The Perfect Mother (ARC)

by Caroline Mitchell

  my last few euros on make-up in the duty-free counter

  just the same. I must be crazy, flying to America with

  hardly any money to my name. But I had checked with

  the hotel. My room was booked and paid for, including

  any meals I ordered while I was there. I’d explained to

  Sheridan that I felt bad about being unable to contribute,

  but she’d made it very clear that I had nothing to worry

  about.

  ‘As if I’d let you spend a dime,’ she’d said, ‘when you’re

  good enough to travel all this way.’

  It was true. Couples were meant to travel to their

  donors for the first meeting. But because of work and

  other restrictions, they’d asked me to go to them. Besides, if we decided to go ahead, a generous deposit would be

  hitting my bank account. I looked around the airport,

  trying to figure the screens out. I’d been told to pack

  light; just enough for a long weekend. Wheeling my

  hand luggage, I joined the line at the British Airways

  check-in desk.

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  ‘You didn’t need to queue.’ The young girl behind

  the counter smiled. ‘You’re booked into first class. Why

  don’t you pop into the first-class lounge, and you’ll be

  called when the plane is ready to board?’

  I stared at the ticket as she handed it back. ‘Are you

  sure?’ First-class flights to America did not come cheap.

  ‘I mean…’ I cleared my throat as I prepared to lie. ‘My

  prospective employers bought me the ticket. I didn’t ex-

  pect to be first class.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ the girl said with a hint of envy in her

  voice. ‘There’re obviously very keen.’

  I took a deep breath, following her directions to the

  lounge. Sitting with a coffee and pastry, I pushed aside

  my worries and reflected how lucky I’d been to find my

  mystery couple. How generous. They must really want me.

  May as well enjoy it, I thought. Perhaps it was time to let down my guard. It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, after all.

  The eight-hour flight passed much quicker than I

  expected, and my nerves dissipated after a few hours on

  board. I felt like royalty, but swapped the glasses of fizz that were offered for orange juice instead. Amidst all

  the excitement I could not lose sight of the fact that this trip was for the baby, not me. At least I’d arrive in New

  York with a clear head. My morning sickness was abat-

  ing, and I was too excited to think about it very much.

  I knew so little about the arrangements that lay ahead;

  only that someone was meeting me when I got off the

  plane. What a lovely change, to be staying in a hotel

  rather than cleaning it. At the end of the day, I told myself, if they abandon me in New York I’ll go to the Irish embassy for help. And if I really got desperate – and I mean really – I had just enough money on my high-interest credit card

  to afford a one-way flight home.

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  Two in-flight movies and a relaxing snooze later, I

  awoke to discover we were shortly touching down. My

  heart skipped a beat as I stared out of the window, my

  eyes on the landscape below. My fingers tightened around

  my armrests, my stomach somersaulting as the airplane

  came to ground with the slightest of bumps. I prayed for

  a successful conclusion. I had not come all this way to

  back out now.

  I searched the sea of faces as I made my way through

  the airport, coming to a standstill as I glimpsed a man

  holding up a card with my name on it. I was sweating

  like a pig, but there was no time for a freshen-up now.

  Was this one half of my mystery couple, or a driver they

  had sent? My legs felt weak. Who would have thought

  that I would be in JFK airport, meeting strangers whose

  names I didn’t even know? A wave of dizziness came

  over me as I eyed up the police officers armed with guns.

  The fact I was in a country where firearms were freely

  available was not lost on me. Straightening my step, I told myself to be strong. I was constantly in awe of the police, but given I had never put a foot wrong my whole life, I

  couldn’t explain why.

  ‘Rosalind, I presume?’ the suited man said, holding his

  hand out towards me. He was broad, tanned and wearing

  sunglasses. He looked like a driver, so I presumed he was.

  I shook his hand, then realised he was reaching for

  my luggage instead. ‘Sorry,’ I said, a flush rising to my

  face. My trouser suit may have seemed like a good idea in

  Ireland, but it was sticking to my skin now. I had heard

  someone say that New York was unseasonably warm for

  the time of year, although it was probably my nervousness

  making me sweat. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I said to the man

  before me. ‘And please, call me Roz.’

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  ‘Welcome to New York, Roz. I’m your driver, Carl.’

  He led the way to the car park. ‘It’s not far from here to

  the Grand Hyatt. Have you been to New York before?’

  ‘I’ve never been outside of Ireland,’ I said, realising

  how lame that sounded.

  ‘Boy, you are in for a treat.’ Carl opened the back door

  of a sleek black limo and I slid inside.

  I was grateful for the air-conditioned car. It was my

  first time in a limo, apart from a tacky pink one I went

  in once during a hen party. But it was nothing like this.

  This was luxury. I sat in the back and slid on my seatbelt, taking care around my stomach.

  ‘Help yourself to drinks,’ Carl said, before putting

  the car into gear.

  I cracked the lid off some chilled mineral water and

  gratefully knocked it back. Before long, New York’s

  breathtaking skyline appeared ahead. Seeing the outline

  of the city’s iconic buildings made me inhale a sudden

  breath.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, feeling like I was entering a movie set.

  My journey was fast, with lots of swerving and sudden

  beeping of horns. My driver took no prisoners and was

  far more daring than the taxi cabs I took in Dublin. After

  a few minutes the conversation between us dried up. I sat

  back and enjoyed the view.

  ‘Here we go,’ he said, pulling into the entrance of

  the Grand Hyatt.

  ‘Sorry,’ I replied, remembering an article I’d read

  about etiquette in the US. ‘I haven’t been able to get any

  dollars out yet. I don’t have a tip.’ I had hoped to get to a cash machine in the airport, but I hadn’t had the chance.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, it’s all taken care of. You

  have a good day.’

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  I took the suitcase from him and watched him turn

  back towards the car. ‘But what do I do now?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ He turned to face me, a little bemused.

  ‘Well, um … the people I’m supposed to meet …

  when will they be in touch?’

  ‘I’m just paid to bring you here safe and sound.’ He

  paused, flipped off his cap and smoothed back his hair.

  ‘Why don’t you check in
– you can freshen up while you

  wait to hear from them.’

  It was obvious. Something I should have thought of

  myself. ‘Thanks, will do.’

  I hated the feeling of aloneness, and I stood there,

  watching him leave. But I could not act like a child for-

  ever. I had to stand on my own two feet. I was an adult

  now. Hell, I was almost a mother. I thanked the porters

  as I was shown inside the hotel. A sense of self-assurance

  settled over me as I took the escalator to reception. Fake it till you make it, I told myself, striding towards the front desk.

  It was only just gone noon, but early check-in had been

  paid for. It seemed like Julie and Glenn had thought of

  everything. I pocketed my key card and entered the lift.

  ‘You’re not in Dublin any more, Roz,’ I muttered to

  myself, grateful for some time alone to catch my breath.

  But the speed at which the lift raised itself to the thirtieth floor took me by surprise. I grinned. This was certainly

  not Jurys hotel.

  I was there in a matter of seconds, and in my hotel

  room. My smile grew as I entered the suite with the city

  view. Despite my tiredness, I was tingling with excite-

  ment. I turned my attention to a gigantic fruit basket

  with a welcome note inside.

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  The Perfect Mother

  Dear Rosalind

  Welcome to New York! I expect you are

  tired from your journey, so please take this

  time to settle in. We will send someone to

  meet you this afternoon at two-thirty. We

  look forward to meeting you.

  Best wishes

  Julie x

  Two and a half hours would buy me enough time to snooze

  and shower. Perfect. But what did they mean when they

  said they would send someone? Why was everything so

  cloak and dagger? I plucked a grape from the fruit basket

  and popped it in my mouth. Walking over to the window,

  I watched the iconic yellow New York taxi cabs drive

  up and down the streets. I could see the Pershing Square

  Plaza bridge from my window, and watched, fascinated,

  as tides of people walked beneath. Kicking off my shoes,

  I turned on the television and lay back on the bed. Had

  I known what lay ahead of me, I would not have been

  so easily drawn into sleep.

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  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sheridan

  ‘I should have chosen the other cushions,’ Sheridan said,

  furiously plumping and punching the ones laid on the

  sofa. ‘And what about the drapes? It’s too dark in here.

  This place is more like a hotel than a home.’

  ‘Throw some Lego about if it makes you feel better,’

  Daniel said, standing in the doorway.

  Sheridan pursed her lips. He had caught her talk-

  ing to herself. She only did that when she was in panic

  mode. ‘Do you think I should?’ Her head swivelled

  left and right. ‘Where’s Leo’s toy box gone? I swear the

  nanny has a secret portal where she stashes all his stuff.’

  Her long blonde hair was knotted in a sleek ponytail,

  her wrap dress a gift from her favourite designer’s au-

  tumn collection. She had struck up a friendship with

  him after wearing his clothes to one of her premieres,

  which in turn sky-rocketed his career. That was five

  years ago. These days, the only premieres she attended

  were Daniel’s.

  ‘You’re panicking,’ he said, closing the double doors

  as he entered. ‘She’s from a small town in Ireland. She’ll

  be more focused on us as parents than the colour of our

  curtains.’

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  ‘You’re right. But first impressions count.’ Sheridan

  patted her hair. Smoothed down her dress. ‘What if she

  doesn’t like us?’

  Daniel wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug

  before murmuring into her hair, ‘There’ll be hundreds

  more expectant mothers happy to take her place.’

  ‘But not ones that we like this much.’ Making space

  between them, she rested her hands on his chest. He re-

  mained unruffled, which had an instant calming effect.

  Often, a hug was all it took to bring her to ground.

  ‘We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we? I mean, after

  what happened before…’ The rest of her sentence was

  left unspoken. She could not voice her thoughts aloud.

  ‘Don’t mind me. I’m nervous, nothing more.’ She gazed

  into his eyes. ‘I’m so lucky to have you in my life. And

  not a day goes by that I…’

  Her words were interrupted by the ring of the phone

  in the hall. They didn’t need to answer. The home help

  would screen the call.

  ‘Just remember,’ Daniel said. ‘We’re doing Roz a

  favour. She’ll be desperate to find a home for the baby

  before she starts to show.’

  ‘You’re right.’ The words were said on the exhale of a

  sigh. Sheridan picked up the remote control and activated

  their artificial open fire. ‘Pine code’ mode instigated sound effects that crackled and hissed, and the comforting smell

  of burning moss and pine filtered into the room. Another

  piece of high-tech equipment she’d had installed. She

  normally reserved it for the holidays, but today it felt like Christmas had come early. Her excitement unnerved her.

  She could not contemplate the fallout if things with Roz

  didn’t work out.

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  ‘Are you really going to help her find other couples?’

  Daniel said. ‘I couldn’t believe she took you up on that.’

  He had read their conversation history, and it seemed the

  offer had taken him by surprise.

  Sheridan offered up a wicked grin. Her hand danced

  along the fireplace, a twinkle in her eye. ‘I was throw-

  ing her a bone to gain her trust. I’m not going to follow

  through.’

  ‘Risky.’ Daniel raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Not really,’ Sheridan smiled. ‘I have some couples

  lined up. The sort who will make her come running

  back to us.’

  Three knocks on the door signalled it was Anna.

  Sheridan responded, and the door cracked open a few

  inches.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt.’ Anna spoke in Spanish, but

  Sheridan easily interpreted the words. Anna’s gaze re-

  mained on the floor. ‘Your assistant George called. He’s

  on his way to pick up your guest.’

  Anna was stocky and middle-aged with a solid, lived-

  in face. Her long dark hair was twisted into a bun and

  secured with a clip. Like the rest of the housekeeping

  staff, her uniform was plain but functional, consisting

  of a knee-length black dress, black tights and flat shoes.

  As well as helping the nanny care for Leo, she ran the

  household. Her granddaughter, Juanita, had recently been

  employed part-time, too. A timid, meek young woman,

  she would be perfect for catering to Roz’s needs. Anna

  and her granddaughter were trusted, as much as Sheridan

  could trust anyone. With Sheridan sponsoring Juanita’s

&
nbsp; education, Anna had good reason to keep her employer

  on side.

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  After delivering her message, she softly closed the door

  with a barely audible click. Sheridan valued her peace,

  and Leo was napping upstairs; it didn’t take a lot to wake

  him during the day.

  ‘I take it you have an angle?’ Daniel said, returning

  his attention to his wife.

  Sheridan flashed a row of perfect white teeth. ‘Roz is

  no gold-digger, but she does have issues around money,

  and equates wealth with a happy home. If we can find out

  a little bit more about her past and play on her insecurities, it will reinforce the idea that she’s doing the right thing.’

  ‘You really are used to getting your own way, aren’t

  you?’

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t give me that look. If I sat back

  and let life come to me, I wouldn’t be with you now.’ She

  slipped out her phone and brought up the Friend Finder

  app. ‘George is at the hotel.’

  ‘Are you seriously tracking his movements?’ Daniel

  took a seat.

  It had been a long time since they’d had a proper chat.

  These days, he was always rushing off somewhere, and

  he seemed surprised to discover just how tightly Sheridan

  was holding the reins. She liked George; they both did,

  but she could not afford any more slip-ups.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, as if it were the most normal

  thing in the world. ‘I keep track of all our staff. They

  turn it off when they’re not working but when they’re

  on duty I need to know where they are.’

  ‘But no cameras.’ Daniel’s voice was firm. The pros-

  pect of internal CCTV was something they had argued

  about in the past.

  ‘No cameras,’ Sheridan confirmed.

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  ‘What you think they’re getting up to?’ Daniel checked

  his watch before slouching back on the chair. It was agreed that Sheridan would meet Roz alone at first, so as not to

  overwhelm her.

  ‘While they’re on my payroll, every movement is ac-

  counted for.’ Sheridan gave Daniel a look that relayed it

  was non-negotiable.

  He watched as she pulled back the curtains, allow-

  ing an extra inch of light into the room. Despite all her

  neurosis and complications, Sheridan knew he loved her.

  Or perhaps because of them. Life was never dull, and no

  two days in her company were the same. She just hoped

  that this baby would be worth the gamble: the ultimate