The Secret Mother(71)

I knew. Deep down, I knew.

It’s what’s been driving me these past days. Pushing me on despite the risks. That primal knowledge burnt deep into my core: a mother’s knowledge.

‘I’m sorry,’ Fisher repeats on a loop through his sobs. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

A roar jerks me from my frozen position on the floor as Scott charges at Fisher, grabs him by his jumper and yanks him to his feet. I crawl to my knees and watch as he punches Fisher in the face, splitting his lip, sending droplets of blood spraying over him. The doctor’s hands come up too late to protect himself. He doesn’t even attempt to fight back. Just cowers and takes it.

‘I’ll kill you!’ Scott cries, pulling back his fist once more and smashing it into Fisher’s jaw. ‘I’ll fucking kill you, you worthless piece of shit.’

He really is going to end up killing him. ‘Scott!’ I cry. ‘Please, Scott, stop.’

‘He’s ruined our lives, Tess!’ Scott says, letting another punch fly. ‘He took everything from us. Everything.’ His next punch is just as vicious. And the next and the next. ‘He deserves to die for what he did.’

‘Scott!’ I yell. ‘Please! Stop! Think of Harry!’

He must have heeded me, for his next punch is a little less brutal. The one after that, not a punch at all. He finally turns away from Fisher, the man’s face a pulpy mess of blood, tears and snot. Scott’s own face is ashen with grief. I imagine that same grief etched across my features too.

I hold out my arms and Scott staggers into them. We hold each other so tightly that it hurts. Physical pain to balance the other hurt. Fresh bruises so deep and raw that I can’t imagine they will ever fade.

But then it sinks in: Harry is my son. He’s alive. He is here in this house.

And I am his mother.





Chapter Thirty-Five





Eight months later



A welcome breeze blows through the trees, rippling the leaves on the horse chestnut above me. It will soon be conker season. A red-faced woman in a flowery dress sits on the other end of the bench, issuing instructions to two young boys before they scamper off towards the play park. We catch each other’s eye and smile.

‘At least there’s a bit of shade here,’ the woman says, pulling a water bottle out of a rucksack and taking a long swig. ‘I almost melted on the walk over. Not that I’m complaining,’ she adds. ‘We’ll miss the sun soon enough.’

I nod and smile, then turn my attention back to the playground.

‘Boy or girl?’ the woman asks. ‘Or both?’

‘Boy,’ I reply, my heart swelling. ‘Over there on the monkey bars.’ I point to Harry, who has made it all the way to the end and is now checking to see that I witnessed the momentous event. I clap my hands at his achievement, and the woman next to me claps too, making Harry puff his chest out with pride.

‘Right,’ she says, rising to her feet again, ‘no rest for the wicked. I’d better go and give my two a push on the swings.’

‘Bye,’ I say with a smile.

‘Did you see me, Mummy?’ Harry runs over. I give him a kiss and make him take a few sips of water. ‘I went all the way to the end without stopping!’

‘You were brilliant,’ I say. ‘Super-strong muscles. Must be all those vegetables you’ve been eating.’ I pat the bench and he hops up beside me. ‘Want a snack?’ I ask.

He nods, so I pull a small pot of grapes from my bag, remove the lid and pass it to him.

‘Thank you,’ he says, and I kiss the top of his head, his curls damp with sweat.

‘When am I going to Scott’s?’ he asks.

‘Not until next weekend,’ I reply. ‘He’s taking you to the cinema, remember?’ Even though Harry calls me ‘Mummy’, he refuses to call Scott ‘Daddy’, which I know hurts my ex-husband a lot, but I suppose Harry already feels as though he has a father, even if he doesn’t see him any more.

James Fisher has been struck off the UK medical register. He’s also serving six years for child abduction and for false imprisonment for the unlawful detention of Carly Dean. Scott didn’t think it was a long enough sentence, but I happen to think it’s the perfect amount of time. He took almost six years of Harry’s life from us, so he can have six years taken from his own life. I know what he did was terrible, but he’ll have a lifetime to live with the consequences – alone.

I told the social worker that I would accept my son still having contact with Fisher if that’s what Harry wanted. But it turns out Fisher doesn’t want Harry to visit him in prison. He thinks it would be too upsetting. I can’t say I’m not relieved.

Angela Merida Flores was prepared to go to prison for what she did, but it turns out she had nothing to worry about. For how could she be prosecuted for returning a child to his rightful parent? After a lengthy investigation, she was cleared of all wrongdoing.

I didn’t tell the police about Carly’s unlawful entrance to my house. She apologised to me, and I figured that in the scheme of things, she actually ended up helping me get my son back. If it wasn’t for her, I would never have pursued Fisher so doggedly, and none of this would ever have come out. I’d still be plain old Tessa. Childless. Of doubtful sanity. The thought makes me shudder. So I let it go.