Thanks for all the reviews - I'm loving it! I wrote this chapter at work (naughty) so hope it's ok!

I follow Mum out of the room, running behind to catch her as she strides down the corridor in front of me, anger and annoyance echoing with every click of her heels. "God, he's insufferable sometimes!" she exclaims to no-one in particular. "You wouldn't think I had worked here for eight years…" She pushes open the door into reception and I follow her, running straight into someone else in the process.

"Sorry," I say automatically and look up into the face of Chocolate Viv. "Hi!" I exclaim, my mind still half on the memory of playing hide and seek and hiding under his desk.

"Hi," he replies somewhat cautiously.

I wait for something more, but it doesn't come.

"Are you coming?" I look past him to see Mum standing at the door. I recognise her expression as one of impatience. I remember her looking at me like that if I was ever meandering along when she was in a hurry. I half expect her to hold out her hand. I think if she did, I would grab it.

"Yes," I reply, moving past Chocolate Viv and heading for the door. She passes through it before me and I have to move quickly to avoid being hit in the face. I step outside for the first time since I arrived and a bitter wind hits, causing me to shiver involuntarily. The sky has clouded over and I can feel the first spot of rain on my skin.

The Quattro is parked at the kerb and I stop on the steps momentarily to stare at it. It's not as big as I remember it being, but it is just as red and shiny. I move slowly towards it my eye looking, and finding, the scratch on the back passenger door where my school bag caught it one day. I thought Dad was going to have a fit when he saw it but thankfully he gave me a hug, told me that accidents happen and that he still loved me. I move closer and I can almost see myself sitting in the backseat with a book, or my personal cassette player listening to the Miami Sound Machine and eating sweets that Dad would pass me when Mum wasn't looking.

Suddenly, without warning, I feel a great weight on my chest, pushing down, crushing…and I find I can't draw breath. It is as if my lungs have just stopped. As though there is a mechanical failure inside me. I sway and grab onto the side of the car for support, feeling the world spin around me. My stomach heaves and I feel bile rising, burning my throat. The sights around me vanish and all I can see is a great white light, almost blinding me. I screw my eyes shut to avoid it. My head pounds, the air rushes past me and I feel sweat breaking out all over my body...

"How much has she taken do you reckon?"

"Looks like a lot."

"Typical junkie. Pass me the bag will you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think if we don't get her to hospital she's going to be the fifth one this month..."

"Are you all right?"

As quickly as they came over me, the feelings subside. I open my eyes and realise I am crouched next to the car, one hand on the door, a delightful pile of vomit on the pavement in front of me. I look up to see Mum looking at me, her forehead wrinkled in concern. "I'm…"

"You look terrible," she continues, side-stepping the vomit, coming alongside me and bending to put her hand on my arm. "If you're not feeling well and you'd rather stay in the station, I'm happy to visit Liam Muir on my own."

"No!" I say hurriedly, not wanting to miss the opportunity of spending time with her. "No, I'm fine. Just..." I spit onto the ground, trying to dislodge the taste of vomit from my mouth. "It's just..." I search for an explanation and land on the one that everyone already believes anyway. "Big night last night." I smile wanly.

"I see," she says, "Well if you're sure…"

"I am." She looks at me as though she doesn't quite believe me but, true to her word, she turns and walks back around to the driver's side of the Quattro. Shakily, I straighten up, feeling my head protest slightly as I do so. Opening the passenger door, I slide gratefully inside and, with trembling fingers, fasten my seatbelt. .

"I just hope he won't be too pissed off," Mum explains as she pulls away from the kerb. "Gene hates it when I borrow the car. Thinks of it as his 'boy toy.' Not suitable for women. He insists on screeching around the streets as though the city were his own personal Formula 1 track."

I smile at the memory, me and Dad in the car, windows down, music blaring. "I bet your daughter loves it though."

"He thinks I don't know," she says wryly.

"Know what?"

"That he races around the streets with her in the backseat, driving well above the speed limit, purely because she asks him to." She laughs, "She has him wrapped around her little finger."

"That's as it should be, surely?" I say.

She glances at me, "Said by someone who's a daddy's girl herself?"

I pause before answering. Maybe years ago, but if he only knew what his little girl had become..."I suppose." I grab the opportunity to quiz her. "How long have you been together?"

"Oh…" she thinks back, "We've been together for six years and married for almost five. I was pregnant with Lucy when Gene proposed."

"Really? I didn't know that," I say.

Mum glances at me, "Why would you?"

"Umm…of course," I reply hurriedly, "why would I?"

"I'm sorry you had to witness us fighting on your first day," she sighs. "It's not normally like that."

"No?" I look at her, seeking reassurance.

"Well…" she concedes as we join the afternoon traffic, "at least not all the time. So tell me about you then," she changes the subject before I can ask more. "Fenchurch East is your first posting I understand."

"Erm…" I wonder how best to reply, thinking back over every episode of The Bill I've ever seen for inspiration. "Yes," I settle on.

"Where did you train?"

It is an innocent enough question and yet, I haven't a clue how to answer. I pick the first area that comes into my head without even knowing if it has a police station, "Soho."

"Really?" she looks at me and I detect a look of respect in her expression. "How did you find it there?"

"Fine."

"You'll have experience in dealing with a lot of vice then…"

XXXX

"Look, he's a mate."

"So?"

"So…he's going to give us a good deal on the gear."

"How much?"

"Couple of grams. We could make a weekend of it." Gary smiles his cheeky grin, the one that first attracted me to him. The one that made me want to be with him.

"What does he want?"

"Just a quick shag, that's all. Come on, Luce, just lay back, close your eyes and think of England." He dances in front of me and I can tell that he needs a hit. I need one too, but not quite as badly. It's not easy keeping up the habit on benefits and we are already in debt to Johnny. "It'll be fine," he tries to reassure me.

I don't know why I agree. Maybe it's because I know that if I don't, I won't get any gear and if I don't get any gear then the weekend is going to be hell. I tell myself it'll be ok. It's in my own house. It's not as if I'm standing on some street corner. It's not really prostitution. It's just business.

I sit in the room waiting. I'm on the bed, my back leaning against the wall, my legs crossed under me. It feels like forever, but only a few minutes after Gary has left the room, the door opens again.

"Hi Luce." I hate the way he uses my nickname, as though he is privileged to an intimate relationship with me. I feel a shudder go through me as he closes the door and advances towards the bed. He sits on the end and looks at me. "Gary said it was all right."

I start to feel sick. "He said you had a couple of grams." I focus on the important.

He nods. "All yours." Reaching out, he puts a hand on my knee and waits. After a moment of indecision, I uncross my legs and lay them out straight. With an appreciative smile, he runs his hand gently up under my skirt."I reckon everyone should pay in kind."

If the situation wasn't as desperate, I would laugh. It sounds like a cheesy line out of a cheesy movie.

I let him pull me down so I am lying flat on my back on the bed. I vow not to look at him and fix a point on the ceiling instead. I think back to happier times. Mum and Dad taking me on holiday to Bournemouth. We rented a caravan near the sea and I spent all day every day swimming, building sandcastles, exploring.

It hurts at first, but I bite my lip and try to ignore it.

I ate so much ice-cream that holiday that Mum said I was going to turn into a Mr Whippy. There was a shop near the caravan site that sold the best ice-cream. All different flavours. One day I would have chocolate, the next day strawberry and so on until I had tried every single one. Dad always had vanilla, which I always thought was boring.

He's enjoying it. I can tell by the noise he's making.

Dad would take me to ride the donkeys every afternoon before dinner. Mum said she thought it was cruel that poor animals be dragged back and forth along the beach all day every day until they collapsed from exhaustion. Dad told her that was rubbish and that the donkeys enjoyed it. I didn't care. I just enjoyed pretending that I was riding in a race and was always disappointed that they wouldn't go faster.

He thrusts hard inside me and I jam my fist in my mouth to stop myself from crying.

"Look at the sunset Luce," Dad would say as he sat in a deckchair outside the caravan, me curled up in his lap, exhausted from another day of fun. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" he would ask and I would tell him. "That's what you did today!" he would say and I would laugh and then Mum would take me and put me in bed and I would be asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Moments later, he comes with a grunt and collapses on top of me. I lie there, unable to move due to the weight of him, hot tears trickling down my cheeks. After he regains his breath, he lifts himself off me and pushes himself back on the bed. I watch as he zips himself back up and then stands up.

"Nice one," he says. "I'll give Gary the gear." He turns and moves to the door. Silently, he opens it and slips out, closing it quietly behind him.

XXXX

"Lucy?"

I jolt back to reality and note that we are idling at a set of traffic lights. "What?" I say.

"I said, you must have dealt with a lot of vice in Soho." Her tone is neutral, non-judgemental, and yet I can't help but feel that she must be able to see the truth. That she must be able to tell that I have sold myself for a hit of heroin.

"A bit," I say.

"I always feel so sorry for the girls," Mum looks back to the front. "Having to do that for money or drugs..." she shakes her head. "Attitudes in the force aren't much better. There's still a ridiculous culture among male police officers about prostitutes. They just don't think they matter and they do." She looks at me again. "Don't you agree?"

"Of course," I reply, swallowing hard. The lights change to green and we move forward, taking another turning before we drive through the gates of Wormwood Scrubs prison and into the car park.

Mum switches off the engine. "It won't be your first time here, I'm sure."

I open my mouth to say that actually it is, but she is already out of the car. I follow suit and moments later we are entering the visitors' area. I look around the waiting room. I've never seen it from this perspective before. All I've ever seen is round the back where they bring you in cuffed. I look at the various people sitting and waiting on their visits and wonder what's going through their heads. Shaz and Chris came to visit me once when I was on remand. It was an awkward meeting, neither of us really knowing what to say. I could tell how disappointed they were in me.

"Lucy?" I look up to see Mum staring at me.

"Hmm?"

She gestures to my pocket, "ID."

"What? Oh!" I rifle through the pocket in my skirt and pull out the leather wallet Dad threw at me earlier. Opening it, I look briefly at the picture and then hold it up for the guard to see. I expect him to say it's fake, but he merely waves at me and then lets us through into the police waiting area.

"So, Liam Muir," Mum muses as we sit down in hard, uncomfortable, plastic chairs. "What do we need to get from him?"

I realise she is talking to me, "Well..."I think back, "anything about a shipment of drugs that...erm...whatishisname..."

"Kevin Donnelly."

"That's right, Kevin Donnelly. Anything about a shipment of drugs that Kevin Donnelly is expecting."

"Exactly, plus we have to remind him about his upcoming parole hearing." She flicks an imaginary piece of fluff from her jeans. "It was Gene that put him away for dealing." She nods at me. "He was dealing outside a school. A fourteen year girl took an overdose and died. It wasn't long after Lucy was born and..." she trails off, "it affected him a lot at the time."

"Because he was a dad?"

"And because he had to deal with the girl's parents. Her father especially was distraught. Couldn't understand why his little girl would take drugs."

I feel a lump form in my throat at the obvious parallels.

"I remember him coming home and saying that the father had just stood there repeating "not my little girl, not my little girl," over and over." She shook her head. "I think that's when he really bonded with Lucy. He couldn't bear to think about anything like that happening to her." She turns to me and I see tears hovering in her eyes.

My heart thuds loudly. "Mu...DI Drake..."

"I'm just being ridiculous really," she wipes her eyes. "I suppose it must be hormones." She looks at me and laughs, "Don't tell anyone but...well...I'm pregnant." I stare at her. "God, you're the first person I've told and I barely even know you!" She laughs again. "It much be a female thing. I was going to tell Shaz earlier but...well I found out this morning and..." she breaks off as a door at the far end of the room opens. "Well," she gets to her feet.

I stay seated where I am, mouth open, my body rigid with shock. I never knew. I never knew and yet why would I have? I always wanted a brother or sister. Always wondered if my life might have turned out differently if I had. Would I be who I am if there had been someone else there to share the pain and grief, to have witnessed what I witnessed? Would I have come out the other side unscathed?

"Are you coming?"

I get to my feet and walk, dreamlike, over towards where she is standing waiting for me. I look down, searching for a physical sign. The start of a bump perhaps. There is nothing. I look up again and meet her gaze. "I didn't know," I say.

"Well...no, you wouldn't, would you?" she looks at me sideways. "Can you...can you keep it to yourself for now? It's just that I haven't told Gene yet and...." she trails off.

"Yes," I reply. I will promise her anything.

"Thank you," she replies. She turns and walks through the door and I follow her, my mind racing.

Three were killed that night. Not two, but three.