don’t want you here, you and your lies—you make me

55

sick! You’re just

you’re just …” My eyes fill with tears.

“You’re just like her!”

“Rosie—” She reaches for my arm.

“Get off me!” wrench away. “How could you? How

could you?!” glare at her, rage pumping through me. “For eighteen months

watched my mum suffering, watched

her slipping away, watched her dying …” My eyes flood.

“Always fearing that could have it too, that someday that

could happen to me But it couldn’t, could it? It was never going to happen to me— because she wasn’t my mother!

“Rosie—”

“And all the time she knew! Eighteen months, and

she never thought to mention it, to let me off the hook? Oh, by the way, Rosie, you can’t have Huntington’s That’s all it would’ve taken—one simple sentence to erase

life

sentence. Eighteen months! And if she hadn’t got

pneumonia it could have been longer, couldn’t it? It could

have been years and years—and would she ever have told me?”

“Rosie,” Sarah begins, flustered now. “Rosie, she

didn’t know—”

“Oh,

know she didn’t know! I didn’t know. You

didn’t even know she had Huntington’s, and you’re

nurse, for God’s sake! But once she was diagnosed she

should have told me—how could she not? How could she

sit there in that hideous chair knowing I’d never inherit the disease and not tell me? What did she think I’d do? Leave her? How could she be so selfish?!

“Rosie, stop it! Rosie—she didn’t know!”

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“She did! She knew there was no chance of me ever

getting the disease, and yet—”

“No, Rosie, she didn’t!” Sarah grabs my wrists, her

eyes intense. “She didn’t know you weren’t her daughter!”

stare at her, the anger frozen in my limbs.

What?

She holds my gaze, her breath coming in gulps.

“Rosie, sit down.”

open my mouth to speak but can’t, and my legs

crumble as sink onto the sofa, my head spinning, trying

to figure out what I’ve missed, what she means—hitting

brick walls every time.

She didn’t know …?

Sarah sits down next to me, takes my hands.

“Rosie,” she says carefully, searching for the right

words. “I want you to listen to me, to let me explain—

without interrupting.” She swallows. “Okay?”

nod, not sure can speak anyway. My throat’s like

sandpaper.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Okay.” She takes deep breath.

“You know that Trudie always wanted

child so, so

desperately. But she—I don’t know if you know—she

suffered number of miscarriages …”

nod again, my chest tight.

“She and David tried to adopt, but they were too

old, too many stupid rules and red tape.” She sighs. “Then

finally she got pregnant again. David was so angry with

her, we all were, so worried she was putting herself at

risk. But she kept saying how she knew that this time it

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was going to be okay—she just knew And for ages it

seemed she was right. Everything was going so well, she’d

got to her third trimester and they were over the moon.

“But then one horrible stormy night, just as was

finishing my shift at the hospital, your nana rushed Trudie

in with stomach pains, weeks before she was due. David

wasn’t there, he was out somewhere in his cab, but they’d

called his dispatcher—he was on his way. Trudie was

frantic, terrified of losing her baby, anxious about the

storm, desperately needing David beside her, so stayed

on, determined to do everything could for her and the

child.

“But there were

complications. The baby was

born, but she wasn’t breathing properly. She was rushed

off to the Special Care Baby Unit and put on

ventilator

while they organized an urgent transfer to the Neonatal

Intensive Care Unit at Westhampton Hospital.

felt so

helpless. All

could do was watch as she struggled to

survive. She was so tiny, so frail.

“Then my friend Jamila who works in the SCBU

started sympathizing, saying how life isn’t fair—how

some babies die while others aren’t even wanted. wasn’t

really listening, but she kept on about this other

premature newborn, how her seventeen-year-old mother

was going to give her up for adoption. She was doing my

head in. wanted to tell her to shut up, as if silence would

save Trudie’s baby—with every breath she seemed to be

slipping away

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“Then Jamila asked me to cover for her. Her shift

was meant to be over, but her replacement hadn’t arrived

yet. Please Jamila begged—she was going on holiday, had to catch her flight—and as was staying anyway, told her

to go. Anything for some peace and quiet.”

Sarah swallows, takes deep breath.

“The next thing knew, an auxiliary nurse ran in,

shouting that Jamila’s teenager had done

runner.

hurried back to the labor ward and nearly ran straight

into your nana, who’d come to find me. Trudie was

desperate to see me, she said, so together we rushed back

to the delivery rooms, and sure enough, the teenage girl’s

bed was empty. Security confirmed she’d left—they’d had

no idea she was abandoning her baby. Then we heard

Trudie. She was in hysterics, I’d never seen her so

distraught. The police had arrived—there’d been

crash—David had been …” She glances at me, her face

deathly pale. “He’d been so unlucky. There was nothing

they could do …”

swallow hard.

“It was awful. Your nana tried to comfort her, but

Trudie was beside herself. Then, when she saw me, she

just wanted her baby, was desperate to know if she was all

right. She was so frightened, so upset, couldn’t tell her the truth. said I’d go and check, and hurried back to the

Unit. But her baby looked worse than ever and the

ambulance still hadn’t arrived. was desperate. The baby was going to die, just knew it. She wasn’t even crying—

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she didn’t have the strength.

couldn’t face Trudie,

couldn’t go back and tell her—not after David

“And then the other baby started to cry. The

teenager’s baby. Big, hearty sobs. looked across at her—

she was so much stronger, healthier, and about the same

size …”

Sarah’s breathing quickens.

“I didn’t think about it,” she says. “Not even for

second. There was no one else around, so

took my

chance.

switched the identity bracelets and incubator

tags. Just like that. Then the ambulance team arrived

asking for baby Kenning.

told them there’d been

mistake about the child’s name—it was Woods, not

Kenning—and they believed me—it was obvious which

child was sick, and they took her away.” She swallows. “It

was done. couldn’t have undone it if I’d wanted to. But

didn’t want to—it was the right thing, knew it was for

everyone.” She looks at me and drop my gaze, my head

reeling.

The teenager

two babies

switched?

“Then Jamila’s replacement arrived, and

rushed

straight back to Trudie.” Sarah smiles, her eyes watery.

“You should’ve seen her face when told her her baby was

okay. She couldn’t believe it, not till she finally saw her—

saw you.” She squeezes my knee, her lips trembling. “Oh, Rosie, it was love at first sight.”