stare at the cigarette burns polka-dotting the

carpet as they spin and blur, thoughts flooding my head.

“So I’m

That teenager was …”

60

Sarah nods. “She was your biological mother, yes.”

swallow. “And she never knew? Mum never knew

…?”

She shakes her head. “Nobody knows. I’ve never

told anyone.”

“Not even Steve? Not Nana?”

“No.” She sighs. “I knew if did, if anyone so much

as suspected you could be taken away.” She closes her

eyes. “I’d never have forgiven myself.”

“And Mum

she never suspected?”

“Never.” Sarah looks at me. “As far as she was

concerned, you were her little girl, her baby.” Sarah

squeezes my hand. “And you were Rosie. She was your

mum, she always will be. It doesn’t matter about—”

“And the other girl?”

interrupt quietly, looking

away. “What was her name?”

“Rosie, can’t really …” Sarah trails off, sighs. “Her

name was Holly. Holly Woods.”

“Holly.” test the name on my lips. young name.

teenager’s name. “And she—my mother—she just left

me?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Sarah says gently. “There could have

been

thousand reasons why she ran away, why she’d

decided to put you up for adoption. Imagine if you had

child now, at your age, it’s hardly the best—”

“I’d keep it.”

“Yes, well

maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she thought

you’d have better life that way.” She squeezes my hand.

“The point is that Trudie did want you, more than

61

anything in the world. You saved her that night. You saved

each other.”

stare at the doorframe, my height marked in

Mum’s loopy purple handwriting every birthday.

remember how stood on tiptoe each year, impatient to

reach the same height as her. How strange felt when

realized I’d outgrown her.

Suddenly

pain hits my chest so hard that

crumple. “I miss her,” gasp. “I miss her so much.”

“Oh, sweetie,

know!” Sarah wraps her arms

around me, pulling me close. “I know. Me too.”

“Why did she have to go? Why did she have to have

stupid Huntington’s? It’s not fair!”

“I know, darling.

know.” She kisses my hair

fiercely, holding me tight. “But you don’t. You’re young and healthy and everything she wanted you to be. She was

so proud of you, you know that? She loved you so much.”

nod, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“And she’ll always be your mum, no matter what.

Nothing can change that. Remember that. Remember her.”

She fumbles in her purse, pulling out photo strip. “Look

at her.”

do. It’s the photos we’d got from one of those

passport booths. In each picture we’re wearing wacky

clothes and pulling different silly expressions.

look at

Mum, dressed up in boa, her cheeks painted bright red,

fluttering her huge fake eyelashes, and smile despite

myself. It was the day she sacked her physiotherapist.

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“Poor Eileen, she barely got in the door, did she?”

Sarah smiles.

“Poor Eileen? She didn’t have clue!”

She’d come in, introduced herself, then spoke to

Mum ve-ry slo-wly and loudly. Mum had just stared at her,

looked at me and Sarah and then said, “I’m sorry, are you

quite well?”

“The look on her face!” Sarah laughs. “Priceless!”

We’d cracked up laughing but Eileen hadn’t seen

the funny side. That was the end of her. Mum said if she

only had

limited time left she wasn’t going to waste it

with ignorant idiots, thank you very much.

“Then Trudie just said, ‘Come on, if people are going

to stare, we’ll give ’em something to stare at!’ Sarah

laughs.

And we did. We donned our wildest clothes and

hired

pink stretch limo to chauffeur us down to

Brighton, where we strolled along the pier, ate ice cream

and fish and chips and candy-floss, then rode the rides till

we felt sick, all decked out in our boas and crazy hats.

And you know what? Nobody stared, nobody

gawped. We barely got second glance all day.

“God, and then it started to rain, do you

remember?”

nod. “But

couldn’t even drag her under the

shelter—she was too strong—and too busy dancing!”

“And singing!” Sarah laughs, and

giggle as

remember Mum whirling and twirling around the

lampposts singing loudly.

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“I can’t believe you convinced me to join in—what

did we look like?”

“Who cares!” Sarah smiles. “She was happy.”

She was. hadn’t seen her so happy in long time.

Singing her heart out in fancy dress in the middle of

Brighton.

“And then—” Sarah can hardly speak for laughing.

“Then when she got to the chorus of ‘It’s Raining Men,’ she

just stopped dead—”

“Yes! And just stood there, straight-faced, looking

round the seafront—”

“And said—”

‘It bloody well isn’t!’

We crack up in hysterics.

laugh till can hardly breathe, the memory of that

insane, wonderful sight dancing in my head, crazy and

hilarious. Tears of laughter stream down my face,

covering the tracks of their unhappy predecessors.

“It’s raining now.” smile, looking out the window.

“Men?” Sarah asks, and giggle, until suddenly car

pulls into the drive.

It’s Nana. pull away from Sarah, my smile gone.

Nana

“Sarah, it’s—”

“Shhh now, you’ll be fine. Everything will be okay,

promise,” she insists.

“How will it?” stare at her. “Sarah, I—I can’t. She

doesn’t know. You said she doesn’t know!”

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Sarah stands up and takes my shoulders firmly.

“She doesn’t,” she says, looking me in the eye. “But it’s

okay. Just be normal.”

stare at her. Be normal?

“She’s still your nana, and she loves you,” she tells

me, stroking my cheek. “We both do.”

The doorbell rings and freeze.

“Look, whatever happens,” Sarah says gently, “it’s

up to you. You can tell her if you want to, if it helps, if it

makes it easier for you.”

She looks at me sadly.

“Rosie, I’m so sorry. Sorry you had to find out this

way, for everything you’ve been through.” She sighs. “But

it’s your life now, and you have to make your own choices.

But no matter what, no matter what you choose to do, just

know I’m always here for you, any time, day or night,

okay?”

nod. “Okay.”

She kisses my cheek, then goes to answer the door.

take deep breath. Just be normal Be normal. It’s

just Nana Just Nana

Suddenly there she is, stepping into the room,

beaming at me.

“Hi, Nana.”

smile tentatively, feeling sick to my

stomach.

“Hello, darling!” She gives me hug, her small frame

fragile in my arms. “Steve rang—are you all right? Andrew

said he’d drop you off—”

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“Oh, Nana, I’m so sorry—Christmas dinner …”

glance at my watch. “I should’ve called …”

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles. “It’s all keeping warm,

and besides, it’s good for you to get out and see your

friends. Especially now.” She squeezes my hand. “When

think of the parties Trudie used to throw—goodness me,

she wouldn’t surface till teatime the next day!”

smile weakly. Same old Nana, always making the

best of things.

“Well, I’d better get back,” Sarah says. “Steve’s