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The Perfect Mother (ARC)

Page 22

by Caroline Mitchell


  nose. She barely felt Roz rummage in her pocket as she

  snatched the elevator pass.

  Crawling to her feet, Sheridan raised her head to

  see Roz run to the elevator. The little cow had been ly-

  ing. There was nothing wrong with her. Panic gripped

  Sheridan’s being like a thousand icy shards. If the police

  came here, found what they had hidden … there was

  more to this than Roz. She would end up in jail.

  ‘You bitch!’ Sheridan screamed, her voice thick with

  rage as she slowly got to her feet.

  Roz slammed the pass against the security panel before

  jabbing at the elevator button. ‘Come on, come on…’ she

  repeated, staring back at Sheridan.

  Blood drizzled through Sheridan’s fingers as she clasped

  her nose. ‘I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you for this!’ she said, her voice thick with congestion. She was dizzy,

  disorientated, no longer in control. Roz was taking her

  baby. She had to get to her before she stepped inside the

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  elevator. But Roz had hit her with the force of a steam

  train. Her mouth filled with the taste of iron and she

  paused to spit out blood. Like an extra in a zombie movie,

  she shuffled towards her captive.

  ‘Stop!’ she screamed, as Roz slipped through the open

  doors.

  Sheridan clawed to keep them open, her fingers wrap-

  ping around each edge as they almost slid closed.

  ‘Get away from me!’ Roz screamed, recoiling against

  the wall.

  Slowly, Sheridan prised the doors open, a dark smile

  growing on her face.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Roz

  Fear sharpened my senses as Sheridan’s threats rang in my

  ears. I would have preferred to face an oncoming car than

  contemplate what she had in store for me. She had finally

  lost it. The queen of control had had enough.

  Sheridan’s bloodied fingers stained the lift doors as

  she prised them apart, her face shoved into the widening

  gap. I jabbed the lift button to press the doors closed, but Sheridan’s rage powered her strength and there was no

  stopping her. But she had been wrong. She was my baby,

  not hers, and that was worth fighting for. I lunged forward, biting down on Sheridan’s hand. Howling in pain, she

  relinquished her grasp. The lift doors shut with a clunk.

  I pressed my palms flat against the cool metal wall

  and exhaled a lungful of air. But I couldn’t relax as the

  lift travelled upwards. Sheridan was gunning for me; she

  would be racing up the stairs. I braced myself, planned

  my escape through the front door. I wouldn’t stop at se-

  curity. I would see myself clear of the building. I did not trust anyone around her. There were bound to be police

  on the street. My legs trembled with a spike of adrenalin

  and I clenched my hands into fists. I was getting through

  that door and nobody was stopping me.

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  As the lift doors rolled open, it was not Sheridan

  standing before me, but Daniel. He looked behind me

  into the lift, taking me to one side as I stepped out.

  ‘I heard screaming. Where’s Sheridan?’

  ‘Let me past,’ I said, as he tightened his grip on my

  arm. ‘Please. Sheridan’s lost it. She wants to kill me!’ I

  could see the front door ahead of me, so tantalisingly

  close. But Daniel’s broad frame was in my path. I flinched

  as he rested both hands on my arms. ‘Hey, don’t be silly.

  Sheridan would never hurt you.’

  ‘No…’ I said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. ‘You

  don’t understand. She’s been drugging me. It’s not safe …

  you’ve got to let me go.’

  ‘Roz, calm down. This isn’t doing you or the baby any

  good.’ He pressed me against the wall, trapping me in his

  grip. My heart pounded with the need to escape. I looked

  deep into his eyes, desperate to get my message across.

  ‘Why aren’t you listening? Sheridan…’ I caught his

  gaze and swivelled my head around. Daniel wasn’t lis-

  tening because Sheridan was coming. That’s why he was

  holding me still. Then it hit me: the realisation that they were in this together. Daniel may have liked me, but he

  would take his wife’s side every time.

  ‘No!’ I screamed, pummelling his chest with my fists.

  But it was no use. Daniel was too strong. ‘Help!’ I shouted, praying someone would hear. ‘Please, help me someone,

  help!’ But all I could see was Sheridan’s bloodied face as

  she approached, a syringe in her hand. ‘Hold her still!’

  she spat through gritted teeth.

  Daniel took in her smashed-up face, paling at the sight.

  ‘What happened down there?’ He glared at the needle.

  ‘And what’s that for?’

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  ‘It’s just a sedative. Hold her still before she hurts my

  baby.’

  It was an order, not a question, and to my horror,

  Daniel complied. Extending my arm, he exposed the

  flesh on my wrist.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said, his breath coming quickly. ‘I’ll stay

  with you. We’ll sort this out.’

  The sedative worked quickly, draining the strength

  from my legs. I began to crumple, but Daniel’s strong arms

  encompassed me. My eyelids felt like lead shutters, forc-

  ing themselves closed. Everything grew dark as Daniel’s

  words became far away. I felt him gently scoop me up in

  his arms. I heard the disbelief in his words. ‘For God’s

  sake, Sheridan … what have you done?’

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Roz

  I blinked, feeling as if I was rising from an underwater

  sleep. My eyes were gritty, but I couldn’t rub them clean.

  I met resistance as I tried to move my hands. I was bound,

  soft bandages tying each of my wrists to the pillars of

  my bed.

  Tugging at my bindings, I panicked with a need to

  feel my stomach to check my baby was OK. Sensing a

  presence in the room, I lifted my head from my pillow

  to see Daniel standing at the end of my bed.

  ‘Daniel…’ I panted, a shot of pain driving like a nail

  into my head. I winced. It was the after-effects of the

  drugs, which I’d felt so many times before. But this dose

  had been serious. It hadn’t just made me sleepy. It had

  knocked me out stone cold. What had she given me? I

  drew in a sharp breath between my teeth as I pleaded to

  be freed. ‘Please. Let me go.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Roz, but it’s for your own good.’ His voice

  was remorseful.

  ‘You drugged me,’ I croaked, my throat scratchy and

  sore. ‘You had no right.’

  ‘You were out of control. How is Sheridan going to

  explain her injuries? You could have broken her nose.’

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  ‘My baby,’ I said. ‘Is she all right?’

  Daniel frowned. It was the first time he’d heard me

  call the baby mine, and he picked up on it instantly. ‘W
e

  scanned you when you were unconscious. The baby’s fine.’

  He spoke as if it were the most normal thing in the

  world, but the thought of Sheridan touching me when I

  was at my most vulnerable made my skin crawl.

  ‘This is kidnapping – you know that, don’t you?’ I

  reined in my temper. It would not help to antagonise my

  kidnappers. My baby and I were completely at their mercy.

  ‘Please. I won’t tell anyone. Please let me go.’ I lowered

  my head and gazed at the ceiling, my head pounding.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Daniel said. ‘We’re just looking after

  you. It’s either this or Sheridan has you sectioned. She

  said you threatened to kill yourself.’

  ‘What? No … no, I didn’t…’ But my words lacked

  conviction as I searched the corridors of my mind. I

  could barely remember what had gone on. ‘Promise me.’

  I blinked away my tears. ‘Don’t let her drug me again.

  We both know it’s not good for the baby. It can’t be.’

  Taking a tissue from his pocket, Daniel leaned forward

  and dabbed my face. ‘Sweetheart, you really hurt her. You

  should see the state of her nose.’

  ‘It was self-defence!’ I cried, tugging my wrists once

  more. My baby moved inside me. I could feel the ripple of

  a limb beneath my skin. ‘Daniel, listen to me. You must

  know what she’s like. This is wrong. Please. I won’t tell

  anyone. Just let me go.’

  Daniel knew it was wrong. I could see it behind

  his eyes.

  ‘She’s been recording our conversations. Everybody’s

  terrified of her. Please, Daniel…’ I watched his expression 221

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  soften as my words sank in. ‘I’m scared. The drugs …

  they’re not good for the baby. You know what happened

  when she pulled my hair.’

  Slowly, he undid my bandages, untying me from the

  bed. ‘I’m not saying I believe you, but I can’t condone

  keeping you like this.’ He paused as he loosened the

  bandages of my right hand. ‘You’ve got to tell her that

  you’re sorry. Beg for forgiveness if you have to. It’s the

  only way this will work.’

  I opened my mouth to protest and he raised his hand,

  silencing me. ‘I know what you’re saying, but it’s best

  all round if you apologise. She’s just worried about you.

  What if you hurt yourself? Or the baby? We have a re-

  sponsibility to keep you both safe.’

  ‘And what happened to the last person you were meant

  to keep safe?’ I asked, rubbing my wrists.

  Daniel’s back was to me as he placed the bandages at

  the end of the bed. I watched as he stiffened, his move-

  ments coming to a halt.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he replied, turning round.

  I ran my hands over my stomach. It was obvious from

  Sheridan’s attitude that she had never given birth. Her

  question about my baby kicking was still firmly in my

  mind. ‘Sheridan used a donor for Leo, didn’t she?’

  ‘Has someone been gossiping?’ Daniel’s voice sharpened.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘But it’s obvious in the way she acts.

  She doesn’t understand how pregnancy feels.’ The mat-

  tress springs bounced as I shuffled up in my bed.

  ‘Your imagination is running away with you,’ Daniel

  said. I took it as a warning and held my tongue as his

  annoyance grew. ‘Punching her in the face. That was a

  new low. Don’t ever do that again.’

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  The Perfect Mother

  It was an elbow to the face, not a punch, and only

  done so I could get away, but I doubted my explanation

  would gain me any sympathy now. From what I could

  see, Daniel had no intention of letting me go. Just like

  with Leo, he and Sheridan would gloss over a truth that

  was decaying and rotting underneath. Who was Leo’s

  mother? What had they done with her? I burst into tears.

  It was the only tool left in my armoury.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I sniffled. ‘I really wanted it to work out.’

  Handing me my box of tissues, Daniel sat on the

  side of my bed. My hair fell over my face, but I could

  feel him watching me intensely. Silence fell between us.

  My sobs subsided, and I wondered where Sheridan was.

  I threaded my tissue through my fingers, hoping that

  Daniel’s thoughts were kind.

  ‘I’m sorry, too,’ Daniel said, and for a while, he seemed

  lost in thought.

  I said nothing, but my heart was pounding as he began

  to stroke my hair. I could hear his breathing now, feel

  the warmth of his skin. ‘You’re not bad, you’re just mis-

  understood…’ His hand reached my face and he thumbed

  away the last of my tears. He was my captor, yet I was

  grateful for his touch. After months of being on my own,

  I needed someone to save me. Someone to be on my side.

  I knew a part of him was wavering, and I ached with

  the need to be comforted. Perhaps it had all become too

  much for both of us. At first, the kiss was tentative, and

  I was too shocked to draw back. Is this what I needed

  to do to keep him on side? Slowly, I responded, wind-

  ing my fingers around the back of his neck. Above us,

  footsteps grew louder. Daniel broke away. I could barely

  look him in the eye.

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  Caroline Mitchell

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, clearing his throat. But the fire was

  still behind his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘I won’t say anything.’ My voice was low, my breath-

  ing out of sync as I recovered from his kiss. I shifted

  awkwardly in the bed. How far was I willing to go to

  keep his allegiance? What did he even see in me? And

  what would Sheridan do with me if she ever found out?

  224

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Celeb Goss Magazine

  By Alex Santana

  January 2015

  SHOCK DEATH OF DOROTHY SINCLAIR

  Dorothy Sinclair, the producer of hit show

  It Takes All Sorts, has been found dead in her

  Chicago apartment. Her body was found

  last Thursday morning when her neighbour,

  Beryl Witherspoon, became concerned after

  not hearing from her friend in over a week.

  ‘At first I thought she had gone to visit her

  daughter, Sheridan. She was desperate to

  make up with her, especially since she had the

  baby. Leo was all Dorothy would talk about,

  even though they had never met. She tried to

  get in touch, but Sheridan had changed her

  phone number.’ When asked about the rift

  between mother and daughter, Beryl said:

  ‘Dorothy was thrilled when she read about

  the pregnancy. She said her daughter must

  have had treatment because she was infer-

  tile, as far as Dorothy was aware. She tried to

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  contact her through her agent, but her letters

  were returned.’ When asked if Sheridan ever

  visited her mother, Beryl replied, ‘She came

  to see her once
, years ago. Dorothy even gave

  her a key. It’s a sorry state of affairs when

  your own daughter won’t acknowledge you.

  After all Dorothy did for her, to die alone

  in squalor like this, it’s so sad.’ Reports state

  that the one-bedroom apartment was in a

  shocking state. Her bedroom was filled with

  hundreds of newspapers featuring clippings

  of Sheridan’s success, along with dozens of

  VCR tapes, DVDs, posters and memorabilia

  of the show. Press cuttings were pinned to

  the wall from as early as the 1970s. Police

  have ruled that Dorothy’s death was acciden-

  tal, but Beryl is not so sure. ‘The police said

  she tripped over a pile of newspapers and fell

  down the stairs. But I’ve been there plenty of

  times. She may have been a hoarder, but she

  was ever so careful getting around, and she

  never kept anything near the stairs.’ There’s

  another reason why Beryl believes in foul

  play. ‘The night before the accident, I heard

  shouting coming from Dorothy’s apartment.

  It was a man’s voice, I’m sure of it. I should

  have called in to check on her. The police

  said it was her television that made the noise

  that night.’ Beryl has spoken to the police

  and they appear unconcerned. ‘I saw a van

  in the area earlier that day. The man driv-

  ing it had a moustache and wore a cowboy

  hat. I know everyone in this area. He looked

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  The Perfect Mother

  like he was up to no good.’ But the police’s

  apathy could be due to the number of calls

  Beryl makes. ‘I call them every time I see

  anyone suspicious – sometimes every day.’

  Police state there was no evidence of a forced

  entry at Dorothy’s address.

  227

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Roz

  March 2019

  ‘You’re the size of an aubergine now,’ I said to my baby

  as I read aloud. ‘You can blink, see light, and you’re a

  whole thirty-seven inches long.’ At twenty-eight weeks,

  my pregnancy was advancing, and I was finding it dif-

  ficult to sleep at night. I closed the pregnancy diary as

  bittersweet memories of Dympna invaded my thoughts.

  I wished I could call her. She couldn’t have received

  the message that I left eight weeks ago. Had she known

  my address, someone would have called to check up on

 

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