‘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
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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The Perfect Mother
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 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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Caroline Mitchell
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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The Perfect Mother
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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Caroline Mitchell
‘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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The Perfect Mother
‘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