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“Not really,” say, feeling even more uncomfortable

and square. “There’s just Andy.”

“Right—the guy you were with at the hotel? He’s

cute.” She grins. “Andy …”

nod silently, staring at my feet. Andy, who I’ve

left—again. Who I’ve broken my promise to.

Janine clears her throat.

“What else?” Kitty asks brightly. “Did you have any

pets, growing up? bet you’re cat person, aren’t you?

always wanted cat as child, but Mum fell for this great big soppy dog—” She looks at me quickly. “Oh, no, you’re

go

shrug. “I du

“Oh, right …” She falters. “What about hobbies?”

“Not really.”

“Sports?”

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shake my head.

She bites her lip, the sparkle fading from her eyes.

“Right …”

The car drifts into silence, and

stare out the

window, gazing at the tree-lined avenues and clapboard

houses as they rush past. Then see Kitty’s reflection in

the glass, and my heart aches. have so much to say, so

many questions—but how to ask them of this confident,

glamorous woman? She’s supposed to be my mother, but

besides our genes we’re nothing alike. We may be sitting

two feet away from each other, but we’re worlds apart.

Outside, people point and stare at the limo as we

pass, and remember the trip to Brighton with Trudie and

Sarah, how much fun we had in our pink limousine, our

wacky clothes, how hard we laughed

pick at

hole in my jeans and look around the

luxurious car, afraid to touch anything, wishing I’d had

chance to shower, to change into something more

suitable—wishing had anything suitable to change into.

Wishing had my mum.

Trudie.

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Holly

The fire burns swiftly in the metal can, the bright

flames licking the small pile of paper into powdery ash.

“Feel better?” Andy asks.

shrug. But

small part of my pain has subsided,

floating away through the window with the disappearing

smoke.

He nods, slides down from the window ledge and

crosses to the door. “Well,” he says, picking up his bag.

“Have nice life.”

“You’re leaving?” ask, surprised.

He pauses in the doorway. “It’s for the best.”

“Where will you go?”

He shrugs. “Back to the

and

for now, then

du

by now.”

“Washington?” look at him, considering. take

breath and hop down from the sill. “Let’s go.”

“What?” He looks at me, startled.

“Washington,” say. “Let’s go. Now.”

He watches me for moment, smile playing on his

lips, trying to decide if I’m serious.

am. Deadly.

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“No.” He shakes his head eventually. “You can’t just

leave—”

“I can.”

“Well, can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t just leave Ro—”

“Why? Why not? What’s so special about her?”

demand, the familiar heat returning to my cheeks.

“Weren’t you supposed to be spending the day together?”

“We are. We will—”

Andy she’s gone for the whole day saw her! She’s gone to Boston.”

He stares at me. “What?”

nod.

“To Boston? What the hell? No, she wouldn’t—she

promised—”

shrug.

Andy’s eyes are wide, incredulous. He shakes his

head. “She just left?”

nod.

“Bloody

hell!

Bloody

Rosie!—After

she

promised

We were going to see the whales …”

look at him surprised. “Whales?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “If there actually are any round





here—we saw bugger all last time.”

stare at him. Whale watching? In January?

“You didn’t see any?” ask, trying to keep straight

face.

322

He shakes his head. “Nope. Wesley’s Whale- Spotter

my arse.”

“Oh, no—you didn’t go with them?”

laugh.

“They’re notorious—total rip-off!”

“Tell me about it,” Andy groans.

“You wa

him, the lies spilling out before can stop them. “You’ll go

straight across the Cape, see hundreds of whales.”

Andy stares at me. “Hundreds? Really?”

“Uh-huh,” say, avoiding his eyes. “Come on, let’s

go.”

“What, now?” He looks at me.

“Why not?”

look at him for

long moment, my

heart thumping.

Rosie’s not the only one who can go swa

Bostonnot the only one who can take things that don’t belong to her …

“Unless of course you’d rather sit around here

twiddling your thumbs waiting until she bothers to come

back?” suggest. “Again.”

He looks at me, then drops his bag on the floor.

“Let’s go.”

323

Rosie

“Look up,” Kitty instructs, and do as I’m told, the

bright lights making my eyes water. She strokes the

mascara wand over my lashes, and try not to blink. We’re

in the changing rooms at Chanel— Chanel! —and I’m

completely paranoid I’m going to damage something

expensive and get kicked out any moment, but Kitty

seems right at home. She’s picked out

dozen designer

outfits for me to try on and has insisted on doing my

makeup—she must have

ton of it stashed in that

massive Gucci bag.

“There!” She smiles. “All done.”

stand up and turn to face the full-length mirror.

“Oh, Rosie,” she gasps, her hand cool on my bare

shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

“Stu

know just the

shoes you need …” She winks at Kitty and disappears

behind the black velvet curtain.

stare at the girl standing before me, struggling to

recognize myself. My lips are

weird purpley-blue color

to match my dress, which feels too tight round my ribs;

my nose has all but disappeared beneath concealer and

powder, while my eyes have become huge green saucers,

surrounded by thick black eyeliner and glittering eye

324

shadow. seriously wouldn’t recognize myself. look like

look like someone out of

Then it hits me.

look like Kitty.

My cheeks flush as compare our reflections in the

mirror.

That’s what this makeover has been about—the

manicure and pedicure we had done together, the

makeup, the new clothes

all transforming me into the

daughter she wants me to be. Glamorous, sophisticated,

groomed.

Kitty Clare’s daughter.

“I love that color on you.” She smiles, stroking my

dress. It ripples like water beneath her touch, and goose

bumps prickle on my skin. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

stare at myself. This isn’t me. None of this is—it’s

weird, it’s

swallow, pulling at the material, trying to

cover myself up, struggling to breathe.

“Rosie?” Kitty’s cool hand lands on my shoulder.

Her eyes search mine. “Are you okay?”

nod furiously, look away.

“Don’t you like the dress? think it’s beautiful.”

“It is!” insist. “It’s great. The dress, the makeup—

it’s

fabulous!”

gush, risking another glance at my

reflection and swallowing hard. “What makeover, huh?”

Kitty looks at me for

moment, then pulls over

stool.

“Look, I’ve got

confession to make.” She sighs,

sitting down and looking me in the eye. She takes deep