Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) by Caroline Mitchell (best love novels of all time .TXT) 📗

why she’d inflicted so much of it upon others. As the therapist counted backwards, Mo’s shoulders dropped, and she relaxed into the chair. Her breathing became slow and steady. Her hands fell open. It felt like she was sinking into the sofa as she mentally counted down. Then she was there, in the park, exactly where she left off.

‘It’s nippy.’ She rubbed her arms when asked about her surroundings. ‘I’m wearing a denim jacket, but I’ve only got a belly top on underneath. It makes me feel grown-up. Wishing I wore my jumper now though.’ She could feel the bite of November air, hear the swish of leafless tree branches overhead. An empty crisp packet swirled around her feet, and someone had graffitied a penis on the park bench.

‘Are you on your own?’ The therapist’s voice seeped through. It was neither kind nor judgemental. More of an ‘ask Alexa’ artificial intelligence voice.

‘I’m with Jen,’ Mo replied. ‘We’re walking towards a group of lads. They’re drinking plastic bottles of cider and smoking. One of them is pointing at me, and I feel my cheeks burn. “Hey, Jen!” the stockiest of the three is calling out. “Who have you got there?”’ Mo could hear the sneer in his voice as if she were really there. She had thought of this moment many times over the years, dreamt about it, even. But nothing produced the mental clarity of hypnotism. ‘They’re not boys,’ she continued. ‘They’re men. A lot older than the ones we’ve been hanging out with up until now. They’re wearing tracksuits and puffer jackets. They must be in their late twenties, maybe thirties. I wonder if any of them know my stepdad.’

Mo’s feet felt like lead as she followed Jen across the playground. She was dwarfed by all of them and waited for them to tell her it was past her bedtime. But they didn’t. ‘Jen’s walking up to them, bold as brass,’ she carried on. ‘The shortest of the three men has put his hand around her shoulder. He’s pale, with greasy skin. I don’t know where to look. He’s kissing her hard, but his eyes are on me.’ Mo began to hug herself. ‘I don’t fit in.’ She was standing in awkward silence, feeling the heat of their gaze.

‘What’s happening now?’ Ms Harkness’s voice imposed on the moment, reminding Mo to share.

‘Jen’s introducing us. The short, chubby guy who kissed her is called Jezza. His tracksuit bottoms are hanging loosely around his waist. He’s grubby, and I don’t trust him, but he’s smiling at me, so I smile back.’ Mo suppressed a shudder. ‘The guy next to him has crooked teeth and is looking me up and down. His blue eyes are piercing, but too close together and he’s picking at a spot on his chin.’

‘This is Alan,’ Jen said, and Mo felt herself stiffen as he gave her hand a watery shake.

‘Any friend of Jen’s is a friend of mine,’ he said, offering Mo a cigarette. She shook her head as she waved it away.

‘I should be getting home,’ Mo said aloud to her therapist. Immersed in her subconscious, she felt small and vulnerable. She watched Alan whisper something to Jezza, and the two men laughed. ‘The third man has told Alan to leave me alone,’ Mo continued. ‘His voice is kind, but he’s looking at me in the same way as his friends. He’s cleaner than the other two, and he must have been good-looking once.’ Mo paused for breath as further details were revealed. She remembered his hollowed, sunken expression that could only be a side effect of drug use. ‘He’s wearing jeans and grubby trainers, and there’s a plastic Tesco bag next to him on the bench.’ Mo peered into the bag, and he followed her gaze. ‘He’s asking if I fancy a drink. He’s got alcopops.’ But darkness was closing in, and if Mo’s mum noticed she was gone, there would be hell to pay. She exchanged a pleading glance with Jen as her internal alarm bells rang.

But instead of taking her home, Jen gave her an elbow to the ribs.

‘“Go on,” Jen’s whispering in my ear. “Wes has money, he’ll treat you to all sorts of stuff.” Now Alan’s checking his phone. “Right,” he’s saying. “I’m off. Laters.” I’m watching him saunter down the path which leads to the housing estate off the playground. I turn back, and it’s just me and Wes. Jen and Jezza have disappeared behind the bushes that surround the playground.’ Mo flinched as Wes placed his coat on her shoulders. ‘I like Wes, because he’s kind to me. He’s telling me to wear warmer clothes the next time I come out, but that he can see why I’d want to show my body off because I’m gorgeous.’ Mo laughed, because gorgeous was not a word that had ever been used to describe her. She felt a warm sensation in her stomach as Wes touched her face.

‘What’s happening now?’

The therapist’s voice made Mo stiffen. So lost in the moment, she had forgotten she was in the background, listening and waiting. ‘Wes is asking me what I’m laughing at. He’s resting his arm on my shoulder long after he’s put his coat there. ‘“I’m not gorgeous,” I’m telling him, and I can barely meet his eye.

‘“And that’s what makes you even more beautiful,” he replies, except he says “bootiful” and the smile hangs on his face a little longer than it should. I’m pushing my concerns away as he asks me what age I am. “Fifteen,” I lie, knowing I look nothing of the sort. He hands me a cigarette and a drink. It tastes more potent than a normal alcopop.’

Mo wiped her mouth as the scene replayed. The feeling of Wes’s puffer jacket on her skin as they chat about this and that. The bitter taste of the alcopop, which makes her feel light-headed and sick. The rumble of her stomach as she hasn’t eaten all day. ‘I tell him