The Secret Mother(28)

‘But why should I?’ I cry. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘So tell me the truth.’ She stares at me like I’m an idiot for not doing as she asks. ‘I can stop all this speculation and write the facts. Then you can get on with your life. It’s a win-win.’

She’s good. Trying to get an exclusive story out of me by making out she wants to help me. ‘I’m going to ask you again,’ I say. ‘Was it you who sold the story to the press about Ha— about the boy turning up at my house?’

She purses her lips and pulls the ends of her hair with her fingertips.

‘It was you, wasn’t it? You put two and two together and came up with thirteen. Well, thanks for screwing up my life, you self-centred cow’ I realise my voice is way above the acceptable levels for a genteel garden-centre café, and all the customers are now openly staring at us.

She gives a short laugh. ‘Calling me a cow isn’t going to help, Tessa.’

‘What’s going on?’

I turn to see Ben standing behind me, and he doesn’t look particularly happy.

‘I’m sorry, Ben,’ I say, my face heating up. ‘This is Carly. She’s a journalist and she’s harassing me.’ I turn to glare at her.

‘I’m actually Tessa’s neighbour.’ She holds out a beautifully manicured hand. ‘Carly Dean,’ she says to Ben. ‘Nice to meet you…’ She raises an enquiring eyebrow.

‘Ben,’ he says, taking her hand and giving it a brief shake. ‘Moretti.’

‘Hi, Ben.’ She smiles. ‘I came to see if Tessa’s okay after last night.’

‘What happened last night?’

‘Didn’t you hear?’ Carly says, putting a hand to her chest as though she’s shocked on my behalf. ‘Someone smashed Tessa’s window.’ She gathers up her phone and handbag, and begins rooting around in her purse.

Ben turns to me, concern creasing his face. ‘Is that true, Tessa? God, are you okay? You should’ve called me.’

‘It’s fine,’ I reply. ‘I’m fine. The police came, they boarded it up for me.’

‘The window breakage is already on the news websites,’ Carly adds. ‘The press are really interested in this story. No one knows where the boy came from and how he found himself in Tessa’s house. And now this attack on her property. It’s awful. And it’s also a mystery.’ She deposits a two-pound coin on the table – a tip. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about the boy, do you, Ben? His name? Where he’s from?’

‘I think that’s enough questions,’ he replies, trying to cut her off. ‘I’d like you to leave now, Ms Dean.’

‘Please, call me Carly. Is this your place?’ she asks, her face softening, going into full-on flirt mode.

‘Yes,’ he says, ignoring her smile and her hair flick.

‘I could do you a lovely write-up. It’s divine here. Are you Italian? You look Italian.’ She gives a throaty laugh.

I’m not a violent person, but I really want to slap her hard right now.

‘Look, Carly, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you leave,’ Ben says. ‘I can’t have you pestering my staff.’

‘No problem,’ she trills. ‘But I hardly think neighbourly concern can be construed as pestering.’ She hands him a card. ‘Call me about that write-up. I have a national interiors magazine in mind that would lap this place up.’

He takes the card and slides it into the back pocket of his jeans. I feel a stab of something. Anger? Jealousy?

Carly tosses her hair one last time and sashays out of the café. Ben’s eyes darken as he watches her leave. Then he turns his gaze on me.

‘You okay?’ he asks.

‘I’m so sorry, Ben. I didn’t know she’d turn up here. I was trying to get rid of her when you came in.’

‘I was talking about last night,’ he says. ‘That must have been terrifying.’

‘It wasn’t the best night I’ve ever had.’ I try to laugh, but it comes out as a strangled squawk.

‘It’s your day off tomorrow, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, but I can come into work if you need me.’

‘No. Take the chance to chill out, relax.’

I want to tell him that the only place where I can even remotely relax is here at work, but I guess that would make me sound too sad. ‘How did your meeting go at the bank?’

‘Yeah, it was fine. Pretty straightforward. Anyway, as long as you’re okay, I need to go and catch up on some paperwork.’

‘Yes, sure. I’ll get back to my planting,’ I reply.

We go our separate ways and my heart feels heavy in my chest. Is it my imagination, or is Ben not quite as warm towards me as before? I don’t suppose I can blame him. Yesterday I was in an altercation with a stroppy customer, and today I’ve disrupted the calm of the café by shouting at my neighbour. He must wonder why the hell he’s employing me. I wish he hadn’t walked in just as all that was going on. I could throttle Carly for coming here. Ben has been more than patient with me so far, but I can’t see him putting up with this drama for much longer, and losing my job is the last thing I need.