The Secret Mother(30)

Rounding the corner, I get the familiar uneasy sensation that I’m being watched. I glance to my left and right, but all the other customers appear to be engrossed in their shopping. No one looks my way. Sweat prickles on my upper lip. The bread can wait, I want to get out of here.

I head down towards the row of tills. They’re all busy, even the self-service ones. I make my way to the back of the shortest queue, but there are still at least half a dozen people ahead of me. As I toss a glance over my shoulder, I lock eyes with her. That short, brown-haired woman, the one who’s been following me. Who is she? I leave the queue and make my way back up the aisle towards her. How did she know I was here? She can’t have followed me from work.

She’s turned away now, half-walking, half-running towards the back of the store. My basket bashes against someone’s arm.

‘Watch where you’re going, idiot!’ he cries, a look of outrage on his face.

‘Sorry,’ I gasp.

I finally reach the back wall, but the woman is nowhere to be seen.

There! She’s making her way back down to the exit. I dump my shopping basket on the floor and follow her, but someone grabs my arm to stop me.

‘Hey!’ I cry. ‘Get off. I’m trying to—’

‘Tessa?’

I turn to glare at whoever it is. She has my sleeve in her hand. I don’t recognise her. She’s small, with an angelic face, blonde curls and wide blue eyes.

‘Do I know you?’ I snap, turning away again to see if I can spot the other woman. But she’s gone – I’ll never catch her now.

‘You are Tessa, aren’t you?’ she says.

‘What paper are you from?’ I say, my shoulders drooping.

‘I’m not a journalist,’ she says. ‘My name’s Eleanor Treadworth.’

‘Sorry, who?’ And then it dawns on me. I look her up and down, note her flawless skin, her immaculate designer boots and jeans, the navy Puffa jacket that would make most people look like they were wearing a sleeping bag but on her comes off as stylish and chic. I also notice the way she has one hand resting on her jacket, over her belly.

It’s Ellie. Scott’s Ellie.

And here I am, dressed like a tramp, reeking of dog, barging my way down the aisle of a supermarket like a demented woman. I have no idea what to say to her. This woman who has taken away my last chance at happiness with the man I love… loved?

‘Are you okay?’ she asks. Her voice is high and childish. Affected. ‘It’s just, you seem a bit—’

‘What do you want?’ I ask. Besides my husband.

‘Look, I wasn’t going to contact you, but I’m glad I’ve run into you like this. Because… Well, the thing is, Tessa, I know you’ve had a rough time in the past, but you have to understand… all this stuff in the media about you and Harry is really stressing Scott out.’

‘How do you know Harry’s name?’ I snap, knowing the media still don’t have this piece of information.

Her cheeks turn pink. ‘Scott told me.’

I scan her features, trying to work out if she’s lying, but she carries on talking.

‘Like I was saying, all this media attention, it’s not good for Scott. He can’t sleep, he’s so worried about it all. And you know I’m pregnant. I need to stay calm for the baby.’

I stare at this cherubic creature in front of me and I’m not sure whether to laugh at her insensitivity or shove her into the ready-meal chiller cabinet. Of course, I do neither.

She takes my silence as her cue to carry on talking. ‘You calling him up at all hours of the day and night isn’t going to help anyone, least of all you. It’s selfish, can’t you see that? Look, Tessa, you have to try to let go of the past, move on with your life and let Scott go.’ Her expression is all fake concern, like she understands what I’m going through. But from the look of her, she can’t be more than twelve.

‘How old are you?’ She still has her hand on my sleeve and I shake it off.

‘I beg your pardon?’ she says.

‘You know. Your age – what is it?’

‘Twenty-six, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

So she’s ten years younger than me. This embryonic creature is giving me advice on how to move on with my life. I don’t think I can trust myself to reply. If I open my mouth, I’m not sure what I’ll say, what I’ll do. Submerged rage bubbles up from my gut, but the last thing I need is to be arrested for GBH so instead, I simply stare at her.

Silence hangs in the air like thunder about to break. She chews her lip, less sure of herself now. Good. More words trickle from her mouth, but I don’t hear them. Don’t respond. She touches my arm again in that condescending way. I shake it off once more. Then I turn away. Retrace my steps and retrieve my abandoned shopping basket from further up the aisle. I don’t look back to see what she’s doing, I just pray she doesn’t try to follow me. If she does, I’m not sure I can be held responsible for my actions.





Chapter Fourteen





I hardly remember queuing up to pay for my shopping or the short walk home from the supermarket. My head is still full of Ellie and her condescending speech. Did Scott really tell her Harry’s name? She seemed flustered when I asked her how she knew it. But mainly I’m furious that she thinks she has the right to tell me how to react, how to feel. Yes, Scott and I are over, but how dare she warn me off?