Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (primary phonics .txt) 📕

on a Saturday. Ambulances were delayed, queued outside A & E, carrying drunken female clubbers who had fallen off their stiletto heels, and young people, injured in street fights. Anwen and Cerys waited for an hour after ringing the number they had been given, with Cerys’s contractions growing more frequent and stronger. In desperation, Anwen hammered on Jack and Alice’s door, and a wild-haired Jack pulled it open. Minutes later, he was outside, wearing trousers with a sharp crease, and a vee necked jumper pulled over his pyjamas. Anwen jigged about in anxiety while he diverted to the garage for a plastic dust sheet to cover the back seat of his immaculate BMW.

At the hospital, Cerys hobbled from the car, stopping once to groan. Her sister and neighbour half-carried her inside where a calm and authoritative porter found a wheelchair and pushed Cerys at a half gallop along corridors to the maternity ward.

Baby Jake arrived two hours later.

~~~

Kitty held Jakes bottom with her left hand and jiggled him on her shoulder. In her right hand she held a pencil, which was aimed at a blank shorthand notebook resting on the arm of her chair.

Cerys came out of the lavatory, straightening her shirt. ‘Aw, thanks for that, Lovely, I was bursting.’

‘No worries. I can hang on to him if you like. He’s fine here, and you’ve got loads to do.’

Cerys pulled a face. ‘I have. Your dad left me in such a pickle.’ She put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, sorry - that just came out, like.’

Kitty shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, Cerys. He’s not my favourite person at the moment.’

‘No. Nor mine, the bastard.’ Cerys’s clamped a hand to her forehead. ‘Ooh, sorry again.’ Her Welsh accent was more pronounced in her shame, and Kitty exploded into laughter.

‘Cerys, he is a bastard. Don’t apologise. I’m surprised you haven’t said far worse by now.’

The little woman giggled. ‘I have felt like it, but he’s your dad.’

Kitty’s face became serious. ‘You say whatever you like; it can’t be any worse than what I’ve been thinking.’

Cerys smiled and made to turn away. ‘If you don’t mind hanging on to Jake for a while, I want to check on our insurance.’ She squeezed her lips together before saying, ‘I don’t imagine there’s a clause for a husband being in jail for murder.’

Kitty gazed at Cerys in silence. The poor woman looked more exhausted than upset. And to add to her troubles, Anwen had chosen now to develop some overdue teenage attitude. There had been much door-slamming and going ‘out.’ Kitty had tried to talk to the girl, but it was as if their past relationship: the help with social media, giving her the cleaning job, the school advice, had never happened.

Cerys suspected that the new baby was the cause. ‘I thought she’d love having a baby brother,’ she grumbled.

But Anwen wanted nothing to do with changing nappies or walking the buggy to the local shop. It was a shame because Cerys and Kitty needed her help.

‘It’s her hormones,’ Kitty said. ‘She’ll get over it when she realises that she needs us too. I’m pretty sure I was the same at her age. Dad couldn’t cope with me. He’s never been that good with the female of the species.’

‘What man is?’ Cerys observed. ‘Actually, what woman is? Sometimes I don’t understand myself, let alone Anwen.’

‘Nor me.’

‘I need to check on the mortgage situation, too,’ Cerys added, ‘I expect I’ll have to sell this place and buy somewhere smaller.’

Kitty was quick to offer help. ‘I’ve got a chunk of money you can have - the advance for my story.’ She looked in frustration at the pencil in her hand. ‘If I can ever write it.’

From the doorway, Cerys said softly, ‘Give it time, Kitty. You had a serious head injury. Give yourself a chance to recover.’

The doorbell sent out a triple burst of Avon chimes, and the baby suckled the inside of his lip. At the sound of Sam’s voice in the hall, Kitty’s mood lightened. Throwing down the pencil, she shifted Jake onto her lap, enjoying the cool air on her sweaty shoulder and on the soggy patch of drool on her back.

Sam tiptoed across the carpet to peek at the infant. ‘He looks even more like Paul than when he was born,’ he observed.

Kitty kissed the small head. ‘He does. No mistaking his paternity.’

‘Poor little thing. Has Paul seen him lately? He’s growing fast’

‘Yeah. Cerys took him on Saturday.’

Sam eyed the pencil. ‘Still not managing it then?’

‘Does it look like it?’ Kitty could not keep the irritation from her voice.

Sam lifted his palms. ‘OK. Don’t bite my head off.’

‘It’s so frustrating. My job depends on my ability to write.’

‘I understand.’ Sam paused. ‘Actually, I have a suggestion.’

‘Oh?’

‘I thought, seeing as we worked together so well on our last case,’ he hesitated, ‘Even though the outcome wasn’t what we expected…

‘I thought maybe I could be your P.A.’ He grinned, grabbed the notebook and pencil, and put on a feminine voice. ‘Take a note, Mr Roman…’

Kitty flared, ‘I can manage, thanks.’

Sam’s face grew sad. ‘OK,’ he mumbled, ‘It was only an idea. Think about it at least.’

With theatrical timing, Jake’s legs gave a kick, and his body arched in Kitty’s arms. His little face transmuted from serene to distressed, and he opened his eyes. It took three seconds for him to focus on Kitty and emit a piercing yell.

Cerys rushed in. ‘Come here little man,’ she crooned, and scooped him from Kitty’s arms. ‘Hungry, are you?’

The wails faded, and they heard Cerys’s voice murmuring reassurances while she undid her blouse. Soon all was peaceful.

During her stay in hospital, Lucas had planted some of his Buddhist wisdom into Kitty’s head. At first, she had dismissed such things