Page 73 of Claim

“That’s not…” I sighed, recalibrating. “That’s not what I think. At all. It’s… complicated. Right now, I’m your brother’s barrister.”

“But you were something else before.” She kept her gaze fixed on me as she passed raisins to Maisie in the back seat. “Weren’t you?”

I glanced at Lennon. He offered me nothing. No rescue. No warning.

“I think that’s something you should ask him,” I said carefully.

She tutted. “Yeah. When he lets me speak to him.” She shook her head. “You were at his place. Wick. Buttoning your shirt. He was defensive as fuck. Like he’d been caught out. Only seen him like that once before. When I saw Levi coming out his room.”

Lennon stiffened beside me but didn’t look round.

I kept my eyes on the road.

“And I ain’t ever known him to have a girlfriend.” Keeley glanced at Lennon. “Did he have any birds at school, Len?”

“Gemma,” Lennon muttered. “For a bit.”

“Mum used to say she reckoned he was bent.” Keeley shrugged. “I told her to mind her fucking business. Don’t matter to me. Shouldn’t matter to her.” She paused. “Though I get why he’d keep it quiet. With his work.”

The car felt suddenly very small.

“You his boyfriend?” she asked, blunt as a thrown stone.

“No.” I gripped the wheel. “Right now, I’m his barrister. That’s all I can be.”

It wasn’t quite a lie.

It wasn’t the truth, either.

But it was all I could give.

The car fell back into quiet, broken only by Maisie’s soft gurgles and her attempts at speech. I watched Keeley lean close to her, pointing out things through the window—car, bird—encouraging her to mimic the sounds. There was patience there. Focus. A steadiness contradicting everything she pretended to be.

Despite first impressions, she was a good mum.

And she deserved this chance.

We turned off the main road and into a narrow drive in Highgate, the building hidden behind trees and old brick walls, ivy climbing up windows that didn’t advertise what lay behind them. Residential. Anonymous. Exactly the point. Gravel crunched under the tyres as I parked beside a familiar white Range Rover.

Keeley peered out. “This it?”

“Yeah.” I cut the engine.

We got out together. Lennon and Keeley went to the boot for her bags as the front door opened. Eloise stepped out, halfway into greeting mode. The bump was barely there, but she wore maternity clothes anyway, as if staking a quiet claim to the space she was in.

“Tristan.” She hugged me and I kissed her cheek, then she glanced over to Keeley. “Is this her?”

“Yeah.” I nodded towards Keeley, Maisie being put down to wobble on her feet and Lennon hefting the buggy and bags behind her. “Keeley, I’d like you to meet Eloise.”

Eloise smiled. “Welcome, Keeley.” She then crouched to Maisie’s level and took her tiny hand. “And you must be Maisie. Aren’t you simply beautiful.”

Keeley stiffened, uncertain.

“This is Rosewood House.” Eloise straightened. “Your new home.”

Keeley’s gaze travelled up the building, taking in the windows. “There… other girls in there?”

“Yes.” Eloise nodded. “Some are younger than you. Some older. All with babies or toddlers.” She gestured to the side garden, where flowers edged a small, fenced play area. “Rosewood is a private mother-and-baby unit. Referral only. Designed for women who need stability and safety while they find their feet.”