“NO!” scream, the loudness of my voice startling
me. “She was—she is!”
“Rosie—” Sarah reaches for me.
“No! You were there!”
accuse her, wrenching
away.
15
“You were there when
was born, you delivered
me—how can you …?” gasp for breath.
She nods. That weak smile again.
“Yes, yes, was, which is why know that Trudie
wasn’t—”
“Stop it! Stop lying to me!” yell. “This is sick! This is just some sick way to stop me taking the test—admit it!”
My eyes search hers, desperate for some sign that it’s not
true, that she’s made it all up, but she just looks sad, tired.
feel faint, giddy. She was! She was my mother.
Wasn’t she? close my eyes. She would have told me— she would have told me if was adopted. Wouldn’t she …?
“Rosie, sit down, you’re swaying. Let’s talk about
this—please, let me explain …” Sarah reaches out, guiding,
helpful.
swipe her away and run, just run. Out of the back
door, through the gate, the woods, hurtling down the hill
toward the fields, yanking off the sweaters and sprinting
blindly through the snow. can’t breathe. The flakes swirl
faster and faster, dancing and whirling and twirling with
my lost mother in my mind.
I’ve lost her, and she wasn’t even mine
The words tumble clumsily into the dance, cold and
hard and heavy.
She wasn’t even my mother to lose
I’m losing him.
16
Josh’s words tumble painfully around and around
my head:
“We need to talk.”
know what that means.
Ever since he started college I’ve been expecting,
dreading, fearing those words.
“Coming for
swim?” Melissa grins, running up
beside me. “I’ll race you fifty lengths!”
“Not today.” shake my head. “I’m not in the mood.”
She sighs. “You’ve been moody for days now—this
must be record!”
hug myself tightly.
Her face softens and she hooks her arm through
mine. “Have you tried hot water bottle?”
“What?”
“That works for me—or camomile tea?”
stare at her. Why does everyone think anything
can be solved with cup of tea?
“Or read that lavender oil can really help, if you
rub it in.”
“Where?” ask, totally bemused.
“Your stomach, silly—it’s supposed to help ease the
cramps.”
Cramps? Suddenly understand.
“No, haven’t got—” The words stick like thorns in
my throat as calculate quickly.
“Oh, get it!” Melissa grins. “You’re just scared I’ll
beat you, huh? Frightened of little competition?”
smile weakly, my head pounding painfully.
17
Five weeks nearly six …
“Come on,” she laughs. “Don’t be baby!”
She drags me numbly down the street, my legs
threatening to buckle any second as my blood rushes
deafeningly in my ears.
Don’t be baby …
18
Chapter Two
The ground rushes up to meet me, and it’s only
now, collapsed in the snow, that realize where am.
Stark silhouettes of skeleton trees clutch at the first
evening stars, and the vast expanse of snow is littered
with row upon row of cold black headstones.
And there she is.
GERTRUDE KENNING
BELOVED DAUGHTER, WIFE, AND MOTHER
“Liar!” The scream rips from my throat, Sarah’s
words stabbing my brain as screw my eyes shut, trying
to drown out her voice, her pitying face. Her expression
shifts into smile, and now the face see is my mother’s,
her brown eyes shining with warmth and love and life.
“Liar!” sob, clawing at the snow, hurling the lumps
of ice and mud at the grave—at the lies set in stone—
flinging them harder and harder, my fingers bleeding, my
eyes blurring, until finally my legs buckle beneath me, hot
tears streaking down my cheeks. “You weren’t my
mother!”
19
But she was! She was my mother. The only one
had. And now this
this is all that’s left.
crumple into the snow, the crisp pain stinging my
skin as my tears mingle with the ice.
miss you, miss you so much …
close my eyes, remembering how we used to lie
like this, making figures in the snow—a mummy angel
and baby angel.…
Tears flood the memory.
She was never my mother, never mine. My whole
life— my whole life— is one big lie …
struggle to my feet, bombarded with
kaleidoscope of memories—bright, garish, fake memories.
All fake— all lies
My throat burns with tears.
Why didn’t she tell me? Why did she lie?
had
right— have right to know who am …
The graveyard spins around me.
Who am …?
close my eyes.
“Rosie?”
whirl round, my breath caught in my throat.
He looks different, older, his chin spattered with
stubble, his hair longer, but I’d still know him anywhere.
“I thought it was you.” Andy smiles hesitantly. “Are
you okay? Did you get my message?”
nod silently, glad of the dark hiding my tears.
20
“I was going to call round, but …” He shuffles his
feet. “I wasn’t sure whether
if you …” He swallows, his
shoulders hunched, his hands deep in his pockets.
hug my arms against the icy breeze, staring at my
shoes.
“Besides, I’ve been under house arrest—Gran’s
visiting.” Andy clears his throat. “We’ve just been to the
Christingle.”
follow his gaze to the brightly lit church, its
stained-glass windows spilling colored light over the
chattering families huddling together outside.
Suddenly shiver.
“Bloody hell, Rose, you’re freezing. Here.” He pulls
off his jacket, and as he wraps it round me
bottle falls
out. Vodka.
“That’ll help too!” He laughs nervously, picking it
up.
stare at it, surprised.
“Well, you know.” He shrugs. “Sermons can get
little dull …” He grins that familiar lopsided grin and my
heart flips. “Not really—I’m off to party. This big family
Christmas thing is driving me crazy, and—”
frown
flashes over his features. “I mean …”
take the bottle and tip it skyward, the liquid
burning my throat and making me feel sick. take another
swig.
“Easy!” Andy laughs. “I know you—two glasses of
wine and you’re goner.”
look at him. know you My chest aches.
21
“Well, it’s
it’s good to see you, Rose.” He smiles,
those incredible blue eyes making my insides twist, my
head rushing with memories. Real, bright, happy
memories. “It’s been long time.”
It has, but suddenly it feels like yesterday.
“Can give you ride home?” he offers.
Home
wince, thinking of the dark, empty house
filled with lies. shake my head. It’s not my home. Not
anymore.
“Okay.” He shuffles his feet, turns to go. “Well …”
“Wait,” say quickly. He turns.
hesitate, the night dark and cold around us, his
jacket warm on my shoulders, the sharp vodka racing
through my veins.
“Did you say something about party?”
The door opens, and surrender to the music. The
whole place is throbbing with it— thud thud thud thud—