The Perfect Mother (ARC)

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The Perfect Mother (ARC) Page 17

by Caroline Mitchell


  can’t imagine it was easy working in the movie industry,

  especially with everything you hear about the #metoo

  movement.’

  Sheridan arched an eyebrow. ‘I could tell you a story or

  two. But I don’t want to dwell on negativity, not when we

  have so much to look forward to. Tell me about the night

  you conceived. I want to hear how my baby was made.’

  I baulked. How her baby was made? That question

  was even more intrusive than the one about my child-

  hood. From what I was learning about Sheridan, she

  had no inner filter when it came to other people. Was it

  down to her upbringing, or did she see me as someone

  she had hired, just like the staff who cooked and cleaned

  for her? I looked around the kitchen for Juanita. She’d

  seemed to vacate the room the moment we stepped in.

  There was no sign of Anna or Leo, either. He must have

  gone to school.

  ‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ I said, feeling the heat

  of Sheridan’s gaze. ‘Do you mind?’

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  Sheridan sipped her coffee, then gracefully placed the

  cup back on the gold-rimmed saucer. It was most likely

  designer, like everything else in this place. I thought of

  our chipped crockery in Ireland, of the ashtray I put my

  trinkets into. I’d barely arrived in New York and was

  already feeling the tug of home.

  ‘You weren’t in love?’ Sheridan interrupted my

  thoughts, not one to let the subject lie.

  I shook my head. ‘Does it make a difference?’

  She passed me the kale juice I had yet to drink. ‘Of

  course not. If it did, I’d have asked before we signed the

  contracts.’ She flashed me a smile. ‘I’m enjoying getting to know you. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper

  girly chat.’

  I sighed. She was being so nice to me; I had to give

  her something. ‘The day I got pregnant, hooking up was

  the last thing on my mind. But I was upset, lonely. He

  offered to take care of me. It was nice to feel protected.’

  My words were heavy with the burden of my secret. ‘I’d

  always had a crush on him, but never acted on it. That

  night … it felt right.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Sheridan’s kohl-lined eyes

  twinkled as she absorbed my words. ‘Daniel and I tried

  for over a year to get pregnant with Leo. We were both

  under a lot of pressure at work. I’d all but given up. Then one night we got really drunk and it happened. The one

  time we didn’t think about it was when I took.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I laughed. ‘If it wasn’t for Mr Jameson I wouldn’t be here today.’

  ‘Jameson?’ Sheridan tilted her head to one side.

  ‘Irish whiskey,’ I chuckled. ‘I don’t normally drink it

  but we…’ My words were cut short as I caught the ex-

  pression on Sheridan’s face. Shit.

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  ‘You were drunk when you conceived my baby?’ Her

  words were low and thunderous, her expression icy cold.

  I stiffened. I had to come clean. Sheridan could see right

  through me and lying would only make things worse. Besides, how come it was OK for her and not for me? Slowly, I nodded.

  ‘It’s not as if I planned it. As you said yourself … these

  things happen.’

  ‘Juice.’ She pushed the kale juice into my hands, mak-

  ing it slop over the side. ‘Drink your juice.’

  ‘What?’ I frowned, looking at the glass. The room

  fell silent, the air between us was thick with tension. I

  knocked the drink back, downing it in one. My stomach

  rolled, more with nerves than anything else. I wiped my

  fingers with a napkin. ‘I’m sorry, I…’

  But Sheridan seemed in no mood for my apologies.

  Her body was rigid, each word delivered with the sim-

  mering fury that bubbled underneath. ‘What if you’ve

  damaged the baby? Have you thought of that? What else

  have you lied about?’

  ‘Nothing, honestly. I stopped drinking the second I

  found out I was pregnant.’ But my words were digging

  me into a deeper hole. It was weeks before I did a test. I

  could feel the blood draining from my cheeks.

  Sheridan glared at me, her nostrils flaring as she in-

  haled. I was so shocked I could barely move. Only a

  couple of minutes ago we were chatting like old friends.

  I had never seen anyone in such a state of quiet fury, not

  even my mother.

  She broke her gaze to glare at her watch before stand-

  ing up. ‘Get up. Breakfast is over.’

  Her words were abrupt, her movements jerky. I re-

  mained in my seat, my mind racing as I tried to figure

  out what to do.

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  ‘I said get up!’

  In one swift movement she wrapped my ponytail

  around her fist and yanked hard.

  ‘Ow!’ I screamed. ‘You’re hurting me!’

  I tried to wriggle from her grasp, but she was a lot

  stronger than she looked. I had no choice but to follow

  as she marched me towards the lift.

  ‘Please, Sheridan, I’m sorry – let me explain!’

  But she was beyond reason, summoning the lift with

  her spare hand as I tried to loosen her grip.

  ‘Go to your room!’ Her words echoed in the hall.

  ‘Go to your room and think about what you’ve done!’

  The roots of my hair burned as they were plucked

  from my scalp. As she marched me into the lift, the doors

  began to close and she turned to walk away. I gasped as I

  lost my balance, falling on to my backside. Flashes of light pierced my vision as I hit my head against the handrail

  on the way down.

  ‘Roz!’ Sheridan cried after me, her voice imbued with

  instant regret. ‘Are you OK?’ Her voice echoed as the

  doors shut and the lift made its way down. What the hell?

  I was pregnant. She could have knocked me out cold.

  With heavy legs I staggered to my feet as the lift reached

  the basement floor. Despite my head being woozy, self-

  preservation had kicked in, and I was not risking Sheridan

  coming down. What happened back there? I thought, as I wedged the doors open with a chair, a temporary measure

  to make the lift stay put. Wobbling to the en suite, I wet

  a towel under the cold tap and gently pressed it against

  the growing bump on my head. What had Sheridan said?

  Go to your room and think about what you’ve done. Was that how she had lived her early years? Groaning, I rubbed

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  the back of my head. Right now, more than anything, I

  needed to speak to my friend.

  I held my breath as I heard Sheridan’s high heels click

  rapidly along the floor above. A sense of dread rose inside me. What if she came down the stairs? It wasn’t as if I

  could lock the bathroom door. Sheridan had removed the

  key. What if I needed to protect myself?

  I walked out into the open living space. There used

  to be a gym here, but all the weights had been removed.

  There was nothing I could u
se to defend myself. I stared

  at the door that led to the corridor, my anxiety growing

  as I waited for Sheridan to come down. Was I overreact-

  ing? Surely she meant me no harm. But still, the door

  remained closed.

  What was she doing? Was she still furious or had she

  sent for help? A small voice piped up inside me: You have only yourself to blame. Sheridan had made it clear from the beginning: no smoking and no booze.

  I ran over the events in my mind. It was just a bit of

  hair-pulling, wasn’t it? It wasn’t her fault I’d fallen. But I was pregnant. My hands went to my stomach. It was

  my job to protect the baby growing inside me. I would

  talk to Daniel, make things clear. If Sheridan laid another finger on me, I was out of here.

  167

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Roz

  I awoke with a start as fingers dug into my shoulder. It

  was Daniel, shaking me awake. I blinked to clear my vi-

  sion. I must have fallen asleep. A sharp pain in the back

  of my head made me wince.

  ‘Roz, are you OK?’ Daniel asked, his handsome face

  creased with worry.

  Why is he asking me? Why doesn’t he ask his precious wife?

  I thought, scooting up on the sofa.

  ‘What?’ I said, trying to piece things together. I vaguely

  remembered getting the phone from my suitcase, then

  pacing the floor when I couldn’t get a signal. I had wanted to let Dympna know where I was, in case things escalated

  even more. But had I put the phone back? If Sheridan

  found it there would be hell to pay. Think, Roz, think.

  My brain felt as if it had been replaced with cotton wool.

  Taking a bottle of water from the mini fridge, Daniel

  strode across the room and offered it to me. ‘Here, take

  a sip. Sheridan said you fell over in the lift.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I exhaled a relieved breath as I remembered

  shoving the mobile beneath the sofa cushion when I lay

  down to rest.

  ‘What time is it?’ I unscrewed the lid from the glass

  bottle of spring water.

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  The Perfect Mother

  ‘It’s just gone two. Are you OK?’ he repeated, sitting

  across from me. ‘Sheridan said you were upset.’

  ‘ I was upset?’ My eyes widened. ‘She grabbed me by

  my ponytail and threw me into the lift. I…’ Tears sprang

  to my eyes. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘Hey, now,’ Daniel said, his voice warm. ‘Sounds like

  one big misunderstanding. Sheridan would never hurt

  you.’ He extended his hand and I took the tissue he of-

  fered, watching him warily. ‘I told her that you’re young.

  And she has to take your hormones into account. You’re

  bound to feel a little erratic with everything going on. I

  remember when I first came over from England…’

  ‘Me? Erratic?’ I interrupted. I was beginning to sound

  like a parrot, continuously repeating his words. I rubbed

  the bump on the back of my head. I certainly hadn’t

  imagined that. ‘What did she say happened?’

  ‘Just that you were having a lovely morning, but then

  you had an argument over the kale juice. You knocked

  over the glass before stomping into the lift. Some of it

  must have been on your sneakers, and that’s when you

  slipped and fell.’ He held up his hands. ‘I hold no judge-

  ments. I hate that stuff too. But you can’t go off in a huff like that. And blocking the lift door open … it’s not on.

  I had to access the stairs to check that you were OK.’

  ‘I didn’t block the lift…’ I said, my back rigid as I

  sat up. Yet when I peered over, I could see that a chair

  had wedged the doors permanently open. ‘I … I don’t

  remember doing that.’

  ‘It’s no wonder – you’ve had a nasty bump on the

  head. Here, let me look.’

  I sat in disbelief as Daniel moved closer, his words

  rebounding in my mind. Sheridan couldn’t have told him

  about my drinking, and I wasn’t keen on bringing it up

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  myself. Perhaps it was a deal-breaker for Daniel, too. Now

  my memory of this morning’s events was one big blur.

  The dull throb of a headache returned. I swallowed, my

  mouth dry. I was painfully aware of Daniel’s proximity

  as he gently probed my scalp. His suit looked expensive,

  his cologne infiltrating my senses. Had he come back

  from work for this? The warmth of his hand sent tingles

  through me as he smoothed down my hair.

  ‘It’s just a bump,’ he said, oblivious to my reaction.

  ‘But we’d like the doc to check you out just the same.

  You OK with that?’

  ‘OK,’ I nodded glumly, needing reassurance myself.

  ‘Good.’ He pushed back his shirt sleeve and checked

  his watch. ‘I’ve got to get back to work. Sheridan is des-

  perate to sort things out. Will it be OK to leave you two

  together until the doctor gets here?’

  I stiffened, and he crouched to meet my eyeline. I saw

  genuine concern in his eyes. ‘Look. I know it takes two

  to tango. Sheridan can be bossy, but she’d never hurt you.

  One thing about her … she’s always in control.’

  He extended his hand to help me to my feet and I

  could not ignore the gesture. I watched him remove the

  chair before slipping on my shoes and following him into

  the lift. My soft spot for Daniel was probably clouding

  my judgement, but this was Daniel Watson, the man

  everybody loved. I so wanted to trust him.

  Had I put the chair in the lift doorway? I could barely

  remember taking Dympna’s phone out of my suitcase, so it

  was possible. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as Daniel smiled. I told myself to get a grip. Thinking with my

  heart instead of my head was what had got me pregnant

  in the first place. Being abandoned by my father at such

  an early age had affected me more than I thought. Daniel

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  The Perfect Mother

  was beginning to feel like the safe harbour I needed. I

  watched as he pressed his security tag against the panel

  and pressed the button for the ground floor. As we moved

  upwards, I told myself that as long as he was around, I

  would be OK.

  I held my breath as the lift doors opened. Sheridan

  was waiting for me in the hall.

  171

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sheridan

  Sheridan stood in the hall, arms tightly folded as she

  waited for the elevator doors to part. This morning’s

  confrontation had backfired – she’d never intended Roz

  to fall over like that. She wasn’t thrilled about sedating

  her again so soon, but the girl had demonstrated a tiny

  spark of defiance that needed to be stamped out.

  Yesterday’s internet search had been fruitful. After

  looking up HEAT nightclub in Dublin, she had found

  Roz’s image online. Sheridan wasn’t doing anything

  underhand. Roz had listed it in her bio as a place she

  sometimes went to. It was a silly mistake, given the pic-

  ture Sheridan had found of her. Bleary-eyed, the y
oung

  woman was pictured raising a glass to the camera. But

  what was in it? Sheridan had itched to know. The date

  beneath left her in no doubt that Roz was in the early

  stages of pregnancy at the time. The image portrayed was

  far from the persona of the sweet Catholic girl that Roz

  had conned her with. Sheridan could not let it rest. She

  had to know for sure if Roz had been drinking on the

  night she conceived.

  She could have confronted her last night, but she

  used the opportunity to test her this morning instead.

  Sheridan’s lips thinned as she recalled their argument.

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  The Perfect Mother

  It soon became apparent that if she wanted, she could

  extract any information from the young woman in her

  care. But could she make her believe that she was to blame

  for what happened?

  Her question was answered the moment Roz stepped

  out of the lift. Her gaze low, she looked like a remorseful puppy after it has peed on the floor. Good, she thought.

  A sedative-induced sleep followed by reassurance from

  caring, trustworthy Daniel had left a whole ton of self-

  doubt lingering in the air. Sheridan made a mental note

  to tell Juanita to check Roz’s dirty laundry for spots of

  blood. She would have to keep a close eye on her, now

  the trust between them was gone.

  ‘Roz, honey, you gave me a terrible fright,’ Sheridan

  said, placing her hands on her shoulders. ‘Are you all right?

  How’s your head? I’ve called Doctor Blumberg – he’ll

  be here in twenty minutes or so.’ Her words were rapid,

  a panicked mother fretting over her child. Whatever

  she felt about Roz, Sheridan would never put the baby

  at risk.

  Daniel left them to it as Sheridan led Roz into the

  living room.

  ‘Sit.’ Sheridan patted the sofa cushion next to her.

  Just like the rest of the house, the reception room was

  furnished in a simple yet elegant style. Vast windows were

  filtered by white net curtains, which acted as a precaution against the paparazzi’s powerful zoom lenses. Usually, at

  this time of day she would be going through her sched-

  ule with Samantha, her PA. George would be here too,

  keeping her up to speed with the latest celebrity trends.

  It was challenging, juggling the needs of her career with

  keeping Roz underground. Today an early morning ap-

  pointment with her hair stylist had been followed by a

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