Chapter 4

Becca was cooking breakfast when Steven put in an appearance. He came up behind her, placed his hands loosely on her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning, Becca my dear."

"Good morning, Uncle Steven." She smiled at him. It was a genuine, friendly smile and he was delighted. "Do you want some cereal first or shall I cook your egg now?"

"Now please."

"Two minutes. The coffee's just made."

"Thanks, Becca. You're very organised this morning."

"Well, the alarm clock worked. Crikey, it doesn't half have a loud click and the alarm probably set the fire brigade off. I'm beginning to learn where everything is too."

"Well, good for you. I'm most impressed."

"Thanks."

"So what have you got planned for today?"

"Well, if it's all right with you I'm not going to dust or vacuum. I don't think it needs doing every day."

"Nor do I, so?"

"Well, if you don't mind me saying, the cupboards in here need cleaning out and there may be some things that need chucking as well."

"I'll bet the cupboards need cleaning. I haven't done it for months." She smiled gratefully at him. "And as for chucking things out, I'll bet you find at least one pot of jam or marmalade with mould on the top."

Her smile spread and there was not a hint of hardness. "Good," she said and her smile changed from one of pleasure and relief to mischief. "It's not just you, Uncle Steven, but when it comes to housekeeping men don't have a clue."

"Oh, they don't and where, young lady, did you learn that little gem of knowledge."

"From the bloody lesbians in the home!"

Steven looked down and fought the urge to be sympathetic. "Well they got one thing right, didn't they?" he said looking up again.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, I'm going to see what I can find out about Rosie's mother. I may not get an answer today."

"Thanks, Uncle Steven."

They both separated to do what they had planned.

Steven rang up his ex-boss who was now a Chief Superintendent. After all the niceties Steven launched into his problem.

"Nick, this is a slightly tricky one because it's connected with a girl who, I suspect, is on your 'missing' list. I know where she is and she's safe. She's terrified of having to go back to the children's home even though it's only for a few weeks. She's frightened of what the Social Services will do afterwards."

"Help her."

"Come on, Nick. She's been abused in that home and is terrified that some social worker will try to do the same."

"Are you saying that the children's home is abusing its kids?"

"Yes, Nick, I am."

"Christ! You'll need to come up with some pretty special proof for that sort of allegation."

"I know and I will."

"Strewth! I haven't heard you this passionate about something for a long time. Go on then. What do you want?"

"I am passionate, Nick. There's some real abuse going on there and I aim to give you a lead. Now, are you willing to find out something for me?"

"Yes, you old bugger."

"I want to know the facts about the death of Mary O'Donovan about ten years ago. I'd like to know everything else you have on her too for that matter."

"All right, Steven, but you'd better come up with something good."

"I will, Nick. I'm sure of that. Thanks."

He rang off. He was ninety-nine point nine per cent certain that Nick would maintain confidentiality. All he could do now was to wait. He did not want to let Rosie, no, Becca, down or have her taken away from him. He got on with normal business

Becca tackled the kitchen cupboards. She did indeed have to throw away quite a lot. She had just about cleaned everything out by ten to eleven. There was just one more stain which she was working on when she noticed the time. She poured some bleach onto the stain and then put the kettle on.

At eleven she knocked on the study door.

"Come in."

"I've brought you some coffee, Uncle Steven."

"Thank you, my dear. What about you?"

"Oh, I don't want to disturb you. I'll have mine in the kitchen."

"You don't have to do that."

"I've used some bleach on a stain in one of the cupboards and don't want to leave it to long."

"Well, go and deal with it and then come back and join me."

Her eyes lit up.

"OK, Uncle Steven."

She went back to the kitchen. The bleach had worked. She cleaned it off and rinsed the cloth. Taking her coffee and a plate of biscuits she returned to Steven's study.

"Ooh!" he said with a smile. "She comes bearing gifts. You're not a Greek, I hope."

She looked at him in bewilderment.

"Sorry, Becca love. I'm showing off. There's an old saying about not trusting Greeks bearing gifts."

"Oh!" The hard look came back into her eyes.

"Becca, I'm sorry. I was only pulling your leg. Put your coffee down and come here."

She looked round and found a fairly stable looking pile of papers and set her coffee down on it. She went over to him.

"Kneel down," he said.

"Oh! Oh!" she thought. "Here we go."

He took her face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Becca. I do trust you and will go on trusting you until you do something to make me change your mind. I asked you to come and kneel in front of me so that I could look into your eyes at the same level, not to make you kneel in submission or anything. You're my niece now and I'm going to look after you as best I can. You've had a pretty miserable life up to now and I want to put that right. Will YOU trust ME?"

She stared at him in disbelief.

"All this smooth talk won't get you anywhere," she said flatly. "All you really want out of me is housekeeping and sex."

"No, Becca. I want your ... Oh! It's so difficult to explain ... Your trust that I will never do anything to hurt you, although," he gave a lopsided grin; "I might have to spank you if you're really naughty. And your friendship. You haven't had much of that. That's a two way thing though. We each have to give each other friendship for it to work properly. Yes, when I get to know you better and we do like and trust each other I might want to have sex with you. There must be very few men that wouldn't but that can wait until you want to do it too."

She looked at him. Her eyes were still cold and calculating. He held her stare without flinching.

"I don't understand you." She smiled mirthlessly. "I'd expected you to have fucked me by now. Why haven't you? Are you homo or something?"

"No, I'm not and I haven't fucked you, as you put it so crudely, because you're under-age."

"OK, so why haven't you groped me like those bastards at the home? Am I ugly or too common for you or what?"

"None of those things, Becca. In the short time you've been here I've grown to like you and, as I say you're a beautiful girl."

"So what? You don't even begin to know me so how can you say you like me? Balls, Uncle Steven!" She spat the last two words out venomously.

Steven continued to look at her steadily until she looked down sulkily.

"Look at me, Becca," he said softly but firmly.

She did so reluctantly. The coldness had left her eyes but now they were expressionless.

"Oh Lord!" he thought. "This was the look she gave the staff at the home."