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my mum.” She stares at the table. “But she wasn’t.
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Katharine was,” she states, hesitates. “And you are my
father.”
Wow. Oh, my God.
watch as she struggles to
control her emotions, my heart aching for her. want to
hug her, to let her know it’s okay, that we’ll accept and
love her—my lost sister. But something in her eyes stops
me.
Dad stares at her for
long moment. “But
twins
…? Katharine didn’t have …”
She trembles as she shakes her head. “No, no, she
didn’t …” She glances at me, looks away. Her boyfriend
squeezes her shoulders.
freeze, utterly lost now. look from her to Dad,
trying to make sense, to rewind the conversation in my
head.
“There was
another baby,” she says, her breath
coming in starts. “The woman
was given to also gave
birth to daughter—a beautiful baby girl.” She smiles at
me
now,
her
eyes
shining
with
tears.
“And
she
Katharine …” stare at her as she swallows hard,
looks away. “Like said,” she whispers. “There was mix-
up.”
My heart stops.
swear, it just stops stone-cold
dead. stare at this girl, at my dad, this wild story whirling
dizzily around my head.
“What are you saying?” ask quietly.
She looks at me, her face pained. “Holly, I—I only
just found out, I—”
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“What are you saying?”
repeat, my voice harsh,
brittle.
“Holly,” she whispers, taking my hand. “You and I—
we were swapped at birth.”
The words rip through me like knife as my hand
grows limp in hers.
“I—I don’t understand …” look at Dad, who’s just
staring at her. “I—I don’t …” run out of words.
She sighs. “I know—I’m sorry, know this is huge,
huge shock, but—”
“What would make you think such
thing?” Dad
interrupts, his face ashen.
She looks at him then, her eyes sad.
“I’m sorry, know this is hard to believe—I didn’t
believe it at first either—I couldn’t …” She hesitates and
glances at me. “But then
had a—a test done, and it
showed wasn’t genetic match with my mother. When
was born, Katharine was at the same hospital at the same
time, and when met her …” She pauses, smiles weakly.
“Well, it was obvious.”
My chest tightens as
look at Dad, praying he’ll
disagree—but recognition blossoms in his eyes. She looks
like Mom—the mom I’ve never met—the mom he told me
died. The mom who’s
who’s not my mom.
Rosie swallows. “But didn’t know for certain—for
definite—until met you, Holly.”
look up sharply.
“You’re so—you’re just …” She smiles. “You’re
beautiful—”
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eye her warily.
“And you’re the spitting image of my mum, of
Trudie.” She slides photograph across the table.
turn away, refusing to look, though every part of
me itches to see—to know—to prove her wrong.
watch, frozen, as Dad slowly picks up the
photograph. He gasps, then stares at me, his jaw hanging
open.
It can’t be true, it can’t
snatch the photo from his hands,
shiver racing
down my spine as stare at it, unbelieving, horrified.
It’s me— it’s me, only older
The chestnut hair, the
hazel eyes, the freckles—even the kinky ear
“This is horseshit!” reel backward, laughing loudly
at the absurdity of it all, but then look at this girl, so sad
and sympathetic, and at Megan, so confused, and then
see my dad—my daddy—who’s staring at me like he’s
never seen me before, and my laughter dies.
“Daddy, tell her!” beg, my voice laced with panic
now. “Tell her it’s not true—it’s ridiculous!”
“It’s impossible,” Dad says, his frown deepening. “It
can’t be
and yet …”
“Get out!” scream at her, wrenching open the back
door. “Just get out!”
“Holly …,” Megan says gently.
“Get out of my house! yell, my whole body shaking.
“Dad, tell her!”
“Please, let me explain—” she begs. “There’s more.”
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“How dare you? How dare you! After we’ve given
you somewhere to stay, given you food, birthday cake—
my fricking birthday cake!” Tears burn my eyes. “And my clothes You’re even wearing my fricking clothes!”
lunge at her and she tumbles to the floor as tear
at her sweatshirt— my sweatshirt—trying to yank it
roughly over her head.
“Hey!” Her boyfriend tries to pull me off.
“Get off me!”
yell, kicking him so hard he falls.
“This has nothing to do with you! This is my house! My life!”
“Holly!” Megan reaches for me.
“She can’t have it!”
scream, clinging to the
sweatshirt, pulling, struggling, desperate to get it back.
“She can’t have my life!”
“Holly!” Dad bellows, lifting me roughly by my arm.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Everyone’s staring at me like I’m some sort of freak
show. look at Dad helplessly, my heart breaking into
thousand jagged splinters.
“Tell her it’s not true,” gasp. “Tell her she’s liar—
tell her to go away and leave us alone!”
beg. “Daddy,
please!”
He looks at me, his face aged with lines I’ve never
noticed before.
“No, Holly-berry,” he sighs, the familiar nickname
breaking my heart. “I—I can’t …”
stare at him for
long moment, the splinters
turning to ice.
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“Then she’s welcome to you.”
turn my back on them all, slamming the kitchen
door hard behind me.
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Rosie
Shit. look at Andy. He helps me up, rubbing his leg
where Holly kicked him.
Well, that went well.
Jack is frozen, staring at the door Holly just
slammed, the shudders still rippling through the room.
“Look,” Megan says quietly. “This has all been quite
shock, think we just need some time …”
nod. “I understand. I’m so sorry
it’s just—”
“Unbelievable …,” Jack murmurs, gazing out the
window, frozen in time, in shock. “You’re Katharine’s
daughter?” He turns, his eyes unreadable. “You’re really
Kathy’s daughter?”
look at him for moment, uncertain suddenly, in
spite of everything. Then
nod tentatively, my voice
whisper. “I’m your daughter.”
His eyes soften visibly for moment; then he looks
away.
stare at the floor, aware of every heartbeat
pounding in my chest, my head.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sinking into
chair. “It’s just
so …”
“Unbelievable,” agree quietly.
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“Sweetie.” Megan turns to me. “Have you
mean,
would you
consider …” She hesitates. “A test—or
something
to confirm …?”
“Of course.”
nod quickly, my cheeks burning
fiercely.
“I’m sorry, don’t mean to imply …” She stumbles.
“Just to be certain, to be sure—just because you and Holly
were born the same night …”
“It’s fine.”
swallow. It’s not like
can tell them
about Sarah, about the identity tags she switched
think
that would push them over the edge—more than already
have.
Somewhere overhead
plane hums through the
sky. wish were on it.
glance around the kitchen, my eyes flicking over
anything, everything—anything to avoid looking at Jack or
Megan—and my gaze snags on framed photo by the sink.