The Secret Mother

by Shalini Boland

  ‘Thank you.’ Those two words aren’t enough to convey how grateful I feel. Not just for his company on the journey ahead, but for his unwavering belief in me.

  He nods. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ben doesn’t have satnav in his truck, so I use Google Maps on my phone to navigate as we drive through rain, wind, hail and sleet. We barely talk on the journey, but it’s not awkward or strained, we’re simply thinking our own thoughts. I’m determined that today will be the day I get answers. I’m going to make Fisher speak to me. The hardest part will be getting him to open his front door and let us in. I clutch his wife’s letter tightly – this could be my only way of getting him to listen.

  At 3.30 p.m., we drive into Cranborne, its narrow streets so dark and deserted it may as well be the dead of night. I direct Ben to the road where Fisher lives and we pull up outside his house, where lights glow behind drawn curtains.

  ‘Nice place,’ Ben says.

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asks. ‘Do you have one, or is this something we should have talked about on the journey?’

  ‘I’ll go and ring the bell, I guess.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘D’you think that’s a good idea? Maybe you should wait in the truck. It might be too intimidating with both of us there.’

  ‘I’m not letting you walk into a strange man’s house on your own, Tess.’

  ‘That’s if he lets me over the threshold.’ Now that I’m here, I’m starting to doubt he’ll even open the door.

  ‘I’ll be meek and mild,’ Ben says, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders. ‘I won’t be intimidating at all.’

  ‘Okay.’ It’s true I’d feel more confident with Ben by my side. ‘Shall we do it, then?’ My insides twist at the thought of seeing Fisher once more, remembering how he yelled at me last time.

  Ben must have noticed my hesitation. ‘You don’t have to, you know. We can always go back home if you’ve changed your mind. It could be for the best…’

  ‘That would be good,’ I say. ‘Making you drive a six-hour round trip for nothing.’

  ‘I don’t mind. We could stop off at that inn first. Have a drink, then head home.’

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ I say, squaring my shoulders. ‘I want to do this.’

  ‘Okay, come on then. Let’s do it.’

  We get out of the car, our heads bent low against the wind and rain. Ben opens the gate to Fisher’s house and ushers me through it. We walk along the path and up the few steps to his front door. With my heart hammering, I place my finger on the doorbell and press down hard.

  The chime sounds far away, like it’s coming from another universe rather than from behind this rain-spattered red front door. After a moment, I hear the sound of a lock being turned. Ben and I glance at one another. He nods, his eyes full of encouragement, as the door is pulled open and light spills out, making me blink.

  Fisher stands there, wearing jeans and a blue V-necked jumper. He looks at Ben first, and then his gaze falls on me, his quizzical eyebrows raising in disbelief and lowering almost instantly in anger.

  ‘You,’ he says. ‘I’m calling the police.’ He pushes the door towards us, trying to slam it closed again, but Ben is too quick for him, taking a step up and wedging his shoulder into the fast-closing gap.

  ‘Please!’ Ben cries. ‘Hear Tessa out.’

  But Fisher isn’t having any of it. He’s pushing at the door as Ben shoves it back as hard as he can. I’m terrified I’m going to end up getting Ben arrested at this rate. ‘Ben!’ I cry. ‘Leave it! You’ll get hurt.’

  But the door now stands wide open once more, Ben in the doorway while Fisher eyes him from further back in the hallway, panting heavily.

  ‘Tessa only wants to talk,’ Ben says.

  ‘I have nothing to say,’ Fisher retorts. ‘And I certainly don’t wish to hear any more of her lies and nonsense.’

  ‘Please,’ I say, taking a few tentative steps up to the front door and over the threshold. ‘Just give me a few minutes, that’s all. Then we’ll leave.’

  ‘I want you to leave now,’ he says, glancing around as though looking for something. ‘I told you before, I have nothing to say to you, and if you don’t leave right this second, I will call the police and have them arrest you for harassment. In fact, I’m calling them anyway.’ He pats at his jeans pockets – I guess he must be looking for his phone.

  ‘Listen,’ I say. ‘You can call the police, I don’t care. I think they might be very interested to hear what I have to say about your wife.’

  Fisher goes deathly still and his face blanches. Behind me, Ben pushes the front door closed, stilling the wind and bringing a sudden, eerie silence to the hallway.

  ‘My wife?’ Fisher says, recovering his composure. ‘How dare you come here and talk to me about my wife. What has she got to do with you?’

  ‘I went to see Angela today,’ I say, staring at the doctor’s face, at his clenched jaw, at the slightly hunted look in his eyes.

  ‘My old housekeeper?’ he says, relaxing his shoulders. ‘She’s as nutty as a fruitcake. I had to let her go. Couldn’t be trusted any longer. Too much crossing herself and talking about God and hell.’

  ‘Or maybe,’ I reply, ‘she knew things you didn’t want her to know, so you fired her.’

  ‘I see she’s been filling your head with nonsense, too.’

  ‘Angela admitted she left Harry in my house,’ I say. ‘So you see, this whole business has been brought to my doorstep, not the other way around. I didn’t take your son. Your housekeeper brought him to me.’

  ‘And why on earth would she do that?’ he says.

  ‘You tell me.’

  Fisher swallows hard before snapping, ‘I’ve heard quite enough of your rubbish. Now I’d like you and your Neanderthal companion to get out of my house right this minute.’ He takes a step backwards, casting glances around him once more, his eyes now darting up the wooden staircase. Perhaps he’s worried about his son coming down and seeing us here. I hope Harry didn’t hear us yelling; I hope he’s not scared.

  ‘Listen, Dr Fisher,’ I say, taking a step towards him. ‘Angela told me it was your wife’s dying wish that she bring your son to me.’ I stare at him, scanning his face for a reaction.

  He takes off his glasses, rubs the bridge of his nose and replaces them again. ‘I told you,’ he says, ‘Angela isn’t to be trusted.’

  ‘Maybe she isn’t,’ I say, ‘but I also have a signed letter from your wife, stating that she asked Angela to bring Harry to me.’

  At this, Fisher’s mouth drops open and he looks at me as though he’s seeing a ghost. In this moment, I know I’ve touched a nerve. I know that all his bluster is covering something up.

  ‘Get out!’ he roars. ‘Get out of my house!’

  Ben comes and stands in front of me, one arm out to Fisher, his palm down, trying to calm him. ‘Come on, Tess,’ he hisses at me. ‘We should go, I don’t want things to get nasty.’

  ‘Why did it take you four days to report Harry missing?’ I cry.

  ‘Get out!’ he yells, striding towards us.

  ‘Were you on duty at the Balmoral Clinic when I gave birth to my twins? Were you there that night?’

  Fisher stops dead in his tracks and turns around so he’s facing away from us, muttering and gripping the top of his head with both hands. Then he strides out of the hallway and into one of the back rooms – the dining room, if I remember the layout correctly.

  ‘What’s he doing, Tess?’ Ben asks.

  ‘Don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘But I think I’m hitting some nerves, don’t you?’

  ‘Definitely. He’s guilty of something, no question. But we should go, he could be dangerous.’

  ‘We can’t go now. We’re so close to finding out the truth.’

  Seconds later, Fisher returns to the hall with a mobile phone. ‘I’m calling the pol
ice,’ he grunts.

  ‘Where’s Carly?’ I ask, ‘The journalist who came to see you yesterday. Have you done something to her?’

  Fisher flushes, whether with anger or guilt I can’t tell. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ he cries. ‘There aren’t any more journalists, they’ve all gone. Why can’t you do the same and leave me alone? I’ll give you one more chance to get out and then I’m calling 999.’

  ‘Call the police, then,’ I say. ‘I’ll ask them about Carly, and I’ll show them the letter from your wife.’

  Fisher lowers the phone, his shoulders drooping. ‘Look, I don’t know what you want from me,’ he says, running a hand through his hair. ‘Why can’t everyone just leave me and Harry alone? That’s all we want, to be left in peace.’

  ‘Dr Fisher,’ Ben says softly. ‘Why don’t we sit somewhere and discuss this calmly? It might be better than shouting and hurling accusations at each other.’

  Just then, the doorbell’s dull chime startles me. I catch Ben’s eye and we both look at Fisher, who seems equally surprised. Has he called the police already? If he has, they’ll probably arrest me. I need to prepare myself for that. Ben and I move out of Fisher’s way as he walks to the door, turns the handle and pulls it open. I brace myself for trouble. Ben takes my hand and I grip it tightly.

  But the person standing on Fisher’s doorstep is not a police officer.

  It’s Scott.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘Dr Fisher?’ Scott says, extending his right hand.

  Fisher shakes it, a bewildered expression on his face. ‘Who are you?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m here to apologise for my wife’s intrusion,’ Scott says, standing on the doorstep, the wind tugging at his overcoat, messing up his hair. ‘Tessa’s been under a lot of strain recently, and I’m sure she regrets coming here to disturb you and your family.’ He casts a puzzled glance in Ben’s direction and then gives me a pointed look, jerking his head in the direction of the road, trying to indicate that I should leave.

  I’m so outraged by his patronising words that I almost want to laugh. Almost, but not quite.

  ‘Yes, well…’ Fisher clears his throat. ‘If you could take her home, I’d be much obliged. I was actually about to call the police. She’s breaking the law coming here, you know. She’s already been warned to stay away from me and my son.’ As the wind whips through the open door once more, Scott and Fisher look at me as though I’m some naughty child who hasn’t done as she’s told.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Ben says, stepping up to the two of them. ‘But Tessa and I aren’t going anywhere. Not until she gets the answers she came for.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Scott barks, puffing out his chest.

  ‘I’m Tessa’s friend. My name’s Ben Moretti.’

  ‘Oh, right, you’re the chap she works for,’ Scott says dismissively. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Moral support. You know, Scott, you should be sticking up for Tess, not apologising for her.’

  Scott’s face turns scarlet. ‘Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing? I’ve known Tess for a lot longer than you. And she needs help. Professional help. So back off, mate.’

  ‘Scott,’ I snap, pushing my way forward. ‘If you haven’t come to help me, you should just turn around and go home. When I saw you at the door, I thought you were here for me.’

  ‘I am here for you. I’m here to make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself and get yourself in even more trouble. I’m not leaving here without you, Tessa. First, you abduct this poor man’s son, then you come to his house and harass him. If you make another spectacle of yourself, the papers will be all over us again, and I can’t put Ellie through that. Not while she’s pregnant. You’re just being selfish.’

  ‘Selfish!’ I yell. ‘I’m trying to find out the truth. You’re the one being selfish – worrying about your new, cosy little life. Forgetting about me and the children we had together.’

  ‘I can’t live in the past any more, Tess.’

  ‘You think I want to?’ I cry.

  ‘Actually,’ Scott says, ‘yes, I do. I think you’re too scared to move on. And becoming obsessed with this poor man’s son is not helping anyone. Least of all yourself.’

  ‘Scott,’ Ben interrupts. ‘It wasn’t Tessa who took Harry. Why won’t you believe her?’

  ‘Because she’s unhinged!’ he yells. ‘I want to believe her, God knows I do, but Tessa has a hard time differentiating between fantasy and reality.’

  ‘I think you want to believe that,’ Ben says, ‘to ease your conscience. If you tell yourself your wife has lost the plot, then it leaves you free to move on with your own life, guilt-free.’

  Scott barges past Fisher into his hallway and squares up to Ben. ‘You need to mind your own bloody business. What’s this got to do with you anyway, Moretti?’

  Ben gazes calmly at Scott, but doesn’t reply.

  ‘Will you all just GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!’ Fisher roars as the gusting wind catches the front door, slamming it shut with an almighty bang.

  I almost jump out of my skin.

  Silence descends on the hallway.

  ‘Daddy, why are you shouting? Who are all these people?’

  I whip my head round to see Harry leaning over the banister, his gaze sweeping over everyone, eyes wide. Poor boy. He must be wondering what on earth is going on down here. I want to give him a reassuring hug, but Fisher would go ballistic if I approached him.

  ‘I told you to stay in your room, Harry,’ Fisher says, his breathing ragged. ‘I thought you were watching your Thomas the Tank Engine film.’

  ‘It’s finished, Daddy. But I can hear that lady upstairs in the attic. She’s making a noise again.’

  We all turn our gazes from Harry to Fisher. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

  ‘What have you done?’ I say to Fisher. ‘Who’s up there?’

  ‘Nobody,’ he replies. ‘Nobody’s up there.’

  ‘Yes there is, Daddy. You said it’s the lady who keeps asking too many questions.’

  Fisher looks as though he’s about to deny it once more. But then his expression changes to an indignant frown. ‘She was snooping… Threatening me!’

  ‘Are you holding her up there against her will?’ Ben asks.

  ‘No! Well, I was going to let her go…’

  Ben and I turn and rush to the staircase.

  ‘Can you show us where the lady is, Harry?’ Ben asks.

  ‘She’s in the attic,’ Harry replies. ‘Daddy said she was naughty.’

  ‘Did he?’ I turn to Fisher and shake my head.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Scott asks, a bewildered expression on his face.

  We ignore him and continue up the staircase.

  ‘You can’t go up there!’ Fisher cries, making no attempt to stop us. He simply follows on behind, with Scott trailing after him, a strange procession of people led by Harry and me.

  Harry takes my hand and pulls me upwards to the landing and then along to another smaller staircase with a door at the top. Dull thuds and muffled cries emanate from beyond the door. I try twisting the brass knob, but it appears to be locked.

  ‘Key,’ Ben says, turning back to Fisher, holding out his hand.

  ‘It’s downstairs on my…’

  But Ben doesn’t wait for him to finish. Instead, he turns back and boots the door open with the back of his heel. With a splinter of wood, we tumble onto the narrow landing beyond, and I follow the sound of muffled cries through one of the painted wooden doors into an unlit room. I scan the walls until I locate the light switch and press it.

  Illuminated beneath the weak ceiling light, Carly sits on a chair, her ankles tied to its legs, arms tied behind her, a gag between her teeth. I turn to glare at Fisher as Ben rushes forward to release her. She blinks, getting used to the light, and then her eyes grow wide with anger as she scowls at Fisher. Carly is not one of my favourite people at the moment, but for Fisher to have
tied her up in his attic is outrageous.

  I take Harry’s hand and crouch down to his level. ‘Can you go back into your bedroom now, Harry? Your daddy will be down in a minute to see you.’

  ‘What happened to that lady?’ he whispers in my ear.

  ‘We were playing hide-and-seek, but now we’ve found her.’

  ‘Can I play?’ His eyes light up.

  ‘Maybe later. Go back to your room, okay? Can you do that for me?’

  His face falls, but he turns and leaves the room. Good job too, as the language now flying from Carly’s mouth isn’t fit for a five-year-old’s ears.

  ‘You’re going to jail for this!’ she yells at Fisher.

  ‘Carly? Is that you?’ Scott says, his face creased in confusion. ‘What are you doing here? What’s going on?’

  ‘If you’d paid attention to what Tessa had to say in the first place,’ Ben snaps at Scott as he unties Carly’s ankles, ‘maybe you’d have a clue.’

  Scott flushes and turns to me for an explanation.

  ‘Not now, Scott,’ I say, giving him my best withering look. I feel a tug on the back of my coat and turn round to see that Harry has come back into the room. ‘Harry, sweetie, you need to go back to your room, remember?’

  ‘You’re my real mummy, aren’t you?’ he says in his clear, pure voice, silencing everyone and making me catch my breath.

  ‘Angela’s been filling your head with nonsense,’ Fisher tells his son, his voice weak, one hand against the wall, the other hand pressed to his chest. ‘Of course this lady isn’t your mummy.’ He reaches out to take Harry’s hand and tries to lead him away, but Harry isn’t budging.

  ‘My mummy who’s in heaven told me that I had a new mummy who was my real mummy. She said our angel would take me to her. And I think Tessa is my new mummy because she likes trains, same as me.’ He stares up at me, his brown eyes meeting mine, his expression all at once strange and familiar.

  I’m sure my heart has stopped beating. I’m sure the world has stopped turning and I’m sure that everyone else has frozen in time. I stare from Harry to Fisher and back to Harry again. I still don’t quite understand what Harry has just said, but I understand that it is possibly momentous. Life-changing.