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like that. It makes it seem like you're reluctant to stop.
    'Is this where I get my face slapped?' I asked.
    'I dunno. Tell me what that was all about and then I'll decide.' Cara's eyebrows were raised but she had an amused smile on her face.
    'I couldn't resist,' I said. 'I hope you don't mind.'
    'I should, but I don't,' said Cara, adding melodramatically, 'I'll just tell myself that once again a man found me irresistible!'
    I smiled, then took a swig of my lager to wash the taste of her lips off my mouth. 'Can I get you a drink?'
    'OK,' Cara smiled. 'I'll have what you're having.'
    You wouldn't last five seconds if you had to have what I've got, I thought scornfully. But I smiled and stood up. I knew that she was just being friendly when she chatted to me, but then she'd let me kiss her. She could've pulled back, she could've protested, but she hadn't. Stupid Cross slapper. I turned and headed to the bar. Once my back was towards her, I surreptitiously wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. Two more lagers bought and paid for, I headed back to my table.
    'Thanks,' Cara replied, reaching out for it.
    'Any time,' I replied. 'After your drink, d'you wanna get out of here?'
    'I don't think so . . .'
    'Fair enough. It was just an idea . . .'
    We both took a sip of our respective drinks.
    'Where would we go?' Cara asked at last.
    'Anywhere you want,' I said. 'To see a film, for a walk or maybe you could show me your salon – you name it.'
    Cara scrutinized me. It was quick but thorough.
    'OK,' she said after a moment's hesitation.
    'Which of the above d'you fancy then?'
    'All of them,' Cara laughed.
    I sipped at my lager. Cara finished hers in double quick time. 'Ready?' she smiled.
    'Willing and able,' I added, standing up.
    Cara might've been a stupid Cross slapper, but she'd fallen into my lap. And I was never one to pass up an opportunity. I needed money and fast, and Cara was going to provide it for me – whether she wanted to or not.

ten. Sephy

    Darling Callie,
    Please, please don't go. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you too. They've taken you away from me and put you in SCBU , the Special Care Baby Unit. I'm so frightened. But you're having trouble breathing and you're losing too much weight so they've put you in an incubator. I sit in the chair beside your incubator and will you to get well. I have to put my hands through two arm-sized holes in the incubator to touch you and stroke you. I try to pour all the love and hope I can muster out through my fingertips, so that it washes over your skin and through you and around you constantly. I can't even hold you to me and it's killing me.
    It's so hard here, tougher than I ever thought it would be. Mercy Community Hospital only has four incubators. Just four. But I don't have the money to take you to a private hospital with better facilities and more resources. The bulk of the money my grandma left me is all tied up until I'm twenty-one and, when I moved out after Callum's death, Dad froze my allowance. I can't ask Dad for help and I won't ask Mother.
    I'm being selfish, aren't I?
    Callie, I won't sacrifice you on the altar of my pride. I'll give you a few hours more but if you don't improve, if it looks like you're actually getting worse, I'll call whoever I have to, to make sure you survive. I'll even phone Dad if I have to.
    If I absolutely have to.
    I feel so helpless, so exactly like the day Callum was killed. No . . . this is worse because although I can't help but hope for the best, I fear the worst.
    It's all my fault. After all my fine sentiments, I tried to use you to get back at my family, my so-called friends, at everyone who allowed your dad to die and never said a word, never lifted a finger. Never even phoned me to show they gave a damn. So I put an announcement in the personal ads of all the quality newspapers – because you're quality, you see. I thought by the time the announcement was run, you and I would be back in my flat – but then you got