“Come on.” Andy grabs my arm and pulls me back

through the door.

“Crap.” kick the snow gloomily as we walk back to

the car. “Utter crap. Fat lot of use that was.”

“Well,

don’t know what you expected, to be

honest, Rose. They’re hardly going to say, ‘Oh yes,

88

remember that mother, here’s her name, address and

telephone number,’ are they?”

“She might have.” round on him. “She might have, because she’s the one who told Sarah about me!”

He stops walking.

“She was there Andy—she met Holly. She might

remember her, might be able to tell me—”

turn back but he grabs my arm.

“She’s not going to tell you anything, Rosie—there

are laws, you know?”

“I know,” admit sulkily. “But—”

“And Sarah broke the law, Rose,” Andy continues,

his voice

whisper. “She’ll get into

lot of trouble if

anyone finds out—you have to be really careful about

this.”

“I am being careful.” hug the clipboard tightly. “But

Andy, how else am going to find my real mother?”

He sighs. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”

look at him.

“Think about it, Rosie. She was seventeen.

Seventeen and pregnant and alone. She was going to give

you up for adoption, she ran away, she probably even gave

fake name—there were no seventeen-year-old Holly

Woodses, remember?”

sigh heavily, digging my toe into the loose gravel.

Andy’s right, the trail’s gone cold. It’s nearly eighteen

years cold. All have is name, and if that’s fake

then

have nothing. My mother walked out of that hospital and

89

just disappeared into thin air, leaving me behind—the

only proof she ever existed.

She doesn’t even have birth record.

dig my foot deeper into the stones, losing my toes

in the dirt and grit.

No sign of her, even five years either side.

rewind my conversation with Sarah miserably in

my head. She was seventeen she was here— the girl’s name was Holly Woods …

Suddenly my heart begins to race.

The girl …

march back to the car. “We need to check the

records again.”

“What? Rosie, wait—”

“The birth records,” tell him, sprinting now. “We

got the wrong year!”

“Rosie, we checked,” Andy argues. “Five years either

side—there was no Holly Woods born at the right time to

be your mother!”

“No.” grin, my cheeks warm in the icy air. “Not my

mother …”

My fingers trip over themselves as type into the

database. hold my breath, tapping my foot nervously as

the computer scans the birth records.

page of details pings up before me.

“Bingo,” whisper, clicking the mouse.

Holly Marie Woods it reads.

Mother’s Maiden Name: Sinclare

Registration District: Maybridge

90

Date of Birth …

The fifth of January, the year was born.

stare at the record, hardly able to believe it. There

she is in black and white. Holly Woods—the baby’s name, not the mother’s. Sarah must’ve misunderstood when

asked her—or did. But here she is. The other baby. Holly

Woods

“This is morbid,” Andy mutters beside me. “This is

so morbid, Rose. This girl died—Trudie’s baby died …”

look at the screen, goose bumps prickling my

arms. Mum’s baby If she’d lived, she’d have had my

mum—she’d have my life. But she died.

blink hard,

imagining her tiny body, tiny coffin. Sarah swapped us,

and she died—and Mum never even knew. She died

and

lived in her place.

stare at the record, guilt wrapping heavily around

my shoulders.

The day was born. My town. could be looking at

my own birth record, it’s so similar.

Suddenly, an icy shiver trickles down my spine.

This is my birth record

stare at the page again, my eyes wide, the facts

screaming out at me, clear as day. This isn’t some other

girl, some stranger, even Trudie’s daughter

These are my details: my name, my mother

scroll down quickly, scanning, searching.

Mother’s Maiden Name: Sinclare

91

“That’s weird,” Andy says, reading over my

shoulder. “Why would you give your child

different

surname? Why Woods, not Sinclare?”

shrug. “Maybe it was my father’s name?”

“I thought she was alone?”

“She could still have named me after him.”

“Or maybe she wanted to distance herself …,” Andy

suggests carefully.

“From my real dad?” frown.

“Yes …” Andy hesitates. “Or

from you.”

stare at him.

“Rosie …” He sighs. “All I’m saying is

she was

going to put you up for adoption. Perhaps it was just

easier to call you something else. Maybe she wanted to be

harder to find.”

“That’s ridiculous,”

say, my cheeks hot. “There

could be million reasons why she called me that—maybe

she’s movie buff?

Maybe she just liked the name! The

point is, we don’t know Andy. We can’t ever know, unless we find her.”

“How?” Andy asks. “We don’t even know her first

name—it’s impossible!”

stare miserably at the screen. All we’ve got is

surname.

And town

Quickly, click on new search. type Sinclare into

the database, and, instantly, short list appears in front of

me.

smile spreads over my face as scan the screen.

92

There’re only few entries for thirty-five years ago

and

only one in Maybridge!

“Bingo!”

Katharine Sinclare

My mother!

My heart pounding crazily, grab the phone book

again and flick through it clumsily.

gasp. There’s only one Sinclare

In Maybridge.

stare at the page. I’ve found her. I’ve really found

her

Andy looks at me, his eyes serious.

“Now what?”

Now what?

stare at myself in the mirror.

pull off my baggy T-shirt and turn sideways,

running my hand over my belly.

You can’t even tell, not really.

look normal—a

couple of pounds heavier, maybe, but no one would know

to look at me. They’d never guess

bite my lip.

can’t have

baby—how can I? It would ruin

everything! I’ve got

life,

dream.

dream that doesn’t

include becoming single teenage mother

watch as hot tear slides down my cheek.

93

can’t do this. Not on my own. I’m too young—

there are thousand reasons

just can’t.

take deep breath.

It’s time to make decision, choose my future.

pull my top back on, shivering suddenly.

And no one would ever know.

94

Chapter Seven

The first lampposts are flickering on as we pull up

few doors down from the pebble-dashed semidetached

house.

stare up at it, spellbound, Christmas lights

twinkling around the windows,

flashing reindeer

guarding the gravel drive.

can’t believe how close she was all this time. I’ve

driven past this house million times—it’s on my way to

school, for heaven’s sake!

“Rosie …” Andy hesitates. “I don’t think this is such

good idea.”

turn. “What?”

“You can’t just waltz up to some stranger’s house