The Secret Mother

by Shalini Boland

  I nod, already aware of her illness. The press really milked this part of the Fishers’ story, it being doubly tragic that Dr Fisher was recently widowed when his son went missing. And doubly heart-warming when they were finally reunited.

  ‘Her doctor said they could try surgery,’ Angela continues, ‘but the risks were high. She decided to do it anyway. Without the operation, she would die. With the operation, she had a small chance to live. Dr Fisher did not want her to do the surgery because he said he might lose her too soon. But she insisted it was the best chance even though he did not agree.

  ‘The day before she went into the hospital for the operation, she called me into the drawing room, where she was lying on the sofa, all covered in blankets, even though it was warm in the room, with a fire and everything. She looked like a little baby bird. I wanted so badly to cry, but I told myself: Angela, you have to be strong. This lady does not need to see your tears. You need to keep being strong. To keep being her angel.’

  Hearing Angela tell me about Mrs Fisher’s illness brings a lump to my own throat. I know that feeling of trying to keep it together for someone else. Trying not to let them see you’re breaking inside. Putting on a mask to boost them and keep them strong for whatever they might have to face next. I shake away the memories.

  ‘But I was not prepared for what Mrs Fisher told me,’ Angela says. ‘I thought she might be losing her mind, I thought it was the medicine making her confused. It made no sense, what she said.’

  ‘What did she say?’ I ask, leaning forward.

  ‘She wanted me to make her a promise. She wanted me to take Harry and give him to you.’

  ‘Fisher’s wife asked you to do that?’ I don’t understand what it is that Angela’s telling me.

  ‘I said to her, “You cannot give your child to someone else just like that. What about his father?” and I told her, “They will put me in prison if I take your child.” So she gave me a piece of paper. Wait, I will get it.’ Angela rises to her feet and leaves the room for a moment.

  I try to digest what she’s told me so far, but I can’t work out why a dying woman would send her son to me, a complete stranger. Unless maybe her husband wasn’t a fit father and she wanted to get Harry away from him. But even then, it doesn’t make sense.

  Seconds later, Angela returns to the room. ‘Here,’ she says, handing me a sheet of blue Basildon Bond paper, which has been folded into four. ‘Mrs Fisher gave me your name – Tessa Markham – and your address and she made me swear to take Harry to you after she died. I asked her who you were. You were her friend? Relative? She said it’s not important. I said, of course it is important. Of course.

  ‘She said I must tell Harry that you are to be his new mother. That if I didn’t do this, she is scared she will go to hell. She said something terrible has happened and only I can put this right. Me.’ Angela places her hand on her heart, her eyes wide, as though she still can’t believe what Mrs Fisher asked her to do.

  ‘She made me swear on the Virgin Mary. I did not want to do this, but she begged me. She gripped my hand so tightly. I looked at her and saw this frail woman, like a little feather. You would not think she had so much strength. But she was gripping my hand so hard that it left a mark. I don’t know what possessed me, but I swore to her on the Virgin Mary that I would do this thing for her.

  ‘Mrs Fisher, she was also Catholic like myself. Our faith is very strong. Dr Fisher, he does not believe in any God – he says he is a scientific man. But Mrs Fisher, she said her husband is a stubborn man, and even if he wanted to believe in God, he would rather go against his true feelings than change his mind or admit that he was wrong.’

  Unfolding the sheet of paper, I’m hoping for a revelation as I begin to read Fisher’s wife’s spidery handwriting:

  12 October 2017

  I, Elizabeth Fisher, request that Angela Merida Flores take my son, Harry Fisher, to Tessa Markham and leave him in her safe keeping. Tessa is to be Harry’s new mother. I certify that Angela does this at my request and she should not be accused of any wrongdoing.

  Below this brief message my name and address have been written out in full, followed by Fisher’s wife’s signature. But Elizabeth Fisher can’t have been in her right mind, because I’m pretty sure this letter wouldn’t legally absolve Angela of any wrongdoing. Taking a child from his widowed father without his permission has to be illegal, with or without his dead mother’s approval.

  ‘What happened to make Elizabeth Fisher think she was going to hell?’ I ask. ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Mrs Fisher would not tell me anything more. I asked her and I asked her, many times, but she was so tired then. She kept closing her eyes, and in the end, she waved me away and she fell asleep. After that, I never had the chance to speak to her alone, and I had a strong feeling that she did not want Dr Fisher to know what she had told me.

  ‘I thought, I won’t do anything until I have the chance to speak with her again after the operation. I thought that maybe when she told me this thing she was delirious. Dreaming. I don’t know. But then, after the operation, she never woke up. She died a few days after that. It was so sad. I was devastated for Harry and for his father. I tried to make everything easy for them in their house. But Dr Fisher, he was crazy with grief. I thought to myself, I cannot do what Mrs Fisher has asked me. It is not right to take the boy away from his father.

  ‘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 vio
lent – 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.

  First, I call Carly again, fury building in my gut as I think about how she let herself into my house while I was at work. How many times did she go in there? What was she doing? Snooping through my stuff? Trying to find something to incriminate me for a crime I didn’t commit? Ugh, I’ll kill her when I get hold of her. But then I remember that she could be in terrible trouble right now, and I’m hit by a wave of guilt. My call goes straight through to her voicemail once more. I end the call; I’ve already left enough messages.

  Okay, I really don’t have a choice: I’m going to have to risk arrest and go to Cranborne. I can’t go to the police – not yet. Not until I’ve spoken to Fisher. Angela told me he wasn’t dangerous, so I’ll try to persuade him to speak to me. If he becomes angry and refuses, I won’t run away this time; I’ll show him his wife’s letter – the one she gave to Angela. He won’t be able to fob me off once he sees it. And if he calls the police, I’ll show them the letter and then they can deal with the whole thing.

  I also have another dilemma – Scott. Part of me wants to leave him out of the loop. He made his feelings perfectly clear. He thinks I’m unhinged and he wants me to leave him and Ellie to their new-found blissful love-in. But I need him to know that it really wasn’t me who took Harry. Now that Angela has admitted she did it, maybe Scott will realise he’s treated me unfairly.

  Before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I call his mobile. It rings three times and then goes to voicemail. I bet he’s seen my number and diverted the call – bastard. I’m starting to see the ex-love-of-my-life in a whole new light.

  ‘Hi, Scott. It’s Tessa. Just thought you should know that I finally found out who left Harry in our house last Sunday. It was Fisher’s housekeeper. She admitted it. So feel free to apologise for wrongly accusing me. Anyway, I’m going to Fisher’s place today and was hoping you might want to come with me, seeing as I’m not a crazy child abductor. I’ll text you the address in case you want to meet me there. I’m pretty convinced this has something to do with Fisher working at the Balmoral Clinic when we had Sam and Lily. I’m going to make him talk to me. If you want to help me find out what’s going on, give me a call.’

  Knowing Scott, he’ll probably play the voice message to Ellie and they’ll convince themselves that I’m some kind of fantasist. But at least he can’t say I didn’t try to keep him informed. As an afterthought, I send him a photo of Elizabeth Fisher’s letter. Maybe that will help convince him I’m not making this up.

  * * *

  Adrenalin pumps through my body as I drive the few miles to work, tyres hissing, wipers on full speed, the black sky low enough to reach out and touch.

  At Moretti’s, I find Ben at his desk, sorting through paperwork. He looks up, smiles and beckons me in. ‘How did you get on?’ he asks, removing his glasses and leaning back in his chair.

  I sink into the seat opposite and tell him what I’ve learned. About Angela being responsible for bringing Harry to my house. And about Carly letting herself into my house even before this all happened.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Ben says, shaking his head.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ he asks. ‘You’ll have to tell the police now that his housekeeper’s admitted it.’

  ‘I don’t know, Ben. I want to tell the police, I do. But I’m still worried they won’t believe me, or Angela. To be honest, she’s a bit intense. Very religious. Thinks she’s responsible for Fisher’s wife’s soul, or something. They might dismiss her as unreliable.’

  ‘Why don’t you just show them the letter from Harry’s mother? Surely they’ll take your name off the list of suspects when they see that, and then you can go back to your life without worrying about it any more. Try to put it all behind you.’

  With a sinking heart, it’s slowly dawning on me that Angela could very well be a nutjob. She could be making the whole thing up. Maybe she even forged the letter from Elizabeth Fisher. ‘I really think I need to speak to Fisher first,’ I explain. ‘I want to see his reaction when I tell him what his wife and Angela did. I want to see his face. See if he knows more than he’s letting on.’

  ‘But what about that PIN thing the police gave you? If you go back down there and they arrest you… It’s really not a great idea, Tess.’

  ‘I know it’s not a great idea,’ I say, my voice rising. ‘It’s a terrible idea. I’m not stupid, I’m not doing this lightly. But if I ignore my gut, I’ll end up wondering about it for the rest of my life. If there’s a chance that Fisher is responsible for Lily’s death in some way, I owe it to her to find out. I know I’m clutching at straws, making connections where there might be nothing. But if there’s even the tiniest possibility of foul play, I need to find it. I have to do this for Lily. Can you understand?’

  Ben is quiet for a moment. ‘I think so,’ he finally replies. ‘Look, I don’t have children of my own, and I can’t even im
agine what you’ve been through, but one thing I do know is that I admire you for pushing through when everyone’s been against you. You’re brave, Tessa. You must have been an amazing mother. Your children, they were lucky to have you.’

  An unexpected tear slips down my face and I swipe at my eye, hoping Ben hasn’t noticed. ‘Thanks,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘I think you’re the only person in the world who agrees with me, though.’

  ‘When are you going to go?’ he asks.

  ‘Would it be okay if I left now?’

  ‘No.’ He shakes his head.

  My heart sinks. ‘I know it’s cheeky of me to ask. I’ll make up the time.’

  ‘I was just going to say, no, it’s almost lunchtime. You need to eat before you go. You’ll need all your strength.’

  ‘Oh.’ I exhale. ‘Well… thank you, Mum.’ I give a half-hearted smile. ‘I’ll pick up a sandwich and eat it on the way.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ he says, rising to his feet, ‘we’ll grab something from the café on our way out. I’ll drive, we’ll take the truck. Weather’s vile – I don’t like the idea of you going all that way on your own.’

  ‘You want to come with me? But what about your paperwork? And what about Moretti’s?’

  ‘I already told Carolyn we’re closing the shop in half an hour. You can catch up with the planting tomorrow, or whenever. And my paperwork… well, there will always be paperwork.’ He grasps the thick pile of files and invoices in front of him and lets it drop back down onto the desk with a thunk.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I say, my shoulders already lighter, knowing I won’t be facing this alone.

  ‘Yes, totally. You’re not driving there by yourself. What if Fisher’s dangerous? You already said Carly’s gone missing, although by the sounds of it, she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.’