cheap.

He'd have paid twice as much, she thought as she nursed her gin. More

than twice, no matter how much the b.a.s.t.a.r.d Pete had frowned and

muttered. Brian had wanted Emma. He had a soft spot for children.

She'd known it, but, she thought in disgust, hadn't been clever enough

to exploit it.

A lousy twenty-five thousand a year. How was she supposed to live on

that, she wondered.

A little bleary with gin, she rolled a sloppy joint.

She still took in a john now and then, but that was as much for the

company as the extra cash. She'd had no idea she would miss Emma. As

the weeks pa.s.sed the concept of motherhood took on new, emotional

meanings.

She'd given birth. She'd changed nasty nappies. She'd spent her

hard-earned money on food and clothes. Now the little brat probably

didn't remember she existed.

She'd hire a solicitor. She'd hire the best with Brian's money. There

was justice in that. There wasn't a court in the country that wouldn't

see that a child belonged with her mother. She'd get Emma back. Or

better, she'd get twice as much money.

Once she'd bled them a bit, Brian and his snotty new wife wouldn't

forget her. No one would forget her, not the stinking press, not the

stupid public, or her own little brat.

With this thought dangling in her mind, she brought out her cache of

Methedrine and prepared to go flying.

EMmA COULDN'T wait much longer. There was a nasty sleet falling

outside, but she continued to press her face against the window to try

to see through it.

They would be coming soon. Johnno had said so. She was wise enough to

know that if she asked him how soon again he'd snarl at her. But she

couldn't wait. After her nose grew cold, she stepped back to dance from

one foot to another. Her Dad was coming home, with Bev, and her new

baby brother. Darren. Her brother's name was Darren. She tried the

name out to herself in a whisper. Just the sound of it made her smile.

Nothing in her life had ever been so huge, so important as having a

brother. He would be her own, and he would need her to tend him, to

look out for him. She'd been practicing for weeks and weeks on the

dolls that now filled her room.

She knew you had to hold their heads ever so carefully, or they fell way

back and broke off. Sometimes babies woke in the middle of the night,

crying for milk. She wouldn't mind, Emma thought. She rubbed her own

flat chest and wondered if Darren would find milk there.

They hadn't let her go to the hospital to see him. That had upset her

so that for the first time since she had come to her new home, Emma had

hidden in a closet. She was still angry about it, but she knew it

mattered very little to adults if children were angry.

Weary of standing, she sat on the window seat to pet Charlie and wait.

She tried to think of other things. Her time in America. Humming to

herself, Emma let herself picture all the things she'd seen. There had

been the big silver arch in St. Louis. There had been the lake in