The Secret Mother(32)
That news report was frustratingly low on facts. There’s so much that still doesn’t make sense. How did Fisher’s son end up here in London? How and why did he get to my house? Why did it take so long to reunite them?
I jerk my head up as a car door slams out the front. Then another. Engines slow down and speed up again. The babble and chatter from the press seems to have grown in the last few minutes. I sidle over to the edge of the window and peer out: there are loads of them out there. Now that Harry is back with his father, I foolishly thought the media might leave me alone, but it looks like they’re more interested in me than ever.
I creep back to the sofa and sit in the unlit room, sipping from my glass of water. There’s something still nagging at me about the boy’s father, but I can’t think what. That picture of him… He really did look familiar. How can that be? I don’t know anyone in Dorset, do I? I do a mental scroll-through of everyone I know – friends, work colleagues, family – but I can’t think of any ties to the county.
A chill sweeps across my shoulders and down my spine as another unwelcome thought comes to me. One I’ve been trying to push away all week. But it keeps coming back, tapping on my forehead and pushing at my chest. Because there really is only one explanation that makes any sense, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it.
What if the reason I recognise Fisher is because I’ve seen him before? What if I’m actually losing my mind? What if I did abduct Harry?
Chapter Fifteen
I dismiss the thought almost as soon as I think it. I couldn’t have taken Harry – I don’t have a car, I haven’t been to Dorset in years. I was working last Saturday and I visited the cemetery on Sunday. If I had somehow subconsciously snatched a child, why would I go all the way to Dorset to do it? And Harry himself said that ‘the angel’ had brought him here. Whoever the angel was, he certainly didn’t think it was me.
None of it makes any sense.
My whole body is suddenly heavy with exhaustion. I wasn’t looking forward to my day off tomorrow, but right now I think I’m going to need it. After my earlier shopping trip, I now have everything I need for a day at home. I’m going to get an early night and lie in until midday. I’ll make myself breakfast and take it back to bed with a book.
And then I remember that the window in my bedroom is boarded up. That there’s still a draught whistling through it. That it feels damp and strange and unwelcome up there. I could sleep in Sam’s room again, I suppose, but the bed is too small, the memories too raw. The sofa in here is pretty comfy, but how could I sleep so close to the rabble outside? I wouldn’t be able to relax. I have this house to myself, but nowhere in it feels like home, apart from maybe the kitchen, but I can hardly sleep in there. I tug my boots off, pull my legs up under myself and close my eyes.
Next thing I know, I’m woken by the doorbell. I force my eyes open. Light streams in through the slats in the blinds. The sun is shining out there. How long have I been asleep? I uncurl and stretch. The doorbell chimes again. I could ignore it, but what if it’s Scott, or someone else I know? My mouth tastes stale. I run my tongue over my teeth and drain last night’s glass of icy water.
Rubbing my scratchy eyes, I get to my feet and inch over to the window, peering through to the front doorstep. My hackles rise when I see who it is. Ugh. She’s the last person I feel like talking to. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll go away.
The bell rings again and there’s a sharp rapping on the door. This is harassment. I would call the police, but I’ve seen enough of them lately. I stride into the hall, crouch down and open the letter box.
‘Piss off, Carly,’ I call out as the sharp morning air flows inwards, making me shiver.
‘Tessa, can you open the door?’
Too late, I realise I should have pretended not to be in. Now she and the rest of them will know I’m holed up in here. ‘Go away,’ I cry. Aside from anything else, I must look and smell a total fright. I fell asleep in my work clothes last night. I need a shower. I can’t let the immaculate Carly see me looking like this.
She bends down to the letter box so that we’re now eye to eye. ‘Tessa, I know I overstepped the mark, but I’ve got some information. Something that could clear your name once and for all.’
Overstepped the mark? That’s an understatement. I snort. It has to be a trick, a ruse to get my attention.
‘Look,’ she says. ‘I get it, you’re annoyed with me. That’s fine. But this time, I really think you need to hear me out.’
‘I don’t need to do anything, Carly. It’s my day off, I just want to be left alone.’
‘I’ve got something to tell you… about the case.’
I weaken. If she’s telling the truth, I’d be stupid not to hear her out. ‘This had better not be some trick to worm your way inside and harass me. I’m not giving you a story so you can twist it.’
‘I promise you, Tessa. You’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say.’
I hesitate. Can I trust her? Probably not. But if the worst comes to the worst, I can always kick her out.
‘Look,’ she says, ‘do you want to find out what’s really going on? Do you want to clear your name with the public?’
I straighten up, wipe the sleep from my eyes and run my fingers through my tangled hair. Positioning myself behind the door so the rest of the press can’t see me, I open it a crack, shivering as a chilly breeze gusts into the hall. ‘Come in quickly, then.’