family will think I’m avoiding them! Bye, Laura.” She hugs

Nana, then blows me kiss. “Bye, Rosie. Merry Christmas.”

Merry Christmas

watch her walk away down the gravel drive.

“Shall we?” Nana smiles. “There’s great big turkey

with our names on it at home, and want to hear all about

your wonderful party. Ooh, and Holiday is on later—I do love Cary Grant, and—Brrr!” She shivers violently as the

wind blows in. “And don’t know about you, but could do

with nice big mug of hot chocolate. Warms you from the

inside out, Trudie would always say!”

smile weakly as she takes my arm—just as

normal—and step out into the cold, dark night, lifting my

face to the falling rain.

Rain patters heavily against the window as lock

the bathroom door and hold my breath.

66

Please

pray, my fingers crossed tightly as pull

down my pants.

Please, this time …

Nothing. Shit.

crumple to the floor, my fingers twisting

frantically in my hair.

Relax tell myself. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not that late …

Six weeks …

Raindrops slide like tears down the dark

windowpane, blotting out the stars.

screw my eyes shut, concentrate on breathing.

It could just it could just be stress. It happens. You

hear about it all the time— false alarms. It doesn’t mean …

My breath catches, ragged in my throat.

Get

grip, girl. Everything’s cool, everything’s fine.

It’ll come …

bite my lip, take deep breath and force myself to

stand up and splash cold water on my face.

Everything’s fine

open my eyes and the girl in the mirror stares

back at me.

She looks as unconvinced as am.

67

Chapter Five

The little glow-in-the-dark stars swim above me as

stare at the ceiling of Nana’s spare room, my head buzzing.

Images of Sarah, Nana and Mum swirl wildly against the

blank faces of my real mother—Holly—and Mum’s dead

baby, the events of that fateful night whirling like

tornado in my mind, questions battering like hailstones,

puncturing and destroying all the truths I’ve ever known,

leaving

void as black and as vast as the night sky, but

with precious few stars to guide me.

My future.

person cannot exist without

past. Someone

famous said that. But what if your entire existence is lie?

It’s like I’ve been wearing stilettos all my life, leaving

footprints everywhere

go, and then one day someone

says, “Hey! Those shoes don’t belong to you!” and they

take them away. And look back, and all have left are the

old footprints, which don’t even fit my feet anymore, so

can’t go back, but

haven’t got any new shoes to go

forward in, so I’m stuck. Frozen in that place. Not even

existing.

sigh and reach into my purse, pulling out the list

I’ve kept with me ever since decided to take the test:

If Positive— Fight HD by:

68

Eating nutritiously— strong body is healthy body

Exercising regularly— ditto

Taking vitamins, fish oils, etc.— if there’s ANY chance they could help, it’s worth it

Keeping my mind sharp— learn Italian, play chess, go on “Mastermind.”

Taking part in clinical trials and research

If Negative

The page beneath is blank—I couldn’t bear to hope,

to imagine the endless daunting possibilities

And now?

sigh. Now my past and future are blank.

heave myself out of bed, grab my dressing gown,

and pad into the lounge, curling up on the sofa and flicking

blindly through the muted TV channels. The clock on the

wall ticks endlessly, each second throbbing against my

skull as the minutes crawl by. glance up at it, and without

warning, the family portraits beam down at me: black-

and-white photos of Nana and Granddad when they were

young; their wedding day; Mum as

baby, with

Granddad—so smart and proud in his police uniform—

just months before an armed burglar blasted him and his

genetic secret into an early grave.

There are lots of Mum as

girl, then with Dad:

laughing as they cut their wedding cake; suntanned and

windswept on beach somewhere; Mum on park swing

grinning at the camera, her arms wrapped tightly round

small dark-haired toddler.

69

stare at them incredulously—how did never see

it? We look nothing alike, it’s blindingly obvious. Nana and

Mum have the same chestnut hair, the same hazel eyes,

but I’ve got black hair, and my eyes are green. It’s not even

as if Dad was dark—he was blond! How could have been

so blind? I’d never thought, never guessed, never

imagined

The faces smile blurrily back at me, but it’s not real,

it’s not my family. Not anymore. The pieces are broken,

and they can’t be patched over with cuddles and cocoa

and bloody Cary Grant. The lies glare through, like cracks

in stained-glass window, ruining everything.

“You’re so like her, you know.”

look up quickly, blinking away the tears. Nana is

standing in the doorway, her snowy hair crumpled from

her pillow.

“The number of mornings I’d get up to find her

curled like you are on the sofa with

mug of hot

chocolate.” She smiles. “Couldn’t sleep?”

shake my head, and she sits down next to me,

following my gaze.

“She was so proud of you.” She beams, her face

crinkling like tissue paper. “She loved you so much, from

the moment she first held you.” She strokes my hair

behind my ear the way Mum used to, and my chest hurts.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to her, Rosie.

gift of hope, of happiness—just when she needed it

most.”

70

swallow hard, her words echoing Sarah’s: You

saved her that night— you saved each other …

Nana squeezes my hand. “You brought so much joy

to her life, through everything …” Her voice cracks, but

still she smiles, the light from the silent TV catching every

wrinkle on her face. “I honestly don’t know what she’d

have done without you. Our gift. Our miracle.” She

clutches my hand tightly. “My precious granddaughter.”

Her face splinters as

blink fiercely, fighting the

tears.

I’m not her granddaughter

Not any relation at

all

My eyes flick back to the family photos.

We’re the only ones left

realize suddenly. I’m all

she’s got left—and I’m not even hers

“So.” Nana smiles, her eyes watery. “What’s next for

the bright and beautiful Rosie Kenning?”

look at her, my mind an utter blank.

Where do go from here? How do even start?

“What about Sixth Form?” Nana suggests. “You

could pick up where you left off, and you’d be back with all

your old friends—”

“They’ve got their

levels this year,”

say

miserably. “They’ll be gone by June.”

Everyone’ll be gone. Off to uni, or jobs, or taking gap

years. There’s only me left behind. Me and Nana. Nana

have to lie to—or break her heart.

“Well, how about traveling?” she suggests. “You’ve

always wanted to travel, why not go now?”