* * *
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Daniel said, as he took
in my startled expression.
‘What?’ I said, shaking off sleep. ‘I must have dozed off.’
I looked over his shoulder. He was down here on
his own. What would Sheridan think? I was glad of his
company, just the same. Human contact was more im-
portant than I realised.
‘I brought you this.’
Daniel handed me a bowl of the most glorious-looking
chocolate cake. He leaned forward as I took it and I caught the smell of whiskey on his breath. The top buttons of
his shirt were open, revealing a tanned chest. I scooted
up on the sofa, but he sat in the chair across from me and
I relaxed, taking a spoonful of what tasted like heaven
in my mouth.
‘Are you OK?’ he said, seeming genuinely concerned.
‘Is it all a bit much?’
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‘A little,’ I said honestly. ‘But I don’t want to sound
ungrateful. This is an amazing opportunity and I…’
He raised a hand, interrupting my flow. ‘No need to
explain. It only feels like yesterday that I was struggling to find work. Now I can barely step outside the door
without being papped.’
I nodded. Listening at the air vent, I’d heard most of
their earlier conversation as they discussed the pressures
of fame.
‘I’m glad the baby is healthy,’ I said. ‘It’s just strange, you know?’ I licked the chocolate from my lips. ‘I never
thought I’d be sitting here talking to you. Only a couple
of weeks ago I was stuffing my face with popcorn, watch-
ing you in the cinema…’ I stopped myself. I had almost
said ‘with my best friend’. It was easy to let down my
guard with Daniel, but he and Sheridan came as a pair.
‘Ah, so you have heard of me,’ he grinned. ‘You played it so cool when we first met, I wasn’t sure.’
I smiled as a blush fought to rise to my face – an instant
reaction to being in his company.
‘I’ve spoken to Sheridan,’ he continued. ‘Told her to
take your feelings into consideration. We’ll keep the scans to a minimum. She’s just excited, that’s all.’
‘I’d be worried if she wasn’t,’ I said, twiddling the
fringes of the blanket beside me on the sofa.
‘If you ever need to talk, I’m here … well, most of
the time. My mum was Irish. Your accent – it reminds
me of her.’
I wanted to ask him about her, but I was scared Sheridan
would discover us cosily chatting about my hometown.
‘That’s nice,’ I said, ‘and I’m sure I’ll settle in soon.
It’s amazing here.’ My eyes fell on the schedule, but it was too soon to complain about Sheridan’s plans.
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Daniel seemed to sense my concerns. ‘Don’t worry
about your schedule too much. Sheridan will get George
to show you the sights. It’ll take your mind off the baby
for a while.’ He checked his watch before rising. Taking
the woollen blanket, he wrapped it gently around my
shoulders before extending his hand for the empty bowl.
I gave him a guilty smile. I had wolfed it down without
thinking.
‘Getting rid of the evidence?’
‘Exactly,’ Daniel replied. ‘Best you get to sleep. She’ll
be down to check on you before she goes to bed.’ He
winked before turning away.
I fought a yawn. Watched as the lift was called to
the upper floor. Was it Sheridan? What if she caught
us together? I felt a sudden spike of fear. But Daniel
wasn’t taking the lift. Pulling a set of keys from his
trouser pocket, he slotted one into the locked door.
After giving me one last glance, he slipped away into
the corridor. But before I could make out any more,
the door had closed.
Seconds later, the lift door opened. It was Sheridan.
The motion reminded me of a cuckoo clock I once owned.
When it chimed, a little man disappeared through one
door while a woman came out of another.
‘Didn’t you read the schedule?’ Sheridan said, her eyes
dancing around the room. ‘It’s well past your bedtime.’
She handed me a glass of some purple-looking liquid
and I downed it in one go. It tasted like beetroot and
had a bitter edge, but I was too tired to argue about the
juices she insisted I drink. I slipped between the covers,
wondering what she would say if she knew her husband
had been in my room just seconds before. The way he’d
winked at me was almost conspiratorial. I began to grow
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woozy, my eyelids like leaden shutters as I struggled to
stay awake.
‘I forgot to brush my teeth,’ I murmured, although
my words came out like gobbledygook.
‘Shhh,’ Sheridan said. ‘Go to sleep. It’s good for the
baby.’ She pulled up my covers as my eyes began to close.
It felt strangely comforting to receive such tenderness
from a woman who I was growing increasingly intimi-
dated by. Even if I wanted to, I could not stay awake.
Sheridan’s perfume lingered as she leaned over my midriff.
‘Goodnight, little starlet,’ she whispered, and I realised she wasn’t talking to me. But there was no sound of footsteps
as I waited for her to leave the room.
* * *
I blinked, feeling disorientated. The room lights had been
dimmed. How much time had passed? And how had
Sheridan slipped away without making a sound? I squinted
to make out a form on a chair at the end of my bed.
‘Sheridan?’ I said, my heart faltering as I leaned up
on my elbows.
Sheridan had not left. She was sitting in the darkness,
watching me sleep.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sheridan
Sheridan had gone to great lengths to find a sedative that
would not harm the baby. Mike assured her the diphen-
hydramine powder was nothing more than an antihista-
mine laced with something extra to give it a little kick. It was bad enough coping with Leo’s disruptive behaviour;
she could hardly have her new arrival born with a birth
defect. It was quite easy to disguise the powder in the
juice and to be fair, she had tested it on herself first. The headaches it produced were her markers, and soon she
had got the concoction down to a dull throb.
She balanced the shot glass in her hand as she walked
into the lift and pressed the button to close the door. Her initial impression of Roz was good. But how much of
that was an act? Regardless, Roz would bend to her will
soon enough.
The lift doors opened before her, and Sheridan stepped
out. With long strides, she made her way to the sofa, tak-
ing in every inch of the open-plan living space. The bed
had been sat on but not slept in, and Roz’s empty suitcase
gaped open on the floor.
She advanced towards Roz, feeling a frisson of an-
noyance as she caught sight of the paperwork on the rug.
‘Didn’t you read the schedule? It’s well past your bedtime.’
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Caroline Mitchell
Roz stared, half-asleep. Jet lag must have kicked in.
She accepted the drink thrust into her hand and knocked
it back. She licked her lips, running her tongue over the
beetroot-coloured stain left behind.
‘Sorry…’ she said, half-frowning as she seemed to
wonder what she was apologising for. She looked dazed –
was it from tiredness, or fear? The blanket that had been
wrapped around her shoulders fell to the floor as she stood.
Sheridan thought of Daniel, and his caring nature.
Had he been down here? She inhaled deeply through her
nostrils. Was that alcohol she could smell hanging in the
air? No. It must be the juice. He was upstairs, wasn’t he?
‘Come along, sleepy-head,’ Sheridan said, echoing
the words of her mother from what felt like a lifetime
ago. ‘You have a full day tomorrow. Best you get to bed.’
Meekly, Roz followed, slipping between the sheets.
Humming softly, Sheridan pulled the duvet up to Roz’s
shoulder and tucked her in. The drug worked quickly,
and Roz mumbled a string of incoherent words as she
fought to stay awake.
‘Shh, go to sleep. It’s good for the baby.’
She ran her hand over Roz’s hair. It was flaxen with
natural highlights, just like hers. She pictured her little girl, imagining how she would look in plaits. The ribbons
and bows would knock her Instagram followers dead.
As Roz softly snored, Sheridan dimmed the lights
and slid into the wingback chair at the end of the bed.
She observed their new purchase. Getting her here had
been one of the hardest parts, and that was over with.
No matter what happened from now on, the baby was
hers. It would be the best investment they had ever made.
Sheridan’s thoughts strayed to Leo, asleep upstairs. At
least, she presumed he was. Her nanny took care of that
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side of things. She knew she should feel bad, but guilt
failed to materialise. She’d heard about maternal feelings, that sudden rush of love, but it had never happened to her.
Perhaps it was because she’d gone back to work once the
initial shine of Leo’s arrival had worn off. Or perhaps it
was because she resented him. Each day she spent less and
less time in his presence, and he became like a demanding
puppy rather than her son. She thought about a scene in
a movie she loved, in which one member of the family
died just as a new one was brought to life. It was so very
poignant, it almost brought a tear to her eye. That was
a feat in itself. If it weren’t for Daniel, she wouldn’t miss Leo at all … Thoughts bobbed to the surface in the dark
waters of her mind. He was an innocent child. Yet …
she tried to imagine life without him. Just her, Daniel
and their perfect little girl.
She watched Roz toss and turn, flinging an arm out
to the side. She smiled, shook her head. Sometimes her
own thoughts frightened even her.
What was Roz dreaming about? Daniel was probably
asleep now, too. She did not realise that Roz was awake
until the young woman sat up and stared at her in surprise.
‘Sheridan?’ she said, blinking in the dim light.
Sheridan rose, smoothed her duvet as she encouraged
her to lie back down. Everything was under control.
There would be no mistakes this time.
Sheridan walked towards the lift, her eyes flicking
to the doorway that led to the secret room. To think,
she was entertaining her friends just hours ago on the
floor above. If they knew what was down here … She
imagined their horrified faces if they were to discover
the truth. People thought they knew her. They hadn’t
got a clue.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Roz
The next morning, Sheridan wasted no time in introduc-
ing me to my new routine.
‘I’ve cleared my schedule for the next six months, so
I’ll be working from home.’ Her lips curled in a smile
as she spoke.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I stretched out on the yoga mat she had unrolled near the end of my bed. My living space smelt of oil burners, and the heady scent of frankincense tickled my nose. As we sat with our
legs crossed in meditation, she told me to empty my mind,
but all I could think about was the night before. Was she
really watching me as I slept? If so, that was as creepy as hell.
Thirty minutes later, I worked on my pregnancy
stretches and surmised it had probably been a dream. My
head throbbed as I bent over into what Sheridan called a
downward dog. Her body was lean and toned, her Lycra
clinging to her like a second skin. I envied her flexibility as she changed positions with ease.
Dympna would have laughed her head off if she’d
heard me chanting the birth affirmations Sheridan insisted
I repeat: ‘I am healthy and strong … baby is perfect in
every way … I am open and accepting … baby is strong,
healthy and beautiful…’
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The Perfect Mother
I noticed that Sheridan didn’t ask me to say ‘my baby’,
as was often the case with such chants. Each sentence was
incorporated into a breathing pattern that gave me the
giggles, but one disapproving look from Sheridan was
to check that Anna had prepared breakfast as instructed.
I had barely five minutes alone before Juanita arrived to
tidy my room. I had made the bed before her arrival. We
were only a couple of hours into my schedule and already
it felt so intense. I needed to draw, to walk the streets for inspiration. To explore.
Standing under the shower, I felt the last of my head-
ache ebb away. Perhaps Sheridan was right, and the stretch-
es and meditation had done me good. She only wanted
what was best for me, after all.
* * *
‘Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about
you,’ Sheridan said, as I took a seat beside her at their ex-pansive kitchen table. It was made of marble, just like the kitchen counter, and was far superior to what I’d seen in
kitchen showrooms at home. Dympna and I used to visit
them, dream about the houses we would one day own.
But I could never have imagined myself enveloped in such
luxury as this. Every facet of this home screamed money,
and felt so at odds with what I was used to in Dublin.
‘My life’s not very exciting,’ I said, tucking into my
breakfast of muesli with fresh fruit. The smell of Sheridan’s freshly made coffee teased my senses, and I realised that
I had yet to see her eat.
I looked around the room, which was as shiny as
a new pin. All of this, just for the three of them. Four.
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Caroline Mitchell
I corrected my thoughts. Soon my baby would have a
lifestyle others could only fantasise about. Sheridan’s
presence fe
lt like a dream and I was sure I would wake
up any moment with Dympna shoving a mug of tea
under my nose. It was inconceivable to think that I had
started off by subscribing to a website and ended up in
the home of Daniel Watson and Sheridan Sinclair. The
only way I could cope with it was to place all my focus
on my unborn child. Not an hour of the day passed when
she wasn’t in my thoughts.
‘I grew up in a sleepy town in Ireland,’ I said eventu-
ally. ‘My dad ran out on us when I was very young.’ I
swallowed my muesli, which now tasted like sand in my
mouth. I hated talking about my past, but I did not want
Sheridan to think I had something to hide. ‘We were
dirt-poor. I didn’t know it back then, but my mother
had issues with alcohol. She struggled with basic things
and I was left on my own a lot while she went to work.
It was tough.’
‘You poor thing,’ Sheridan said, her eyes flicking to
the clock on the wall.
I responded with a watery smile. We were poles apart.
How could she possibly understand? I shovelled in another
mouthful of cereal.
‘I wasn’t short of money.’ Sheridan picked up the reins.
‘But my childhood was far from normal. I was earning
a wage at the age of six. My mom was wildly ambitious.
My dad had early-onset Alzheimer’s. He died when I
was eighteen.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I thought your dad was the man
in the show,’ I said, after clearing my bowl. Regardless,
my childhood self would have swapped places with her
in a heartbeat. I would have lived my life in a shop
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The Perfect Mother
window display if it had meant I had somewhere warm
and secure to grow up, with food on the table and a clean
bed at night.
‘It’s a common misconception,’ Sheridan replied. ‘Work
featured in my life from a very early age, so sometimes
even I got confused. I was educated from home and I
didn’t have time to make friends or develop relationships
naturally. My friends were made on set; they auditioned
for the part. It came as a shock when I hit my teens and
the show ended. My real dad died and, well, Mom lost
interest after that. I had to make my way in the real world by myself.’
I tried to imagine what it was like for Sheridan, go-
ing from everything to nothing at such a young age. ‘I