The Secret Mother(49)

‘Oh, that’s great news,’ I say. ‘The date was the third of March—’

‘But we can’t give that kind of information out over the phone,’ she interrupts. ‘You’d have to put your request in writing.’

My heart sinks. That will take ages. ‘How about if I email you?’

‘No, I’m afraid we would need a signed letter from you.’

That could take days! I can’t wait around that long. ‘I really need the information today,’ I say, trying my best to sound like a nice person she might take pity on.

‘Even if we could answer your enquiry, there’s no one from admin here at the weekend,’ she says. ‘If you’re local, you could always visit in person. You’ll need to bring two forms of ID, though – something with your address, like a utility bill.’

‘Brilliant. Today?’

‘No. Like I said, our admin staff don’t work weekends. Pop in on Monday between nine and five thirty.’

‘Okay,’ I reply, deflated. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’

This is so frustrating – I’ll have to wait a whole two days to find out what I need to know. How will I be able to wait that long?

I split the rest of my day between the shop and the garden, with barely two seconds to breathe, let alone think about James Fisher. By the time six o’clock rolls around, Carolyn, Janet, Ben and I are all on an exhausted high.

‘Great day, everyone,’ Ben says, cashing up at the café till. ‘Thanks for all your hard work.’

‘No problem,’ Janet says as she heads to the door. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Bye,’ we all call.

‘I’m off, too,’ Carolyn adds with a wave, walking across the café.

‘Oh, Carolyn,’ I call out, catching her up. ‘Can I ask a quick favour?’

‘Need another lift?’ she asks. ‘You know those newspaper people have gone now?’

‘Yeah, thank God. And thanks for the offer, but I don’t need a lift. No, I was wondering if you’re able to swap a half-day. I’ve got an appointment next week, so I was hoping I could work Sunday morning for you if you’ll do Monday morning for me.’

‘You want to work tomorrow morning?’ she asks.

‘If that’s okay?’

‘It’s more than okay. My feet are killing me, I’d love a lie-in tomorrow. You’re on, if it’s okay with the boss.’ She raises her voice so Ben can hear that last part.

‘If what’s okay with the boss?’ he calls back over the chink of coins being poured into banking bags.

‘Me and Tess are swapping. She’s in tomorrow morning, I’m doing Monday.’

‘As long as someone’s here, that’s fine by me,’ he replies.



* * *



On the walk back home, I text Carly. If she’s going to see Fisher on Monday, I need to keep her up to date with everything I’ve discovered.

Hope you’re having a good weekend. I’ve got some pretty big news about Fisher.

???

I found out he used to work at the same maternity clinic where I gave birth.

No. Fucking. Way.

I know. It’s pretty mental.

Which clinic? Was he your consultant?

The Balmoral. Don’t know if he was on duty that night or not. Am going to the clinic on Monday morning to find out.

Cool. You go to clinic. I’ll go to Cranborne. Let me know if you find out anything else. Something ‘fishy’ going on here – geddit? Sorry, crap joke.

I smile grimly at the phone screen. Yeah, something fishy is definitely going on here. Something that’s making my stomach feel like there’s a writhing worm in it, slithering about, cold and uncomfortable. And I suspect this feeling will stay with me until I’ve worked out exactly what it is.





Chapter Twenty-Four





I stop at the supermarket on my way home to pick up some essentials, my whole body brimming with nervous energy. I should run it off or something, but I know I won’t do that. I’ll probably go home and read instead. Try to distract myself until Monday, when I can go to the clinic and hopefully find answers. I’ll work Carolyn’s shift tomorrow morning and then, in the afternoon, I’ll go to the cemetery.

Back home, I dump my shopping on the table. Stare around the silent kitchen. Am I really going to spend another long, miserable night alone when my perfectly nice boss has asked me out? I shove the food in the fridge and pull my phone out of my bag. He answers it after two rings.

‘Tess?’

‘Hi, Ben.’ My mouth is dry. I swallow. ‘I was wondering if that offer of dinner and a drink still stands.’

‘Yes. Sure it does.’

‘Great. Shall we meet at the Oak?’

‘It’ll be a nightmare in there on a Saturday evening. How about I cook us something instead?’

‘You cook?’

‘Of course I cook. I’m Italian, remember? Two things in Italy we take very seriously, cooking and football, but I’m not much of a football fan.’ I hear the smile in his voice and find myself smiling back, even though he can’t see. ‘Give me an hour,’ he says. ‘Don’t use the work gates, come round the front of the house and ring the bell.’