Chapter Five

Despite his protests, Tommy was dressed in his best clothes in the morning.

“My mum and dad are a bit old-fashioned,” Stephen explained to him. “Once they’re gone you can wear what you like, all right?”

“Okay.” 

The intercom buzzed at a quarter past two. Stephen gave them an encouraging wink and went to let his parents in, making welcoming noises in the hall while taking their coats.

“They’re in here,” he then added, pushing open the door.

Mrs Connor came in first wearing a pale green woollen suit and her dyed brown hair was permed to within an inch of its life. She gave Becca a quick glance without meeting her eyes before turning her attention to Tommy, who squirmed.

“Mum, Dad, you remember Becca? And this is Tommy.”

Mrs Connor stood her ground without speaking but her tall and thin husband, wearing a black suit with a burgundy-coloured tie, came forward with a smile. “Hello again, Becca.”

“Mr Connor.”

“Michael.” He corrected her with a friendly grin before crouching down. “Hello, there, Tommy. I’m your Grandad.”

Tommy looked up at her for approval and she nodded.

“Hello,” he said.

“Mary?” Michael Connor turned to his wife. “Say hello to Tommy.”

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Tommy gave Mrs Connor a wary glance before turning away from her. “I need the bathroom, Mummy.”

“All right, off you go.”

Once the hall door closed after him, she stepped forward. “Be angry with me,” she told Mrs Connor. “Not Tommy.”

“Six years, Concepta, and not one word.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It was my fault,” Stephen intervened.

“No it wasn’t,” his mother snapped. “Anyway, how do you know the boy is yours, Stephen? Have you done a DNA test?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Mum.”

“You haven’t, then?” Mrs Connor demanded. “You know what her family are like.”

That was quite enough. “I’m not standing here listening to this.” She started for the hall door but Stephen grabbed her arm. “Stay, Becca? Please?”

“No way.”

“Becca, please? We need to sort this out.”

Shaking off his hand, she turned to Mrs Connor. “Tommy is Stephen’s son. I thought you’d only have to look at him to know that. I left Stephen six years ago because he slept with my sister-in-law. Believe it or not, he isn’t as pure as the driven snow. And, believe it or not, I haven’t seen or spoken to any of my bloody awful family in all those six years.”

The hall door opened and Tommy came back in. “I’m hungry,” he declared.

“Yes, I think we should eat,” Stephen suggested.

“Yes,” his father added firmly and nodded towards the buffet laid out on the table. “That spread looks delicious.”

“Becca, Tommy and I all helped.”

“Just take a plate and help yourself,” she told Stephen’s father. “Tommy, what would you like to eat?”

There was a strained silence as Tommy pointed to the food he wanted. She cut the meal up for him and sat him down at the table. Michael Connor ushered his wife over to the table and, reluctantly, she began to help herself.

“Tommy started at St James’ last week,” Stephen announced to nobody in particular. “You like it there now, don’t you, Tommy?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your favourite subject?” Michael Connor asked.

“I like reading.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Your dad liked reading, too.”

Mrs Connor harrumphed and her husband gave her a hard look.

“You don’t like me, do you?” Tommy asked her directly, and she stared at him in consternation. It was the first time Becca had seen her all but lost for words.

“Well, I…”

“Your granny didn’t know she was a granny until the other day,” Michael Connor told Tommy gently. “It was a bit of a shock. Give her a bit of time to get used to the idea, yes?”

“All right.”

“Good lad. Stephen, I’m just popping outside for a smoke.”

“Here, Dad.” Stephen opened a kitchen cupboard, took out an ashtray, and passed it to him.

Putting her plate down, she followed Stephen’s father out onto the roof terrace and closed the door.

“Please don’t hate me for what I did, Mr Connor.”

“Michael,” he replied, correcting her again. He turned his back to the wind, lit a cigarette and took a long draw from it. “And I don’t hate you, Becca. Even though you broke Stephen’s heart. He never admitted it, but you did, and he’s not been the same since. And I know he broke yours – you’d never have done what you did otherwise.”

“Tommy is Stephen’s son.”

“I know he is.” Michael Connor smiled. “Sure, you’d only need to look at him for a moment to know.”

Can you make your wife look at him, then, please? “Thank you. I’d love for him to get to know you and your wife – to have a grandad and granny.”

“Your mother hasn’t met him?”

“No.” She hugged herself. It was freezing but she had to have this conversation. “And she won’t. I know it sounds harsh but I don’t want him to have anything to do with my family. They are too dangerous. Did Stephen tell you about my flat and what happened there?”

His father nodded. “He did. We had a good chat out in the garden.” In the garden? Did your wife refuse to listen to Stephen? “And I agree,” Michael Connor continued. “And I can’t wait to start being Tommy’s grandad.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a relieved smile. “Tommy will love having a grandad.”

“You’ve still got all that beautiful hair that Stephen loved so much.”

“Yes.” She reached for her plait. “It’s too long, too heavy, and it turns to straw in Summer, but I’ve still got it.”

“Stephen still loves you, Becca. I’m not going to interfere, only to say this; if you’re not still in love with him, please tell him, but please allow him to be a father to Tommy.” She nodded and Michael Connor smiled before drawing on the cigarette again then stubbing the rest of it out in the ashtray. “Let’s go inside,” he said, opening the door for her. “It’s freezing out here.”

When Tommy finished his meal, he asked if he could show Grandad his bedroom. The two went out to the hall and she and Stephen eyed each other wearily, knowing Mrs Connor had been waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

“Stephen, I want you to do a DNA test,” Mrs Connor began as soon as the door closed.

“No,” Stephen replied. “Tommy is my son and that is final.”

Mrs Connor turned to her and she braced herself. “Got him wrapped around your little finger, haven’t you, Concepta? How, exactly, did you persuade him to allow you to come and live here in the lap of luxury?”

She opened her mouth but Stephen answered first.

“If you really must know, Mum, I had to practically drag her here. She didn’t want to come but her family made it impossible for her to stay where she was.”

“Oh?” his mother enquired.

“They burgled and ransacked the flat and painted graffiti on the walls,” Stephen explained.

“You have a charming family, Concepta.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, banging her plate down on the dining table. “I know I have. Why do you think I’ve had nothing to do with them for years?”

“So you are only sharing this apartment?” Mrs Connor asked. “You’re not living together?”

“We are not living together,” she confirmed.

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“But I would like to,” Stephen added, and both women stared at him.

“You’re a fool, Stephen,” his mother spat out.

“Mum, I’m not. The happiest time of my life was when Becca and I were living together in the old apartment. I think we can be happy again here with our son.”

His mother sighed before placing her plate on the breakfast bar. The food on it was all but untouched. “I would have thought that all these years in the police would have made you less gullible, not more.”

“Mum, I’m not going to row with you over this.” Stephen was firm.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Oh, Mum?” he protested as Mrs Connor walked to the door and went out to the hall, calling for her husband. “Mum, for goodness sake.”

“Michael? Fetch our coats. We’re going.”

“Ah, Mary.” She heard Mr Connor’s exasperated voice in the hall. “You promised me that you’d try.”

“I have tried.” Mrs Connor was as stubborn as her son. “It didn’t work.”

“Well, try harder. Look at him, Mary. This is our grandson.”

There was no reply and Mr Connor appeared at the hall door holding Tommy by the hand. “I’m sorry, son,” he said quietly.

“So am I,” Stephen replied, taking Tommy’s hand.

“I’ll try and talk her round.”

“Good luck with that.” Stephen gave voice to her thoughts, adding a little smile.

Michael Connor returned a smile and ruffled Tommy’s hair. “Well, I’m going to love being a grandad. How do you like having a grandad so far, eh, Tommy?” Tommy grinned at him. “Good. Well, I’ll see you all soon. Thanks for the lovely lunch.”

“No problem, Dad.”

“I’ll see you soon, Becca.”

She nodded, watching as Stephen saw his parents out.

“Can I put my jeans on now, Mummy?” Tommy asked and she glanced down at his eager face.

“Yes, off you go.”

She went to the dining table and began to clear the food away, hearing Stephen close the front door and come back into the living area.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

She shrugged, reaching for a plate of cold meats. They’d bought far too much and she was going to have to put most of it in the freezer otherwise they would be eating it each dinnertime for a week. “You can’t blame her for being suspicious.”

“She was completely out of order, Becca. All that crap about a DNA test.”

“Stephen, she’s your mum,” she told him, amazed at just how reasonable she sounded. “It wouldn’t be natural if she wasn’t worried about you.”

“Well, I’m bloody angry.”

“I know,” she replied as they brought the plates and dishes to the kitchen and put them on the worktop. “So, while you’re angry, I’ll tell you that I think we should do a DNA test and silence your mother once and for all.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Tommy will never have anything to do with my family and I really want him to be part of yours. I know your mum will never like me, but if it takes a DNA test for her to accept Tommy as her grandson, then, it takes a DNA test.”

Stephen pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll ring my doctor on Monday morning and make an appointment.”

“Thank you. Here.” Picking up his mother’s plate of food, she passed it to him. “Finish this, you didn’t eat much.”

“Thanks.” Reaching for a fork, he speared and ate a large pickled onion.

“I’m going to see Jack at lunchtime on Monday,” she announced. “To tell him thanks but no thanks.” She opened a cupboard, looking for some of the Tupperware boxes she had brought with her.

“Want me to come with you?” he offered.

Shaking her head, she gave him a grateful smile. “No. It’s a public place, I’ll be all right. Thanks, anyway.”

 

On Monday, she inhaled and exhaled a deep nervous breath before going into the crowded sandwich bar at one o’clock. Jack, eating a salad at a table in the far corner, grinned at her as she wound her way through the tables towards him. He got up and was leaning over to kiss her when she sat down instead, resting her handbag on her lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, re-taking his seat.

“I wanted to tell you to your face that I won’t be seeing you anymore.”

He tensed. “Why?”

She lowered her voice. “Because I’m not a slapper.”

“I never said you were. You’re married, aren’t you?” he demanded. “To this Stephen?”

“No.” She fought an urge to back away from him. “I’m not married but I still don’t think it’s right. I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to mess you about.”

He shrugged. “You shagged me half to death.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a complaint.” He gave her a broad wink and she cringed.

“Yeah, well.” She rose from the table. “Goodbye.”

“Wait.” He rose, too. “You can’t just go.”

“Goodbye, Jack.” Winding her way back through the tables to the door, she opened it and went out onto the pavement, but could hear him following her. “I said goodbye.”

“Oh, come on.” He began to roar and the diners at the sandwich bar’s outside tables turned to stare. “You can’t just dump me like this.”

“Do you like making a fool of yourself in public?” she hissed, nodding towards the onlookers.

“Do you like to fuck them then leave them?” he continued and she winced, feeling eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Just go, please,” she urged.

“You heard her,” a familiar voice commanded, and her head jerked up. Stephen had appeared out of nowhere. “Go.”

“And who the hell are you?” Jack retorted. “Stephen?” Stephen frowned, throwing her a quick puzzled glance. “You must think all this is bloody hilarious. Do you get a kick out of knowing that your girlfriend gives herself a fancy false name when she screws other men but screams your name when she comes? Do you scream her name when you screw other women? Do you let her watch?”

“All right, that’s enough. Just go.”

“Make me,” Jack challenged, and Stephen reached into his jacket pocket, bringing out his warrant card. “Police.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Fuck sake, I should have known. I suppose you’re police, too?” he asked, turning to her.

“No, I’m not.”

Jack laughed dismissively before turning on his heel and going back into the sandwich bar.

“Are you all right?” Stephen asked, returning his warrant card to his pocket.

“Yes. Thank you.” Please don’t mention what he said, she begged silently.

“Good,” he replied simply. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

Shaking a little with a mixture of relief and embarrassment, she watched him walk away before turning in the opposite direction.

 

Stephen arrived home as she was getting Tommy ready for bed. He kissed Tommy goodnight then went out to the living area. Following him a few minutes later, she retrieved a plate from the oven, a fork from the cutlery drawer and brought them over to the breakfast bar.

“I hope it’s not too dried out,” she announced, and he glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading on the sofa. “It’s pasta bake, one of Tommy’s favourites.”

“I love pasta bake, too.” Putting the newspaper down, he got up and crossed the room. Pulling out a stool, he sat down at the breakfast bar and pulled the plate towards him. “Thanks. I’m starving, I didn’t have time to get any lunch in the end. When I got back to work, I rang the doctor and he’s squeezing us in at early surgery tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, good, thanks,” she replied, pouring herself a mug of coffee from the machine, hoping he wouldn’t mention Jack’s comments.

“I have done,” he said.

“Done what?” She turned around, setting her mug down beside his plate.

“Screamed your name when with another woman.”

She felt her cheeks burn. Was it the prostitute? “I see.”

“Do you?” he asked, before taking a sip of her coffee. “I bet he was flabbergasted when you started screaming, ‘Stephen’.”

“Don’t bloody flatter yourself.”

“Well, what else am I meant to think?” he added. “Unless it was another Stephen you were screaming about?” She looked away. “For God’s sake, Becca.”

She glanced back at him. “Don’t shout at me, Stephen, Tommy will hear.”

He threw a wary glance towards the hall door. “Am I still on trial, or what?”

She sighed. “I thought I was the one being interrogated.”

“I know you love me,” he said, reaching for her coffee again. “You know you love me. I just want to hear it from you.”

“Am I allowed to consult with a solicitor?”

A smile touched his lips. “I don’t think you need one, do you?”

“No,” she replied, watching as he drained her mug of coffee and set it down. “That was mine and I thought you were hungry.”

“I am hungry. I’m sorry, pour yourself another mug.”

She returned to the coffee machine, emptying the contents of the jug into her mug. Had she ever loved any man as much as Stephen? Would she ever love any other man as much as Stephen? No, was the simple answer. She inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath.

“I love you,” she told him and heard his own sharp intake of breath. “I admit it. But I wish I didn’t because I think I’ve been hurt enough to last me a lifetime.”

She jumped, feeling his hands around her waist. “I know,” he whispered.

“I couldn’t stand it if it happened again,” she whispered. “I really couldn’t.”

“Look at me.” He turned her around, resting his hands on her hips. “I’ve hassled you ever since the hospital, haven’t I? Why? Because I love you. And I love Tommy. I mean, you and him, what more could I want?”

“To make chief inspector by forty.”

He shook his head. “Not if it means losing you again.”

“You don’t mean that?”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I know you want to keep working and that’s fine, so do I. But not twenty-four-seven and if that ends my chances of making chief inspector by fifty even, then well…”

“You really mean it, don’t you?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ve never been more serious.”

She blew out her cheeks. “You’ve grown up a bit.”

He smiled. “Isn’t it about time?”

She couldn’t help but laugh and he bent and kissed her lips gently before drawing back.

“Is that it?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“You have grown up.”

He didn’t smile and she moved uncomfortably within his grasp. “Becca, the truth is that I can’t go any further.”

“Can’t?” she repeated. “Stephen, please tell me what’s wrong? I overheard you mentioning a prostitute on the phone.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, raising a hand to his forehead.

“Stephen, please?”

“All right.” He led her across the room to the sofas. “Sit down.”

She did as she was told, watching with a little surprise as he sat down opposite, rather than beside her. His hands were gripping the seat so tightly his knuckles were white and her heart began to thump. What could it be?

“It was last year,” he began. “The week between Christmas and New Year. I was on my way home from work’s Christmas party with a woman I met there. We hadn’t bothered with a cab as we’d had a lot to drink and we wanted to sober up a bit. We didn’t sober up quickly enough, though, and we ended up having sex in an alleyway. Classy, I know.” He gave her a humourless smile. “Anyway, we were mugged. Something was sprayed in my eyes and it blinded me. She managed to run away but I was dragged further down the alleyway and,” he inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath, “I was mugged at knifepoint for my smartphone and wallet – and then stripped naked and beaten unconscious.”

A hand flew to her mouth. “Stripped and beaten?”

He nodded. “There were two of them. One held the knife to my neck while the other one punched me in the face and stomach when I didn’t hand over my smartphone and wallet to him immediately. I don’t think he intended to strip me but when he found my police warrant card, they decided to have some ‘fun’ with me. I wasn’t unconscious for long but when I came to, I discovered that they’d secured me to a street sign with cable ties and I couldn’t move. A delivery man found me in the morning. I must have passed out from the cold eventually. The next thing I knew, I was in hospital having every test known to man. Luckily, I hadn’t been raped, just beaten black and blue and humiliated. That’s why I’m not too thrilled about the DNA test.”

“Oh, God. Oh, Stephen.” She got to her feet, stroking his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m all right.” Taking her hand, he kissed it, then let it go. “I just haven’t been able to have sex since then. That’s why I went to a prostitute.”

“And?” she asked, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t.”

“You don’t seem to mind anyone touching you. Do you know why you can’t?”

“No, so I started going to see Barbara.”

She flushed. “Sorry, I got hold of completely the wrong end of the stick.”

He gave her a little smile. “She’s wanted me to tell you from the moment you moved in but I didn’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

“Stephen, of course, I’m going to feel sorry for you. I’m not completely heartless.”

“I know.” He peered down at his hands. “I just didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

She sank to her knees, taking his hands in hers. “I’ve just told you I love you. I’m not going to take it back.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“Well, I’m not.” She was adamant. “I take it that your parents know nothing?”

“No. Can you imagine if they did know?” He almost smiled. “Their beloved detective inspector son found unconscious and naked in an alleyway in Soho.”

“Who does know?” she asked softly.

“A select few at work,” he told her. “Plus my doctor, Barbara, and now you.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Lifting his hands, she kissed them. “Look, forget about the bloody DNA test.”

“No, we’re getting it done, but my doctor has suggested cheek swabs rather than a blood test.”

“Okay. Were they ever caught or identified?”

“No.”

“And the woman?”

He shook his head. “I never saw her again. She may have been an accomplice, I don’t know. I just felt so ashamed of picking a woman up at the party and having sex with her, not even knowing what her name was. I was more than old enough to know better. Maybe the shame is something to do with why I can’t have sex now, I just don’t know, so I go and see Barbara every week.”

I’m so sorry. No wonder you cried that time I was horrible to you out on the roof terrace.”

He gave a dismissive shake of his head. “The first night you spent here…I could have given you a T-shirt to wear or something…I’d kept the nightdress deliberately as a reminder of just how much I’d fucked everything up…I’d take it out every now and again to touch it, smell it, try and imagine you in it…I wanted to see you in it, you always looked stunning in it and when I saw you…” His eyes dropped to her breasts. “How you were almost pouring out of it.” He sighed. “Well, I went back to my room with my first erection in over a year.” He raised his eyes to her face again almost shamefully.

“A year? I hope you had a good old wank?” she asked and he spluttered a laugh.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me. The truth was, in the beginning, I didn’t want sex. I didn’t want anyone to find me attractive. I didn’t want anyone to come near me because I felt dirty so I took refuge in food. Crisps, chocolate, chips – you name it. I was getting pretty fat.”

She looked him up and down. He was anything but fat now. “So what did you do?”

“I started smoking again,” he explained. “It was a stupid thing to do but that, along with my workload continually doubling and trebling, well, the weight fell off. Then, I had to try and stop smoking without getting fat again. I managed it, just about. I just have to be careful what I eat now. I don’t want to turn into a slob again.”

“I can’t believe you were fat. I mean, you’re so tall…”

“I had a huge stomach on me like you wouldn’t believe. You’ve never been fat?” he asked.

“Yes, I have.” She smiled. “When I was at boarding school I was very fat but it fell off when I was eighteen and I left home. It was weird, suddenly all my clothes were far too big for me. I’ll never be thin but I hope I won’t be fat like that again either, I ended up having to wear clothes even my mother wouldn’t wear because I couldn’t get anything else.”

“You’re beautiful.” He ran his hands up her back. “I don’t like thin, anyway.”

“When would you like me to wear that nightdress again?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know,” he replied, sounding nervous.

“We could go out on a date?” she suggested. “And take things from there?”

“A date?” he repeated.

“A ‘first date’ – a meal and then a drink? Would your father babysit Tommy sometime soon?”

“I’m sure he’d love to.” Stephen began to smile. “A ‘first date’ sounds good.”

“All right.” She kissed his hands again. “I’ll reheat the pasta for you, while you ring your father.”

 

The three of them were at the doctor’s surgery at half past eight in the morning. Tommy was told that his new doctor wanted to meet him and give him a general check-up, which was partly true. The cheek swabs were taken and the results were expected back in three days.

 

Becca hadn’t been in a restaurant, unless collecting a rare takeaway from the local Indian restaurant counted, since the meal with Stephen in the Brighton hotel all those years ago. Pulling her one and only dress out of the wardrobe three nights later, she grimaced. It was bright red, had a plunging V neckline, and was a bit full on for a ‘first date’, but it would have to do.

“You look lovely.” Stephen smiled when she emerged from her bedroom. He looked gorgeous in an expensive-looking black suit and white shirt and for a moment she considered abandoning the date and just pulling his clothes off him right there and then. “I’ve booked us a table in Morelli’s for eight o’clock and Dad is on his way.”

“Morelli’s?” she repeated. “Bloody hell, is old Mr Morelli still alive?”

“He is,” he replied as the intercom buzzed. “’Must be about ninety now but he still does an awesome spaghetti carbonara. Dad’s early, good. We can give him the test result before we go.”

They had collected the result of the DNA test that morning and it was a ninety-nine point nine percent positive match. Stephen was Tommy’s father.

Stephen greeted his father and brought him into the living area. “…Yes, Morelli’s, but before we go, Becca and I have something to give you to give to Mum.”

“Oh?” Michael Connor frowned as Stephen picked up an envelope and pulled out some sheets of paper. “What’s that?”

“The results of a DNA test.” Stephen passed them over. “Proving beyond doubt that I am Tommy’s father.”

His father pulled an exasperated expression. “Stephen, there was no need for this.”

“There was, Dad. You are Tommy’s grandad. We would love for Mum to be his granny.”

“Mrs Connor doesn’t have to like me,” she told him. “And I don’t mind that. But Tommy needs a granny.”

Michael Connor nodded. “I’ll show this to her. Now go and enjoy yourselves.”

Stephen was right. Mr Morelli’s carbonara was still amazing. She pushed her dish away and exhaled a contented sigh. “Delicious.”

“More wine?” Stephen held up the bottle.

“Yes, please.”

“Dessert?” he added as he poured.

“Thanks, but I couldn’t. I’m stuffed. It was bloody good, though.”

He grinned, putting the bottle down. “It was. Best carbonara in London.”

“Are you okay?” she asked. “We’ve been making small talk all evening. Are you regretting telling me about what happened to you?”

He shook his head and took a gulp of wine. “No. But I was dreading telling you. I had no idea how you’d react. I’m bloody relieved you took it so well.”

“That scary, am I?” she teased gently and he just laughed.

“Shall we go for a drink before we go home?”

“Sounds good,” she said and drained her glass, watching as he signalled to the waiter for the bill.

They crossed the street and went into a pub. “What will you have?” he asked. “I’m having a whisky.”

“Then, I will have one, too, please.”

“Two whiskies coming right up. Find us a table.”

She found one in a corner and he joined her a few moments later with what looked like two double whiskies. She hadn’t drunk so much whisky in years. Maybe she should have asked for more white wine.

“Cheers,” he said, holding up his glass.

“Cheers.” She touched his glass with hers. “So, when were you last out on a date?”

“A proper date? Not just picking women up in pubs and clubs for sex? About five years ago,” he told her and her heart lurched. “So, the fact that I’m out on a date again at all, and that it’s with you, is astoundingly good going for me.”

“I didn’t mean to be…” she began.

“I know,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “So let’s enjoy ourselves, yes?”

After a second double whisky, she could feel herself getting light-headed. It felt pleasant but it was time to go home.

“Stephen, we should go. It’s getting late.”

Looking at his watch, he shrugged. “It’s not that late.” 

“I know, but your father needs to get home.”

Michael Connor smiled at them in the hall as they let themselves into the apartment as quietly as they could so they wouldn’t wake Tommy. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked anxiously, wondering why he was standing in the hall.

“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “I was just checking on Tommy and he’s grand.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Stephen shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. “I’ll ring for a cab for you.”

“No, I’ll ring for a cab for me. If they heard your voice, they probably wouldn’t come.”

“Why not?” Stephen frowned.

“How many whiskies did you have?” his father asked.

“I’m not drunk, Dad.”

“I believe you, son.” Michael Connor gave him a broad wink before going into the living area.

“Am I drunk, Becca?” Stephen demanded as his father’s voice could be heard ordering a cab.

“A little bit.”

“Oh, God.” He groaned, helping her off with her jacket and hanging it up. “I thought I could hold my drink. I’m getting old.”

“Want me to make some coffee?” she offered.

“No, thanks, because if this is drunk, then I quite like it.”

“Fair enough.” She followed him into the living area.

“Five minutes,” Michael Connor told them before adding. “My cab. It will be here in about five minutes.”

“Oh right.” Bloody hell, was she more drunk than she realized, too?

“You had a good time, then?” He smiled.

“Yes, we did, thanks. I ate my own bodyweight in spaghetti carbonara.”

“I quite like spaghetti, too, but Mary won’t touch foreign food.” He exhaled a little sigh before turning to Stephen. “Someone rang while you were out and left a message for you. Couldn’t make head nor tail of it myself so I hope you can.”

“Okay, thanks, Dad.”

“Becca? I know Stephen hasn’t had much to do yet in bringing Tommy up, but I want you to know that he’s the grandest little lad and I’m so proud to be his grandad.”

Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. “Thank you, Mr Connor…Michael.”

“I’ll show the test result to Mary,” he told her. “And we will see you all soon, I promise,” he added firmly.

“Thank you,” she croaked as the intercom buzzed.

“That must be my cab.” Michael Connor headed for the hall. “And if you need someone to mind Tommy again, just ask.”

“Thanks, Michael. Goodnight.”

“I’ll see you to the cab, Dad,” Stephen followed him out of the living area and she heard the front door open and close.

Going to Tommy’s room, she went in without turning the light on. He was fast asleep, clutching Bear, and she bent and kissed his forehead before returning to the living area.

Stephen returned a few minutes later, looking mystified. “Am I really drink?” he asked her.

“Drink or drunk?” she teased.

“Eh?”

“Never mind.” Opening a kitchen cupboard, she took out the bottle of Irish whisky. Nightcap?”

“Yes, please. Not too much, though, or I really will be drink.”