff.”
“I don’t remember you complaining when you were her age.”
“With the number of fillings I’ve got, I wish I’d hated the stuff.”
Bella tugged at Vicky’s coat. “What’s for tea, Mummy?”
“Cheesy pasta, your favourite.” Vicky smiled at her mum. “I’ll need to drop her off tomorrow at half seven. Got to get in early.”
Mum climbed back up to the top step. “That’s fine, I suppose.”
“Thanks, Mum. Bella, say goodnight to Granny.”
“Night-night, Granny!”
Vicky led Bella back to the car, the child’s little hand tugging at her pinky, the skin soft and unblemished. She put Bella in the car seat and kissed her forehead, drinking in the sweet smell for a few seconds. She got behind the wheel and started the engine, following the loop round before heading down North Burnside Street, the tall post-war houses standing between them and home. “How was your day, Bella?”
“Good, Mummy. After playgroup, we went up to Arbroath and walked along the cliffs. Grandad saw a friend and he let me walk his dog! Can I get a doggie?”
Vicky turned right at the end, chip shop smells making her mouth water. “We’ll see when you’re a bit older, Bells. You’ve got Tinkle. You like cats.”
“I love Tinkle, Mummy, but I’d love a doggie just as much.”
“Let Mummy think about it.” Vicky drove on in silence, adjusting the mirror to keep an eye on her daughter, hoping it would be another thing she’d eventually forget. School next year — peer pressure had been bad enough in the eighties . . .
She turned left into Westfield Street, pulling up in front of her house. She got out and helped Bella from her car seat.
Bella hopped out of the car then skipped down the path. “Hello, Tinkle!” A small tabby swarmed around her feet, the purring audible from the gate.
Vicky joined her at the door, fishing around in her bag for keys. She hung Bella’s possessions on a peg, draping her own coat and bag over the top, then joined them in the kitchen. “Come on, Bells, let’s get your tea on.”
“I’m not that hungry, Mummy.” Bella perched by the cat bowl, an open sachet in her hand, stroking Tinkle as she ate. “My wee tummy’s full up.”
“Did Grandad teach you that?”
Bella closed a zip over her lips.
Vicky knelt and kissed her, holding her close for a few seconds, wishing she had a lot more time with her.
Friday
28th March 2014
Chapter Eighteen
E xcuse me. I’m looking for DS Dodds. Is he around?”
Vicky looked up from her desk. A young girl, maybe sixteen at most, stood there — red hair, freckles. Glasgow accent, lilting and slightly nasal. She held out a hand. “DS Vicky Dodds.”
“Oh, sorry.” The girl blushed then shook it. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Zoë Jones.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m the IT analyst. DCI Forrester said to ask for you.”
“Okay.” Vicky examined her for a few seconds. The strap of the girl’s laptop bag scythed between her breasts and bumped off her exposed midriff. Definitely older than sixteen — despite the face, Zoë had the body of a grown woman, curves and all.
Vicky patted the empty chair next to her. “Take a seat.”
Zoë perched on the edge of the chair, barely denting the fabric, and started emptying her bag, placing the laptop and charger on the desk. She slid the desk forward to reveal the power supplies behind and leaned over to plug in her laptop. She sat back and crossed her legs before
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