Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vanessa blinked awake to darkness, squinting to make out the blurred red numbers on the alarm clock: 3:47am. For a second, she wondered what had disturbed her sleep before her question was answered sharply by a blow to her ribs that left her gasping for breath.

Quickly turning on the lamp, Vanessa turned to find Charity in the grips of yet another nightmare. Her face, twisted by panic, gleamed with sweat as her girlfriend thrashed against the sheets she had managed to tangle herself up in. Vanessa wrenched the sheet away, freeing Charity’s arm, which was at once flung upwards towards her face.

She caught Charity’s wrist just in time.

“Hey, hey, Charity, it’s me, wake up, it’s just a dream…”

The mantra was a familiar one. Ever since Bails’ attempt to get Charity charged with assault, the nightmares had become a regular occurrence, and they were only getting worse. With every dream, the Bails in Charity’s mind grew bolder and more cruel.

“Charity, it’s me, wake up, you’re safe, he’s not here, you’re safe…” Vanessa repeated the same reassurances over and over, only touching Charity when she had to block a flailing limb. She knew from experience that trying to hold onto Charity in this state would only make her panic more.

Eventually, Charity’s eyes shot open, wild and searching, until they settled on Vanessa. With a hoarse cry, Charity flung her arms around Vanessa, fingers clutching at Vanessa’s t-shirt in a desperate attempt to anchor herself back in reality.

Vanessa held her tightly, rocking gently as she ran her fingers soothingly through Charity’s tangled hair. Charity fought for air, her breathing uneven and ragged as she tried to regain composure.

After a few minutes in Vanessa’s arms, her breaths came slower and the sobs became whimpers. Slowly, Vanessa eased herself back against the pillows and pulled Charity with her. She curled up like a cat in the curves of Vanessa’s body, her head nestled in the crook of Vanessa’s shoulder.

“He was here,” she whispered hoarsely, “Here in this room. He pinned me to the bed, and I screamed but you wouldn’t wake up. You didn’t hear me.”

Vanessa’s heart clenched. She had once stood up to Bails in person and would happily do it again, but she was completely powerless against the version of him that haunted Charity’s dreams. Powerless because Bails had convinced Charity that she wasn’t worth saving.

Cradling Charity’s head, Vanessa let her fingers brush against the nape of Charity’s neck and sink into her hair. Charity’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and Vanessa peppered soft kisses to Charity’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against Charity’s temple, “I’m sorry I can’t make you feel safer.”

Charity’s arm snaked around Vanessa’s waist and pulled her closer. “You make me feel safer than anyone else ever has,” she admitted, tipping her head back so she could look into Vanessa’s eyes. “You are the only person who has ever seen me – the whole me – and still had my back.”

The weight of Charity’s words settled heavily in Vanessa’s chest. Anger swelled at all the men who had professed to love Charity but had let her down – Jai, Cain, Bails, Charity’s father – she hated how no one had truly appreciated how lucky they had been to have her in their life.

“Always,” she whispered.

Charity stirred at the sound of Vanessa’s alarm, her eyes flickering open as the warmth of Vanessa’s body faded and the mattress dipped. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on Vanessa.

“Five more minutes,” she pleaded.

“I’m on the early start today, I have to get ready for work.” Vanessa leant back in briefly, kissing Charity softly before pulling away again.

Begrudgingly, Charity released her girlfriend and burrowed beneath the covers to try and compensate for the loss of body heat. She willed herself to go back to sleep, make the most of the hour left before her own alarm would go off, but her mind was already racing. Memories of the dream and how much more vivid they were getting, thoughts of Vanessa holding her until she could fall asleep again.

By the time Vanessa returned from the bathroom, Charity was wide awake.

“Need any help?” she smirked as Vanessa moved to take off her pyjamas.

“Probably not a good idea if I don’t want to be late,” Vanessa smirked, raising an eyebrow at Charity’s completely altruistic offer to help.

“Wise choice,” Charity nodded and settled back against the pillows to enjoy the view.

Vanessa shook her head and blushed, pulling her t-shirt up and over her head. She fully expected Charity to make a lewd comment at the sight of her bare torso, but it never came. Turning, she saw Charity was staring hard at her middle. Looking down, Vanessa saw what had distracted her girlfriend – a fresh bruise was blooming just beneath her ribs, already a deep purple.

“That wasn’t there last night…” Charity murmured, the realisation dawning on her slowly then all at once. “Did I do that to you?” Her eyes locked onto Vanessa’s, demanding honesty. Vanessa squirmed.

“It was just an accident,” Vanessa said with a shrug, aiming for nonchalance.

Charity wasn’t buying it. “I hurt you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her face in her kneecaps. “Everyone warned you I’d hurt you and now I have.”

Vanessa moved quickly to Charity’s side, wrapping her arms around her like armour. “Charity, you were asleep, you can’t blame yourself for this – if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his fault, not yours.” When Charity lifted her head to look at her, there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m trouble – isn’t that what everyone told you? I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt Ness.”

“And you won’t be, because I’m a big girl and I can make my own choices. You’re not holding me hostage Charity – I’m here because I want to be.” Cradling Charity’s head in her hands, Vanessa used her thumbs to wipe away the tears that had escaped. Charity leaned into her palm and closed her eyes.

“What if it’s the wrong choice Ness? What if I’m not good for you?”

“You are good for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am when I’m with you.”

Charity’s eyes welled with fresh tears as her face softened. “Same.”

“Mulberry is free. Lunch?”

Vanessa smiled at her phone screen before typing her reply.

“Hope you’re making my favourite,” she replied, smirking as Charity immediately replied with a winky face.

“You are so smitten,” Rhona laughed as she walked past. Vanessa blushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa slid her phone back into her pocket and shrugged.

“Oh, come off it,” Rhona laughed, “have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re practically glowing.”

“I guess I’m just really happy,” she mused, then nodded confidently. She was happy. No bent coppers or accidental bruises could distract her from the simple fact that being with Charity made her sickeningly happy. She looked up at her friend who was grinning like an idiot.

“You are, and I’m so happy for you.”

Rhona had become their biggest supporter, defending them whenever anyone felt inclined to offer unsolicited advice. Vanessa was sure that at least some of Rhona’s support was down to the guilt she felt at how she’d treated Vanessa, but mostly she just knew how much happier Vanessa was with Charity.

“Well, as you are so happy, I don’t suppose you’d mind if I go for lunch a bit early, would you?” Vanessa asked cheekily, fluttering her eyelashes in Rhona’s direction.

“We’re all done for the morning, so I don’t see why not…”

Vanessa was already slipping into her jacket and grabbing her bag.

“Thanks Rhona!” she shouted back as she legged it out of the door.

She’d barely had time to close the door of Mulberry behind her before Charity had her pinned against it. Vanessa opened her mouth to greet her, but Charity closed the gap between their lips with a bruising kiss. It didn’t take long for Vanessa to match Charity, nipping at Charity’s lower lip and pushing her fingers into Charity’s hair, tugging at the roots and eliciting hungry moans from her girlfriend.

Charity slipped her hands beneath Vanessa’s shirt and the contact sent a shiver down Vanessa’s spine as she arched her body towards it. Charity was careful not to catch Vanessa’s bruise as she reached around to unhook Vanessa’s bra.

“I thought you were making lunch,” Vanessa managed to choke out as Charity turned her attention to her neck. Charity nipped at her jugular.

“There’s only one thing I want to eat right now,” she growled into the curve of Vanessa’s neck, hands gliding across her breasts and teasing her nipples. Vanessa cried out at the sensation, forgetting all about the promise of food.

Catching hold of Charity’s wrist, she tugged her towards the stairs. “Take me to bed Charity, now.”

Vanessa was certain that her bones had turned to jelly as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Looking down, she watched as Charity crawled back towards her slowly, leaving a trail of kisses along the way until she claimed her lips hungrily. Vanessa moaned lewdly at the taste of herself on Charity’s tongue.

Looking very proud of herself, Charity collapsed beside her on the bed, turning onto her side so she could trail her fingers across Vanessa’s stomach. Vanessa shivered, her entire body feeling hypersensitive.

“You are amazing,” she gasped, still not sure after four months of sex with Charity how she’d ever thought sex with men was satisfying.

Charity preened a little at the feedback, but her eyes were focused on the bruise beneath Vanessa’s ribs. Her fingers skirted the edges of it gently. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Vanessa assured her, turning onto her side so the bruise was no longer on display. “Please stop beating yourself up about it – I’ve had injuries far worse than this at work.”

Charity didn’t look completely convinced. “And you know I’d never hurt you on purpose, right?”

“Of course I do, you daft mare.”

Charity looked like she wanted to say more, but the sound of her phone ringing distracted them both. Reaching over the side of the bed, Charity retrieved her jeans from the floor and freed her phone from the back pocket. Checking Caller ID, she frowned and answered it.

“Lisa? Everything okay?”

Charity moved to a sitting position as she listened to Lisa, her face falling further and further as the conversation continued.

“Woah, slow down Lis, back up… she did WHAT?”

Vanessa couldn’t hear what was being said but from the look on Charity’s face, she knew it wasn’t good.

“Tell her not to say a word til I get there, I’m on my way.” Charity ended the call and at once leapt from the bed in search of her clothes. The flush in her cheeks from earlier had been drained completely by whatever bad news Lisa had told her. Vanessa’s mind raced with possibilities – death, injury, a car accident. Charity was halfway into her jeans when Vanessa caught hold of her wrist and forced her to stop. “What’s going on?”

Charity tugged her hand free and continued to pull her jeans up over her hips. “It’s Belle, she’s on her way to the police station to confess to murdering Gemma.”

Vanessa wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of all the Dingles, Belle was by far the kindest. There was no possible way that the young girl was capable of murdering anyone, not least her best friend.

“That’s impossible,” Vanessa blurted out as Charity fastened her jeans.

“It was an accident, according to Lisa, she pushed her, and Gemma hit her head, I have to stop her from talking to the police Ness.”

Vanessa knew that the Dingles had a somewhat strained relationship with the police, but for Charity it went much deeper. Her fingers trembled as she tried to button up her shirt, cursing whenever a button slipped from her grip.

Realising that Charity wasn’t going to calm down, Vanessa began pulling on her own clothes. “Let me text Rhona, and then I’ll drive you.”

Hotten police station was an imposing grey building, that Vanessa had never really had cause to visit. Charity however, headed straight for the entrance, making Vanessa jog to keep up.

Belle sat sandwiched between her parents on the blue plastic chairs in the foyer. Cain was there too, pacing the small area and looking completely exhausted. He was the first to see them as Charity charged through the door.

“It’s about time! Wait – what’s she doing here?” Cain looked furious, but Vanessa had stood up to him before when he’d tried to threaten her to keep quiet about him and Moira. She didn’t shrink back from his glare and instead looked at Charity.

“Wind your neck in Cain,” Charity huffed, barging past him to kneel in front of her young cousin. “Belle, have you said anything to anyone yet?”

Belle shook her head.

“They told us to wait here, said someone would come out and get her in a bit,” Lisa added, looking at Belle as if she might be snatched away at any second.

“Okay, so let’s go before they come out eh Belle? You don’t have to do this – it was an accident – it wasn’t your fault – but these arseholes will make out like you’re some sort of psycho killer if you let them!”

Charity tried to tug Belle up, but the young girl refused to move and pulled her arms free of Charity’s grasp.

“No Charity – I have to do this. It’s the right thing to do.” Belle’s voice was firm and unwavering as she tugged her arms free of Charity’s grasp and crossed them defiantly against her chest. Charity looked like she might explode.

“This isn’t a game, Belle! They could send you to prison – destroy your reputation - the police are not the good guys you think they are!” Charity clutched Belle’s shoulders and shook her in an attempt to make her see sense, but Belle remained stoic, leaving Charity to throw her hands up in exasperation.

Just then, a door on the far wall opened and two plain clothed officers stepped into the foyer. Vanessa was the first to recognise him, half hidden behind his female colleague who smiled down at Belle.

“Hi Belle, my name is DS Alford and this is DS Bails, would you like to follow us?”

Charity scrambled to her feet and spun around. Bails faltered for a split second at the sight of her, but he recovered quickly, fixing his smug grin back in place. He purposefully shifted his attention to Belle, letting her know that she could have one of her parents in the interview room with her.

Stepping forward, Vanessa threaded her fingers into Charity’s and pulled her back, as far as the tiny room would allow. She could feel her entire body trembling as she wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. Bails ushered Belle and Zak through the door before turning to look at Charity again.

“Don’t worry folks, we’ll take really good care of her,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer.

Chapter Text

For a few heartbeats, Charity couldn’t move. She stood, rooted to the cold tile floor of the police station, her heart sticking in her throat. Her gaze is locked on the door that Bails had closed behind him, the image of his smug smirk lingering like her nightmares. It was as though all of the air had been sucked from the room, and she could hear nothing but the sound of her own ragged breaths.

He hadn’t changed at all.

“Charity?” Lisa’s voice was a distant echo at first. “Are you alright love?”

Charity blinked and forced her mouth into something resembling a smile; it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she lied, voice tight and strained. “I just need some air.”

Before anyone could stop her, she turned and walked calmly out of the doors.

The moment the cold evening air hit her face, the façade shattered. Charity staggered sideways, one hand braced against the wall, the other clutched to her stomach. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her chest heaving as she tried desperately to pull oxygen into her lungs. Then the nausea surged and she barely made it to the bin before she retched and emptied her stomach.

Vanessa was right behind her, catching up just in time to pull Charity’s hair away from her face with shaking hands. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she murmured, trying to keep her own panic out of her voice. “Just breathe, Charity. I’m here.”

The words felt hollow.

Empty.

Not because she didn’t mean them, but because they couldn’t possibly change the events that were starting to unfold. What good could her presence really do to change anything? Nothing she could say would erase the damage Bails had done and could still do.

Charity spat and wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, her face pale and clammy as she turned to Vanessa with eyes wide and wild.

“He’s going to hurt her,” she rasped, voice barely there but painfully certain. “He’s just been waiting for an opportunity to get to me and now he has Belle. She’s young and vulnerable, she’s exactly his type – and you know that means don’t you? He’s going to use her to get to me, he’s going to –“

“Charity, stop. Please.” Vanessa took her face gently in both hands, trying to steady her. “Listen to me. I know this is awful but we don’t know yet what he’s going to do and assuming the absolute worst will only drive you crazy. But we are not going to let him hurt Belle. Whatever it takes, right?”

Charity’s face crumples as fresh tears well in her eyes. “How can we stop him?” Charity’s voice cracked. “He has all the power here. He always gets away with it. Always.”

Vanessa couldn’t argue – and that, along with the defeat in Charity’s voice, terrified her. She had no idea how to make things okay. So instead, she pulled Charity into her arms, holding her tightly to her chest. Charity was shaking so hard that it felt as though her bones would rattle apart.

A few hours later, the sun had started to dip below the rooftops, casting long shadows across the carpark. Charity sat on the edge of the low wall by the police station, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She hadn’t said much since she’d thrown up – just the occasioanl monosyllabic answer or shake of the head – and Vanessa knew better than to push.

When the doors to the station finally opened, Charity’s head snapped up, a look of absolute terror flashing across her face as she steeled herself to see Bails again.

Belle stepped out first, her face pale and sallow, followed by Lisa, Cain, and Zak, each of them looking like they’d aged a year in the space of an afternoon.

Charity stood slowly, her eyes scanning Belle, searching for some invisible damage. “What happened?” she asked, voice flat.

Belle simply blinked and allowed her dad to answer. “They’re talkin’ to the CPS,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Said they’ll decide tonight if there’s enough to charge her. We’ve got to come back in the morning, see what’s what.”

Charity nodded along to Zak’s words but her eyes had never left Belle. “How were they with you?” she asked, forcing the question out past the lump in her throat. “The coppers. Did they… were they… alright with you?”

Belle’s eyes drifted to Charity’s, as if she’d just realised that she was stood in front of her. “Yeah,” she whispered, “they were actually really kind.” She sounded confused by her own words, as if kindness from the police wasn’t something she’d expected after confessing her crime to them.

Lisa wrapped an arm around her daughter protectively and glanced at the others. “Everyone should get home. I’ll ring round tomorrow when we know more.”

There were tired nods all round. Vanessa turned to Charity, gently brushing her hand down her arm to link their fingers together. “Ready to go?”

Charity didn’t answer right away. Her gaze was still fixed on Belle. Then, quietly: “Yeah, let’s go.”

Charity’s silence continued almost all the way home. Vanessa kept glancing over, but Charity’s eyes were fixed on the passing countryside, her body turned away. Vanessa gripped the steering wheel and tried to focus on the road but she couldn’t help but imagine the worst – Charity spiralling out of control, pushing everyone away – history repeating itself.

As they exited the Hotten Bypass, Charity cleared her throat. “I think it’s best if you don’t stay tonight,” she whispered hoarsely, “I don’t think I’d be very good company and I don’t want to hurt you again.” Her voice was flat, almost robotic and her eyes seemed to look straight through Vanessa.

“You don’t have to protect me,” Vanessa said softly, “that’s not how this works.”

Charity paused, her eyes dropping to her lap. “Please Ness, I just can’t be around people right now.”

There was a beat of silence as Vanessa took the turning for Emmerdale.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “but if you need me please call me – you don’t have to be alone with this.”

“Thank you.”

When Vanessa pulled up outside Mulberry, Charity leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, but it was brief, barely there, and gone too soon. Like she was already pulling away. Vanessa watched as she disappeared into the house without looking back.

Vanessa had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up alone. Since going public, she and Charity had alternated between Mulberry and Victoria Cottage and hadn’t spent a single night apart. It hadn’t been a conscious decision – it had sort of just happened – and Vanessa had quickly gotten used to waking up surrounded by the other woman.

She looked to her right, at the unwrinkled sheets on the other side of the bed, and sighed.

Reaching for her phone, she checked the message she’d sent Charity before falling asleep. “Call me if you need me – I hope you can sleep.” Charity hadn’t replied.

Vanessa tried to tell herself it was fine. If Charity needed a bit of space she was happy to give it to her. But the memories of what had happened the last time Charity had pushed her away were still fresh enough to make her stomach curdle with worry.

Without letting herself overthink it, she thumbed through her contacts and sent a quick message to Debbie: “Can you check in on your mum today and let me know if she’s okay?”

She didn’t wait for a reply before getting ready for work.

The morning flew by in a haze of vaccinations, health checks and one panicked farmer whose border collie had swallowed a sock. Vanessa was grateful for the chaos – it gave her something to focus on besides the silence of her phone.

But once the last appointment was done and the waiting room had emptied, the distraction wore off fast. She sat at her desk, pen tapping absently against the paperwork in front of her, eyes flicking toward her phone every few minutes.

Rhona came in, pulling off her gloves. “You’re quiet today,” she said casually, but her eyes were sharp. “Everything okay?”

Vanessa straightened a little. “Yeah, just tired.”

Rhona tilted her head, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve barely said two words ot me all morning.”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa said again, a little too quickly. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

She didn’t say any more than that. It wasn’t her place to discuss Charity’s past or Dingle family business with anyone – not even Rhona.

“Come to the Woolpack with us for lunch?” Rhona asked after a pause.

Vanessa hesitated.  Then nodded. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

The pub wasn’t too busy as the vets arrived. A couple of regulars sat near the fireplace and Chas was behind the bar, talking in a low voice to Zak who was perched on a stool. There was no sign of Charity or any of the other Dingles.

She followed Rhona, Paddy and Pearl to one of the booths and then offered to get the drinks in.

Chas gave her a half hearted smile of acknowledgement as she approached the bar.

“Two pints of lager, a lime soda and a sherry, please Chas”

As Chas busied herself pouring drinks, Vanessa nudged Zak. “Hey, how’s Belle?”

Zak turned to her and his face said it all. “She got charged this morning,” he said wearily. “Attempted murder.”

Vanessa’s stomach dropped. “Oh Zak, I’m so sorry.”

Zak nodded. “Aye, she’s holding up. They’ve got someone assigned to her at least, some sort of youth justic officer – one of the detectives we saw yesterday - and he’ll be looking out for her until the trial.”

Vanessa stiffened. “Which detective?”

Zak frowned, thinking. “Bails, I think?

Her gasp was immediate, surprising Zak and Chas who looked at her in confusion. “Are you sure?”

“Aye, tall fella, blonde, a bit smug looking.” Zak described Bails perfectly. Vanessa could feel the blood draining from her face as she stared in horror at the head of the Dingle family.

“Does Charity know?”

Zak shook his head. “Doubt it, only got the call half an hour ago – he was wanting to set up the first meeting.”

Vanessa nodded sharply and excused herself. She grabbed the drinks she’d ordered from Chas volunteering Paddy to pay later and made her way back to the table on autopilot, her thoughts racing as she tried to work out the right thing to do next.

“Here you go,” she said, setting the glasses down on the table. “Sorry, I’ve got to shoot. I’ve just remembered something I need to do.” Before anyone could question her, she grabbed her coat and headed for the door, heart pounding.

She had to find Charity.

Vanessa hesitated at the door to Mulberry, unsure whether she should knock or just let herself in. She hated how uncertain she felt – unsure of her place in Charity’s world. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she knocked.

It was Debbie who answered. She blinked at Vanessa for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion – then something clicked.

“Oh right,” Debbie said, stepping aside. “You sent that text this morning.”

Vanessa gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry if it seemed weird.”

Debbie shook her head. “Better to be weird than have a repeat of January. She’s not really left her room – called in sick to work – did you guys have a fight?”

“Not exactly. It’s just that that police officer who was sniffing around after Leeds – he’s back and involved with Belle’s case.”

Debbie nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Well good luck, I hope you have better luck with her than I’ve had this morning.”

Vanessa gave a quick nod of thanks before hurrying up the stairs. The door to the bedroom was half open. She pushed it gently open, the hinges creaking anyway.

Charity was lying flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her face was pale, drawn, and her eyes were ringed with shadows. It looked like she hadn’t slept – or if she had, it hadn’t helped.

But when she saw Vanessa, she gave a faint, tired smile. “Hey,” she murmured.

Something in Vanessa’s chest that had been wound up tight, loosened. “Hey yourself.”

Charity patted the space beside her on the bed, a silent invitation. Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She slipped off her coat, kicked off her boots, and climbed onto the bed. The relief was instant – warm and quiet – when Charity curled into her side, her arms wrapping around Vanessa’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Charity said quietly. “For last night. For pushing you away. I couldn’t fall asleep without you.”

Vanessa held her tighter, resting her chin in Charity’s hair. “I was sad,” she admitted. “Woke up this morning without a single strand of your hair stuck in my mouth. It felt wrong.”

Charity let out a low chuckle, barely more than a breath, but it was something. “I think space is overrated.”

“Same here.”

For a moment, they stayed like that – letting the peace that being close to each other created settle between them. But then Vanessa’s mind returned to the reason she’d come.

“Hey, I saw Zak in the pub,” she said carefully. “He told me… about Belle.”

Charity tensed a little but nodded. “Yeah, I know,” she whispered sadly. “But you know, at least now she won’t have to see Bails again, right?” She gave a small, bitter smile. “Small mercies and all that.”

Vanessa hesitated then pulled back. Charity tilted her head back and looked at her, puzzled.

“That’s what I thought too, but then Zak told me that Belle’s been assigned a youth justice officer… and guess who’s volunteered for the job?”

The blood drained from Charity’s face as the implications of Bails working with young, vulnerable girls dawned on her.

“He’s doing it so he can get close to young girls,” Charity said, eyes wide with horror. “Young girls like Belle.”

Vanessa nodded grimly. “We have to stop him before he hurts someone else Charity.”

Charity sat up quickly, panic creeping into her voice. “How? Ness, how? He’s protected, always has been. Nothing I do or say will change anything.”

Vanessa reached for her hand and held it tight. “I know I’m asking you to do something really difficult and I know it’s risky. But what other choice do we have? If we do nothing… “

Charity looked at her, terrified, raw and exposed in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. “If I report him then I’ll have to tell people everything. The whole family will know.”

Vanessa squeezed her hand and let her lips brush against Charity’s forehead. “I will be right by your side every single step of the way.”

Charity buried her face in the curve of Vanessa’s neck and and Vanessa felt the dampness of her cheeks. For a moment, Charity simply wept silently, perhaps trying desperately to think of any other way they could avoid confronting Bails.

Eventually, resignedly, she sighed. “Okay. I’ll try.”

The tyres crunched over the gravel as Vanessa pulled up outside Wishing Well Cottage. Charity hadn’t said much on the drive over – just stared out the window, chewing her thumb and barely blinking. Vanessa had reached across once, brushing her fingers over the back of Charity’s hand. Charity had tensed but then relaxed, turning her hand so Vanessa could thread their fingers together.

Now, standing outside the door to the Dingle homestead, Vanessa glanced at her. “Are you sure you want to tell the family first? We could go straight to the station…”

Charity shook her head. “No, I need them to know first so Lisa and Zak can keep Belle away from him. And the family –,” she hesitated, her voice trembling, “they need to know what’s coming. Because I don’t think this ends with me reporting him and getting justice.”

Vanessa frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Charity said, jaw tightening, frustrated by Vanessa’s naivity, “the police are going to cover for him like they did last time. They’ll laugh in my face and then he’ll come after me twice as hard for trying. And when he does, I’ll need back-up – Dingle back-up.”

Vanessa nodded, stomach twisting into knots. Charity drew in a long breath then pushed the door open without knocking. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vanessa followed close behind – only to collide with Charity’s back when she came to a dead stop in the doorway.

“What -?” Vanessa began, but then she saw it too. Zak, Lisa, and Belle were gathered in the living room. Belle perched on the edge of the sofa, her expression distant and wary. And sitting right beside her – too close – was Bails.

His arm rested along the back of the sofa, his body language too casual, too comfortable for Vanessa’s liking. He looked up when the door opened, and a smug smile spread slowly across his face.

“Charity,” he said, his voice syrupy with false warmth. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

Charity didn’t move. Her entire body had gone rigid.

Frowning, Zak rose from his chair looking suspiciously between his niece and the detective. “Everything alright Charity?”

But Charity couldn’t speak. Not at first. She was staring at Bails – the man who had destroyed her childhood, who had tormented her dreams, who had changed the course of her entire life, who now sat inches away from her young cousin.

Vanessa stepped up beside her, voice cold and sharp. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Lisa stood, confused and Bails had the decency to look uneasy as the tiny vet made it clear that they weren’t going to slip away quietly. “He’s here to check on Belle, he’s her support officer,” Lisa explained.

Vanessa turned to them, trying to stay calm. “He can’t be here. He can’t be near Belle. You need to get him out of here, now.”

Bails rose slowly to his feet, still smiling, but his eyes darted to the door, betraying his nerves. “Careful, ladies. Don’t go making wild accusations.”

That was when Charity finally spoke – her voice low and trembling with fury. “You need to leave. Now.”

Bails arched an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that Charity dared to stand up to him. “You sure you want to do this Charity? You know what happened last time.”

The threat in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the Dingles and Vanessa could practically see their hackles rising. Even Belle stood up and backed away, standing beside her dad. Zak looked between them, his confusion now becoming something darker, more dangerous. “Charity – what’s going on here?”

Charity’s eyes never left Bails. “Ask him. Or better yet – I’ll tell you everything. Just as soon as he’s gone.”

Bails scoffed but the colour had drained from his face. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“I said, GET OUT!” Charity’s voice cracked with the force of it, and Bails flinched. That was enough for Zak who stepped toward Bails with his fists clenched. “You heard her. Go. Now. And don’t come near my daughter or my family again.”

Bails looked at Lisa, waiting for someone – anyone – to take his side. But there was nothing. The Dingles had closed ranks and he was outnumbered. Trying to maintain some dignity, he straightened his coat and muttered something under his breath. He pushed past Charity and Vanessa with a final, withering look.

The door slammed shut behind him and the air seemed to return to the room as everyone let out a collective breath. Lisa moved to stand in front of Charity. “Charity love, what’s going on?”

Charity pulled herself upright, still trembling but now fuelled by a furty and a bone-deep need to be heard.

“I’m going to tell you everything Lis, but you’re going to need to sit down.”

The living room was quiet now, but the air hung heavy with the weight of everything Charity had just laid bare. Secrets that she’d kept for twenty years were no longer festering inside her.

Lisa held her tightly as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh love, I’m so sorry.” Lisa, more than anyone else in the room, knew something of the scars that men like Bails and Derek could leave behind.

Charity didn’t respond, just clung to her, letting herself be held.

Zak was pacing the room like a caged animal, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“If I see him again – if he even thinks about coming near this family – I’ll put him in the ground,” he growled.

Vanessa was beside Charity, one hand planted firmly on her lower back – steady, constant, grounding.

Lisa cleared her throat. “So what now, love? What do you want to do next?”

Charity didn’t answer right away. Reliving the worst things that had ever happened to her had drained her entirely.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually, her voice barely audible. “Maybe he’ll stay away now. Maybe after today…” She trailed off, hr voice thick with doubt. “Maybe we don’t have to…”

Vanessa didn’t speak. Her silence wasn’t indifference – it was trust. A quiet belief that Charity already knew that there was only one way forward, even if it scared her senseless to say it out loud.

Charity’s shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the words. Her whole body seemed to deflate. She buried her face in her hands, voice muffled.

“I can’t let him do this to anyone else,” she whispered. She took a breath, shaky but resolute, and looked up to face her family.

“I’m going to the police. I’m going to report him.”

Vanessa moved her hand up, fingers brushing gently against the nape of Charity’s neck in support.

Lisa gave a small nod, cheeks flushed with pride. “We’ll support you all the way, love.”

Zak grunted in agreement. “And if the police don’t listen, well… we’re not out of ways to protect our own.”

Charity managed a small, sad smile, overhwelmed by the support of her family. Belle wrapped her arms around her cousin and hugged her tight. “You’re the bravest person I know,” she murmured into the fabric of Charity’s shirt.

They’d been sitting outside the station for thirty minutes. The engine was off, windows cracked slightly, but the air inside the car was thick – too warm, too heavy with nerves and silence.

Charity hadn’t moved much. Her hands were clenched in her lap, her body wound tight as a coil, her eyes stared straight ahead at the imposing, grey building that loomed before them. Vanessa didn’t need to ask what she was thinking – that every step closer to that building would take her closer to him, closer to the memories she’d spent a lifetime trying to bury.

Vanessa watched her quietly, fighting the instinct to say something encouraging or indeed, anything at all. Charity didn’t need to be coaxed or coddled. She needed control. She needed to choose this.

At last, Charity took a deep breath and turned to Vanessa. “Let’s go.”

The front desk was manned by a young officer who looked like he was fresh out of policing college. He had pimples dotting his jaw line and his uniform still looked too new, like it hadn’t quite settled into the shape of him yet.

Charity stepped up to the counter. “I want to report a crime. Historical sexual abuse by a police officer. An officer that still works here.”

The boy blinked at her, thrown off by her directness. “Right, erm, of course… take a seat and I’ll get someone to come out and speak to you as soon as possible.” The boy hooked a finger into his collar and stretched it out, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe, before picking up the phone.

Charity stepped back and lowered herself slowly into one of the hard, plastic chairs along the wall. “They’re probably in the back right now. Planning how to sweep it under the rug just like they always do to protect one of their own.”

Vanessa knew that Charity’s views were valid – there was no denying that Bails was pure evil and capable of perhaps much worse than she could ever try and imagine. But she also had to hope that the police force of 2014 was not the same as the police force of 1990. She had to believe that there were people who joined the police to do the right things and make the world a bit safer.

“Maybe. But also maybe not. Let’s just wait and see what they say.”

Before Charity could respond, the inner door opened and a woman in a dark blazer stepped through. She looked sharp, authorative – not unfriendly, but very professional. She stopped in front of them and offered a hand. “Miss Dingle? I’m Detective Inspector Morris. I understand you want to report a case of historical sexual abuse?”

Charity stood, wiping her sweaty palms on the sides of her trousers but taking the hand she’d been offered and shaking it tentatively. “Yes, I want to report Mark Bails for offences committed in 1990 when I was 14 years old. But if you’re going to just cover it up and protect him, you’d save us both a lot of time if you just told me now.”

Morris looked offended for a moment but offered Charity a small smile. “I can assure you there will be no covering up of any crime committed. Not in my station. And I’ll be handling your interview personally.”

Something in Charity shifted. Her shoulders dropped half an inch as the tension gave way to cautious relief. The fact that Morris was a woman made the whole thing just a fraction less terrifying. Vanessa stood to follow them but Morris gently held up a hand to still her. “I need to speak to Miss Dingle alone for now but you are welcome to wait here. I’ll have one of the officers bring you a drink.”

Vanessa looked at Charity nervously, afraid that she would change her mind about reporting him if she had to do it all alone. Surprisingly, Charity gave Vanessa a small nod before looking back to Morris. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

The interview room was clinical and quiet, a square box of muted greys and too-bright lighting. Charity sat in the hard backed chair, stiff and restless, her hands folded tightly in her lap to stop them from trembling. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only only by the low hum of the recording equipment.

DI Morris sat opposite her – calm, composed, professional, but not cold. Beside her was a younger woman, not much older than Debbie, with a kind face and a steady gaze. She offered a small smile.

“I’m DS Fraser,” she said gently. “I’m just here to support DI Morris and take notes. If at any point you want to stop or take a break, just let us know, okay?”

Charity gave a single, jerky nod. Her jaw was tight. She didn’t trust them – not fully, not yet.

Morris leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but clear. “We’re going to go slowly, Charity. Just start where you can. When did you first meet DS Bails?”

Charity bristled at the sound of his name. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Her fingers dug into her knees. Finally, she forced the words out.

“When I was fourteen.”

She saw their eyes flicker – a moment’s pause – but they didn’t interrupt.

She didn’t look at them while she talked. Instead, she focused on a spot just above their heads – the corner where the ceiling met the wall. It was easier not to see their faces. Easier not to imagine what they were thinking.

The questions came gently, patiently. Fraser jotted things down in her notebook with a soft scratch of pen on paper. Morris spoke evenly, asking for clarification but never pushing too hard. Still, every now and then, Charity would snap – her words sharp and cutting.

“Why do you need to know that?” she barked when Fraser asked if there were other officers who knew Bails at the time. “You trying to figure out how to poke holes in my story?”

“No,” Morris replied, unshaken. “We’re trying to build a case. The more context we have, the better chance we have of holding him accountable.”

Charity glared at the table. She wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe someone in this building was capable of seeing her as more than just a problem, a mouthy slapper with a grudge against a respected officer.

Time passed in a blur. Details tumbled out of her like stones being dragged loose from a crumbling wall. Each one made her feel more exposed, more brittle. She talked about the flat he kept her in. The men. The threats. The isolation. The helplessness as the men held her down and raped her over and over again.

She didn’t cry. She refused to.

But when she finally finished, when there was nothing left to say, she leaned back in her chair and let out a long, trembling breath.

There it was. Her entire life, scooped out of her chest and dumped onto a table in front of two strangers.

It should have felt better, she thought. To get it all off her chest. But it didn’t. She didn’t feel lighter. Didn’t feel relieved. There was no catharsis from speaking her trauma out loud. Only the sharp, stinging ache of being cracked open again.

DI Morris leaned forward, resting her hands on the interview room table. “Thank you Charity. I know that wasn’t easy.”

Charity fought the urge to snap back sarcastically.

DS Fraser nodded in agreement. “You’ve given us a lot to work with. But I want to be honest with you – this is going to take time.”

Charity’s eyes narrowed slightly, instantly suspicious. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Time for what? ”

Morris cleared her throat. “We need to build a solid case here Charity – it has to be water tight. First, we’ll need to find where they buried your son. If we can cover remains, we’ll be able to test the DNA and see if Bails is his father. That will be critical evidence. We also need to look into the flat you described, see if any records still exist, track down the landlord you mentioned.”

“We’ll be speaking to other officers who worked closely with him at the time as well,” Fraser added. “Anyone who might have known something or seen something but didn’t report it at the time.”

Charity swallowed hard. Her mind had conjured up gruesome images of a newborn skeleton being dug out of the ground and picked apart for evidence. She’d done some truly awful stuff to her kids over the years, but this would be a new low even for her.

“Charity?” Morris whispered, “Still with us?”

Charity blinked. “Yeah, sorry – just, when you dig up the baby – you’ll be careful with him won’t you?”

“Of course we will. We won’t disturb him anymore than we absolutely have to. And afterwards, maybe you can bury him somewhere closer to home?”

Charity wiped her cheeks with her sleeves and nodded. “And what about Bails? What happens to him while you guys are doing all this? Does he just get to carry on working with vulnerable women?”

“Absolutely not,” Fraser insisted, her voice louder than perhaps she had intended it to be. “He will be suspended immediately and he won’t be allowed to go anywhere near you or your family.”

There was a long pause. Then Charity nodded and smiled weakly. She felt like her skin had been flayed open and left exposed. “Can I go home now please?”

The reception area was quiet when Charity emerged. The moment Vanessa spotted her, she stood quickly, her face a mixture of relief, awe and fierce pride. Without a word, she crossed the space and pulled Charity into a tight hug. Charity leaned into her, eyes closing briefly at the warmth and steadiness of it.

“Home?” Vanessa asked softly, and Charity nodded.

Before they could turn to leave, the doors to the station slammed open and Bails charged in, his face twisted in fury and his eyes locked on Charity. Clearly, one of his friends had given him a heads up. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he barked, storming toward Morris. “You can’t be taking anything this bitch says seriously?”

He jabbed a finger in Charity’s direction. “That tart has been out to ruin me ever since I nicked her for prostitution twenty-five years ago! You can’t actually believe she’s some sort of innocent victim? Just look at her last name for Christs sake, a Dingle can’t even lie straight in bed!”

Morris didn’t flinch. She simply let him spew his hatred then stepped directly into his path, shielding Charity from his line vision. “DS Bails, you are suspended, pending a full and thorough investigation. You are not permitted to speak to Miss Dingle or come within a hundred metres of her or her village. If you do, we will arrest you.”

Bails opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, flabbergasted. “I… I have a right to give my side of this twisted little story,” he finally managed to spit out.

“And you can do that with a formal statement,” Morris said cooly, gesturing to the door she’d just come out of, indicating for Bails to walk through. “I recommend you get yourself some legal counsel first though.”

Bails stared at her, uncomprehending for a beat, then stormed off down the corridor with Fraser at his side, leading the way.

It was a long seven days of silence and second-guessing before Charity heard from the police again. Despite initially feeling hopeful that they were on her side after she’d given her statement, the lack of updates left her wondering if they were taking her seriously after all. Vanessa had been her usual patient self, always close but never suffocating her, and Debbie… well, Debbie was getting suspicious.

“Lisa and Zak were asking after you today,” Debbie said casually as she buttered herself a slice of toast. Charity was still leaning against the kitchen counter in her robe, clutching her coffee cup as if it was the only thing keeping her upright and alive. Her sleep had not improved much since reporting Bails.

“Oh yeah?” Charity hoped she sounded nonchalant. Lisa and Zak had been pressuring her to tell Debbie and the kids and the rest of the family but Charity had felt too raw and too exposed after her visit to the station and she wanted a little bit more time to recover before opening up the same old wounds again.

“That’s the second time this week… and it’s only Tuesday. Is something going on?” Debbie was frustratingly astute when it came to reading people, especially her mother.

“I’d tell you if there was Debs… anyway, what’s this I hear about you and Pete Barton?”

Debbie groaned. “Changing the subject are we?” Despite her obvious frustration, Charity saw the hint of a smirk at Pete’s name. After Cameron, Charity had hoped that Debbie wouldn’t have been so traumatised that she didn’t let herself be happy again.

“He obviously really likes you!” Charity exclaimed, doubling down. “And he’s easy on the eye…”

“Don’t let Vanessa hear you saying that!” Debbie laughed, swatting her mums arm and nearly knocking her coffee all over her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for a hundred Pete Barton’s and she knows it. Speaking of which – do you mind having Noah tonight?”

Debbie was about to protest when a knock at the door interrupted her.

“Thanks babe, you’re a life-saver,” Charity smirked, hurrying to answer the door before Debbie could speak. It had been a rough couple of weeks and Charity knew that she’d been unbearable at times, but she had plans to make it up to Vanessa.

Opening the door, Charity was shocked to see DI Morris standing on her doorstep. Debbie appeared behind her before she could think of any other reason a detective could have for visiting Mulberry. Debbie looked from the plain clothed police officer to her mum and rolled her eyes.

“I assume you’re here to talk to this one about things I’m not trusted enough to know,” Debbie muttered, arms folded tight across her chest as she leaned on the door frame. Charity floundered for something to say but found nothing. “Oh don’t worry, I was just heading out mum, but if you think you’re getting away with not telling me everything when I get back, think again. Unless you want Noah to accompany you to Vanessa’s tonight.”

Debbie had played a blinder, honing in on her mother’s only weakness. Charity couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

“Understood,” she said quietly, appeasing her daughter who nodded politely to Morris before slipping past her and out of the door.

Showing the detective inspector through to the kitchen, Charity motioned for the other woman to sit. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, “kettle’s just boiled.” Morris shook her head, no, and Charity sat down opposite her.

“Was that your daughter?” Morris asked.

“Yeah, that’s Debbie… she’s the one my dad made me give away when I was 13.”

Morris nodded. “And you haven’t told her about Bails?”

“Not exactly something that comes up in every day conversation,” Charity muttered, taking a seat opposite Morris and steeling herself for bad news.

“Is your partner not around?” Morris asked, seemingly determined to keep up the small talk.

“She’s up to her elbows in sick animals. Resuscitating kittens, squeezing anal glands, sticking her hands up cows bums.” Charity knew there was more to Vanessa’s job than all of that, but the tension of waiting for Morris to speak was making her glib.

“Well, I hope she’s a vet. Otherwise, that would be a very strange hobby.” Morris smirked and Charity couldn’t help but chuckle. It was a small, brittle thing, but it broke some of the tension.

Morris stilled, folding her hands together on the table. “I have some news.”

Charity drew in a deep breath and steeled herself for disappointment.

“We found the flat. It’s still standing – and we managed to trace the previous landlord. He’s in his seventies now, lives in Scarborough. He didn’t have any formal records, but he made a formal identification of Bails without hesitation.”

Charity blinked, remembering the man as a sleazy, pot-bellied, middle-aged man who wore a string vest and smoked cigars. He came round for the odd inspection, but he always seemed more interested in inspecting her rather than the flat. Bails had told her he was willing to pay good money for her, made out he was protecting her by not letting him get his greasy mitts on her.  Now she wondered if any of that was true, or if it was just a ploy to keep her quiet when he was around.

“Did he remember me?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, said you reminded him of his daughter when she was younger – said you always looked scared.”

Charity stared at her coffee, swirling it slowly in her hands. “I was.”

Morris’ voice softened. “He’s not the only one who’s come forward. Several of Bails’ old colleagues have corroborated your timeline. A lot of them suspected something but said that Bails had friends in high places, and they didn’t feel like they could speak out.”

Charity’s heart lifted a little – perhaps the culture of the police force had changed enough now that these people would stand up for her in court. She saw Morris shift a little in her seat, her eyes flick down to her clasped hands.

“What?” she asked, sensing that it wouldn’t be so simple.

“There are others – just as many – who are lining up to defend him. Offering him alibis, albeit, not very good ones.”

Charity let out a bitter laugh. “Because they were in on it, obviously.”

“That’s what we thought too,” Morris admitted. “But we’ve started to bring them in. Quietly. Separately. We’ll apply pressure, maybe offer them some protection if they agree to testify against Bails.”

Charity nodded. Ideally, she wanted all the men who abused her to pay for what they’d done, but she knew that wasn’t how the world worked. If she wanted Bails in prison, she’d have to sacrifice something. With a sigh, she looked back to Morris.

“What about my son?”

The detective’s mouth tightened briefly. “We’ve been following every lead. Old church records, hospital records, unregistered grave sites. So far, nothing. But we’re not giving up, Charity. I promise.”

Charity nodded slowly, her jaw clenched. She should have known that it would be too good to be true. Morris reached out briefly, resting a hand on Charity’s for a moment.

“We won’t leave any stone unturned in this, Charity. The team I’ve put together to work on this case are dedicated and determined to get justice for you. We’re sick of men like Bails not being held accountable for their crimes.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Charity said, “You know, I used to think there was no such thing as a decent copper.”

Morris raised a brow. “And now?”

Charity offered a small, tired smile. “Well, turns out some of you aren’t completely useless.”

Morris laughed as she stood to leave. “High praise indeed from a Dingle,” she smirked.

When Debbie returns from the school run without any of the kids in the tow, Charity knows she’s got no chance of avoiding talking to her daughter.

“They’re with Andy,” Debbie explained, answering the unasked question as she pulled off her coat and hung it on a hook by the door.

They sit at the table and Debbie waits.

“So,” Debbie says, after a few minutes, “you going to tell me what’s really been going on?”

Charity lets out a long, tired breath. “You’re not going to want to hear it.”

“Try me.”

And so she does. Again. She lays it out, the same horrific story she’s been forced to repeat – to Vanessa, Zak, Lisa, the police. Each time, it peels her open a little more, leaves her a little more raw. But somehow, it’s getting easier. Maybe it’s because Debbie is her daugther. Maybe it’s because Debbie has known her at her absolute worst and has managed to forgive her. Maybe it’s because the more she tells the story, the more she

When she finishes, there’s a long pause. Debbie’s eyes are glossy but unreadable. Charity braces herself for anger, disgust, disbelief – anything but what actually happens.

Debbie leans across the table and wraps her arms around her mum, pulling her close.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “Mum… I had no idea.”

Charity blinks. She’s not used to this version of Debbie – soft, understanding. It throws her off balance in the best and worst ways.

“I was horrible to you,” Debbie continues. “All those years. The things I said… and I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. You were just trying to survive.”

That evening, Charity lets herself into Victoria Cottage, determined to push thoughts of Bails aside and focus on something good. On someone good.

She finds Vanessa in the kitchen, hands plunged into a sink full of dishes, humming softly to the radio. The scene is so domestic, so normal, that it catches Charity off guard. She crosses the room quietly, sliding her arms around Vanessa’s waist from behind and nuzzling into the soft skin of her neck.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, breathing her in. “How do you always smell so delicious?”

Vanessa’s hands still in the water and she leans back into Charity, tilting her head slightly to grant Charity easier access.

Charity let’s herself ramble a little, updating Vanessa on what DI Morris had said earlier, how the case is progressing and what’s next. Vanessa offers a few “mm-hmm”s, but after a while, Charity begins to think she’s not really listening.

She sighs and pulls back a bit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bang on about it all again. I was actually hoping to forget about all of this for a bit.”

Vanessa freezes for a second, then turns to face her, expression soft but serious. “Don’t ever apologise for talking about it. It’s important and you can talk to me about anything. Always.”

It’s then that Charity notices the puffiness around Vanessa’s eyes, the slight redness, and her stomach twists.

“You’ve been crying,” she says quietly, hands automatically moving to cup her face.

Vanessa shakes her head, tries for a smile that doesn’t quite land. “It’s nothing. Stupid, really.”

Charity narrows her eyes. “Ness?”

Vanessa bites her lip. She knows she can’t hide things from Charity. “A woman came into the surgery today. Overheard me talking about you – my girlfriend. Next thing I know, she refuses to let me treat her turtle.”

Charity blinks. “Her what?”

“Turtle. Trevor the turtle.” Vanessa lets out a soft, bitter laugh. “She said she wasn’t giving her hard earned cash to a ‘queer’. Said she’d take him somewhere else.”

A long silence passes. Charity’s jaw tightens. “What a nasty little…”

“I know,” Vanessa interrupts gently. “I’m not upset about her, exactly.”

Charity looks confused. “Then what?”

Vanessa hesitates, then exhales. She grabs a tea towel to dry her hands, a distraction while she gathers her thoughts. “It just… brought stuff up. Things my mum used to say whenever there was any mention of ‘gay’ on the TV. She always said it was filth and shouldn’t be on. Once, when I was like 10 or 11, we passed two men on the street – they were holding hands – and she actually stopped them and told them not to be so vulgar in public where children can see them.”

Charity’s mouth opens, then shuts again. She wants to say something cutting, something scathing about Vanessa’s mum – but she reins it in, not wanting to overstep. So instead, she brings her hands back to Vanessa’s face, brushing her thumbs gently over Vanessa’s cheekbones. “You’re not ashamed of who you are, are you?”

Vanessa sniffed and shrugged helplessly. “Not exactly. I’m not ashamed to be with you. But sometimes I hear her voice in my head, you know? Telling me I’ll never be good enough. That who I am is something I should hide.”

Charity’s chest aches – this brilliant, kind, good woman – being made to feel less than by the woman whose job it was to love her unconditionally. She had somehow assumed, because of how ‘sane’ Vanessa was in comparison to her, that her childhood had been a good one.

She pulls Vanessa into a firm hug, holding her tightly. “Listen to me,” she murmurs. “There is nothing wrong with you. You hear me? Nothing.”

Vanessa nods weakly against her shoulder. Charity rests her chin in Vanessa’s hair. “I don’t know much about healthy relationships and I don’t have the best track record – but I do know that I’ve never been more proud to be with someone than I am with you.”

Vanessa lets out a quiet, shuddering breath, and wraps her own arms tight around Charity’s waist.