Page 91 of Scandal Queen

And I judged.

I judged like all the bastards before me.

I judged like all the people I hated with all my soul.

I judged.

Curse me to hell for it.

Pale blue eyes widened as they stared at my face, along my body, down to the brown leather boots on my legs, and then all the way back up again.

“Mrs Patten?” My voice shook. My knees knocked.

“Leia Lawrence?” The door widened and for one drawn out and painful moment I expected to find a man leaning against the wall, loitering with a sneer on his face as they laughed at the fact they’d entrapped me.

Only an empty hallway stood behind her, but it didn’t stop my heart pounding. The hallway replicated the one I’d run down as a child; the one I’d walked in and slung my bags on when I’d got home from school; the one my unanswered greetings always echoed back at me from.

Ten years unwound themselves from my memory, transporting me back to that dim space with the yellowed walls and the single light bulb hanging naked from its chord.

“You should come in.” The thin woman stepped back, her gaze quickly evaluating the balcony behind me. “Why did you come? They will sell you out for being here quicker than I can make you a cup of tea.”

My shaking took on new levels. “I couldn’t not. I had to see you.”

She folded her arms and I glanced down. In build and colouring she reminded me so much of my own mother it hurt. But her arms were track free, her skin naturally pale, not poisoned almost from life.

“You’ve changed.” She swept another astute gaze over my clothes. “But I can still see the hungry girl who lived here.”

A tear trickled down my cheek and she unfolded her arms, stepping up and brushing at my cheek. “I’ve always wanted to see you again, Leia. To tell you how sorry I was. I’ll never forgive myself for not helping.” Her tone tightened. “In those days though, we used to live scared around here. The dealers and pimps, they ruled these flats. I should have called for help though.”

“And Jacob?”

Her eyes misted over. “He came back early one morning a couple of weeks before your mum died. He said he’d had the best night. He’d always had a soft spot for you. He was crowing like a cockerel that he’d finally spoken to you.”

I nodded but I couldn’t contradict her words. Black remained painted across my memories.

“What happened? He didn’t speak to me again. I’m guessing he didn’t try to make any contact with me?”

Her face dropped and her mouth tightened, pulling into a line, holding her bottom lip that trembled firmer. “He’d been high. I could tell. I lost it, packed a bag and sent him off to stay with my mother.” She rubbed at her face, her own fingers shaking. “I didn’t want him falling into the pit we all lived here, didn’t want him falling prey to some dealer who’d ruin his life. So I sent him away, just for a few weeks.” She shook her head. “I mean I never expected that when he said he’d talked to you what he really meant was…” she trailed off. “Then when I saw on the news you had a daughter and I did the sums. I mean, I could be wrong, couldn’t I?”

I cringed under her watchful gaze. “No, until Olli—I mean, Prince Oliver, I…”

“I knew it. I could see it. Come and look.” Her lips curved into a smile, light lifting back into her eyes. She led me into the small lounge; my stomach dropped at the aching memories it brought back. I’d lived just two floors below for fifteen years.

Being this close, knowing how far away it all was, hurt in deep and dark places.

She drew me alongside a small bookshelf that held a few tattered paperbacks, corners dogeared, the spines well cracked. In front of the books were picture frames. I reached a trembling hand for the closest one. A man in a soldier’s uniform sat in front of one of those cloud covered photographer back drops. He grinned with pride at the camera.

Daisy stared back at me from under the plain glass.

“He’s very handsome.” He actually was: nice teeth, bright blue eyes, his fair hair on the edge of strawberry under his Army cap.

“He was.” She nodded, her voice tightening.

“What happened?”

“It was a mortar attack, none of his team survived.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t know if that makes it better or not.”

I placed the frame back on the shelf and turned for the woman. “I’m sorry for your loss.”