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pillow. “I had the time of my life.”
“Good.” He smiles, kissing my forehead. “You
deserve it.”
wait till he closes the door. Then exhale.
It feels weird keeping this from Dad. I’m bursting to
tell him—that’s the whole reason we’ve rushed home
early, after all—but then
grin, remembering Dad’s face
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as he jumped out from behind the sofa. Trust him to spoil
my surprise with one of his own!
glance at the door, then carefully pull the ring back
out, stroking the little gem with my fingertips. He’d know
by now, if it weren’t for the party—and if Josh weren’t so
old-fashioned.
can’t believe he wants to ask Dad’s
permission before we tell anyone—as if he’s go
Typical Josh. It’s all very well to do things by the book, but
it’s killing me keeping this secret—Dad and usually tell each other everything!
Well, almost everything. My hand falls to my
stomach. wonder if Mom were still alive if I’d have told
her yet
Probably not, not before Josh. smile. He’s not
the only one who can keep secrets. still can’t believe he
took me to New York for my birthday—the first time I’ve ever been on plane!—just because he knows how much
want to travel! That he proposed tilt the ring so it sends rainbows dancing around the room.
Now can’t wait to tell him my secret, can’t wait to
see his face! But first things first—not till we’re officially
engaged. If Josh wants to be traditional, I’ll keep things
traditional—I can at least do something the right way
round!
take last long look at the plastic ring, then slide
open my bottom drawer, home of all my secret dreams—
the journals I’ve kept since was twelve; cut-out photos of
singers, movie stars and cute guys Melissa and fantasized
about marrying; brochures of exotic places we dreamed of
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traveling, tucked inside the empty passport I’ve had since
was sixteen—just in case our dreams ever came true.
And dreams can come true. smile, tucking the ring
carefully between the brochures and the photo of Josh,
who’s been top of my list—circled with heart—since the
very first day met him
slide the drawer shut, then lie back on my pillow,
gri
buried treasure, my precious secret, just waiting to be
revealed
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Rosie
It’s dark, terribly dark— can’t see
thing. grope
around helplessly, clawing and clutching, stumbling and
scratching, through endless stones and brambles and what
feels like ice. Then, suddenly, my feet sink into something soft, and it’s sand I’m walking on, its gentle caress cool and soothing between my toes
light flickers in the distance. walk blindly toward
it, warm breeze whispering in my hair
The wooden door opens easily, and
man looks
round and smiles, his black hair curling round his ears as
little boy— his miniature— scrambles to his feet
“You found us.” The man beams as they enfold me in
tight hug.
hold them close, sandwiched between the
man’s strong embrace and the child’s warm cuddle.
perfect fit, the missing piece. “Rosie, you finally found us.”
close my eyes. “You’re finally home …”
“Rosie?”
“Mmm …”
turn my head, enjoying the warmth
surrounding me, the softness against my cheek
“Rosie?” woman says. “Are you awake?”
“Wakey-wakey!” Suddenly the whole world
shudders and quakes and my eyes fly open.
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The little dark-haired boy bounces over me, giggling
happily as sunlight fills the room.
blink hard and stare at him. Then smile.
“Ben!” blond curly-haired woman chides. “Ben, get
down!”
She sets down tray and grabs him round the belly
as he squirms.
“Sorry about that!” She smiles apologetically.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Um, fine thanks.” stare at her blankly.
“I’m Megan,” she says. “From the party?”
Party Pieces of last night float back to me like
puzzle. Fish and chips, the cake, the party
“Right, sorry.” gaze round the unfamiliar bedroom.
“Thanks for letting us stay over.”
smile as Ben grins
through her legs at me, his dark fringe flopping over his
eyes.
“Oh, honey, you’re welcome—there was no way
was letting you guys go back to that and after your fall.
had to make sure you were really okay.”
“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”
struggle into
sitting
position, and instantly my head pounds. “Ow!”
“Easy, honey.” Megan lays
cool hand on my
forehead. “I’ll give you some lotion for that bruise when
you come downstairs, but first: breakfast!” She plops
heaving tray of bacon and eggs onto my lap.
“Wow!” gasp.
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“Don’t blame me!” Megan grins. “Jack always insists
on greasefest when he does breakfast. You don’t have to
eat it all.”
“Thanks.” smile, my heart racing as remember
more.
Jack. My dad My real dad. And he’s made me
breakfast,
real English breakfast—eggs and proper
bacon, none of that streaky American stuff—and not
pancake in sight!
“The bathroom’s just across the hall, when you’re
done. There’s towel and spare toothbrush, and feel free
to use anything else you find.”
“Thanks, Megan,” tell her. “I’m sorry to be such an
inconvenience.”
“Don’t be silly,” she laughs, tucking
stray ringlet
behind her ear. “Make yourself at home.”
My heart soars. Home With my dad—I grin,
winking at Ben as he pinches piece of my toast—and my
little brother!
“Shout if you need anything. We’re just downstairs.”
Megan smiles, scooping up Ben. “And Holly’s around too—
if she ever gets out of bed!”
The toast sticks in my throat as the door clicks
closed.
Holly
My appetite gone, slide the tray onto the bedside
table, knocking something clattering to the floor.
“Shit!” lean down and gingerly pick up the broken
picture frame. turn it over and my heart stops. There
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they are. The happy family. Jack and Megan and Ben—and
Holly, sticking out like
sore thumb with her chestnut
hair against Jack and Ben’s black, Megan’s blond.
Holly Woods
Trudie’s daughter
She looks just like her. The same hair, the same
eyes, the same bright smile
drop the picture like hot
coal, sweat cold on the back of my neck.
have to get out of here. can’t see her, can’t—
There’s knock at the door. stare, paralyzed, as it
swings open.
“Morning.” Andy smiles. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine,” say, jumping out of bed and scowling at the
unfamiliar jogging bottoms and T-shirt I’m wearing.
scour the room. “Where are my clothes?”
“Well, since you drenched us both in Coke with your
dizzy spell last night, Megan’s doing
wash for us
downstairs,” Andy tells me, wearing
similar pair of
makeshift pajamas. “She insisted—said she couldn’t let us
leave with dirty clothes. She’s even doing my socks.” He
grins. “She’s brave!”
“Great,” say, pacing the room. “Fantastic. Brilliant!”