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and start making wild accusations.”
“They’re not wild accusations,” protest. “She’s my
mother!”
“She might be your mother,” Andy argues. “You
don’t know, not for sure.”
“She is,” insist. “Andy, it all fits—Holly Woods was
her daughter, born the same day as me, when she was
seventeen years old, and she lives in Maybridge—it’s her!”
Andy sighs.
look away. “I know you think I’m crazy, but—”
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“I don’t,” he says quietly. “I don’t think you’re crazy.
just think you want this too much.” He sighs. “You’re
setting yourself up for fall.”
“Well, maybe
am.”
unsnap my seat belt. “But
that’s my decision.”
Andy puts his hand on mine.
“You’re right,” he says. “It is your decision. But
please, think about it—”
“I have!” pull my hand away.
“Have you?” Andy challenges. “Have you really
thought about her? About Katharine? About Sarah?”
“Sod Sarah!” snap. “This is all Sarah’s fault—she
did it! She lied about it—to Mum, to everyone!”
“Yes, she lied,” Andy admits. “But does she really
deserve to go to jail for it?”
look at him.
“Because that’s what will happen, Rosie. Jail,
because she tried to help three desperate people—a
teenager too young to cope with being
mother, an
abandoned baby, and
grieving widow, desperate for
child.” He looks at me. “Sarah put her neck on the line for
your sake, not hers. And now you want to unravel it all?”
look away.
“And what about Katharine?” Andy persists. “She
ran away, Rose—she abandoned you— eighteen years ago
She’ll have
whole new life now—maybe even
family.
How’s she go
daughter?”
close my eyes, my thoughts whirling painfully.
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“I just
just want to see her …”
sigh. “Get to
know her. Give her the choice—the chance to know me …”
“But it won’t be her choice, Rosie,” Andy says gently.
“It’ll be yours.”
look at him.
“She made her choice,” he says. “She left.”
look away.
“Rosie …”
“So, what? should just give up? Give up when I’m
this close?”
He looks away.
“Andy!” stare at him. “But
but then why did you
help me search for her? Why help me get this far?”
He sighs. “I just
didn’t think you’d find her,
Rosie—not this soon! This is all happening so quickly—
just this morning you got your Huntington’s results and
now …” He shakes his head. “I thought it’d take ages, that
you’d have time to think it through. That you just needed
to get this out of your system to be able to get on with
your life.”
“Get on with my life?”
stare at him. “What life,
Andy?”
He looks away.
“Great, Andy. That’s great. You’ll help me, fine—as
long as I’m hitting brick walls, but as soon as actually find something, find her you suddenly back out? Thanks lot!”
open the car door.
“Rosie …” Andy grabs my arm, but wrench it away.
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“Fine!” he snaps angrily. “Go—whatever! But you’d
better know what you’re doing, Rosie, because if you
don’t, you’re about to ruin lot of people’s lives!”
grit my teeth and slam the door behind me.
He doesn’t understand tell myself as march down
the road. It’s all right for him, with his normal life and
normal family and future all pla
that— don’t have anything anymore, and need to know, need to …
slow down as
approach the house. The front
window is dark, the curtains drawn.
pizza-delivery
leaflet sticks out of the letter-box.
take deep breath and lift the knocker. This is it.
This is her door …
Suddenly hesitate, Andy’s words filling my head.
Am about to make the biggest mistake of my life …?
swallow hard, the knocker icy cold in my hand.
Maybe
maybe
should take some time, think
about this more. This is
big step—it’s huge—maybe
shouldn’t rush into it
The wind whispers round my ears as look up at
the dark house.
Andy’s right, there’s no hurry. She’ll still be here.
can come back anytime, plan what I’ll say, what I’ll do—
shit, what I’ll wear—I glance down at my scruffy jeans and sweater.
Do
really want to meet my mother looking like
this?
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take last long look at the house, then sigh as let
the knocker go. It bangs gently as turn to leave.
Immediately,
black barking shape hurls itself
against the frosted glass.
jump back, my heart in my
mouth as light flicks on, exposing me in its yellow glare.
The door opens and
woman peers out, gripping the
dog’s collar as he strains toward me, her hair wrapped in
towel turban.
“Sorry, love,” she says. “Don’t worry—he’s all bark
and no bite, this one. Can help you?”
“I
…” stare at her.
dark tendril of wet hair
escapes the turban and curls round her face. “Are you
Katharine Sinclare?”
“Lord, no!” she laughs. “She hasn’t lived here for
years!”
My heart plummets.
haven’t found her after all.
And if she’s not here
I’ll never find her. The trail’s gone
cold.
“But perhaps can help you?” The woman smiles.
“I’m her mum—Pam.”
stare at her. Her mum? She’s Katharine’s mother?
blink. My grandmother!
“Um, yes, yes please—I …” This is it. No going back.
“I’m Rosie Ke
say, my heart thumping. “I’m
student at Maybridge Sixth Form College, and I’m doing
school project—” The words are out in rush before can
stop them. What am doing? “But
could come back—if
it’s not good time?”
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“What?” She touches her turban, then laughs. “No,
don’t be daft, come in, come in! Down, Toby! Come on in.”
She ushers me inside. “Grab pew and I’ll be back in just
mo.” Pam flicks the lounge light on and disappears down
the corridor. hair dryer blasts into action.
step slowly into the room, my eyes everywhere,
drinking it in like
museum: the strings of colorful
Christmas cards hanging from every wall, looping round
framed school photographs and children’s paintings; the
heaving Christmas tree with its homemade decorations
and lopsided angel; the flowery chintz sofa and the
rocking chair covered with
patchwork throw
And
everywhere, crammed onto the mantelpiece, the
television, the windowsills, are crowds of trinkets:
postcards and souvenirs and photos, medals and trophies
and certificates—all clues about my mother, her life, my
family
“So, what’s your project about?” Pam calls as the
hair dryer clicks off.
“Oh, it’s, er
sort of ‘where are they now?’ piece,”
lie quickly, my eyes landing on
photo of two smiling
schoolgirls.
“Oh yeah?”
pick up the photo, and my heart skips beat. Two
little girls with gleaming black hair and bright smiles. One
of them has to be Katharine.
“We’re supposed to pick someone who was
teenager when we were born, and—”
“So you chose Kitty.”
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turn as Pam enters behind me, ru
brush
through her thick dark hair.
“Well,
suppose that figures.” She smiles at the