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“You’re sure?”

nod. “I’m not putting my baby at any u

risk. If I’m negative, then there’s no point.” bite my lip.

“And if you’re positive?” he asks, his voice gentle as

cotton candy.

close my eyes, shivering as the wind whips past.

“I still don’t know.”

400

Rosie

The image of Andy kissing Holly burns in my

memory and feel sick.

All this time— all this time—I’ve been calling him,

leaving him messages, begging him to talk to me

all this

time he’s been calling her …?

Be careful what you wish for think, blinking away

my tears as hurry away down the street. All this week

I’ve been praying for way to make things up to Holly—

swearing I’d do anything, give up anything for her

but

never dreamed it would be Andy. He’s my future. At least,

thought he was.

Perhaps this is destiny?

swallow hard.

Perhaps they were always meant to meet?

If Holly and

had never been switched, I’d have

been brought up here, after all, and Andy and

would

never have met. Instead, Holly and Andy would both be

back home in Bramberley.

And now I’m the one who’s brought them together.

After all, Andy wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me—if

hadn’t dragged him on this roller-coaster ride.

sigh.

Yet again, I’ve got no one to blame but myself.

401

Holly

stare out my bedroom window at the dark

driveway.

Still no Rosie.

hope she’s okay. Hope she’s not hiding away

somewhere, upset.

Hope she’s going to keep her promise …

sigh. Yeah, right Like she’s really go

me five hundred dollars, after her boyfriend just returned

from out of the blue— to see me

sink onto my bed.

But my appointment’s tomorrow …

bite my lip. could try asking Dad again after he

finishes work, but

But he wants to sit down and talk about it properly

remember miserably. This isn’t something you want to rush

intothere’s no hurry

But how can

tell him there is

hurry, without

telling him I’m pregnant

close my eyes, imagining the whole new can of

worms that would open—something just can’t even bear

thinking about tonight. Everything’s hard enough already.

flop back onto my pillow and pull Kitty’s letter

from my drawer:

402

Dear Holly

know nothing say can ever make up for what did,

or the years I’ve missed …

No kidding.

And know you probably won’t believe me, but I’ve

regretted it every single day since

My heart bleeds.

You’re an adult now, Holly, and while realize I’ve

missed my chance to be any sort of mother to you, hope

you will accept my gift of $10,000

Translation: I’m so rich can buy myself out of any

situation, and usually do.

I’ve missed so many birthdays, so many Christmases,

and whilst know money can never make up for what we’ve

lost, hope it may be useful to youthat can at least make your life easier in some small way as you head into

adulthoodto college, or whatever path you choose

swallow. Whatever path choose

The last thing want now is to make your life any





more difficult, but do fear that now our paths have crossedonce more, the media may try to intrude on your lifeas they do in almost every aspect of mine

shudder, imagining reporters swarming round our

house, digging up all our secrets— my secrets—printing

them for the whole world to see.…

Consequently,

feel it would be much better for

everyone if the press does not get involved, and wonder if

you would be so kind as to sign the enclosed form, fill in

403

your bank details, and fax it back to me, so may transfer

your money directly

Ten thousand dollars

glance at the form: the

space for my account details, the paragraph promising

won’t speak to the press, then box for my signature.

Ten thousand dollars

Darling Holly, you may not be my biological

daughter, but you are the baby held in my arms, the child

named, the daughter I’ve missed all these years …

swallow hard.

Please believe me when

say

will never forgive

myself for leaving you. The only excuse have is that was

seventeen, no one knew was pregnant and was scared

out of my mind

bite my lip. She was like me, realize suddenly.

Except she was year younger

feel so ashamed of what did, and understand if you

can never forgive me, if you never want to see or speak to

me ever again. But

would be eternally grateful if you

would accept my olive branch, and allow me to at least help you in this small way, my Holly

Sincerely

Kitty Clare

stare at the letter.

Strangely, don’t feel as angry this time. What she

did doesn’t seem quite so awful. Despite myself, even feel

404

stab of sympathy for her, this woman who deserted me,

whose footsteps I’m inadvertently following.

Yes, Kitty abandoned her baby—but she was

teenager, younger than am. And aren’t doing something

similar— worse even—by considering abortion?

close

my eyes.

At least Kitty’s trying to make up for what she did.

True, money isn’t great way to do it, but as it happens,

it’s exactly what need at the moment. Kitty may not have

been my mother for all these years, but now, ironically,

she’s the one person who can help me out, give me the

money need, no questions asked.

And she’s offered it to me on plate.

In return for

what? Forgiveness? Closure?

guarantee that won’t run off to some tabloid and sell my

story? As if I’d want to. Why would want my life invaded,

my secrets splashed all over some magazine, some paper,

some Website?

And, if not quite forgiveness, can certainly swallow

my pride for the sake of my baby—for the sake of ten

thousand dollars that will allow me to get tested

anonymously, to protect my future—our future.

And why shouldn’t get something from Kitty after

all these years? She owes me. And she’s right, it would

make my life— my decisions—much easier

stare at the form moment longer, then grab pen

and fill it in, sign my name and fax it off.

Perhaps some good can finally come out of this

awful situation after all.

405

Rosie

The frosty wind whispers around my shoulders as

gaze up at the huge two-story lobster-pot Christmas tree,

its cheerful lights glowing determinedly, despite the

darkening night and icy cold, despite the fact that there’s

hardly anyone here to see it—despite the fact that

Christmas was nearly month ago.

The pretty red ribbons flutter in the breeze as

huddle in my hoodie, chilled to the bone, but not from the

wind. can’t face going back to the house yet—not if Andy