a spring day. It was hard to believe that such pockets of
greenery existed in New York. The stables provided
the height of privacy, situated adjacent to an exclusive
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The Perfect Mother
golf course at the end of a leafy country road. They had
changed hands since Sheridan had come here as a child,
and had expanded from housing a handful of scruffy
horses and ponies to keeping high-quality bloodstock.
They now also offered an indoor arena, show-jumping
facilities and private hacks along lush green tracks. Such
space came at a premium, but the NYC Riding Centre
had generous backers, and enough exclusive clients to
fund its endeavours for years to come.
‘Hi, Sam.’ Daniel had joined them, his hands deep
in his jeans pockets. He was the only one who could get
away with shortening her name.
‘Hi, Daniel,’ Samantha smiled, spots of pink colouring
her cheeks. Poising her pen over her journal, she turned
her attention back to Sheridan. ‘About that appointment.
Aaron’s leaving for London next Saturday, so this might
be the last chance we get.’
‘Fine,’ Sheridan replied. Samantha’s voice felt like
a fly buzzing in her ear. ‘Schedule it in. As long as you
keep today clear.’
Shoving her journal under her arm, Samantha tapped
at her phone.
‘Why don’t you go back with the driver and make
the call in the car?’ Sheridan interrupted. ‘I’ll come back with Daniel.’
With a nod of her head, Samantha tottered down the
path to the car.
‘Thank God she’s gone,’ Sheridan whispered as Daniel
slipped his arm around her waist. ‘I told her I was hav-
ing today off, but she insisted on following me out here.’
‘Give her a break,’ Daniel said good-naturedly. ‘She’s
only doing her job.’ He cast his gaze over Leo, who was
calling out to him. ‘Hey, Champ! Good job!’
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Caroline Mitchell
‘I’m thinking about buying him a pony,’ Sheridan said.
‘It might calm him down a bit.’ Leo kept his nanny busy.
He had so much energy, and sometimes she wondered
if he had ADHD; but there was no way she was getting
him tested. No son of hers was going to be labelled a
problem child.
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to get a dog?’ Daniel’s voice
broke into her thoughts. ‘My beagle was my best friend
when I was growing up. Now that’s one intelligent pet.’
‘I’m not having some hound cocking his leg against
my soft furnishings,’ Sheridan replied. ‘I rode ponies at
Leo’s age. The fresh air will do him good.’
But Daniel’s mind was still in the past. ‘His name was
Basil,’ he said. ‘He house-trained easily enough. But when
he was mad at me, he’d piss in my shoe.’ He laughed under
his breath, a deep throaty chuckle. ‘I still miss that dog.’
‘Please, honey, no dogs,’ Sheridan said. The memory
of Bouncer was still fresh in her mind after watching last
night’s episode of It Takes All Sorts. ‘At least, not until the kids are a little older.’
Kids. The plural of the word evoked a whispered
promise of a brighter future. But she knew that if Daniel
wanted a beagle, he’d go out and get one. Her husband
was an alpha male and she respected him for it. He would
never have become so successful if he’d bowed down to
everyone who got in his way. Her attention wandered
to the teenage girl leading the pony around. There was a
spring in her step, an air of excitement as she caught sight of Daniel. But this was an upmarket establishment, where
discretion was guaranteed. Perhaps she was a new girl
who hadn’t been briefed, or maybe just a fan. Sheridan’s
lips thinned as she followed her gaze. She was a straight
female. That was all it took. Sheridan’s nails dug into the 30
The Perfect Mother
paddock fence. Couldn’t she have a family moment without
something like this happening? Her annoyance grew – a
hot furnace stoked by the teen’s youth and good looks.
Sheridan observed her husband. If Daniel had noticed
the young girl’s attention, he didn’t acknowledge it. He
he was, the more he became public property. He had
gone through years of rejection until he’d starred in his
breakthrough movie. They had first met on set. Their
love story was leaked as part of the promo, and Murder
Game was a huge hit.
‘Didn’t he do well?’ the girl said as she approached
them, the name ‘Tammy’ emblazoned on a badge on her
chest. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Her
long tanned limbs and strawberry-blonde hair gave her
a natural sun-kissed look. With a coy smile, she offered
Daniel the lead rein. Sheridan stiffened. It was as if she
wasn’t even there.
‘Want to go around again?’ Daniel asked, much to
his son’s delight.
As Tammy stepped forward to join them, Sheridan
called her back. ‘Are you new? I’ve not seen you here
before.’
‘I started last week.’ Tammy flashed Sheridan a smile.
‘If there’s anything I can do for you or your husband, just ask. I’m a huge fan…’
Sheridan watched her slide her mobile phone from
the back pocket of her jeans. She knew what was coming
next – the request for a ‘cheeky selfie’. She could practi-
cally read the words poised on Tammy’s lips.
‘We don’t need your help, now or in the future.’
Sheridan’s voice was icy cold, cutting the girl dead in
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Caroline Mitchell
her tracks. ‘And if you value your job, I suggest you re-
member that.’
The light of excitement left Tammy’s eyes. ‘Oh. I’m
sorry, I…’
Sheridan waved to her son, who squealed in excite-
ment as Daniel encouraged the pony to break into a jog.
‘Hold on to the saddle!’ she called, lifting her camera and taking another snap.
She paused to give Tammy a withering look, as if to
ask what she was still doing there. She was entitled to
take such a stance; her family were one of the donors who
helped keep this riding school afloat.
‘Sorry,’ Tammy muttered before turning on her heel.
She shoved her phone back into her pocket and gave one
last, longing look at Daniel before walking away.
Sheridan sighed as she reviewed the photos she had
taken. As usual, Leo was looking the wrong way.
‘Everything all right?’ Daniel smiled broadly as he
rejoined Sheridan after the trot around the track. ‘I’d
forgotten how much I’ve missed this. We should come
back here one day, just the two of us. Saddle up.’ His blue eyes burned with sincerity as he spoke.
Sheridan had encouraged Daniel to ride, a tactic to
spend time in his company and open him up to more
acting roles
. Like everything in life that he set his mind
on, he had taken to it effortlessly and was a natural in the saddle. These days he preferred motorbikes to horses, but
going for a hack would be a good way for them to spend
some quality time together.
‘I’d love that.’ Sheridan smiled, but her tone harsh-
ened as she turned to her son. ‘Darling, the pictures are
ruined. Why do you have to look so goofy all the time?’
32
The Perfect Mother
‘Steady on, love.’ Daniel frowned. ‘I thought he looked
great up there.’
Sheridan responded with a thin smile before offer-
ing the pony a sugar lump. ‘See?’ She instructed her son.
‘You offer it on a flat hand – otherwise he might nibble
your fingers off.’
Leo’s eyes widened at the knowledge that he was rid-
ing a creature who would eat human flesh.
‘By accident, of course,’ Sheridan added hastily. ‘Then
he’d just spit them out.’
Daniel’s laugh echoed around the corral.
‘What?’ Sheridan asked, watching him take their son’s
feet from the stirrups.
‘I think it’s better if I read the bedtime stories from
now on.’ He looked around as he slid Leo from the pony.
‘Where’s the stable hand?’
‘She had stuff to do.’ Sheridan took the pony’s lead
rein. ‘Why don’t you strap Leo into the car? I want a
quick word with Wendy. I’ll be right back.’
Wendy was the riding school supervisor, and she val-
ued Sheridan’s opinions. Tammy would not be bothering
them again.
33
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roz
The gentle ding ding of the Luas outside my window
signalled that Dublin city was in full Sunday afternoon
swing. I didn’t need an alarm clock when the tram bell
rang with such unfaltering regularity every day. When
I first moved from the countryside, it took time to get
used to the cacophony of city life. There were the typ-
ical sounds of the drunks staggering home from the pub,
and the never-ending stream of traffic and hooting horns.
Then there were Dublin’s signature sounds, such as the
seagulls outside our window and the pedestrian crossing
which sounded like a game of Space Invaders each time it
beeped into life. What did cities in America sound like?
I allowed my thoughts to wander as I imagined my baby
being brought up there.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Dympna handed me my
laptop, jolting me out of my daydream. ‘Roll out the
weirdos!’
‘Charming,’ I replied, budging up on the sofa.
Dympna wasn’t going to let it lie. I’d managed to fob
her off earlier, but she was right: I was going to have to
face the many responses from wannabe parents sooner
or later. To think I was worried about competing with
the glamorous-looking women on the site. Then it hit
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The Perfect Mother
me. It was because of my background that they chose me, not in spite of it. I may have pushed the ‘good Catholic
girl’ image, but I wanted to appear clean-living in order
to attract similar parents for my baby. I could have gone
to children’s social services, but I’d known adopted kids
when I was growing up and they weren’t much better
off than me.
With a sigh, I opened up the site again, grateful for
Dympna’s company. ‘How am I going to sort through
this lot?’ I said, clicking through each profile page.
Applicants were capped at a hundred at a time to save
baby donors getting overwhelmed. I was meant to reject
or accept potential parents to free up applications for
more. The idea was to create a shortlist of four or five,
talk online and decide who I wanted to meet. I never for
a minute thought my list would fill up so quickly.
The minty smell of Dympna’s chewing gum invaded
my senses as she leaned forward and took it all in. ‘Ooh,
it’s like being Simon Cowell on The X Factor. I’ll help you wade through it. Anything you don’t want from the off?’
I shook my head. They’d already been checked for
criminal records and drug use, or as far as they could be.
I had already stipulated I wanted a non-smoking home,
although vaping was fine as long as it wasn’t in the same
room. Whatever was best for the baby’s health.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Dympna finally
cast joking aside. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to approve them if
you’re not.’
It was a fair question, and I took a deep breath. ‘I’m
sure. I’ve thought of nothing else since I found out.’
A knot formed between Dympna’s brows as she ac-
cepted I was serious about the whole thing. ‘What about
the dad?’
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Caroline Mitchell
‘He doesn’t need to know.’ The air chilled as I gave
her my firm look: the look that told her to leave it at
that. She had asked me several times since I dropped the
bomb, and I’d finally had enough. The trundle of a lorry
outside made our sofa vibrate. Even on Sundays, the city
never slept.
Dympna leaned forward and touched my arm. ‘I’m
just saying.’ Her voice was low, as if to say she meant no
harm. ‘Once you start the ball rolling it’s hard to back
out. These poor people…’ She glanced at the screen,
demonstrating the empathy I knew and loved. ‘They’re
desperate. It’s not right to encourage them unless you’re
ready to give up your baby.’
Tears welled in my eyes as the reality of the situation
hit home. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Picked a
dried blob of ketchup from the arm of the sofa. I had to
stay strong. ‘Most girls in my situation would have had
an abortion by now. I only want to do what’s right.’
‘OK, then … if the dad’s out of the question then
what about us? We could rear it between us…’
I shook my head. ‘No. Thank you, but no. When
you have a baby, it will be with your fella in a nice big
house with money to set you on your way. Not with me
in squalor without a penny to our name.’
Dympna lowered her head, trying to catch my gaze.
‘We could move away. To the country, Tullamore or
Athlone. Rent’s cheaper there, we could get jobs…’
I shook my head, my eyes blurry as I squeezed my
tears away. ‘It would still be a struggle. I’m not ready to rear a child. Neither are you.’
‘So Ferbane is a no?’
Thoughts of my mother only made me more deter-
mined to keep on track. ‘This way, I find the best home
36
The Perfect Mother
for my baby. It can grow up to be anything it wants. Can
you imagine it? Being brought up in a big house, adored
by your parents, having all the money you need?’
‘Money’s not everything.’ Dympna shrugged.
‘The people who say that are the ones who’ve never
been without it,’ I replied.
It was true. Dympna’s parents weren’t badly off. They
had turned her loose to make a living, to see if she could
make it on her own. But the ‘life lesson’ wasn’t a perma-
nent one. She was only playing at being a grown-up, and
the cleaning job was a stopgap until she decided what
she wanted. The thought of her parents’ response to my
predicament made bile rise in my throat.
‘You all right?’ Dympna said. ‘You’re a bit green
around the gills.’
I jabbed at the space bar on my laptop as a screen-
saver of a whale came into view. I was beginning to
wish I had never confided in my friend. ‘I just want to
get this done. It’s our only day off work and you’ll be
out with Seamus soon.’ Another thought entered my
consciousness. ‘You mustn’t tell him. Promise. Not a
word to anyone.’
Dympna crossed her heart with her finger. ‘I swear.
If it’s what you want, I’m behind you all the way.’
I looked at her earnestly. ‘Are you? Really? Because
if this gets out, I won’t care about anyone else. I’ll just need you to be OK with it all.’ I wished I could tell her
the other half of the story, but I couldn’t bear for our
friendship to be torn in two.
Throwing her arms around me, she answered with
a death-grip hug. She didn’t need to say any more. We
broke apart, both smiling. It had been tough, persuad-
ing her to see things my way, but we had finally broken
37
Caroline Mitchell
through. Dympna was the sister I wished I’d had, and I
desperately needed her support.
‘Let’s make a start,’ I said, concentrating on the screen.
‘Ooh, the power,’ Dympna smiled, gleefully scrolling
through the list of prospective candidates. Sitting beside
me in her sweatshirt and jeans, she was back to her jokey
self. Her moods yo-yoed: she was serious one minute and
laughing the next.
My plan was to get down to five prospective couples
before looking at any more. The weight of responsibil-
ity felt enormous. ‘This is tricky stuff. Imagine trying to find a home for Diarmuid?’ I said, talking about her little brother. ‘How would you see these people then?’
‘What, devil child?’ She laughed. ‘I don’t hate any of
these suckers that much!’
It was easy for her to say. What I would have given for
a sibling when I was growing up. Someone who under-
stood what I was going through. Dympna was my best