Daddy's little princess. Not a thought for me in all these years."
"I've thought of you," Emma murmured.
Jane tapped her fingers against the glass again. She wanted to get her
stash, take a quick fix, but was afraid if she left the room Emma would
disappear and her chance would be lost. "He poisoned you against me."
Self-pitying tears began to fall. "He wanted you all to himself when I
was the one who went through the misery of childbirth, the misery of
raising a kid on my own. I could've gotten rid of you, you know. Even
then it was simple enough if you knew the right people."
Emma lifted her eyes then. Dark and intense, they fixed on her mother's
face. "Why didn't you?"
Jane gripped her hands on the glass. They were beginning to shake.
She hadn't had a hit in hours and gin was a poor substitute. But she
was shrewd, too shrewd to admit that she'd been more frightened at the
prospect of a back-alley abortion than of childbirth in a clean hospital
ward.
"I loved him." And because she believed it, it sounded true. "I always
loved him. We grew up together, you know. And he loved me, was devoted
to me. If it hadn't been for his music, his stinking career, we would
have been together. But he tossed me aside like it was nothing. He
never cared about anyone or anything but his music. Do you think he
cared about you?" She rose, lumbering a bit under the gin. "He never
gave a damn. It was just his image. Wouldn't want the bloody public to
think Brian McAvoy was the kind of man to abandon his own child."
The old doubts, the old fears sprang up so quickly, she had to force the
words out. "He loves me. He's done everything for me."
"He loves Brian." Jane braced her hands on the arms of Emma's chair and
leaned close. There was a glitter in her eyes. Pure pleasure. She
could do very little to hurt Brian now-God knew she'd tried whatever had
come to mind to cause him pain. But she could hurt Emma, and that was
the next-best thing.
"He would've walked right out on the pair of us if it hadn't been for
the scandal. That's just what he started to do until I threatened to go
to the papers."
She didn't mention the threat to kill herself, and Emma. In truth it
had been so unimportant, she'd forgotten it.
"He knew, and that worthless piss of a manager knew, what would have
happened if the press had started whining about rock's hottest flame
leaving his bastard child in the slums. He knew, so he took you and he
paid me a handsome sum to keep out of your life."
She felt sick, sick from the words, sick from the smell that struck out
at her when Jane spoke them. "He paid you?"
"I earned it." Jane took Emma's chin in her fingers and squeezed. "I
earned every pound and more. He bought you, and his peace of mind. The
price was cheap enough for him, but he never got it, did he? Never
could buy that peace of mind."
"Let go of me." Emma gripped Jane's wrist and shoved it away. "Don't
touch me again."
"You're as much mine as his."
"No." She pushed herself out of the chair, praying her legs would hold