The Secret Mother(29)
Chapter Thirteen
After we’ve closed up Moretti’s for the day, I nip into the staffroom to collect my handbag and call a taxi to drop me home. As I sit on the worn leather sofa and pull my phone out of my bag, Carolyn comes into the room. I look up and smile, even though I can’t help being a little annoyed at her for letting Carly in to harass me earlier.
‘Tessa, can I have a quick word?’ she asks. She’s standing awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, not meeting my eye.
‘Sure.’ I put my phone down on the arm of the sofa. ‘What’s up?’
‘Janet told me what happened in the café today,’ she says hesitantly, ‘with that journalist woman. And I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I should’ve checked who she was before coming to get you.’
‘Oh, thanks. But it’s not your fault, Carolyn,’ I say, feeling guilty that I was blaming her only a moment ago. ‘How were you to know who she was? She’s a good liar.’
‘I’ve been feeling awful about it all afternoon.’ Carolyn looks as if she’s about to cry.
I stand up and give her arm a squeeze. ‘Please don’t feel awful. I’m over it already.’ I force out a smile.
‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘I wondered if I could give you a ride home tonight?’
‘Really?’ My heart lifts. ‘That would be brilliant.’
‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘Actually, would you mind dropping me at my local supermarket instead? The one by that new pizza place on Friern Barnet Road. I’ve got no food at home and it’s tricky to get to the shops, what with the whole media-circus thing.’
‘Of course. No trouble at all.’ She relaxes her shoulders.
Suddenly the dark evening doesn’t feel quite so oppressive. I shove my phone back in my bag and walk with Carolyn out to the yard. Even my foot isn’t hurting as much any more. When I see her VW Passat Estate, it dawns on me that the press will easily spot me if I sit in the passenger seat. I think Carolyn realises this too, as she stops and stares at the vehicle, her lips pursed.
‘What about if I lie down in the boot?’ I suggest. ‘It looks like there’s loads of room.’
‘Would that be okay?’ she asks, her voice unnaturally high. ‘Otherwise they’ll probably follow us, won’t they?’ I can sense the panic radiating off her. I bet she’s regretting her offer of a lift.
‘I think it would be perfect,’ I reply. ‘That way, I’ll be hidden and they won’t know I’ve left work. I might even get to do my shopping in peace.’
‘Great, okay.’ Carolyn opens up the capacious boot and I crawl in, positioning myself against the left side like a Mafia victim.
‘If you use that blanket to cover me…’ I suggest.
‘It’s the dog’s blanket,’ Carolyn says. ‘It’s not very clean.’
‘I don’t mind, it won’t be for long. Then you can shove that bag of wellington boots right next to me.’
Carolyn catches my eye and I let out a giggle. She stifles a smile.
‘That’s the first time I’ve laughed in months,’ I say. ‘I think I must be cracking up.’
‘Well, it’s not every day you get to travel in this much style,’ she replies.
At this, we laugh so hard I think I might do myself some permanent damage. Tears stream down our faces, and our cackles fill the night air. I’m still snorting as Carolyn spends the next minute arranging the back of her car.
‘There,’ she says finally. ‘You’d never know anyone was under all that lot.’
‘Are you sure you’re still okay with this?’ I ask from beneath the blanket, the whiff of old dog filling my nostrils.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Just don’t move for the next few minutes. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come out.’
Soon we’re driving slowly out through the gates, and I can hear the shouted questions the media are firing at poor Carolyn.
‘Is Tessa still at work?’
‘What time’s she due to leave?’
‘Are you friendly with her? Want to give us an interview?’
I hadn’t thought about how all this must be impacting on my work colleagues. I’m surprised they’re not annoyed at me for adding all this extra hassle to their lives. I hope none of them will be tempted to speak to the press although I do keep myself to myself at work, so at least there would be nothing much for them to talk about.
* * *
Carolyn drops me off outside the supermarket without incident. She looks almost drunk with relief that it’s all over. A quick glance around the pavement tells me that no one is paying me any attention at all. What a luxury to be able to shop without being hassled.
I take my woollen hat from my fleece pocket, jam it on my head, pull it down over my ears and step into the brightly lit supermarket, praying no one recognises me. Basket in hand, I make my way up the busy aisle and start choosing goodies. My stomach growls at the sight of freshly prepared fruit salad, pre-cooked arrabiata pasta, sliced cheese, milk for my cornflakes, two chocolate eclairs in cardboard packaging. It’s all I can do to stop myself ripping open the box and stuffing both pastries in my mouth. I’m becoming almost dizzy with hunger. I restrain myself, and decide that I have enough in my basket for now – I’ll grab some bread and go to pay.