Someone Else's Son (52 page)

‘I’ll make a deal,’ Brody said. ‘You unpack everything and I’ll buy you dinner.’

‘Dinner?’ She remembered the last time he’d bought her a meal. ‘Where?’

‘Don’t sound so ungrateful.’ He chuckled – a take it or leave it laugh, knowing full well she’d take it.

‘Thank you. Dinner would be . . . nice.’ And she pulled the tape off another box.

 

She was showing now. At nearly six months pregnant, Dayna’s trim body held in the firm bulge of baby well. Carrie had sent a car for her and she’d come straight round.

‘It’s just what I need,’ she said, glowing, when she saw all the stuff. ‘It’s amazing.’

Then they both cried, ending in a brief laugh at the absurdness of it.

They had tea and talked. It wasn’t the first time they’d met since the show. Carrie had come home one evening to find Dayna sitting on her front step. She was shocked at first, angry, too, but she took the girl inside. They talked. Carrie updated her on the case – when the trial was set, how Lane had been refused bail and it was likely he’d get life in response to his plea of guilty. Dayna had looked at her feet the whole time, Carrie noticed. The girl never said what was on her mind, but clearly something was.

‘I don’t think any less of you for what you did, you know. You’re brave. Stupid for wanting to punish yourself, but brave. In fact, Max could have done with more friends like you.’ There was no point, Carrie had decided, in blaming her. She was carrying her son’s baby. She wanted to be a part of its life. Justice had ultimately been done. The killer had been caught. Her son had been the victim of a random act of violence. He was a statistic. She couldn’t accept that now but hoped one day she might learn to live with it.

‘So are you still going to help me with the Check Point project?’ Carrie asked. She was setting up youth centres throughout the most deprived areas of London. Each one was in memory of the victim of a stabbing and the first one was to be named after Max.

‘Of course I will. I’m taking my exams next week. I dunno how I’m going to do, you know, after all this, but I still want to try. Then when the baby’s born, I’ll be able to help you. You’re gonna need someone who knows what kids want.’ Dayna grinned and shifted in her seat.

‘Forget table tennis and tiddlywinks,’ Carrie had told her benefactors at the presentation. ‘The Check Point centres will be an education for the street kids and gangs but disguised as cool stuff. Computers, a café, music, skate parks, counsellors to talk to, a bed if they need one.’ It was all in the very early stages, but Carrie was determined to see it through.

Leah loved the idea of linking the centres to the weekly
Reality Check
show. By following the progress of disadvantaged kids, they felt they could really make a difference. And if Carrie didn’t make a difference, she didn’t think she could carry on.

‘While you’re here, love, I’d better give you Max’s dad’s new address. He moved last week. I know he’d love to hear how you’re getting on.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Dayna had made it clear she wanted to keep in touch with both of them, especially after the baby was born. They didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl and no one cared. It was a part of Max and that was all that mattered. Dayna planned on living at home with her mum and Kev for a while. They’d grumbled about the situation but were eventually accepting. It wasn’t a unique arrangement on the estate. Plus Carrie was going to make sure that Dayna and the baby had everything they needed.

‘Not a moment too soon, right?’ Carrie meant about Brody moving, but Dayna was still trying to get comfortable. ‘He’s living out near the university now. Fiona persuaded him to get a decent place opposite a park. Between you and me, I think there’s something going on between those two . . .’ Carrie trailed off when she saw the pained look on Dayna’s face. The girl’s hands suddenly clutched at her belly. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’ Carrie was on her feet. Nothing would happen to this baby. Ever.

Dayna’s face transformed from one of discomfort to one of pleasure. ‘The little monkey’s kicking me like a football,’ she said. ‘Here. Come and feel.’ She reached out and took Carrie’s hand. She placed it on the gentle mound of her stomach. Carrie was surprised at how hard and firm it felt. ‘Just wait . . . wait,’ Dayna said.

Carrie knelt down in front of her with both her palms spread flat on her belly. She held back the tears. She waited patiently, remembering the first time she’d felt Max kick inside her.

‘There! Feel it?’

‘Oh heavens, yes, I did,’ Carrie said. She wouldn’t weep. Not in front of Dayna. She’d save it until later when, alone in Max’s room, she’d say a prayer for him, light a candle and remind him, as every mother should, that he was the best son in the world.