Trust No One’s Becca Hills

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Becca Hills is thirty-five-years-old and was baptised Concepta Burns after her Irish grandmother. The Burns’ are a notorious criminal family from London’s East End and Becca’s mother did her best to turn Becca into her so Becca could take over from her when the time came, or become head of her own family of drug dealers eventually.

Becca was sent away to boarding school and wasn’t allowed to mix with the local children when at home. Becca always felt as if she didn’t belong with the Burns’, hated her names and being brought up wrapped in cotton wool and longed to escape.

As soon as she could, Becca changed her name to Rebecca Burns, moved away and joined the London Metropolitan Police. One of the other police probationers was Stephen Connor. They fell in love and moved into a flat together. But the Burns’ wouldn’t leave her alone and arranged for her to be attacked. The attack left Becca deaf in one ear and she had to leave the police.

Becca and Stephen decided to try for a baby and they spent a long weekend in Brighton on England’s south coast. Soon afterwards, Becca discovered she was pregnant. One day, she forgot her Oyster travel card, returned to the flat and found Stephen and her sister-in-law, Jackie Burns, in bed together.

Jackie was told she couldn’t have children and her husband walked out on her. Money and drugs buy information and Jackie found Becca, discovered Becca was pregnant and was madly jealous. Jackie couldn’t allow Becca to be happy while she wasn’t, so she threw herself at Stephen, knowing exactly what to do, where to do it, and for how long. Stephen and Jackie had sex in the hall, in the bathroom and in the bedroom. For Becca, this was the ultimate betrayal and she disappeared.

Changing her name again, Becca Hills and her son, Tommy live a deliberately quiet life in a council flat on the twenty-fourth floor of a north London tower block. When Tommy started school, Becca began working part-time in a local crime bookshop. She misses Stephen, still loves him, but knows she will never trust him again.

Then, one morning, Becca wakes up late. She has forgotten to top up the electricity meter, the power went off in the middle of the night and her clock radio failed to wake her at eight o’clock. She gets Tommy ready as quickly as she can and they manage to arrive at his school shortly after nine o’clock.

Crouching down outside the gates to kiss him goodbye and pass him his rucksack, she is pushed over and a woman grabs Tommy. It is Jackie Burns. Jackie runs across the road carrying Tommy and when Becca goes after them, she is struck by a car.

When Becca comes to, her vision is blurred but, from the stink of disinfectant, she works out that she is lying in a hospital bed and she can see the outline of someone sitting beside her bed. When she wakes again, her vision has cleared. She is in an Accident and Emergency Department cubicle and the person sitting beside her bed holding a lock of her waist-length blonde hair in his fingers is Stephen…

 

Sooner or later, your past will catch up with you.

Rebecca Burns has been running and hiding from her drug-dealing family all her adult life and trusts no one. An injury ended her career in London’s Metropolitan Police, and when she took a chance on love, she discovered Stephen cheating on her.

Changing her name, she runs and hides again, despite being pregnant with Stephen’s child. ‘Becca Hills’ and her son live a deliberately quiet life in a London tower block, but when she is involved in a road traffic accident, she finds Stephen and her past catching up with her. Can Becca allow herself to trust, forgive and love again?

Stephen and Becca

An Excerpt From Chapter Two

Following a detour by way of a supermarket, the cab dropped them off on Dixon Street. Tommy was almost asleep on Stephen’s shoulder as he let them into the apartment.

“I want Bear,” Tommy mumbled again.

“I know, but,” they went into Stephen’s bedroom and he opened the wardrobe, “meet Humphrey.” He pulled out a very old and battered teddy bear. “I’m sure Humphrey wouldn’t mind standing in for Bear for now.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Tommy clutched Humphrey to him.

Five minutes later Tommy, in one of Stephen’s T-shirts, and Humphrey, in his birthday suit, were tucked up and fast asleep in the double bed in the mauve bedroom.

“A drink?” Stephen whispered to her.

“Yes, please.” She followed him into the living area. “A large one.”

“Coming up,” he said, going to a kitchen cupboard, and taking down a bottle of Irish whisky and two glasses.

“I really thought I’d left them all behind. I’m surprised I didn’t have television companies ringing up wanting to do programmes on the Family From Hell.”

He poured the whisky and passed her a glass. “Here. Think about taking out an injunction, I won’t have them putting you and Tommy in danger. Better still, come and live here.”

“Stephen…”

“What the hell is it with you?” he demanded, slamming his glass down on the worktop. “Every time I try to help you, you throw it back in my face.”   

“I’ve just got out of the habit of asking for help. I never liked doing it anyway.”

“I know.” The telephone began to ring and he went to answer it. “Connor.” He listened for a couple of moments before sighing. “No. No. Why? Because it’s over. Please don’t call me again.”

“After one date? Well, fuck you, Stephen,” she heard a woman’s voice shout and the call was promptly ended.

“Women trouble?” she enquired as he put the handset down.

“Not anymore. I just couldn’t commit to any of them.”

“How many were there?” She pulled a stool out from under the breakfast bar and sat down.

“A few.” Pulling out a second stool, he sat down opposite her and took a sip of the whisky. “How about you?”

“Two.”

“Did they last longer than a month?”

She met his eyes. “No,” she told him truthfully. “The first just liked the idea of having sex with a single mum. The second didn’t like Tommy so that was it with him.”

“And what about you?”

She shrugged. “All I wanted from the first was meaningless sex. Tommy was still a baby and he wasn’t aware of him being around but the second just didn’t like Tommy and Tommy didn’t like him and I wasn’t going to have strange men in the flat. I’d seen enough of that at home with Mum’s boyfriends when I was growing up and I didn’t want to turn into her.”

“You can’t hide from your family forever, Becca.”

“But what the hell can I do?” She rested her head on a fist.

“Take out an injunction. You should have done it years ago.” Reaching across the breakfast bar, he gently caressed her deaf ear. It felt wonderful and she fought a hard battle not to visibly shiver with pleasure. “Before they did this to you.”

“I know, but it’s too late now.”

“Does Tommy know about it?”

She nodded and took a sip of whisky. “He thinks it was an accident, though, not an attack.”

“Does he ever ask about them?”

“No, because I haven’t told him anything about them.” She sighed, cradling the whisky glass in her hands. “I wish I could. I wish they were worth telling him about but they’re not. He has no idea what it is like to be not the black sheep of the family but the white sheep, the only good person in a family of scumbags. And for me to join the police was just the last straw for them. So they did this so I’d have to leave.” She touched her ear. “And then there was you and me. If Jackie hadn’t waded in in her size sevens they still would have broken us up somehow.”

“But they hadn’t betted on Tommy, had they?” he said quietly.

“No. And I’m scared…I never thought I’d be found and I don’t know what to do anymore.” She put her glass down on the breakfast bar before she dropped it. “And I’m so tired all the time. I’m going to bed, it’s probably going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Before you go to bed, listen to me,” he begged, clasping her hands in his. “Live here, please? I will be here as much as I possibly can. It has to be better than you being in that flat on your own with Tommy.”

“But if they find out?”

“The injunction, Becca. Think about it?”

“Yeah.” She extracted her hands from his and finished her whisky before sliding off the stool. “You’ll have to lend me a T-shirt or something.”

“Okay, come with me.”

She followed him into his bedroom, noticing again just how austere it was. Kneeling down at the drawers beneath the wardrobe, she watched as he opened one and pulled out an item of clothing.

“Here.”

She took it and held it up. It was a pink silk-effect nightdress with thin shoulder straps she had left behind in her rush to leave. “You kept this all this time?”

He nodded. “In the hope that you might come back.”

Oh, God. “I see.” Putting it over an arm, she retreated to the door. “Well, thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Closing the door behind her, she hurried down the hall to the mauve bedroom.

Tommy was fast asleep still clutching Humphrey as she turned the bedside lamp on, undoing her plait, and shaking out her hair. She got undressed and slipped into the nightdress, finding it a little tight over her bust. Since she had last worn it, she had both given birth to and breastfed Tommy. Getting into the double bed beside him, she turned off the bedside lamp. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering the nights she and Stephen had sat at their old kitchen table talking into the small hours putting the world to rights. Oh, God, how she missed those nights. And, God, how she missed him, too.

* * *

Two hours later, she was still staring up at the ceiling. This was hopeless. Getting out of the bed without disturbing Tommy, she went to the kitchen and took a carton of milk out of the fridge. She poured some of the milk into a mug and put it in the microwave oven for forty-five seconds but opened the door with one second to go before it pinged. Taking the mug over to the display cabinet, she stared at the photograph of herself and Stephen with all the cardboard boxes. When had she laughed like that since?

Opening one of the doors in the bottom of the cabinet, she found two large photograph albums and pulled them out. Taking the albums over to one of the sofas, she sat down, opened one, and took a sip of the warm milk. ‘The Two PC Plods’ was written under a photo of the two of them as police probationers. She smiled, shaking her head, they were so young. The photograph below it was taken by Stephen’s younger brother, Gerard. She and Stephen were kissing. Talk about a tongue sandwich and a half. She quickly turned the page.

“That’s one of my favourites.”

She jumped, almost spilling the milk down her front. “Stephen,” she hissed.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” He sat on the sofa opposite her, dressed for bed in his usual T-shirt and boxer shorts. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming in.”

“Well, I didn’t.” She watched his eyes move up and down, taking in her loose hair and how fully she now filled the nightdress. God, how she wanted to straddle him and sit on his lap and push her breasts into his face and let him kiss them and – oh, God – so many other things she missed so much. “I helped myself to some milk,” she said instead.

“Good.” He smiled, raising his eyes to her face.

“How’s Gerard?”

“He’s very well, thanks. He told me that I was a bloody fool to mess you around.”

She groaned. “Let’s not go into that now, I’m too tired.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” he asked. “Are you ill?”

“No, just overtired.” She drained the mug. “And sad. And fucking angry. They took all my photograph albums – all the photos you looked at of Tommy as a baby. Spying on me and trashing the flat I can take, kind of, because they’re scum and that’s what scum does. But taking the photos…only the lowest of the low would do something like that.”

“Live with me?” he added quietly. “Let me look after you both.”

“Stephen.” Banging the mug down on the coffee table, she got to her feet, the photograph albums falling to the floor. “We don’t need looking after.”

“Becca.” He got up from the sofa and grasped her shoulders. “Please?”

“Let me go.”

He complied and bent down to retrieve the albums. “The nights I lay awake wondering if that bloody family of yours had done something else to you. Every time a female body was found it used to scare the shit out of me…”

“Don’t.”

“But they know where you are now, Becca.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I know. I’ll just have to move again.”

“But think of Tommy and school?”

“Don’t you dare accuse me of not thinking about him,” she spat. “I think and worry about him every day – ever since he was born – ever since I found out that I was pregnant if you must know. I even thought about getting an abortion after I left you but I couldn’t.”

“Tell me why not?” He pointed to the sofa. “Please?”

She sighed and sat down and he re-took his seat, placing the albums beside him.

“The baby was yours and mine. Ours. Not my bloody family’s – ours. Despite everything that happened I just couldn’t get rid of him. We made him. It was on that long weekend in Brighton, just after we’d agreed to try for a baby.”

“Brighton?” He smiled. “I’m not surprised, we hardly left the hotel room.”

“I know, but I hadn’t counted on me getting pregnant immediately.”

“I should have asked you to marry me there.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Before, during, or just after?”

He shook his head. “Over dinner the first evening. I’ve regretted it ever since. And I’ve grabbed every chance that has come my way since. And, yes, I do want to make chief inspector before I’m forty.”

“Jan was right,” she muttered. “You are married to the job.”

“You could have made inspector, too.”

“Well, there’s no point saying that now.” She touched her ear. “I’m happy at the bookshop.”

“There’s a crime bookshop here, just around the corner,” he told her. “And Tommy could go to St James’ Primary School. It’s only five minutes walk away.”

“I do know where it is.”

“So what’s your excuse?” he challenged.

She gave him a defiant stare. “Don’t bloody interrogate me, Stephen.”

“All right.” He got up, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a whisky. “But I’m only worried about you.”

“I know you are,” she replied quietly. Getting up from the sofa, she went to him, turned his face towards hers and kissed his cheek. “I need to try and get some sleep.”

“Becca.” He caught her hand. “Before you go, tell me what it was like being pregnant. Please? I missed out on so much.”

“I was huge. And he kicked my insides black and blue.”

“How big were you?” he asked, putting his whisky glass down, standing behind her and taking her hands. “Will you show me?”

She could feel his body pressing against hers, his breath on her ear, and couldn’t help but tense. It felt far too good. “My stomach was out here.” She held his hands out from her body, not at all sure how accurate she was being but just wanting to show him something and then move away from him. “It was huge. I waddled for the last few weeks.” Letting his hands go, she turned around, backing away from him. “I was in labour for sixteen hours and Tommy weighed eight pounds and one ounce.”

“You breastfed him?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied matter-of-factly, not wanting to move onto the subject of her breasts. “And now I really must try and get some sleep,” she told him, walking to the hall door and opening it. “Goodnight,” she added and closed it behind her. She leant back against the door for a moment, raising her hand to her forehead, and finding it damp with perspiration. “Fuck you, Stephen,” she whispered.

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Trust No One’s Stephen Connor

Stephen Connor is thirty-six-years-old and is the eldest son of Michael and Mary Connor, originally from Cork in Ireland. Stephen met and fell in love with Rebecca ‘Becca’ Burns and her waist-length blonde hair when they joined the London Metropolitan Police as probationers and they soon moved into a flat together.

Becca is the white sheep in a family of black sheep. The Burns’ are a notorious criminal family from the East End of London and when Becca attempted to disassociate herself from them by changing her name from Concepta to Rebecca and joining the police, the Burns’ arranged for her to be attacked. The attack left Becca deaf in one ear and she had to leave the police.

Stephen and Becca agreed to try for a baby and they spent a weekend in Brighton on England’s south coast. Soon afterwards, Jackie Burns, Becca’s sister-in-law, turned up at the flat. Jackie was told she can’t have children and her husband walked out on her. Jackie was hysterical and threw herself at Stephen, knowing exactly what to do, where to do it, and for how long. Stephen and Jackie had sex in the hall, in the bathroom, and in the bedroom. Becca then walked into the bedroom and found Stephen and Jackie in bed together. For Becca, this was the ultimate betrayal and she disappeared.

Stephen searches for Becca but she is good at covering her tracks and he throws himself into his work. He rises through the ranks of the police, eventually being promoted to Detective Inspector at the age of just thirty-one. But he can’t forget Becca, no matter how hard he works and no matter how many women he sleeps with.

Then, one morning, Stephen is told about a road traffic accident outside a school in north London. A woman in her thirties with waist-length blonde hair attempted to stop the abduction of her five-year-old son and was knocked down by a car on a pedestrian crossing. The woman’s injuries were not life-threatening and she was taken to St Hilary’s Hospital. Stephen goes to the hospital immediately. Surely, it can’t be Becca. She doesn’t have a son. Does she?

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Sooner or later, your past will catch up with you.

Rebecca Burns has been running and hiding from her drug-dealing family all her adult life and trusts no one. An injury ended her career in London’s Metropolitan Police, and when she took a chance on love, she discovered Stephen cheating on her.

Changing her name, she runs and hides again, despite being pregnant with Stephen’s child. ‘Becca Hills’ and her son live a deliberately quiet life in a London tower block, but when she is involved in a road traffic accident, she finds Stephen and her past catching up with her. Can Becca allow herself to trust, forgive and love again?

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An Excerpt from Chapter Two

They went into the kitchen and she shut the door as overly-dramatic cartoon music began blaring from the television. The kitchen was miniscule, only about six feet square. With the cupboards, worktops, sink, and appliances, there was barely enough room for her to move around, never mind share the space with a furious Stephen.

“Too bloody right we need to talk. Tommy doesn’t have a clue who I am, does he?” Stephen demanded.

“No.” She moved as far away from him as the tiny kitchen allowed, feeling the sharp corner of the sink digging into her back.

“Doesn’t he ask why he doesn’t have a daddy like other children?”

“He’s beginning to, yes,” she admitted.

“And what do you tell him?” Stephen added savagely. “That I’m dead?”

“No.” She was adamant. “No, that you’ve gone away but will be back one day.”

He pulled a disbelieving face. “And now what? Are you going to tell him who I am?” She peered down at her hands. “Becca, for God’s sake, please. I’m his father.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “And married to your job.”

“What?”

“Jan told me,” she explained, raising her head. “Inspector at thirty-one. Congratulations. What’s it going to be – chief inspector before you’re forty? Superintendent a few years after that?”

“Please allow me to be Tommy’s father?” he asked instead of answering.

“Stephen, he needs someone reliable. Someone who, when they tell him that they’ll take him out at six o’clock, will take him out at six o’clock. You will never be able to guarantee him that.”

He slumped back against the worktop. “No, I won’t, but I’d make it up to him.”

“Guilt presents?” she suggested, shaking her head, and noting with relief that it wasn’t pounding quite as much as it did earlier. “No. I see far too many of them at Tommy’s school. Trainers, smartphones, video games – anything they think will make up for the disappointment.”

“Please just think about it, Becca?” he asked.

“What else did you think I was going to think about now?” she snapped.

“Jackie,” he replied. “Jackie’s family. I’ve just come here from telling them she had taken an overdose of painkillers and was dead.”

“Why the hell should I think about her or her family?” She exhaled a short, humourless laugh. “I don’t need to tell you what I thought of her. I’ve never met any of her family, and it’s not very likely that they’re going to give a toss about me or Tommy.”

“They asked me who the little boy was and I had to tell them. They’d have found out, anyway. Did you tell anyone, Becca?”

“No,” she replied simply and, adding before he asked, “because it was safest that way.”

“Well, there’s a good chance that Jackie has told your family where you are,” he told her and her heart lurched before it sank like a stone. “We found her iPhone and the last call made from it was to an unregistered pay-as-you-go phone.”

“Knowing Jackie, she probably tracked me down and took Tommy, hoping that John would take her back. ‘Please take me back’.” She mimicked Jackie’s high-pitched voice. “‘I even took Becca’s little boy so we can be a proper family, and we can bring him up as one of the next generation of Burns Boys’.” She rolled her eyes. “The stupid cow. Tommy will never be a Burns,” she spat. “Never. Knowing John, he probably just laughed at her.”

“Probably,” Stephen agreed. “There’s no way he’d want anything to do with a police officer’s son.”

His stomach rumbled as he spoke and she glanced at the clock above the doorway. Six o’clock. She really had to eat something and so did Tommy. It was his bedtime soon. “When did you last eat?”

He shrugged. “Can’t remember. Breakfast, probably.”

“Do you have to be somewhere?” She heaved herself away from the sink.

“No. I won’t get the official post-mortem results for a few days at the earliest. Then, Tommy needs to be interviewed, as well as you.”

“So Jan said. When?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he told her.

She nodded. “Well, today is pizza day. I hope you still like pepperoni?”

She saw him trying and failing to hide his surprise. “Yes, I do.”

“It’ll be about twenty minutes. Have one of these in the meantime.” Squeezing past him, she went to the fridge freezer, took out a pot of petit filous followed by a spoon from the cutlery drawer, and passed them to him.

“Thanks.”

Squeezing past him again, acutely aware of how he made no effort to move out of her way, she lit the gas oven. Extracting the pizzas from the bottom of the fridge freezer, she pulled them out of the box and cellophane and put them in the oven before turning around.

“Look.” She pointed to his tie. “You’ve dripped some on it.” He began wiping the blob away with a dishcloth but only succeeded in making it worse. “Stop.” Taking the cloth from him, she went to the sink and ran water on a corner. Holding up the tie, and feeling his eyes watching her every move, she wiped it clean. “There.”

“Thank you.” He pulled it loose then undid the top button of his shirt.

“Who irons your shirts these days?” she asked, going to a cupboard and taking three dinner plates out.

He gave her a little smile. “Non-iron.”

“Cheat.”

He laughed. “I burned holes in six shirts before I gave up.”

“And who goes around after you now picking up socks, boxer shorts, and T-shirts?” she added. “Jan or one of the other female officers?”

He stiffened. “No-one.”

She noticed and changed the subject. “Do you still live on Dixon Street?”

“Yes. Alone.” He finished the pot of petit filous and put the pot and spoon on the draining board. “I got fed up of renting so I bought the apartment. A couple of years later, I bought the apartment next door and knocked the two together. The living room is now three times the size and there are now three large bedrooms instead of the original two tiny ones plus a roof terrace.”

“Three bedrooms?” she echoed. She’d loved the old apartment but not their small bedroom and cold bathroom.

“Got to keep my harem of female police officers somewhere,” he told her. She grinned and his eyes widened. “Was that a grin I saw?” he teased with a smile.

“Something like that.” She busied herself in flattening the pizza box while staring at his reflection in the door of the microwave oven before putting the box and cellophane in the bin. He was maturing well, his face a little fuller, his hair cut a little shorter, but his smile hadn’t changed one bit and could still turn her legs to jelly. What did he think of her six years on? Did he find her prematurely old? Haggard? Coarse? At least her hair was still beautiful. “So, you haven’t quite managed to work your way through all the Met’s female officers, then?” she asked, turning around.

He gave her a humourless smile. “My longest relationship since you lasted all of a month.”

“That long?” This time he did laugh. “Jan fancies you,” she added, and his smile vanished.

“I know she does but I don’t fancy her.”

The forcefulness of his tone took her aback a little. “Once bitten twice shy?”

He shrugged. “Something like that. But you and I were the same rank back then.”

“Yes, so don’t expect me to call you sir now.”

His lips twitched. “I won’t.”

The kitchen door opened slowly and they both turned to look at Tommy. “Mummy? I’m hungry.”

“The pizzas are in the oven,” she assured him. “They won’t be long.”

“Okay.” Giving Stephen a puzzled look, he retreated back to the living room.

She sighed. “I’m going to have to tell him something. I’m not going to have it all come out tomorrow when he’s being interviewed.”

“What will you tell him?” Stephen asked, and she could hear the trepidation in his voice.

“That his daddy has come back,” she said simply. “I’m not going to lie to him. Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Come on, then.” She opened the door. “Tommy, turn the television off, please.”

“Oh, Mummy,” he protested.

“Now, please. Then, go and sit in the armchair.” Tommy climbed up and sat down, reaching for the remote control and switching the television off. “Good boy. Now,” she began, glancing around the room. Where was Stephen? He was standing at the kitchen door and she beckoned him to come to them. “Tommy, remember when you asked me where your daddy was?” she continued and he nodded. “What did I tell you?”

“That he was away but that he would come back one day.”

“Yes. Well.” She stroked his hair. “He has come back. Tommy, this is your daddy.”

Tommy peered up at Stephen, who crouched down beside the brown armchair with a smile.

“Hello, Tommy.”

“Where’ve you been?” the little boy asked him.

“Working.”

“Doing what?” Tommy persisted.

“I’m in the Metropolitan Police,” Stephen explained. “A detective.”

“Mummy watches Inspector Morse,” Tommy informed him. “A lot. It’s on for ages.”

“Does she?” Becca saw Stephen’s lips twitch. “Well, I’m an inspector, too. Not a chief inspector, though.”

Not yet, Becca added silently.

“Do you have a big car, too?”

“I have a car but it’s not a Jaguar. It’s a Ford.”

“Oh.” Tommy sounded disappointed. “What’s your proper name?”

“Stephen Connor.”

Tommy nodded, his brain clearly processing the information as fast as he could. “And you’re really my daddy?”

“Yes, I am.” Stephen smiled again.

“Are you coming to live here?”

“No.” Stephen’s face fell. “I have my own apartment. You and Mummy will have to come and see it sometime.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-six, a year older than Mummy.”

“That’s okay.” Tommy gave him a solemn nod and Becca couldn’t help but smile. Tommy had no idea what thirty-six was.

Stephen’s eyebrows rose. “Is it? Why?”

“My friend Simon’s daddy is really old. And his hair is all grey. Yours is nice and black.”

“Thank you,” Stephen replied, before nodding at the television. “What were you watching?”

“The Tweenies.”

Stephen frowned. “The what?”

She laughed. “Oh, dear, we’ll have to educate, Daddy, won’t we, Tommy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you watch the Teletubbies, too?” Stephen inquired.

Tommy gave him a scornful look and she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Stephen. This was going to be a very steep learning curve. “They’re for babies.”

Stephen pulled an awkward expression and adjusted his position, getting down on one knee. “Oh. Right. Well, what do you like?”

“My Disney DVDs.” Tommy pointed to a scatter of DVDs on the floor beneath the television. “And Scooby Doo.”

Stephen’s face brightened. “I used to watch Scooby Doo.”

“You?” Tommy replied sceptically. “What else did you used to watch?”

“Oh.” Stephen paused, clearly racking his brains. “Play School, Grange Hill, Blue Peter…”

“Do you love Mummy?” Tommy interrupted.

“Tommy,” she scolded, feeling blood rushing into her cheeks.

“I used to,” Stephen told him. “I used to love her very much.”

“Then, why did you go away?” Tommy continued and Stephen’s shoulders shrugged.

“Mummy thought I didn’t love her anymore.”

“Do you love Mummy now?”

Stephen exhaled a long sigh. “I haven’t seen Mummy for a few years. You can’t just go back to the way things were back then. I would like to be friends with Mummy again, though. And with you. Would you like that?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes. When can I see your apartment?”

“When Mummy says it will be all right.”

“The lady today. She said she was married to Mummy’s brother.” He glanced up at her. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I haven’t seen either of them for a few years,” Becca explained. “The lady didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“No. She just told me to watch the television, argued with someone on the phone and then she cried a lot. She’s got satellite television. Have you got satellite television?” he asked, turning back to Stephen.

“Yes, I have.”

“You mean you’ve got the Disney Channel?” Tommy added, his eyes widening with excitement.

“Erm,” Stephen scratched his head. “Probably. I’ve got lots of sports channels for the football. Do you like football?”

“Yes. I support Arsenal.”

Stephen’s face broke into a grin. “So do I. We must go to a match sometime.”

The oven timer beeped and Tommy slid off the armchair. “Good. I’m hungry.”

“Go to the bathroom and wash your hands,” she instructed and he ran out of the room. Stephen stayed kneeling beside the armchair, his head bowed. “Stephen?”

He sniffed, running a hand over his face. “Sorry.” He got up and wiped his eyes. “Becca, he’s beautiful.”

“He likes you,” she told him gently, fighting the urge to take him in her arms. “I mean it. If he didn’t, he would have told you.”

“Yeah.” He smiled through his tears.

“Daddy?” Tommy stood at the hall door making Stephen jump violently at being called that for the first time. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh.” He fumbled in his trouser pocket before pulling out a handkerchief. “I’m just so glad to see you and Mummy again.”

“Can I see your apartment soon, Daddy?”

“We’ll see,” she replied instead and went to the kitchen to serve the pizzas.

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Trust No One by Lizzy Grey

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Sooner or later, your past will catch up with you.

Rebecca Burns has been running and hiding from her drug-dealing family all her adult life and trusts no one. An injury ended her career in London’s Metropolitan Police, and when she took a chance on love, she discovered Stephen cheating on her.

Changing her name, she runs and hides again, despite being pregnant with Stephen’s child. ‘Becca Hills’ and her son live a deliberately quiet life in a London tower block, but when she is involved in a road traffic accident, she finds Stephen and her past catching up with her. Can Becca allow herself to trust, forgive and love again?

 

 

An Excerpt From Chapter One

They were late for school. Very late. And she had no one to blame but herself. She had forgotten to top up the electricity meter, the power had gone off sometime in the middle of the night and, as a result, her clock radio had failed to wake her at eight o’clock.

Waiting at the pedestrian crossing, she pushed her left sleeve up and looked at her watch. It was two minutes past nine.

“Fuck.”

“Naughty word, Mummy.” Tommy pulled her hand.

“I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said the naughty word. Oh, there’s the green man. Keep hold of my hand, it’s after nine o’clock.”

They crossed the street and she crouched down outside the school gates. She gave him a hug and a kiss, put a clean handkerchief in his trouser pocket and was about to pass him his bright yellow school rucksack when feet approached quickly from behind. She went to straighten up and move aside when she was given a hard shove and she found herself sprawled and winded on the footpath on top of the rucksack. Heaving herself up onto her hands and knees, she peered behind her as a dark-haired woman picked Tommy up and ran across the pedestrian crossing with him.

“No.” She tried to scream, but the word only came out as a croak.

She got to her feet and ran after them onto the crossing as a car horn beeped and tyres screeched on the tarmacadam…

* * *

Okay, this was strange. Why couldn’t she see clearly? Everything was fuzzy but, focusing as hard as she could, she could see the outline of someone sitting in a chair. Reaching out, her fingers found the edges of the bed. It was a single, so she couldn’t be in her double bed at home. So, where was she? Inhaling a strong whiff of disinfectant, her nose wrinkled. Hospital? How had she ended up in hospital? Blinking and widening her eyes made no difference to the fuzziness so, shutting them, she slept.

When she opened her eyes again her vision was clear. Blue curtains surrounded her single bed. She could hear feet rushing up and down outside and someone throwing up a little too close to her for comfort. It could only be an Accident and Emergency cubicle. Rolling onto her back, she winced as her head began throbbing. Fuck. No, don’t swear. Mustn’t swear in case Tommy heard. Tommy! She tried to sit up but couldn’t, she was lying on her hair. Twisting around for the emergency button, she spotted Stephen. Inhaling her breath, she coughed and almost choked.

Sitting and leaning slightly forward in a plastic chair beside the bed, he was holding a lock of her waist-length curly blonde hair in his fingers and watching her without a sound. Oh, bloody hell, of all the officers in the London Metropolitan Police, it had to be Stephen. Coughing, she lay back on the pillow until it passed. Then her head started pounding again and he spoke.

“You’re in the Accident and Emergency Department at St Hilary’s Hospital. You have bruising and mild concussion.” She nodded and instantly regretted it. “What do you remember?”

“What information do you have?” she asked.

“You first,” he replied and she heaved herself up a little on the pillows, spotting huge purple bruises on her elbow and upper right arm, but relieved she was still wearing her T-shirt and jeans.

“I was outside the school gates saying goodbye to Tommy. I gave him a hug and a kiss and I was about to pass him his school rucksack. Then—” She went to shake her head but stopped herself just in time. “Then, I heard feet running up behind us. I went to step to one side with Tommy to let whoever it was pass us but she pushed me over and grabbed Tommy from me. She picked Tommy up and ran across the road with him. I got up and went after them but a car got in the way.”

He nodded. “The woman has been described as tall, well-built and dark-haired.”

“It was Jackie,” she said and watched him shrink back from her.

“Jackie Burns?” he demanded. “You’re sure?”

“You think I’d forget my only sister-in-law and what she and you did?”

“Do you have a current address for her?” he asked, instead of rising to the bait.

“No, I bloody don’t but she’s probably still at the same fancy apartment.”

“Okay, I’ll send some officers there. I won’t be a moment.” Taking a smartphone out of the inside pocket of his black suit jacket, he got up and pulled the curtain aside before going out. She heard him speaking in low but urgent tones to someone and being told to turn the phone off by a female voice.

“When was the last time you spoke to Jackie?” he continued, coming back into the cubicle. “Or seen her?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“And Tommy is how old?” he asked, retaliating at last.

She glared at him before throwing back the bedcovers. Gingerly, she got out of bed, and carefully crouched down at the bedside locker. Opening the door, she saw that her jacket and shoes, handbag and plastic hair clasp had been shoved inside and she began pulling them out, feeling him watch her every move.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not staying here exchanging smart comments with you, Stephen,” she replied, throwing the items onto the bed. Straightening up, she gathered her hair together and pinned it up as best she could with the plastic clasp. “Get a nurse, I’m discharging myself.”

“What? No. Absolutely not. For God’s sake, you’ve got a head injury, you need to be admitted and kept under observation.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “If you won’t get a nurse, I’ll go and find one myself.”

Swearing under his breath, Stephen pulled the curtain aside and left the cubicle again.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they left an exasperated staff nurse behind and waited for the lift to come down from the fourth floor.

“Detective Constable Jan Carter will be assigned to you as your liaison officer,” Stephen told her. “She’s on her way to your flat now. We got your address from the school.”

“Not you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then, who’s heading the investigation?” she added.

“I am,” he replied, extending a hand as the lift doors opened and she went in. “I’m a Detective Inspector now. So don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.” He followed her inside, the doors closed, and he pressed the button for the ground floor. “When exactly were you going to tell me I had a son?”

“When exactly were you going to tell me you were sleeping with my brother’s wife?”

He sighed. “It happened once. It was the biggest mistake I have ever made.”

Not wanting to stare at him as the lift brought them up from the lower ground floor, she took the opportunity to observe him in the mirrors lining the walls. The black suit he wore was creased, his cheeks were heavily stubbled, and he seemed exhausted. Had he been in the hospital all night with her? If it had been night time. What time was it, actually? She pushed her jacket sleeve up her left wrist to look at her watch but it wasn’t there. She sighed and focused her attention on the mirrors again.

Stephen’s dark hair and stubble made him appear deathly pale but that could be shock, too. Finding her again after so long and discovering he had a five-year-old son was enough to knock anyone sideways. Six years ago she’d thought he was the love of her life but then he’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. How did she feel seeing him again now and hearing his regret? She went to raise a hand to her throbbing head before lowering it, not wanting to hear another lecture on how she should still be in bed and under observation. She just wanted Tommy back. She’d contemplate her feelings for Stephen when she could think straight.

Tailing him across the hospital car park, she watched as he beeped open a black Ford Focus and opened the passenger door for her.

“Who knows about us?” she asked, getting in as he walked around the car before getting into the driver’s seat.

“No one.”

“But you’ll never be able to keep it a secret.”

“Just you watch me. I’m quite good at keeping secrets, too.” He reached for his seat belt. “Look, if you’d prefer for someone else to take over, just tell me.”

“No, but be careful for God’s sake.”

* * *

Following her directions, he pulled up in a car park located in front of three dilapidated 1960s tower blocks.

“Which one do you live in?” he asked, craning his neck to get a better look at them.

“Tommy and I live on the top floor of the middle one.”

“The top?” he echoed and she saw him try to hide a grimace.

The lift wasn’t working yet again so they climbed the stairs to the twenty-fourth floor, stepping over hypodermic needles and used condoms. In a way, she was relieved, who knows what delights they might have seen or smelt in the lift. She waited for Stephen to make a comment but, to her surprise, he said nothing.

A young woman with short ginger hair was waiting outside the flat and Stephen introduced her as Detective Constable Jan Carter. Becca searched her handbag for her keys, hoping they weren’t lying on the road outside Tommy’s school, before finding them beside her watch at the very bottom. She opened the battered front door and the three of them went into the flat, Stephen telling the Detective Constable that he had been given an address and officers were on their way there.

The two-bedroomed council flat was like going through a time warp back to the nineteen seventies. Everything was brown – the colour of poo – as Tommy had once described it. She hadn’t been able to afford to re-decorate yet, except for Tommy’s bedroom with wallpaper she had bought in a closing-down sale, and to paint over the horrific swirly living room wallpaper with the cheapest Magnolia-coloured paint she could find.

“Are you up to being questioned?” Jan asked her gently.

“Questioned?” She threw her handbag onto the ancient, sagging, and bloody uncomfortable brown sofa. “Jackie Burns took Tommy and I want him back.”

“Sir?” Jan turned to Stephen, standing at the scratched chipboard display cabinet examining the framed photographs. He had one of Tommy in his hands. God, they were so alike.

“Tommy’s birthday?” he enquired, looking straight past Jan and at her.

“Yes. His fifth. Take it.”

“‘Concepta aged ten’.” Jan had picked up and glanced at the back of a framed photograph of her as a ten-year-old and which had been inscribed by her mother.

“I’m Concepta,” she explained. “Well, I was. The first thing I did when I left school was to change my name by deed poll. I’m Rebecca Hills now. Becca for short.”

“Concepta – bloody hell.”

“Tell me about it.” She almost smiled. “So, you can understand why I much prefer Becca. At school, I might as well have had a notice tattooed on my forehead with, ‘Bully Me’ on it. Except, no one dared to.”

“Why not?” Jan frowned.

“My original surname was Burns.”

“Burns.” Jan’s face paled. “You’re a member of the Burns family from the East End? Your mother is Ma Burns?”

“That’s right. She had six kids and I was the only girl. You might have heard of my eldest brother, Pat?” she enquired.

Jan nodded. “So Jackie Burns is your sister-in-law?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen nor spoken to her for nearly six years, nor to any of my family for a good few years before that.”

“Why is that?” Jan took a notebook from her handbag and opened it.

“My mother had named me after her mother, so she never forgave me for changing my name. But I’d always felt different – like I didn’t belong with them – and I longed to escape. She’d done her best to turn me into her – so I could take over from her when the time came – or become head of my own family of drug dealers eventually. She sent me away to a posh boarding school and I wasn’t allowed to mix with the local kids when I was home. But I hated my names and I hated being brought up wrapped in cotton wool so I changed my name and I moved away. But they couldn’t – or wouldn’t – leave me alone. Six years ago my brother, John, left Jackie for another woman shortly after they discovered she couldn’t have children. Jackie went to pieces. Somehow, she managed to track me down and she found out I was pregnant. She was jealous. She couldn’t allow me to be happy while she wasn’t, so she slept with my partner. It worked.” Becca gave Jan a bitter smile. “I left him.”

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