The Secret Mother(63)

‘And then, two days after she died, Dr Fisher called me into his office and he said to me he does not need my services any longer. He said it just like this. Cold. Finished. Like I am nothing. Like I have not been living and working in his house for all these years. “What about Harry?” I said to him. I was thinking about the poor boy. He is going to lose his mother and his angel both together. I am like his… like his family. He is like a son to me. I pleaded with Dr Fisher to let me stay for a few months more until Harry was not so sad. I said he does not need to pay me, I am happy to stay and look after his boy. But he did not care about this. He was too sad, too angry. He gave me money for six months’ working and he told me I must leave before the end of the following week. You understand, this was less than one week’s notice he gave me.

‘I was heartbroken to leave Harry. I still miss him. It hurts here.’ She places both hands over her stomach. ‘And I was all the time thinking about what Mrs Fisher asked me to do. It was terrible. For weeks I was in turmoil. I did not want to do it, but I swore to Mrs Fisher on the Mother of Christ. And I did not want her to go to hell. I did not want to be responsible for her soul.

‘So I decided I had to do it. Six weeks after Dr Fisher asked me to leave, I took Harry from his father’s house and I brought him to your house. But it’s terrible, I think I made things worse for everybody. I should never have promised her. I should never have done it. I am sorry.’ She brings her hands to her face and rubs at her forehead with the tips of her fingers. ‘You are going to call the police? They will arrest me, yes? I must be punished for what I did.’

My brain is whirring with all that Angela has told me. Is she mentally ill? Could she be lying? It’s too outlandish a story to make up, and she’d have to be a bloody good actor to fake that kind of anguish. I do believe she’s telling me the truth, but it still doesn’t explain what’s going on here. If it’s all his wife’s doing and Dr Fisher isn’t part of this, then how does it all fit together?

‘I won’t call the police,’ I say. ‘Not right now. But they may need to know about this eventually.’

Angela nods. ‘Okay, thank you.’

‘Can I keep this piece of paper?’ I ask, thinking Elizabeth Fisher’s note could come in useful as evidence, should I need it.

She hesitates and then nods. ‘Yes, you keep it.’

‘Why would Elizabeth Fisher want me to have her son?’ I ask. ‘Can you think of any reason at all? Is Dr Fisher abusive, maybe? It’s the only thing that makes any kind of sense to me.’

‘No, no, not abusive, no. Dr Fisher is a good father. Strict, but not violent – never. He loves his son, of this I am sure.’

‘But why bring Harry to me in particular?’ I ask. ‘Mrs Fisher doesn’t know me, has never met me. She must have told you why. Must have given you a reason.’

Angela shakes her head. ‘She didn’t give me a reason, she just made me swear. You must understand, she was sick, very weak. It was hard for her to speak, it took much energy.’

‘There’s one other thing that’s still troubling me,’ I say.

‘Troubling you?’

‘That day with Harry, how did you actually get into my house?’

‘I apologise,’ Angela says, shaking her head. ‘It was terrible of me to go into your home like that.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’m not angry with you. I just want to know how you got in.’

‘I used the key. You leave it under your plant pot. It’s not a good thing to leave it there – dangerous. You can get burgled like that.’

‘But how did you know about that key?’ I was so stupid to leave it there. First Angela, then Carly.

‘I walked past your house many times to try and think how I will bring Harry there. I saw your neighbour, the lady who lives opposite, go into your house. She used this key.’

My mouth falls open. ‘Carly? The woman with long brown hair?’

‘Yes, she went into your house while you’re at work. She’s your cleaner, yes?’

‘No. No, she bloody isn’t my cleaner. She’s the neighbour I was telling you about –the one who’s gone missing.’ I cannot believe Carly let herself in while I was out. That’s outrageous.

I sink back into the sofa, trying to digest what Angela is telling me. I realise Carly could have been snooping around my house for ages, trying to dig up some dirt on me. Or, like Ben said, has she been going over there for something more sinister? Could she be behind this whole thing? Manipulating Elizabeth Fisher somehow, creating drama for a story? She wouldn’t stoop so low, would she? I realise my whole body is shaking.

Angela gets to her feet and comes over to me, taking hold of both my hands and giving them a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Forgive me for going into your home. For putting Harry in there. I should not have done it.’

‘It’s okay, Angela,’ I say, my head still full of Carly’s ongoing deviousness. ‘I forgive you, I do.’ At least I think I do. I can’t quite marshal my thoughts. This is all too much to take in.





Chapter Thirty-One





Around the corner from Angela’s house, I sit in the hire car thinking about what I’ve just learned. A wave of relief sweeps across me as I realise it definitely wasn’t me who abducted Harry. Subconsciously, I’d been worried I was losing my mind, blanking out things I may have done. There was always that niggle of doubt. Now that Angela has admitted it, my mind is clearer. I can trust myself once more. But there’s still the dilemma of what to do next. There really is no other choice. If I want to discover the truth, I need to go back to Dorset and speak to Fisher. The thought is terrifying and yet somehow exhilarating. This could be it. This could be where I discover the truth.