Someone Else's Life

staying?

take another bite, tasting nothing.

“So, how was the fish market, honey?” Megan asks,

sipping her tea.

“Oh, fine, fine,” Dad says. “I showed Rosie all the

different kinds of fish, but don’t think she appreciated

them—her nose got the better of her!”

“The stench!” she laughs. “I don’t know how you can

bear it!”

“You get used to it.” Megan smiles.

“Actually, kinda like it,” mumble.

“I was thinking.” Dad takes another pancake.

“Maybe we should take the boat out this morning—see if

we can catch anything ourselves?”

glance at Megan. “What about the restaurant?”

“Oh, I’m sure Pete can cope for one day—he’s

always on about wanting more responsibility.” Dad smiles.

spear another pancake. Great. Dad never takes

days off work. But now he makes an exception for

day

alone with Rosie—how cozy. It’s so unfair. How come she

gets to go traveling, to spend the day sailing with Dad—to

do whatever the hell she wants—while

have to go to

school—when we’re exactly the same age?

“And think the school will cope without you for

day—just this once.” Dad winks at me. “What d’you

reckon, Holly-berry? You up for it?”

262

look up, surprised, then hesitate, imagining sitting

in

boat with Rosie and Dad all day. think I’d actually

prefer to be at school.

“I’m not sure …,”

begin, reaching for the maple

syrup. “I’ve got swim meet this afternoon, and—”

“Come on, Holly, you love sailing. can’t go out on

my own—I’d be right Billy-no-mates.”

look up. On his own? “But thought—” glance at

Rosie.

“Megan and Ben have got playdate, and Rosie here

has got plans with her—her young man. Isn’t that right?”

Rosie nods, smiling as she chews.

“So, what do you say?” Dad grins at me. “Just the

two of us? Unless you’re ashamed to be seen out with your

old dad?”

smile at him, the mug of tea toasty in my hands.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Dad winks.

glance at Rosie, who looks quickly at her plate.

Okay, think, so maybe should give her chance.

take sip of my tea.

“So, tell me about your mom, Rosie,” venture, the

tea warm and sweet as it slides down my throat. “Besides

that she’s not the world’s greatest cook.”

She smiles. “World’s most dangerous cook, more

like. I’ve lost count of the number of explosions that came

from our kitchen. Once we even had to call the fire

brigade!” She laughs. “She was trying to cook potatoes in

her new pressure cooker—and it just exploded! We were

263

scraping mashed potato off the ceiling for weeks!” She

grins. “But she made it into game—she pretended it was

snow, and we made little potato snowmen and drew faces

on the windows—pretty gross, really, but was only little

and loved it.” She smiles wistfully.

“She made everything fun like that. Like we never

had ordinary toast—it was always cut into animal shapes

or smiley faces. When it was really burned she’d cut it into

bats and pretend it was supposed to be black!”

smile despite myself. “What else? Tell me about

her.”

Rosie smiles, chewing thoughtfully. “Well, besides

the fact you’re the absolute spitting image of her …”

feel my cheeks grow warm.

“She used to be

children’s book illustrator—she

loved to paint, draw, sculpt—she adored creating stuff out

of nothing.”

think of my driftwood sculptures. So that’s where

get it from.

Rosie grins. “For my fifth birthday

desperately

wanted doll’s house—this fancy one I’d seen in the toy

shop, but it was really expensive. So Mum made me one.

gingerbread house. God, it was wonderful. It had fairy

lights all round the roof, and the driveway was made of

popping candy. It was magical.

loved it so much

couldn’t bear to eat it.”

smile, imagining it twinkling on the table.

264

“She used to dance when she was younger, too—

she once dreamed of becoming ballerina, my nana told

me.”

Nana? My heart flips. have nana too?

“She’d run, swim, dance, anything to release her

energy—it was boundless!”

My hearts beats loudly. So she was swimmer too.

“And her sense of humor!” Rosie laughs. “God, the

stitches I’ve suffered from her jokes and pranks—she was

hysterical. And her fashion sense

Inimitable.” She grins.

“Nobody could ever tell my mother what to wear.”

“She sounds wonderful,” muse dreamily.

“She was,” Rosie sighs. “She really was.”

My heart stops.

Did hear her right?

stare at her, my voice whisper. “Was?”

Rosie looks up at me, surprise turning to confusion,

then fear. She glances quickly at Dad.

“You mean she …”

falter, the words forming

hollowly on my lips. “She’s dead?”

Rosie looks away.

“My mom is dead?” feel sick, all my resurrected

dreams of my mother melting away like last year’s snow,

trampled to dirt. don’t have mother. still don’t have

mother. never will …

“Holly …” Dad squeezes my arm. “Sweetheart, I’m so

sorry. I—”

“How?” ask suddenly, turning to Rosie. “When?”

She hesitates, and looks at Dad.

265

“Holly,” he soothes. “Holly, really don’t think—”

“When?” persist, my voice mottled with tears. “She

was my mother. have the right to know.” look at Rosie.

“Well?”

“Last month,” she says quietly. “She died just before

Christmas.”

stare at her. So recently. She was alive last month.

There’s DVD in my room, Christmas present, still in its

cellophane, unwatched. She was alive when it was

bought—when it was wrapped, maybe. stare down at the

table, at nothing.

“How?” whisper.

Silence.

“How?”

demand. Rosie’s looking at Dad, fear

etched across her face. “I can’t—”

slam my fist on the table, making her jump. “Tell

me!”

“I can’t!

“Why not?” yell at her. “What difference does it

make? She’s still dead!”

“Holly—” Dad squeezes my hand as Ben begins to

whimper.

Rosie looks away. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, understand, understand just fine.” spit the

words at her. “Your family died, so you thought you’d

come on over the Atlantic and take mine? You thought

you’d just waltz over here and pick up mom in New York

and

dad in New England and everything would be

hunky-dory?” lean closer. “Except it didn’t work like that,

266

did it? Your mom didn’t want you. She never did. She

slammed the door in your face—”

Rosie flinches.

“Holly!” Dad barks.

“So you thought you’d come here?”

continue.

“Third-time lucky? To my home, my family and take my dad?”