“The amount of money you’d make from whatever you have to say would be enough to fight any lawyers she sets on you! Think of the women you could help!”
Nanny Number One was nodding. “That’s a good—”
Fox cut her off. “How did you guys get in here without anyone seeing you?”
“There’s an underground passage that leads to that little forest at the back of the house,” said Nanny Number Two.
Fox looked between them both. “Show us where, and we will promise to keep your secret.”
Chapter Forty-One
Fox
We were driving back fromBalgray. Finding a hidden exit had made us both feel better about the approaching showdown—although Haze seemed to get even more joy from discovering that an Instagram stranger was living a lie. She was singing along to a Gracie Abrams song. What she lacked in tuning, she made up for in sass. Reggie was fast asleep in his car seat.
Mike had asked me to meet him tomorrow.
It was now or never.
“I’m driving the car, so if you hit me, it will be dangerous.” I kept staring at the highway. “And our baby son is in the back of the car.”
“What are you talking about?” Haze spun round to look at me. “What have you done?”
I needed to say it fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I sent one of your hairs to Find My Heritage, and it matched you with your father. I’ve been talking to him. He never knew about you. He’s called Mike Martin. Seventy-four. Lives in Scotland. Married. No children.” I stumbled. “No other children. Seems a very nice man. He’s in Berkshire tomorrow and wants to meet you.” I clenched the steering wheel and risked a look at her.
Her face had paled. “You found my father.”
“Because I love you! It’s about love. I just wanted to help.” Shekept staring straight ahead. A beat of silence. Then another. It was worse than shouting. “Please understand, I—”
“What does he do?” Her voice was quiet and level.
“He’s a retired accountant.”
She frowned. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“It’s quite a normal career path, I think.”
“How canIhave an accountant’s genes?”
This was going better than I’d expected. “So, do you want to meet him?”
She remained silent.
“I know we’ve got a lot on at the moment, but he lives on this Scottish island that’s a real pain to get to, and he’s not sure when he’ll next be over this way.”
I handed her my phone and let her look through my messages with Mike.
“Harriet? Harriet Smith? Really?” She scrolled down and came across a conversation about hobbies. “I like cooking and long walks in the park? Jesus. Couldn’t you do a better job of being me?!” She zoomed in on the photos of him. “What about the timing? Don’t you think—”
“I logged you on the system a while ago. Mike only joined a few months back.”
“You kept it from me for this long?” Her eyes flashed as she turned to me.
“I wanted to make sure he was worth knowing!” I kept talking. Listing everything I knew about Mike, the research I’d done online, the Facebook account that showed charming photos of him visiting nice gardens with his wife, a ruddy-faced woman with a warm smile. A large fish he’d caught on a fishing trip with some other gray-haired men. How he steered away from politics and always posted links to his friends’ Just Giving fundraisers for marathons or fun runs they were doing.
Haze listened to all of this silently.
I stopped to draw breath.
