Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“They say Rome wasn’t built in a day,

but I wasn’t on that particular job.”

Brian Clough, former England player

“You’re my mother?” Abby’s shocked question cut through the stunned silence like a sharpened blade.

Everyone spoke at once as Abby stared at Victoria.

“Victoria, how dare you?” her mother shouted. No. Not her mother. Abby’s head began to spin.

“Deep breaths, sugar,” Flynn mumbled behind her. His hand was firm against the small of her back.

“How dare I?” Victoria’s agony-filled eyes were wrenched from Abby. “How dare I? How dare you? You took her from me when I was barely more than a child myself.”

“Took her,” Millicent scoffed. “You hardly put up a fight to keep the girl, now did you?”

“What choice did I have, Mother?” Victoria’s eyes blazed. “I was fifteen. You whisked me away to Switzerland for the duration of the pregnancy. I was cut off from my friends. From Robert. You signed papers on my behalf. By the time I knew what was happening, it was too late. You told the world Abby was yours, and I was told to behave myself or I would be shipped away for good.”

“Poor you,” Millicent sneered. “I saved you from the shame of an illegitimate child. I raised your daughter as my own and gave her the Montgomery-Clark name—not that it had any impact on the child.” She shook her head at Abby. “She never did live up to the name. Hardly unexpected, considering your father was the son of the gardener.”

Abby’s head reeled. Her father? Robert? Not George Montgomery-Clark. Not the man who was always so distant, so critical, so cruel. She watched Millicent’s face as the pieces fell into place. No wonder they resented her. No wonder she’d always felt like they didn’t want her, like she didn’t belong.

They hadn’t wanted her.

She stared into the eyes of the woman she knew resented everything about her. The eyes of the woman who no longer deserved to be called Mother. “You only took me on to save face. To protect the family name.”

“Of course, why else?” Millicent said.

“You never wanted me,” Abby whispered.

“I did,” Victoria answered before Millicent could say anything. “I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you.”

Abby spun to Victoria. “You gave me to them?” She couldn’t keep the pain out of her question. Victoria alone knew what that meant. She knew the cold, unfeeling family life Abby had endured. She heard the disapproval in every word spoken to Abby. Victoria knew.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Victoria’

s face was blank, her voice even, but her eyes were full of emotion. “I was fifteen. I tried to be in your life. I spent as much time as I could steal with you.”

“The playing, the dancing.” Abby felt her eyes well with tears over what might have been. “We used to laugh.”

“You were my heart.” Victoria’s voice was a whisper. “You still are the one good thing I have managed to do.”

“But you went away. I remember, the playing and laughing suddenly stopped. Where did you go?”

“Mother and Father shipped me off to stay with cousins in South Africa. They said I was a bad influence on you. By the time I was allowed to return, you were in boarding school.”

“You rarely visited when I was in school.”

“It was made clear to me I would be cast out with nothing—no resources, nowhere to go and no skills—if I interfered in your upbringing.” Victoria took a step towards Abby, but stopped dead, as though afraid to come any further. “This is what I planned to explain to you today. There’s no excuse for how I behaved, for what I did. I should never have given in to blackmail. I should never have given you up in the first place. It’s unforgivable.”

“How very touching,” Millicent said. “You may as well tell her all of it, now you’ve started. Tell her how your young beau wanted nothing to do with you once he found out about the child. Tell her how you were too stupid for further education and unable to amass any sort of skill. Tell her how easily you gave in to our requests. It wasn’t like you fought to spend time with her, was it, Victoria? No, you kept your head down and carried on with your life. Content to allow your daughter into our care.”

“There was no care,” Victoria snapped. “There was provision, which is nowhere near care. You never showed any of us any affection or compassion. I don’t understand why you even had children.”

“It was expected,” Millicent said. “We had to carry on the family name. If I’d known you would turn out to be such disappointments, we may have thought otherwise.”

“Enough,” Abby said.