The Perfect Mother (ARC)

by Caroline Mitchell

‘In case you’re tempted to share all this on social media.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that a problem? You’ll get it

  back when you leave.’

  ‘Um … no,’ I replied, feeling like I had given a little

  piece of myself away.

  ‘Good. Now. Are you ready to meet them?’ George

  pressed the button to lower the glass between us and the

  driver.

  ‘No…’ I shook my head. ‘I mean, yes … oh God.’

  I took a deep breath. What would Dympna say? No

  wonder there was so much secrecy. This celebrity couple

  wanted to raise my child and pass it off as their own. How

  would I feel afterwards, seeing them splashed all over the

  media? I realised George was staring at me. Say something!

  I screamed at myself. ‘I grew up watching Sheridan on

  TV. I’m a huge fan of It Takes All Sorts.’ I drew my hands to my face, the warmth of my fingertips reassuring me

  that I was wide awake.

  George nodded in approval. ‘Me too. We’ll get to them

  in about ten minutes. That’ll give you time to digest it.

  Unless you’ve changed your mind? You know, if you’re

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  worried about anything, you can confide in me. I won’t

  breathe a word.’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ My reply was immediate. ‘If my friends

  could see me now…’ I shook my head in disbelief. I was

  about to say if Dympna could see me now, but something

  stopped me. I swallowed back my words as I caught the

  guarded look on George’s face.

  ‘Your friends? You said you didn’t have any close

  friends.’

  Quickly, I composed myself. ‘I don’t. I meant my old

  school buddies. I lost touch with them years ago.’ I dabbed my eyes with a tissue from a box in the car. ‘Sorry. I’m

  being weird. Just give me a minute.’

  But George was stony-faced. Had he been testing me?

  I took a calming breath. His loyalties lay with Sheridan

  and there was a lot at stake. I must not let down my guard

  again.

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  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sheridan

  Sheridan slipped into the library. Daniel rarely came in

  here; it was her own private space. She felt guilty keeping a secret from him, but she knew he would not approve.

  She sat on the leather-bound sofa, listening to the latest

  voice recording on her phone. George had been reluctant

  to go along with things, but she had persuaded him that

  it was for the best.

  ‘What if things don’t work out with the baby?’ she’d

  said. ‘How are we going to feel six months down the line

  if everything goes wrong?’

  Besides, it wasn’t as if he was wearing a wire. All he

  had to do was to turn on the voice recorder app on his

  phone, pop it in his breast pocket and leave it running

  in the background. So far, she had listened to three re-

  cordings. Now Roz was on her way over and this was

  the last one.

  The brief had been simple. Be friendly; take her under

  your wing. Make her feel like she can trust you. She had even given him carte blanche to provide some gossip, although

  the comment about Roz making her feel threatened was

  pushing it a bit. And as for telling her she could change

  her mind and walk away … Sheridan’s expression dark-

  ened. Was George trying to get a message to her? Trying

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  to warn her that she might not be safe? She paused the

  recording, then replayed his words. No, she was being

  silly. George was her trusted friend. Besides: he owed her.

  After everything she’d done for his family … His mother

  would not be alive had Sheridan not funded her medical

  care. That’s the way it was with her staff. They were all

  indebted to her. George was simply doing his job.

  Roz had opened up a little about her family while

  getting her hair done. Estranged from her mother, with

  no father to speak of, it seemed she really was alone in the world. Best of all, when Daniel was mentioned, Roz had

  spun the conversation around to Sheridan. A lifelong fan

  of her work. Her words injected Sheridan with a warm

  glow. Perhaps she should have felt bad, spying like this,

  but it was the only way to know for sure. So far, Roz

  was passing each test laid before her and after some reas-

  surance from George, had signed the agreement without

  complaint.

  If only she had taken such care before. Sheridan tried

  to dismiss the thought, but it clung – a rotten, festering

  memory that would not go away. This was meant to be

  a new start, a chance to begin again. She had made a

  pact with Daniel to accept their mistakes and move on.

  But memories of Kelly came just the same. Leo might

  look like Daniel, but she could still see Kelly in his eyes.

  Sheridan ground her back teeth. Why must her life be

  marred by the past?

  It had taken time to persuade Daniel to go down this

  route, but this time she would get it right. If there were

  any other traitors lurking in the corridors of their home,

  they would have known by now. She opened her laptop.

  It couldn’t hurt to put some safeguards in place. Roz was

  ridiculously trusting and hadn’t complained when George

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  had asked her to give up her phone; Sheridan could not

  afford for anyone to track it to their New York address

  through GPS. She tapped her keyboard, bringing up the

  Miracle-Moms site.

  Her conversations with Roz had been enlightening,

  and they had discussed everything from Roz’s first pet

  to her mother’s maiden name. It had not taken Sheridan

  long to work out her password for the site. From her

  username of Julie, Sheridan sent a message to Roz, pull-

  ing out of their deal.

  ‘I’m sorry to lay this on you at such short notice,’ she

  typed as Julie. ‘But I can’t progress. I’m pregnant. It’s been a wonderful shock for us both.’

  Logging out, she typed in Roz’s user name and replied

  to the conversation as Roz. ‘Oh. Congratulations. That’s

  wonderful news. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got other

  couples to talk to. Can I still use the hotel room?’

  Sheridan checked the time on her computer screen

  before quickly logging back in as Julie. ‘Of course, that

  goes without saying! And please, have your meals and

  room service with my compliments, too. I’m sorry, but

  I won’t be able to help you interview the couples, as I

  prefer to keep my identity private. I hope you understand.’

  Fingers clacking on the keyboard, Sheridan logged back

  in as Roz. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.

  She was running out of time, but it needed to be done.

  ‘No worries,’ she typed, recalling some of the Irish

  terms Daniel’s mother used to use in an effort to sound

  like Roz. ‘Thanks a million for the hotel room. I’ll be

  grand. Congrats again on your baby. It’ll be lucky to have

  you as a mom.’

  Sheridan
paused, reading over their conversation.

  She knew the Miracle-Moms site might be able to access

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  deleted files, but thanks to her anti-spyware program, they would not trace her computer IP address. She pressed a

  button and a message flashed on to the screen. Are you

  sure you want to delete your account? Sheridan paused before pressing enter. There. It was done. There was no turning

  back now.

  Sheridan rose, wishing she could quieten her negative

  thoughts. She looked down at her hands, noticing the

  slight tremble that had returned. A glimpse of a memory

  broke free: of when her fingers were laced with blood.

  Ten, nine, eight. She closed her eyes, counting backwards in her mind. Seven, six, five … she took a slow breath, just as she had done a thousand times before. Four, three, two, one … she opened her eyes and turned to the apartment window to see her driver pulling up to the kerb on the

  street below. They were here. Sheridan fixed a smile. It

  was time to greet her guests.

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  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Roz

  ‘Are you ready?’

  George turned to me as the car pulled up. The corners

  of his eyes crinkled but there was tension behind his smile.

  I used to think that celebrities had no real worries in life.

  I was slowly discovering that fame brought its own set

  of problems. It must be hard, not knowing who to trust.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I smiled. ‘Can’t wait to meet them.’

  I was sitting on my hands, desperate to keep my nerves

  at bay. I had a habit of picking my nails and could do

  without George’s disapproving glare. I’d used the jour-

  ney to pull myself together, projecting an appearance of

  normality. Of someone in control. But inside, the steady

  beat of my heart was pounding in my chest. I was about

  to meet two of the highest-paid celebrities in the world.

  And while some people might not be fazed by the rich

  and famous, to me it was a huge deal. Just enjoy it, I told myself. And I would. Sitting forward, I waited to get

  out of the car.

  After checking his phone, George leaned forward

  and hissed into my ear. ‘You’re being watched. Let the

  driver open the door and keep your knees together when

  you get out.’

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  His words were delivered like bullets, his breath cold

  on my skin. I stiffened. I was being watched? By who?

  But I had little time to register my surprise as a blast of fresh air whooshed through the open car door. I exited

  with as much grace as I could muster, resisting the urge

  to look up as we headed towards the building. Was there

  really someone watching me? How did George know?

  He took my elbow, ushering me up the steps. The

  entrance was grand, flanked by security and with a re-

  ception worthy of a five-star hotel. After being cleared

  by a couple of uniformed security guards, I followed

  George as he strode down a corridor on the ground

  floor. Every surface sparkled and the faint smell of fresh

  linen hung on the air. It was not an overpowering smell,

  like the air fresheners we used at home, but a delicate

  scent, lightly carried. I cleared my throat, feeling as if

  I’d swallowed a cup of sand. I couldn’t remember when

  I’d last had a drink. I checked my watch. It was five-

  thirty on the dot.

  A sturdy-looking Spanish lady answered the door. She

  was wearing a maid’s uniform and a slight scowl on her

  face. The entrance hall was impressive – wide enough to

  drive a car through.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, taking in the decor as I was shown in.

  ‘You’re not expected to speak to them,’ George rasped.

  His demeanour had changed since we got inside; his

  back was rigid, his fingers clenching and unclenching. It

  seemed I was not the only one who was anxious. But he

  was friends with Sheridan, so what had he to be nervous

  about?

  ‘Now, George, don’t chide her for having manners.’

  A woman’s voice echoed from the hallway and I turned

  to see Sheridan Sinclair.

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  She looked so glamorous compared to me, in her heels

  and wrap dress. It was then that I realised what George

  had meant about my hair. As I gazed upon her blonde

  locks I saw the likeness. Hers was neatly tied up while

  mine was loose, trailing down my back.

  Holding out my hand, I offered the firm grip George

  had approved of. But where was Daniel?

  I kept my gaze firmly on Sheridan’s face. I had read the

  recent press reports. I knew how hard it had been, living

  in her husband’s shadow. But she had been nominated for

  an Oscar. She deserved to be recognised in her own right.

  ‘I’m Roz,’ I said, stating the obvious. ‘It’s so good to

  meet you.’

  But Sheridan ignored my hand and took me in a light

  embrace. She smelt amazing, like an exotic flower garden

  in a faraway land. She was as beautiful in real life as she was on-screen. Her lips were full, no doubt from the

  fillers she was rumoured to receive, and wrinkles were

  few and far between. I realised I was staring, and a flush

  rose to my cheeks.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe it’s you.’

  No explanation was needed. Everyone knew who

  Sheridan was. Many had grown up with her, watching

  her blossom from child star to adult actress. Even now,

  the reruns of It Takes All Sorts were streaming on Netflix.

  I’d watched them so many times, crying when her dog

  Bouncer died and melting at her first on-screen kiss.

  There was very little of Sheridan’s life that was not public knowledge, although lately, the press that had once loved

  her had turned bitter and cruel.

  ‘Daniel will be joining us later,’ she said. ‘I thought

  it best if we have a chat first. Have you had something

  to eat?’

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  ‘No, I was a bit queasy,’ I said, still in awe of her pres-

  ence. It was all so much to take in.

  ‘You must eat, no matter how bad you feel,’ she said,

  touching my arm. Her expression was stern, which took

  me aback. Her grip relaxed. ‘For the baby. It’s never too

  early to eat well.’

  I gave her a tight smile, taking it as a good sign that

  she cared so much. It was a novelty. Apart from Dympna,

  who was a junk food queen, nobody ever cared what I ate.

  I followed Sheridan like a lamb looking for its mother,

  taking in the artwork on the walls as we went through

  to a dining room. I was fed an omelette with wholegrain

  bread, and a shot of vegetable juice that tasted so foul I

  almost spat it out. A bowl of fruit salad cleansed my palette and I sipped a glass of mineral water as Sheridan spoke.

  We chatted a little about my journey before turning our

  attention to the reason I was there.

  ‘You must have so many questions,’ Sheridan said,

  ‘but there’s something I want to address first.’ She leaned fo
rward, not waiting for my response. I was all ears. ‘There have been some unsavoury articles about me in a certain

  gossip magazine.’ She sighed, meeting my gaze. ‘They

  could write about my happy marriage, my relationship

  with my beautiful son. But happy stories don’t sell. And

  their source has an axe to grind.’

  ‘I don’t believe what I read in the press. I know most

  of it’s not true…’

  ‘I’d be happier if I could explain,’ Sheridan inter-

  rupted. ‘Their source is an ex-employee of mine. I fired

  her after I found her out.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, crossing my legs beneath my chair. The

  truth felt awkward. It was none of my business and I felt

  like I was intruding.

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  ‘I know it’s early days, but I want us to get off to a

  good start. You didn’t know who we were when you

  accepted us online. Now you know, have you had any

  second thoughts?’

  ‘No,’ I said, exhaling a sudden breath. ‘Sorry, I’m

  nervous. Only last week I was watching you on Netflix

  and now you’re sitting in front of me.’

  Sheridan flashed a row of perfect teeth in a dazzling

  smile. ‘Oh, honey, it’s OK, I’m flesh and blood like everyone else. But we can’t let the grass grow under our feet. If we’re not the right couple for you then we can’t afford to waste

  time.’ Her words reminded me that my trip here was no

  jolly. This was business. She wanted an answer. Sheridan was not one to delay. ‘What can you tell me about the father?’

  This was a subject we had already discussed, and I

  gave her my stock response. ‘He’s my age, good-looking,

  healthy – he’s in the army. He doesn’t know about the

  baby and that’s the way I want it to stay.’

  ‘And are you sure you won’t regret it? Is there any

  chance of you getting together in the future? How would

  you feel then?’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘It was a one-off. I was

  at a low point in my life – I’d lost my job, I didn’t have

  much money and I didn’t know where to turn. He of-

  fered me a bit of comfort. But I don’t sleep around. In

  fact, he’s only the second fella I’ve ever slept with. Just my luck, eh?’ But I don’t think Sheridan got my humour,

  as it failed to raise a smile. I rubbed my right heel against the front of my other leg. The shoes George had bought

  me were pinching like hell.

  ‘You don’t need to justify your sexual history, honey.

  I’m only interested in the father and the chances of you