The Perfect Mother (ARC)

by Caroline Mitchell

  I watched as Daniel exchanged a glance with Sheridan,

  his eyebrows raised. He seemed surprised by the fact that

  I was unpacking already.

  ‘If it’s too soon…’ I glanced at Daniel, willing my

  heart to slow down. ‘I can go back to the hotel tonight,

  leave you to talk things over. I don’t want to be in the

  way.’

  ‘Honey, you’re not in the way. We want you here,’

  Sheridan said. ‘It’s Daniel’s fault for not answering his

  phone when I called to let him know.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he replied. I wasn’t sure who he was talking

  to as he looked at us both. ‘I didn’t mean to make you

  uncomfortable. You’re hardly getting in the way down-

  stairs, now, are you? Can I get you anything? A coffee?’

  ‘Caffeine is bad for the baby.’ Sheridan’s reply was

  instant. ‘Anna will get you some kale juice.’

  As Sheridan reached for her laptop, Daniel gave me

  a conspiratorial grin. ‘Got you on the kale juice already?

  I’m surprised you’re not running for the hills.’

  ‘Nonsense. You like it, don’t you,’ Sheridan said. It

  was not a question.

  ‘I’ll get used to it,’ I said, barely able to hide my dis-

  dain for the stuff.

  ‘Good,’ Sheridan replied, pointing to her laptop screen.

  ‘Because I’ve got the contract from the Miracle-Moms site.’

  ‘Exciting,’ I said, well aware that this was the final

  step. I was already familiar with the agreement, as it was

  drawn up by the website’s attorneys. At least this time

  I’d been able to read it thoroughly before I signed. It was drawn up and verified by independent attorneys and, unlike the confidentiality agreement, I understood what it

  meant. I would have no claim over the baby once it was

  born. It felt strange that such a binding document could

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  The Perfect Mother

  be signed digitally, and I tried not to hesitate as Sheridan handed me her iPad and digital pen. With Anna acting

  as our witness, I wondered if it was even legal. Surely

  they needed someone independent to verify things? But

  then these were unusual circumstances, and I had little

  time to dwell on it; Sheridan monitored my every move.

  Taking a deep breath, I signed away the rights to my

  unborn child. It was a sombre moment, broken by the

  shrill sound of Sheridan’s voice.

  ‘Excellent!’

  She whisked the iPad away from me before calling

  a dark-haired young woman into the room. She was of

  slight build, with long sleek hair tied up in a ponytail.

  She couldn’t have been much older than me.

  ‘This is Juanita,’ Sheridan said, and I watched the

  woman flinch as Sheridan laid her palm on the flat of her

  back. ‘She’s your personal maid. She’ll be looking after

  you for the next few months.’

  Sheridan uttered a few words in Spanish and, bowing

  her head, Juanita forced a smile.

  I felt like a lemon, wondering if I should shake her

  hand. ‘Um … nice to meet you.’

  ‘She doesn’t speak English.’ Sheridan paused to dismiss

  her. ‘She’ll be cleaning your room, doing your washing,

  bringing you your meals. You won’t need to lift a finger

  while you’re here.’

  I watched over Sheridan’s shoulder as Juanita walked

  away. But as she opened the door to leave, she gave me

  an imploring look, her lips thinned as she delivered a

  sharp shake of the head. Her eyes were dark and full of

  knowing. As Sheridan turned to follow my gaze, Juanita

  quickly slid through the door.

  ‘Everything OK?’

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  ‘Yes … it’s just that…’ I paused as I tried to come up

  with a response. ‘I feel a bit funny about having staff. I’m happy to clean up after myself.’

  A flutter of laughter left Sheridan’s lips. ‘Honey, they’re not slaves. They’re very well paid. Here.’ Sheridan produced a schedule and waved it under my nose. ‘Read it

  in your spare time.’

  My face fell as I flicked through the paperwork. The

  next few months were planned with regimental preci-

  sion from early in the morning until late at night. I was

  to be awoken at seven in the morning, six days a week.

  My meals were planned without my input, nutrition-

  ally sound, to meet the baby’s needs. I skim-read the

  programme, realising that I was supposed to spend most

  of my time in my room. A room that was beautiful, but

  windowless and closed off from the world. I was a free

  spirit, a creative soul; I would go stir-crazy if I had to

  spend the next six months inside.

  ‘I was wondering…’ I said, not wanting to sound ungrate-

  ful. ‘Can I do some sightseeing? I don’t mind going on my

  own.’ Six months seemed like such a long time to be hidden

  away. I wondered if I could get some time off to return to

  Ireland in between. ‘And um … how long am I here for?

  I mean, you mentioned me being here for my pregnancy.

  Now we’ve met, can I come back when I start to show?’

  ‘I thought I’d made it clear.’ Sheridan’s smile thinned.

  ‘You don’t leave until the baby is born.’ By the sound of

  her voice, it was not up for negotiation.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

  ‘I’ll arrange some sightseeing. George can go with

  you. Show you Times Square.’

  ‘I’ve seen it.’ I smiled at the memory. ‘I walked down

  there when I was waiting for him.’

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  Sheridan stiffened. ‘You went out on your own to

  Times Square?’

  ‘I … I didn’t think it would do any harm,’ I said,

  looking from her to Daniel, who was closely watching

  his wife. The atmosphere changed as I was met with

  hostile silence. All the earlier positivity was sucked out

  of the room.

  Daniel touched her arm. ‘It was the middle of the day.

  There’s nothing to worry about.’

  But Sheridan seemed oblivious to his words. She took

  a step towards me, her features strained. ‘Anything could

  have happened. What were you thinking?’

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I had barely signed the

  contracts and she was telling me off.

  ‘I only went for a walk,’ I said in a quiet voice. ‘I

  wasn’t gone long.’

  ‘Against my strict instructions,’ Sheridan prodded

  the air with her finger. ‘Who paid for you to fly over

  here? Did you think you were on some sort of holiday?

  Anything could have happened to you.’

  Stepping between us, Daniel squeezed his wife’s arm.

  ‘But she’s OK, isn’t she? She wasn’t to know.’ He turned

  to face me, taking me by the elbow as he steered me

  away. ‘Why don’t I see you to your room? You must be

  worn out.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I did anything wrong,’ I said, my words

  trailing behind me. ‘I didn’t know…’

  ‘It’s OK, don’t worry,’ Daniel said, ushering me into

  the lift. ‘I
’ll have Anna bring you some food. Why don’t

  you take some time out and relax?’

  But relaxing was the last thing I’d be doing. I had

  seen another side to Sheridan, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  135

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Roz

  ‘I have a surprise for you,’ Sheridan said, jingling a bunch of keys in her hand.

  I was watching TV in my basement flat, grateful for

  this connection with the outside world. I had not heard

  the lift until she stepped out of it, her heels clicking on the varnished wooden floor.

  ‘But you’ve already done so much for me,’ I said,

  turning from the sofa as she approached.

  I did not like surprises. I was in the grip of culture

  shock, having come from Dublin to New York, and

  so far I was wholly out of my depth. After consum-

  ing Sheridan’s schedule, I realised that my time in her

  household would be a solitary one. Then there was

  her earlier disapproval of me sightseeing on my own. I

  needed to hear a friendly voice, which was why I had

  risked making a call on Dympna’s phone. But it was

  almost impossible to get a signal, and whenever I did,

  it never lasted long enough for the phone to ring more

  than once.

  ‘Come along,’ Sheridan said. ‘Aren’t you curious to

  find out what’s behind this locked door?’

  That was an understatement. Switching off the tele-

  vision, I followed her.

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  Sheridan was beaming now, as if her earlier chastise-

  ment had not happened at all. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said flatly, watching as she unlocked the door.

  Behind it was a narrow corridor with strip lighting

  overhead. I glanced at a door at the far end.

  ‘That’s private,’ Sheridan said, in the same tone of

  voice she’d used earlier when I’d turned left on the stairs. I followed as she plucked a key from the bunch and opened

  another door. It creaked as she led me into a sterile space.

  The hairs prickled on the back of my neck at the

  sight of what looked like a doctor’s examination room.

  But there was no new paint smell, just the stringent tang

  of cleaning fluid on the surfaces. I cast a glance over the paint peeling from the walls and the ceiling yellowing

  with age. I took in the tiled floor, the medical equipment.

  The room was clean, but definitely not new.

  I wondered who used the desk in the corner, com-

  plete with leather swivel chair. This was no study. On

  the wall was a medicine cabinet with a key in the lock.

  A computer and some folders took up space alongside a

  filing cabinet. What was in there?

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, unanswered questions

  springing into my mind.

  Sheridan walked towards an examination table, pat-

  ting the blue tissue running down its length.

  ‘Haven’t you worked it out? It’s time for your three-

  month scan. Come on, hop up.’

  Her smile was off-kilter. The kind of smile that told

  me to hurry up before it cracked. I clasped my hands

  tightly together. I wasn’t prepared for this.

  ‘But … who’s going to do the scan?’

  My question was answered as a short, bald man shuffled

  in from the corridor. Where had he come from? Was

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  there another entrance to this room? He grabbed a lab

  coat from the back of the door and slid his arms inside.

  He must have been in his mid-seventies, and he barely

  acknowledged me. So much for New York’s best OBGYN.

  His full attention was on Sheridan, and I caught the look

  of undisguised admiration on his face. It was not just

  Daniel who had members of the opposite sex falling at

  his feet. Sheridan had many male and female admirers,

  and it appeared that the doctor was one of them.

  ‘This is Doctor Blumberg,’ Sheridan said, not waiting

  for him to acknowledge me. ‘C’mon now, hurry up,’ she

  ordered for the second time, patting the examining table

  with a perfectly manicured hand.

  I stiffened. They may have been using me as an incuba-

  tor, but I still got embarrassed at the thought of stripping off in front of strangers.

  ‘Don’t be shy,’ Sheridan said. ‘You only need to roll

  your top up over your stomach.’

  I did as instructed. Doctor Blumberg leaned over me,

  his breath smelling of garlic and mints. Glancing over the

  doctor’s shoulder, I squirmed as I noticed Daniel walk in.

  His hands deep in his trouser pockets, he acknowledged

  me with a smile and a gentle nod of the head.

  I sucked a breath between my teeth as freezing cold

  gel was applied to my stomach.

  ‘You must be dying to see the baby. I know I am.’

  Sheridan flashed me a smile.

  I couldn’t believe that she was talking to me. Seeing

  the baby would be so hard, given I was about to give it

  up. She was a mother; she had given birth. Why didn’t

  she understand that?

  As if reading my thoughts, Daniel spoke. ‘Roz is

  bound to be apprehensive in the circumstances.’ He looked

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  The Perfect Mother

  pointedly at Sheridan. ‘But it will be good to know the

  baby is healthy and well.’

  I made a concentrated effort to keep my expression

  impassive, but my thoughts were whipped away as a thump thump thump echoed in the room. It was fast; much faster than mine.

  ‘It’s your baby’s heartbeat,’ the doctor said – not to

  me, but to Sheridan as he turned up the volume on the

  machine. ‘Nice and strong.’ He had yet to look at me,

  which I found odd. Daniel stepped forward, staring ex-

  pectantly at the screen.

  My heart skipped a beat as I followed his gaze. What

  if something was wrong with my baby? What would

  happen to us both then? I had not even considered this

  until now. From the corner of my eye I saw Sheridan take

  Daniel’s hand. I felt a pang of longing. This was meant

  to be a momentous occasion, but I was in a room full

  of strangers. Just me and my little bean. Daniel hovered

  over me, his closeness making the blood race a little faster through my veins.

  ‘What’s that?’ Sheridan pointed to the screen. The

  doctor slid the probe back and forth on my stomach

  until it picked up a grainy grey image on the screen.

  A few clicks later and he was describing the chambers

  of the heart, showing fingers and toes. Hello, little one, I thought, the image blurring as I blinked back the tears.

  My breath was shallow as I took it all in. I could not let

  them see how emotional I was over this baby. The doc-

  tor explained each body part, making measurements and

  giving comforting nods of the head.

  ‘Baby is perfectly healthy, as far as I can tell.’

  I exhaled a sigh of relief.

  ‘And it’s a little girl?’ Sheridan said.

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  ‘It seems that way.’

  ‘Wait, what?’ I said, returning my gaze to the screen
.

  ‘The eight-week blood tests said you were carrying

  a little girl, but it’s nice to have it confirmed,’ Sheridan said. She was glowing now, her eyes dewy as she stared

  at the screen.

  A mixture of hot anger and amazement welled up

  inside me. A girl. I had been right all along. Sheridan had known the sex of my baby for weeks. I closed my eyes,

  tried to get a handle on my emotions. I knew I was being

  irrational, but it suddenly felt wrong that she had found

  out before me. I felt like getting off the examination table and telling her the show was over. But why? I’d known

  what I was getting into, after all. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, as Dr Blumberg finished the scan. I was carrying

  a little girl … and in a few short months’ time I would be

  going home to Ireland and leaving her behind.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sheridan

  ‘Where do you draw the line?’ Daniel asked, sitting at

  the head of the marble dinner table.

  A magnificent spread was laid before them as they

  entertained their friends. Adam Weiss had co-starred with

  him in his latest movie and they were both rumoured to

  have been shortlisted for an Academy Award. That had

  led to a celebratory dinner. It was not often they were able to get together like this. ‘It pays to keep the competition close,’ Daniel had once said, which led Sheridan to believe they were not as friendly as they seemed.

  Adam was three years younger than Daniel, blessed

  with natural talent as well as effortless good looks. His

  mother was African-American, his New Yorker father

  a Democrat working in the White House. Monica was

  different to his previous girlfriends, although her Boston

  accent was more JFK than Wahlberg.

  Sheridan focused on her guests, pushing all concerns

  about Roz to the back of her mind; while preparing for

  dinner, she had surfed online, due to a niggling seed of

  doubt. The internet search had thrown up something that

  surprised her, but she would wait until the morning to

  confront the young woman in her care.

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  The dinner conversation was animated as Daniel dis-

  cussed the price of fame.

  ‘Even the places that were too cool to recognise ce-

  lebrities are off the cards now. You know, the type of

  places where they’d go out of their way not to recognise you.’ Daniel lay his dessert spoon on his plate. ‘I almost

  punched someone after he shoved his camera right at

  Leo the other day. It was Melrose. You know the guy? A