Read Online Until You're Mine by Samantha Hayes - Free Book Online

torrents of need beckoning to me from dozens of at-risk children all neatly contained in stacks of files. I wonder how far they would go to become part of my life, to become my child, my loved one. It’s something I think about most days. I dispel the guilt as I hang up my coat. It’s an impossible thought. I couldn’t take them all.
    ‘Morning,’ Mark says without looking up. It’s all open plan here but we have our own areas – not cubes as such because I believe in seeing the faces of my co-workers as we bicker and banter back and forth about cases and reality TV and where we’re going on holiday. I get a flutter in my belly as I imagine our next family trip. By summer, my little baby girl will be about eight months old.
    ‘Morning,’ I say. It comes out glumly. ‘Where’s Tina?’
    ‘Her child-minder’s sick. She’s had to take a detour via her mother’s house so she’ll be late.’ Mark doesn’t sound sympathetic. He has no children and isn’t likely to have a family any time soon. He’s been single as long as I’ve known him.
    ‘That’s annoying. She was going to come with me to the Lowes’ place this morning.’
    ‘You’ll have to put up with me again then.’ Mark drains his coffee mug. He drinks about ten cups a day. ‘Can’t have you going there alone. Not in your condition.’ Now that Christine Lowe has come home from hospital with her baby, our visits to her will be daily. In the past, she’s lashed out.
    The first time I met her was soon after she’d had her second child. Within a week of her giving birth, we were rushing through the paperwork to take both children from her. Little boy, if I remember, and a two-year-old girl. Sweet baby with a mass of dark hair and purple welts across his legs. His sister was similarly decorated. That was about thirteen years ago. Since then she’s had one every couple of years and we’ve taken them all away from her.
    ‘Have you been following that awful story on the news?’ Mark asks. I see him force down a swallow, wondering if he’s overstepped the line. ‘That poor pregnant woman?’
    ‘Which pregnant woman?’ I say, making him squirm on purpose. I smile a little, to let him know I’m kidding, that of course I’ve heard about it.
    ‘It’s just dreadful. How could anyone . . . ?’ He doesn’t know how far to go. Does he think I’ll fall apart if we talk about it?
    ‘Is that the murdered pregnant woman story?’ Diane, ears pricked, comes in from the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee mugs. ‘I couldn’t believe it. And guess what? My mum actually knows the dead girl’s mother. They went to school together years ago and keep in touch. When the photo of the dead woman came on telly, her mum was in the background and my mum recognised her. And the surname was a giveaway. Frith’s not that common, is it?’ Diane passes round the mugs – mine says ‘Give me a gherkin NOW!’ on it. No one really knows what to say about the murder. We see enough tragedy in the department without adding to it.
    ‘You don’t have to keep quiet about it for my benefit,’ I tell them. ‘It’s no more awful for me to hear about it than for you. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t hack real life.’ I shrug and try not to think about what that woman must have gone through before she died. Two lives unnecessarily lost.
    ‘Have the police arrested anyone yet?’ Mark says, slurping coffee and returning to his computer.
    ‘Don’t think so,’ Diane says. She tucks a strand of dark hair behind one ear and crunches into a biscuit. She swivels to face her desk. ‘My mum’s going to go round later. See if she can help.’ She’s tapping at her keyboard.
    The first call of the day comes in. A local GP is worried about a young patient. There’s a teenager in crisis and it’s up to me to sort her out.
    *
    Christine Lowe hasn’t changed much over the years. Despite multiple pregnancies, various abusive partners, having all her