Gut Instinct

Also by Linda Mather

Self help books:

I shall wear purple

I shall be blue

I shall be clean

Gut instinct is Linda’s first novel

Linda Mather

GUT INSTINCT

Copyright © [2012] by [Linda Mather
]
All rights reserved.
ISBN- 13:
978-1480056152
 

Cover art by
Dreamstime

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real person’s, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For my Auntie Anne
Theobald
, who would have loved this book, and was the loveliest woman and kindest of friends. She is missed by all that loved her and knew her. 

Forever in our hearts.

**********

For my Grandma
Violet
Burns who adored me as much as my mum did and greatly encouraged my creativity.

Forever in our hearts

**********

For my Dad Owen Williams who would have been so proud.  Life will never be the same without
you;
singing solo is not the same.

Forever in our hearts

“A man who has been the undisputable favourite of his mother keeps for life the feeling of a conqueror” – Sigmund Freud

Prologue

“I knew I was an unwanted baby when I saw my bath toys were a toaste
r and a radio”

I’ve
never forgo
t
ten
that quote,

I’d read it in one of my
mothers maga
zines, it was Joan Rivers and I
had spent hours admiring her photograph
believing that this was what I should look like, be like.

I
was about thirteen at the time. She
, Joan Rivers, had
the same kind
of mother as
I had.  I no
longer
felt so alone
in the world, knowing
there were others just like
me
.

One day I will be famous I
had thought, and I will say things like tha
t
, let them know exactly what my
mother was – a who
r
e
, a child abuser and a
nonentity, at least she was now.

I’d
had dreams,
dreams that never came true, my
life,
and my
waking hours had
been one long nightmare and my sleep had been my respite where I
could wish for happier
time
s
, when I
could dream about
blissful
times, about becoming someone like Joan Rivers.

My dreams are what kept me sane, kept me from wanting to die, when I awoke from the dream I would want to sleep again to go back into the dream that helped me to escape my miserable life.

Being born is like a lottery, you don’t know which mother you are going to get. I was number 326 lining up waiting to be embedded in some
woman’s
womb;
ironically 325
didn’t feel well on the day of my consum
mation so was made to sit out.

If he had been well then my life might have been so very different, I would have got a nice mother then. Instead I got
‘her’;
instead I drew the short straw.

Did your child get the short straw?

Hey you!  I’m talking to you!

Put the book down,

YES
YOU!

Did your child get the sh
ort straw or was he lucky and wo
n the lottery!

“We are not makers of history.  We are made by history” – Martin Luther King Junior

This means that
I have been made by my history, my life has made me who I am and also my mother, she has made me who I am today.

Or would I have been like this anyway, was it in my DNA, was it nature or nurture?

Perhaps you will be able to answer my question after reading my story, after living in my world even if just for the time it takes to read this book, or
after stepping into the shoes that I was forced to wear either by my upbringing or by my DNA.

So please don’t judge me as you read my story as this could
have
be
en
you, if you had drawn the short straw like I did.

**********

Chapter One

Saturday
8
th
March

The call had come in at twelve fif
teen and Detective Sergeant Stephen
Roberts was sitting at his desk going through all the papers
that had been
prepar
ed for the
Crime Prosecution
S
ervice for a rape
case,
that
they ha
d been working on.
 

It was
not un
usual for him to be in
his office
on a Saturday morning
, he used this time when
the station was
quiet to
do paperwork.
T
hey never seem
ed to have the time in the week
.

U
nlike
most
other professions
,
in the police force they
were never allocated with paperwork time.
Merely,
had to do it when they
could and Saturday mornings were the only time Stephen found that he could.
  You couldn’t turn down jobs because you had paperwork to do, if you were called out that was it, everything else had to go on hold.

He was the only one in, and it was extremely quiet, ghostly quiet in fact, most of his staff had the weekend off, there had been nothing urgent brewing, he was the head of the homicide division and thankfully murders didn’t occur every week.

He was feeling relatively pleased with his team, t
hey’d cleared this case
up pretty quickly. They had speedily and smoothly
arrested and charged
a twe
n
ty five year old lad who had raped
and killed
a girl under the influence of metha
mphetamine, he was now
safely tucked up in a cell in Leicester prison,
remanded
until his appearance in court
. 

All that was left to do was ensure that they presented a
n airtight
case against him
,
and
as was customary
the CPS relied on them to do that.

Stephen
was a handsome man for fifty two
, almost six foot and had a physique
akin to someone who
was a frequent
visitor to the gym.  He wasn’t. He
had only ever been to the gym once in his life, he was just lucky to have genes that maintained
t
his
muscular build
. 

He had dark hair with distinguished grey streaks and presented in a confident but not arrogant manner.  His most striking feature were his eyes, they were a deep blue with l
ong dark lashes serenading them, eyes that you could imagine falling into, and find yourself swimming in a warm pool of clear blue water.
 

He ha
d been a detective sergeant for four years now an
d thoroughly enjoy
ed his job. He prided himself on being a fair boss
, a good cop
and was well
and truly respected by his team, and his management.

The paperwork was almost done
and he was about to wrap up, go home and preen himself for his night in with Tanya,
his girlfriend,
w
hen his mobile  vibrated and then rang
on his desk,
it was
the standard ring
tone
that came with the phone.