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First published in Great Britain by Preface Publishing 2009
This edition published by Harper 2017
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2009
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017 Cover photographs © plainpicture/André Schuster (woman); plainpicture/Goto-Foto/Neville Mountford-Hoare (background).
Kimberley Chambers asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9781409050049
Ebook Edition © Jan 2017 ISBN: 9780008228613 Version: 2016-12-05
‘LOOK, MUM, THERE’S no easy way for me to say this. You’re gonna go mental, so I’m just gonna give it to you straight. I’m pregnant.’
June Dawson felt bile rise from her stomach and reach the back of her throat. Dropping the dishcloth she’d been washing up with, she clung on to the worktop for physical support.
For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out. Breathing in deeply and blowing out slowly, she somehow managed to steady herself. As she turned around to face her daughter, she felt every hope and dream she’d ever nurtured for her fly straight out of the window.
Trying to speak, June found that her voice sounded anything but normal. She usually spoke loudly, but her words came out in no more than a whisper.
‘Is Billy the father?’
Debbie stood, hands on hips, staring defiantly into her mother’s eyes.
‘Of course he is. I love him, Mum.’
June fished around in the kitchen cupboards and found the bottle of brandy she kept there for cooking and medicinal purposes. She and her husband only ever drank socially.
June poured herself a large glass and downed it in one, then immediately knocked back another. She was in that much shock, she could quite easily have swallowed the whole bloody bottle. With the drink going straight to her head, her voice suddenly came back and she decided to say her piece.
‘You’re gonna have to get rid of it, Debbie. You’re eighteen years old, with your whole life ahead of you. Don’t sell yourself short and end up with a no-good arsehole like Billy McDaid. He’s a wrong ’un love, everybody says so, and far too old for you. He’ll run a mile once he knows you’re pregnant. You mark my words, he’ll be off like a shot. Blokes like him are all the same.’
Blinded by love and obstinate by nature, Debbie glared defiantly at her mother.
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Mum. Billy already knows about the baby and he’s over the moon. He’s dying for it to be born and can’t wait to become a father. I love him so much and I’m keeping the baby whatever you say. You’re just gonna have to accept it, or you’ll end up losing me