The Secret Mother(43)

‘Yeah, well, I did try, but short of breaking down her door, there wasn’t much else I could do.’

‘Sure, I get that,’ she says.

‘And it’s my life we’re talking about here.’ I’m a little indignant that she secretly thinks I’ve somehow failed. ‘It’s not like I didn’t want to speak to the woman. I mean, if there’s anyone who wants to know what’s going on, it’s me.’

There’s a long pause.

I reach into the cupboard and draw out the last three clean mugs. ‘Tea?’ I ask, hoping she’ll say no and leave.

‘Please. Black, no sugar.’ She doesn’t say anything else for a while, which must take incredible self-control for someone as pushy as Carly. This must be her new strategy – to be nice and non-journalisty. I doubt it will last long.

I finish making the tea, take Vince’s up to him and come back down to the kitchen.

‘Hope you didn’t get into any trouble because you visited Flores,’ Carly says as I walk back in.

‘No, why should I? Oh, you mean the police car outside.’

‘I thought Flores might have reported you,’ Carly adds.

‘No, the police wanted to talk to me about something else. Just a trivial follow-up thing.’ I can’t tell her I went to see Fisher. If I do, it’ll probably end up all over the news.

‘What follow-up thing?’ Carly asks.

‘Nothing. They were just… er… clarifying something in my last statement.’ I take a sip of tea and rack my brains to think of a way to change the subject.

‘Why have you gone so quiet?’ Carly asks. ‘Is it something to do with Fisher?’ She fixes me with a stare, so I look down into my mug, hoping she can’t read minds. ‘Did you…’ I squirm in my seat. I’ve never had a good poker face. ‘You did, didn’t you!’

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you’re—’

‘Did you go and see him? Is that where you’ve been? Oh, just admit it, Tessa. That’s the reason for the hire car. You went to see Fisher, didn’t you?’ She grins and leans forward, her green cat-eyes gleaming.

I don’t reply. My cheeks heat up and I shift in my seat. She’s guessed. No. She doesn’t know for sure. I just need to keep my mouth shut and not tell her where I’ve been. Not if I don’t want this media hell to blow up even more. The kitchen is silent save for a few scrapes and bangs coming from upstairs. ‘You know what, Carly, I really am tired. How much longer is your brother going to take up there?’

‘Not too long,’ she says. ‘But come on, Tessa, if you spoke to Fisher, what did he say?’

My face must be flaming scarlet by now, the warmth from my cheeks enough to give the central heating a run for its money.

‘Okay, how about you tell me off the record?’ she tries.

I honestly don’t believe anything is ‘off the record’ with Carly Dean. I clamp my lips together, refusing to reply. If I tell her, she’ll sell me out again and then I can wave goodbye to any chance of the press leaving me alone. It’ll be even worse than it is now. This girl is relentless, how am I going to get her off my back?





Chapter Twenty-One





‘Look,’ Carly says, growing serious, ‘just tell me. Did you go to see Fisher today? I swear I won’t write anything until we have proof of what he’s up to, but you have to talk to me otherwise I can’t help you.’

Is she right? Can she help me? I’ve had no luck getting information myself. Maybe, instead of being an adversary, she could be my ally. Maybe.

‘Okay.’ She nods, as if having come to some internal agreement. ‘How about you tell me what you know, but I won’t write anything until we have the full story?’

Could I ever bring myself to trust her? Probably not.

She sighs. ‘How about if I let you see what I’ve written before it’s printed?’

‘How much would you get paid for a story like this?’ I ask, suddenly curious.

She smirks, and I’m instantly irritated. ‘I can pay you a percentage, if that’s what you’re holding out for,’ she says.

‘I don’t want money!’ I spit, rising to my feet.

She loses the smirk and holds the palms of her hands out, trying and failing to placate me. I turn away from her, gripping the counter top while I count to ten. How does this woman manage to rile me every single time I lay eyes on her?

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry. I realise this isn’t about the money for you, Tessa. And you might not believe it, but money isn’t the only driver for me either. Well, okay, it probably is the main one – I’ll lose the house if I don’t land a good story soon – but I also want to help you get answers. I just wanted you to know that if I do make anything out of this, you’ll get your share.’

‘You might lose the house?’ I say, turning back to face her.

‘Yeah, well, that’s the joy of being freelance. The ups and the downs.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Carly. I obviously don’t want you to lose your home. It’s just… I wish you didn’t have to be quite so…’ I trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence as the only words in my head are ‘cut-throat’, ‘mercenary’ and ‘ruthless’.