The Secret Mother(13)

‘I was at the police station today,’ I blurt out without thinking.

He’s just about to take a sip of beer, but stops at my words, shutting his mouth and setting his glass back on the table.

‘That’s where I was at lunchtime,’ I continue.

‘Why were you there, if you don’t mind me asking? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…’

‘No, it’s okay. It’s a bit of a weird story, though.’ I give a nervous laugh.

‘Go on.’ He takes a sip from his drink and I take a gulp of mine, wishing I’d had something stronger than orange juice.

I tell him about last night. About Harry. It all comes tumbling out. Not in the stilted way it did at the police station, where my every word was being analysed, but more in an unburdening kind of way. I can tell from Ben’s expression that he’s surprised and sympathetic and understanding. There’s no judgement. No suspicion.

‘Wow, Tess. That’s…’

‘I know, right. It’s weird.’

‘Your head must be spinning. And then I go and add to all your stress with my perfectly timed business proposal.’ He rolls his eyes.

‘You didn’t know. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it is what I need to take my mind off everything. Just… give me some time to think about it, if you can.’

‘Sure, of course. Take all the time you need. Well, maybe not all the time. I’d probably need to know by the New Year, if that’s okay.’

I nod, suddenly feeling a lot lighter.

‘Now eat,’ he says.

‘Yes, Boss.’

We spend another hour or so finishing our meal and chatting about more trivial things like books we’ve read, funny customers at work and what our worst habits are. Ben is surprisingly good company, easy to talk to. I wonder why I never noticed that before. But soon the events of the past twenty-four hours begin catching up with me. I’m exhausted. Ben insists I take the following day off work. I protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, so I finally acquiesce. Hopefully I can just spend the whole day sleeping.

It’s not even nine o’clock when I finally stagger through my front door, almost asleep on my feet, but it feels far later. I should really just crawl into bed right now, but there’s still one more thing I have to do.

I take my phone with me into the lounge and curl up in the corner of the sofa, tucking my feet beneath me. I’m calling Scott to find out how he got on at the police station this morning. I know I won’t sleep until I’ve spoken to him. Perhaps, by some miracle, he was able to find out what’s happened to Harry.

His phone rings three times, but I think I must have pressed the wrong contact button, because a woman answers. I’m so surprised, I don’t reply straight away.

‘Hello?’ she says. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I think I must have called you by mistake. I meant to call Scott. Who’s this?’

There’s a pause at the other end of the line.

‘Hello? Are you still there?’ I’m about to hang up and try again, but then she says, ‘Tessa?’

‘Yes. Who’s this? Is this Scott’s phone?’

‘Yes.’ She sounds hesitant, like she’s not sure if it is his phone or not.

‘Can you put him on, please?’

‘He’s… not available at the moment.’ Her voice is young-sounding.

‘Not available? What do you mean? Is he still at work? In a meeting?’

‘He’s in the shower.’

I let her words sink in. A woman has answered Scott’s phone while he’s in the shower. I freeze for a moment, feel the blood draining from my face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, not sounding sorry at all. ‘I know this must come as a surprise, but I’m Scott’s girlfriend. He really should’ve told you already.’

Scott has a girlfriend. I can still taste the lasagne and orange juice in my mouth. I don’t know what to say.

‘Tessa? Are you there?’

‘Yes. It’s okay, I’ll speak to him another time.’

‘The thing is—’

But I don’t wait to hear what the thing is. I end the call, my thumb pressing down on the icon with a beep. Then I turn off my phone.





Chapter Six





I came home last night ready to crawl into bed, to give myself over to blissful sleep. And then I spoke to her.

Scott has a girlfriend. A girlfriend. My Scott. The father of our dead children.

I lay in bed last night, my eyes closed, willing myself to sleep. To find oblivion. But my mind refused to be still. Images of them together. Wondering what she’s like. How old is she? Is she beautiful? How did they meet? Where? When? Why didn’t he tell me about her? I didn’t even ask her name. Is she really his girlfriend, or is she just a fling? Do they laugh together? I try to think back to the last time Scott and I laughed. It’s not good that I have to think so hard about it; that I can’t recall a time in recent years. I know we used to laugh once upon a time. Great belly laughs where we could hardly breathe. Where I had to cry out for him to stop it because I would pee my pants.

How could he do this to me? I know we’re not living together any more, I know we’re ‘separated’. But it’s Scott. Me and Scott. I always assumed we’d get back together again. We were together for so long, I can barely remember a life before him. And so I lay in bed, first on one side, then the other, trying to slow my breathing, to clear my mind of all thoughts. I conjured images of empty skies and clear blue lakes; of happy, calm moments in my life. But all those good times were with him. And now they’re tainted by the knowledge of her.