A Mother Like You

by Ruby Speechley

  A Mother Like You

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  A letter from Ruby

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Cover

  Table of Contents

  Start of Content

  A Mother Like You

  Ruby Speechley

  For my husband, Richard

  with love, always

  Prologue

  She drags herself out of bed and stands at the side of the cot in the middle of the night for the hundredth time. The little face is crimson with rage. She picks the baby up and cradles it close, jogging gently up and down, but the hot little body stiffens, and the piercing cry grows louder and louder, ringing in her ears as though it doesn’t know its own mother, punishing her for being so incompetent.

  She holds the baby out in front of her and yells, ‘What do you want?’

  Moments later, the baby is quiet, stunned. She drops it down on the mattress in a dull shallow bounce. This time the baby’s cry is high-pitched. Blinking back tears, she stares at the tremor in her hands. How could she do that? What is wrong with her?

  A voice behind her shouts: ‘What have you done?’

  She covers her ears and screams.

  Chapter One

  October 2018

  Kate Marshall’s last thought before she blacked out was of the man standing at the back of the room watching her.

  A moment earlier, she’d finished her presentation to an enthusiastic cheer. The conference room at stately Sopwell House was packed with businessmen and women, eager to hear about the team-building events planned for the day. As she stepped away from the podium, hot white lights gleamed in her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her brow. Her face and neck burned. Why didn’t someone open a window? Her body jolted. For a split second she thought she saw his face. Blood pumped in her ears; a pain shot through her head. She scanned the room. It wasn’t possible after all this time, was it? A wave of nausea swept over her. The audience became a blur and her vision folded as she sank to the floor.

  When Kate came to, her first thought was of herself aged six, tripping over Angel Gabriel’s tunic during the school play. Everyone had laughed. But it wasn’t the laughter that had latched in her heart like a fishhook; it had been seeing her mother quietly stand up and leave.

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ Kate blinked and spread her fingers out in front of her. She tried to focus on her short, rouge noir nails and the thin, platinum wedding band. She’d been sickening for something all week.

  ‘Can you stand?’ Sally asked, nodding to Steve to take Kate’s other arm.

  ‘I think so.’ She moved a strand of hair from her lips.

  ‘Let us through, please.’ Steve waved away their colleagues who had gathered round the stage. They led her to the empty lounge area. Someone passed Sally a bottle of water.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt?’ Sally knelt in front of her. She unscrewed the lid and handed her the drink.

  ‘I’m sore and a bit queasy.’ She was never ill. When she sipped the water, it tasted metallic. Her hand trembled. She’d never blacked out in her life.

  ‘It is stuffy in there,’ Sally said.

  ‘I should go back and mingle.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Steve said. ‘The whole team is out there. They know the drill.’

  Kate gave a thin smile. The smell of his sharp, citrus aftershave caught in her throat and almost made her gag.

  ‘Let’s help you up to your room,’ Sally said.

  After Sally and Steve had gone, Kate kicked off her stilettos. The ceiling seemed to press down on her. She closed the curtains. It didn’t matter what time she went to bed recently, she was always tired. She set the alarm on her mobile and stretched out on the plump bed. Her stomach began to settle at last. She closed her eyes.

  * * *

  An hour later she stood in front of the full-length mirror refreshed. She smoothed the ends of her long, blunt-edged bob. Her naturally wiry hair needed to be washed and straightened every day. Perhaps she’d try a streak of red through the fringe next week. She rubbed thick medical-smelling cream up her arms, covering the patches of eczema like welts from a smack.

  When she left the room, the muted sound of a conversation drifted along the corridor. A casually dressed man was chatting to a maid. He wore white chinos and a faded denim shirt and walked with a familiar gait. It was as though someone had let go of an elastic band in her chest. It was him, wasn’t it? For a second, she dared not move, waiting for him to turn so she could see more clearly. She started to follow. The floor creaked softly beneath the carpet. He turned the corner out of sight. She hurried after him, her laptop case bouncing against her thigh. He paused outside a bedroom door. She held her key to look like she was going into a room and stole another look at him. There he was: the hair shorter and lighter, possibly greying. The outline of his tanned face, the slight smudge of a beard. Heart pounding, she rocked back on her heels and reached out to the wall, clipping a print of Morisot’s The Cradle. She straightened it up. When she looked over again, he had gone into the room, the door sounding a loud click as it shut behind him.

  Could it really have been him? She shivered, alone in the passageway, staring at the closed door, the distant drone of traffic drifting through a tiny window behind her. Her mobile beeped, making her jump. A text from Sally.

  How are you feeling?

  She was supposed to have been in a meeting with her team ten minutes ago. All she wanted to do was go and lie down again. She needed to think this through. Should she knock on his door? But if it was him, how might he react? Of all the people to bump into. What was he doing here? It could be awkward with her colleagues around. She couldn’t afford to ruin her reputation, or let it get back to James. The lift doors opened.

  By the time Kate strode into the conference room, the briefing for the treasure hunt event round the grounds was well underway. Skipping lunch seemed to have taken the edge off her nausea.

  ‘You okay?’ Sally whispered, pouring her a cup of peppermint tea.

  Kate nodded and took a ginger biscuit. She fielded questions from the enthusiastic group then helped to hand out the question sheets, clipboards and pens t
o each team. The room emptied as Steve led everyone out to the terrace to begin.

  ‘I’ll catch you guys later.’ She ordered a bottle of sparkling water before lounging on a sofa in a quiet corner. James had left a message on her mobile. He was in York to meet potential new clients, present their corporate event packages. She called him straight back.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. ‘Steve told me what happened.’

  ‘So-so, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘All going well?’

  ‘Seems to be. Didn’t know accountants could be such an enthusiastic bunch.’ The waiter brought her water and tipped half the bottle in a glass.

  ‘Look, I’m going to be in York longer than anticipated.’ He paused. ‘I need someone to help me at this pitch tomorrow because Tim’s fallen sick, so I’ve arranged for Jasmine to come up.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have come.’ Kate sipped the water, but the metallic taste was still there. They normally made decisions about the business together. They owned everything equally and therefore they made decisions jointly.

  ‘Because you’re needed there, Kate.’

  She shifted but couldn’t get comfortable. This girl had only started three weeks ago.

  ‘I thought her fresh ideas could swing it in our favour.’

  ‘So you’ll be back when?’

  ‘Not till late tomorrow. You’ll be fine; you’ve got a great team with you.’

  She didn’t need him to tell her that.

  ‘Perhaps you should get something from the chemist?’

  ‘Maybe, I’ll see how I feel.’

  ‘One more thing, are we free at the end of the month? I can get a good deal on flights to New York. There’s a Kandinsky exhibition on at the Guggenheim. If we’re clear, I can book right now?’

  ‘I’m not sure… hold off for a day or two.’ This was so unlike her, but she hadn’t felt this rough in a long time. Normally she’d jump at the chance to go to New York for a long weekend. Take in a show, visit the Museum of Modern Art and add in a dash of early Christmas shopping. But it wouldn’t be any fun if she was ill.

  ‘You’ll be fine by then surely?’

  ‘Don’t book anything just yet.’ She rubbed her stomach. Maybe she’d picked up a bug or a touch of food poisoning?

  ‘All right, if you’re sure.’

  ‘I’ll speak to you in the morning,’ she said.

  The lounge was humming with chatter. Kate’s team were gathered on two leather sofas round the open fire. The clients were already in the dining room still buzzing from the great day they’d had.

  She caught the waiter before she sat down and ordered champagne, and a glass of orange juice for herself. She hated being the only sober one.

  ‘Come and sit by the fire, you look cold.’ Sally moved along the sofa.

  ‘Thanks.’ Kate sat down, shivering.

  The waiter brought the drinks and handed her the juice.

  ‘What’s this?’ Steve said. ‘Kate not drinking? Perhaps the sky is about to fall in.’ Everyone laughed. He mimed a prayer. Kate tried to look amused.

  ‘Very funny, Steve, but I’m still not feeling great.’ The heat from the fire was warming her, making her sleepy.

  ‘You look pale,’ Sally said quietly.

  Kate gave a weak smile, grateful for her concern, but she wasn’t about to confide in anyone. ‘Great job today everyone,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘Yes, even you, Steve.’

  He took a bow and headed over to the bar to chat up a redhead. And, just along from them, stood the man she saw earlier, now shaved and wearing a navy linen suit and staring right at Kate. She gave a start and her face burned like it used to when she was a teenager. Why was he here? Everyone round her stood up to go to the table, but she was fixed in a stare of recognition.

  ‘Kate, are you feeling all right?’ Sally touched her arm.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry.’ Kate blinked at her.

  ‘Sure you’re well enough?’ Sally linked her arm through Kate’s. The others went on ahead to the dining room.

  ‘If I need to leave early, will you see everything goes smoothly?’ She glanced back, but he’d gone.

  ‘Of course,’ Sally said.

  Kate picked at her meal. She tried not to engage in deep conversations with anyone, her mind too distracted. Seeing him again had stirred up feelings she’d pushed away long ago. Her gaze wandered round the room, searching for him.

  When everyone had ordered their desserts, Kate said good night and headed up to her room. As she stepped out of the lift, the fire door to the stairs swung open and banged on the wall. She rummaged in her handbag for the key.

  ‘Lost something?’

  She glanced up at the familiar voice, and in a split second the last twenty years fell away. She dared not breathe as a flicker of memories passed between them.

  ‘Kate Watson. Who’d have thought?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was breathless, heart thumping as she fumbled in her bag.

  ‘You’ve not changed a bit.’ He grinned, scanning her up and down as if she stood there naked.

  ‘Neither have you.’ She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He moved closer, breathing more heavily. His warm, woody aftershave transported her back in time, stirring her with longing. She unzipped every pocket of her handbag and pulled out the key card. His hand brushed hers as he took it, sending a spark through her body. He pushed down the handle and followed her into the room, letting the door fall shut behind them.

  ‘Have you missed me?’ He stood millimetres from her, examining her. ‘You left so suddenly.’

  ‘I didn’t know where you’d moved to.’ She stepped backwards, clutching her bag to her chest. He looked so much older, but it suited him.

  ‘Don’t give me that nonsense.’ He grinned, moving towards her. Heat radiated from his body sending a pulse of desire right through her. She dropped down on the bed, casting her bag to one side.

  He leaned over her and ran a finger up her thigh, shins pressing against her legs, gently opening them with his knee.

  She took in a sharp breath, her body tingling. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘To see you.’ He rested his hands on the bed either side of her. The smell of brandy wafted from his breath.

  ‘Why now?’

  ‘Why not?’

  He was pinning her to the bed; she couldn’t move.

  ‘Tell me, how are your dear parents?’

  ‘Dad died six months ago.’ She edged her legs away from him.

  ‘Ah right.’ He nodded. ‘He was a good sort. And your mother? Still playing up, is she?’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ She pushed her fists into his chest.

  He tipped his head back and laughed.

  ‘You owe me, don’t you think?’ A grin spread across his face. He straightened up and adjusted himself. ‘Thirty grand should do it.’

  ‘What, are you kidding me?’ She sat up. ‘Where on earth am I supposed to find that kind of money?’

  ‘I think it’s fair, considering.’ He plucked her business card from a pile on the dressing table. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He gave a sour laugh as he yanked open the door. ‘I hope it’s all been worth it for you, Kate, I really do.’

  The shame and guilt she’d tried so hard to bury rose up and washed over her. The very thing she’d been running from had finally caught up with her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the door closed before she could reach it and when she looked out, he had gone.

  Chapter Two

  ‘It’s probably a bug or something. I feel so tired all the time,’ said Kate at the chemists the next morning.

  Mrs Ahmed gave her usual tight smile.

  ‘Don’t tell me, I’ve been working too hard.’ She rested her handbag on the counter.

  Mrs Ahmed offered a wise nod. The pharmacy was empty except for Mr Ahmed shuffling tablets into bottles behind her. A shard of sunshine fell across a poster by the till, fading the message about the sympt
oms of heart disease.

  ‘I feel nauseous too, especially if I smell food. That’s weird, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll give you something to settle your stomach.’ Mrs Ahmed took a bright pink bottle off the shelf.

  ‘I’ve not actually been sick, but it’s like a permanent nausea in my throat, and a sort of metallic taste.’

  Mrs Ahmed frowned. ‘Is there a chance you could be pregnant?’

  Kate wrinkled her nose. ‘No. My period has started.’

  ‘I would take a test, just to rule it out.’

  ‘Really?’

  Mrs Ahmed never sold her any medicine unless she absolutely needed it or could suggest a cheaper alternative.

  ‘Okay, if you think so.’

  * * *

  Back at home, Kate opened her laptop and checked her work emails. Nothing urgent, so she closed the lid and curled up on the sofa. Five minutes, that’s all she needed. Moving out of central London almost a year ago to a four-bedroom house in leafy Boxmoor, Hemel Hempstead had been a bold decision for them, but it made sense for their expanding corporate events business and their personal lives. She already felt like this was where they were going to stay long-term. Moving back to Hertfordshire had prompted her to contact her parents after more than twenty years of not speaking to them. She’d made a success of her life and hoped they’d be proud of her. Nothing much had changed. They were living in the same three-bedroom house she’d grown up in, in St Albans. Sadly, her dad had advanced Alzheimer’s by then, and he died two months later. As soon as she first saw him again, she’d regretted leaving it so long. In his lucid moments he said he forgave her for not staying in touch but that made her feel even more guilty. She’d missed so much of his final years. And all because she was too ashamed to admit to making mistakes.

  A few minutes after dozing off, Kate woke with a jolt to her phone pinging several times. The screen was full of rows and rows of emojis: bags of dollars, hourglass timers and sculls. All text messages, but with no words, from a number she didn’t recognise. It must be him. Shit. He wasn’t going to let it go. Bile rose in her throat. She ran to the toilet to be sick.