‘What did the police want, Tessa?’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Can you tell us where you’ve been all day?’
I stride past, head down, trying to block out their cries. Surely they’ll give up soon and go and pester someone else. Can’t they tell this story is dead? Over. Finished. I have the feeling that this really could be the end of it all. That I’ll never know why Harry was brought to my house. That it will be one of those mysteries I’ll simply have to live with.
I walk through my gate and up to the front door, desperate to get inside. To sit down and organise my thoughts. At last, I close the door behind me and lean back against it for a moment, listening to the blood whooshing inside my head. The house is damp, cold as an ice box, the hall light no comfort. I must have left it on this morning. I walk through to the kitchen. It seems like weeks since I was last here. I can hardly believe it was just this morning. In fact, time has been playing strange tricks on me all week. It’s only been five days since Harry showed up at my house and turned my life sideways yet it feels like months ago.
I freeze as I hear a soft thump from upstairs. What the hell was that? I strain my ears. Voices upstairs… burglars? It can’t be. No one would be crazy enough to break into my house with all that lot outside. My heart judders as I hear the creak of a door, then footsteps on the landing.
Whoever it is, they’re about to come down the stairs.
Chapter Twenty
Maybe it’s Scott. But then who’s he talking to? Not Ellie, surely. He better bloody not have brought her into my house. Just in case it’s an intruder, I gingerly slide open the cutlery drawer and pull out a carving knife. It’s pretty blunt, but it could still do some damage.
‘Hello?’ a woman’s voice calls out from the stairs. My stairs. ‘Tessa, is that you?’
I recognise that rasp. But she can’t have let herself into my home without permission. Surely not. She wouldn’t dare. ‘Carly?’ I call out, striding into the hallway to see her staring down the staircase at me.
‘Hi, Tessa,’ she says with a smile, bold as brass.
‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’ I cry.
‘Don’t be mad, Tessa. It’s a surprise.’ She takes a few more steps until she’s halfway down the stairs. I’m still at the bottom, staring up at her.
‘I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime,’ I retort. ‘And answer my question. What are you doing here? And who were you talking to? I heard voices.’
‘Just trust me,’ she says. ‘You’ll be pleased, I promise.’
I’m so angry right now I want to push her down the staircase and kick her out onto the street. I begin marching up the stairs towards her.
‘Is that a knife?’ Carly takes a step back.
I realise I’m still gripping the carving knife, brandishing it in her direction. ‘I thought you were a burglar.’ I drop my hand to hold it loosely at my side.
‘Oh, right.’ She backs up to the landing. ‘Well, I’m not a burglar, as you can see.’
‘Hmph,’ I reply. ‘How did you get in?’
‘I wanted to do something nice for you.’
‘Answer the question, Carly. How did you get in?’
She mutters something under her breath.
‘What?’
‘The key under the plant pot,’ she mumbles.
‘How dare you!’ I cry. Scott stupidly told Carly about that key back when we were friendlier and she agreed to come over and water the plants in the garden while we were on holiday. And I – even more stupidly – didn’t think to remove it after Scott moved out. In fact, I’d forgotten it was even there. ‘Is it back under the pot now?’ I ask.
She gives me a sheepish look, so I hold out my hand.
‘You sure?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head. ‘It might be handy for me to hang onto it in case you ever get locked out.’
I give her my best scowl and push my outstretched hand up close to her face.
‘Fine, okay.’ She draws the key from her pocket and drops it into my palm.
‘Look, Carly, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for whatever it is you want to surprise me with. I’ve had another shit day in a long line of shit days, and I’m having an even shittier evening. I just want to go to bed and read my book with a cup of tea, if that’s not too much to ask. So please, take your surprise and get out. You’re bloody lucky I don’t call the police.’
‘That’s a bit overdramatic,’ she says. ‘Just trust me. You’ll like this.’
Trust her? Ha. That’s a joke. It takes all my willpower not to scream at her. How can she have such a thick skin? She hasn’t even apologised for being here. Can’t she see how completely out of order she is?
‘So,’ she says, ‘my brother, Vince, he’s a builder. I asked him to come over and fix your window. Ta-da…’ She pushes open my bedroom door to reveal a scruffy guy in his early twenties next to my bed, standing on a stained and paint-splattered blanket, rummaging around in a large tool bag. He looks up and nods my way. I glare at him, noticing he’s already removed the sheet of chipboard from the window and propped it up against the wall. The curtains billow as freezing air sweeps into the room.
I’m so taken aback, I can’t actually think of anything to say. I’m furious at Carly for presuming it would be okay to let herself and her brother into my house while I’m out. But I can’t yell at her like I want to because she’s here to supposedly do me a favour although I’m highly suspicious of her motives. She’d better not have been snooping around. I narrow my eyes, wondering what she’s up to. I don’t believe she’s doing this to be nice.
‘There’s no catch,’ she says, reading my mind. ‘I just want to help.’
‘You should have asked,’ I say.
‘I was going to, but you were out,’ she says. ‘And this is the only time Vince is free to do it. I saw you come back, speak to the police and go out again. Look, after all the crap you’ve had to deal with, I figured you could use a break.’
If I kick her out now, I’ll look like an ungrateful cow. ‘I haven’t even had any quotes yet,’ I say. ‘How much is this going to cost?’
‘Vince doesn’t want any payment.’
With my current financial situation, an offer like this is not to be sniffed at. On the other hand, I could really do without more people disrupting my evening. ‘How long is it going to take?’
‘Vince?’ Carly says.
‘Half an hour, tops,’ he replies without looking round.
‘Okay then,’ I say. ‘Thank you, I suppose.’ This doesn’t mean I trust her, but at least once her brother’s fixed the window it’ll keep out the arctic draught and I’ll be able to sleep in my bedroom again.
I take a couple of steps across the landing to the airing cupboard, press the central-heating switch and wait for the rumble and swoosh of the boiler to fire up. It’ll take ages for the house to warm up, so I shuffle back into my bedroom – where Vince is now pulling out shards of glass from the window frame – and grab a fleecy sweater from the chest of drawers. I slide off my coat, pull the sweater over my three existing layers of clothing and shrug my coat back over the top. Not for the first time, I wonder why I can’t be left alone. Just for one day.
‘Don’t suppose I could have a cup of tea?’ Vince says hopefully.
I roll my eyes.
‘I can make it,’ Carly offers.
I ignore her. ‘Okay, how do you take it?’
‘Milk, two sugars.’
I stomp back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Carly follows me. What’s she still doing here? Is she planning on staying until her brother’s finished? I’m not sure why she needs to be here too, but it would be churlish to ask her to leave. After all, she is doing me a favour. Although if I was being picky about things, this whole press debacle was her fault in the first place, so really, fixing my window is the least she could do.
‘Sorry my text was a bit abrupt this morning,’ she says as I
switch on the kettle. ‘It’s just, I was really banking on you speaking to Flores. Finding out what she knows.’
‘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’.
‘I know I can come across like a bull in a china shop,’ she says. ‘That’s just the way I am, it’s what makes me good at my job. My mum says I’m determined.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ I say with a reluctant smile.
‘Okay, Tessa, how about this…?’
I shake my head at her continued perseverance. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s no good, Carly. I’ve had enough. I need to go to bed and you need to leave.’
‘Please come and sit back down. Listen to my final offer. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave you alone and never bother you again. Not even to borrow a pint of milk when I’ve run out.’
‘Is that a promise?’ I murmur.
‘Yes, it’s a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die promise.’ She gestures to the empty chair and I gingerly sit back down. ‘So,’ she begins, ‘the way I see it, Fisher’s hiding something. If you did speak to him, you probably know more than I do. But I can help you dig deeper and find out how his son ended up at your house. If we work on this together, we’ve got a better chance of discovering the truth. True, I’m doing this for my career, but… I also like you – despite what you might think – plus I can’t stand it when someone gets away with something. And I think Fisher is getting away with something, and I think you do too.’
She leans back in her chair and laces her fingers together. ‘So how about this: we tell each other everything we find out. I promise not to sell the story until we’ve discovered all there is to know. You can read what I write, plus you get to veto anything you don’t like. But I have exclusivity so you can’t tell anyone else.’
I absorb her words, turning them over in my mind like coins to be weighed and measured. If I don’t go for her terms, then I’m back to where I was before. Stuck. Knowing nothing. Accepting that I’ll never find out what really happened with Harry. If I do accept her deal, then I’m putting my fate in her hands, hoping she’ll be true to her word and that she won’t sell me out the minute I’ve confirmed I went to see Fisher.
I realise that coming here to fix my window was a ruse to get in and have me confide in her. Either that, or an opportunity to snoop while I was out. But how else am I going to get answers? Sod it, I may as well tell her. Ultimately, I need her help. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘But I want you to put it in writing.’
She gives me a quizzical look.
‘Your proposition, what you just told me. Put it in writing and sign it.’ I walk over to the odds-and-ends drawer and pull out an old sketchbook and a biro, sliding them across the table towards her.
‘Not sure it’s legal if it hasn’t been witnessed,’ she says.
‘Just write it out and sign and print your name with the date,’ I say. ‘That will be good enough for me.’
I pace the ki
tchen while she writes out the deal and signs her name. I take the proffered sketchbook from her, read through what she’s written and then sign my name underneath hers.
‘So,’ she says. ‘Are we good?’
I nod and sit back down as Carly takes a small notebook and pencil out of her handbag.
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I went to see James Fisher.’
‘I’m impressed.’ She exhales. ‘You have got balls after all.’ I can almost hear the cogs whirring in her brain. Does she have a story for me? Is this going to be great for my career? Am I going to make a mint? ‘So, you went to see him,’ she continues. ‘And he spoke to you.’
‘More like he yelled at me and I almost got arrested,’ I say, twisting my lips into a scowl at the memory.
‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ she says.
I describe my trip to Cranborne. How I went around the back of Fisher’s house and knocked on his door. I tell her what I said to him and how he yelled at me. I don’t mention seeing Harry in the hallway. It’s not relevant to anything and I somehow feel uncomfortable about it.
She nods and makes uh-huh noises as I recount the day’s events, rounding off with the police visit. With them issuing me a PIN warning me to stay away from Cranborne unless I want to be arrested.
Her forehead furrows.
‘Something wrong?’ I ask.
‘Uh, is that it?’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve basically just told me that you went onto Fisher’s private property and he told you to get lost.’
I nod. ‘Yes, because that’s what happened.’
‘I thought you’d had an actual conversation with him, that he’d told you something interesting. We’re no further along than we were before.’
‘But it shows he has something to hide, doesn’t it? Him being so aggressive towards me.’
The Secret Mother Page 13
