Andy, his arms wrapped tightly around girl, grinning at

the camera as she kisses him tenderly.

pretty blond girl.

pluck the photo from the wall, my fingers

trembling as

stare at their interlocked fingers, their

matching UEFA football shirts, the stadium behind them

where the Euro championships were held two summers

ago

Something hits me in the chest. Hard.

Two summers ago Just after we broke up. The

summer we were going to go traveling

The summer he went without me …

can’t breathe. My chest tightens as all the pain of

his leaving floods back—the burning insecurity that

wasn’t good enough, that I’d never been good enough, that

he’d finally got tired of waiting for me to be ready—or

worse, that now he’d seen me naked he didn’t want me

after all.

“You don’t want me.” My voice echoes suddenly in

my ears, my cheeks blazing as remember him pushing

me away last night, my lips stinging with rejection. “You

never did.”

40

run the tap, splashing the gushing water on my

burning face, tears stinging my eyes as all my hopes of us

getting back together dissolve to nothing.

So that is what happened. That’s why he was so keen to stop when the phone rang that night, that’s why he went traveling without me. He’d gone off me. Gone off

in search of someone new. And he found her …

wrench my eyes open, searching the photos for

more pictures of her, of other girls, other girlfriends—

How many have there been?

scour the snaps—parties,

people, places—then, suddenly,

familiar face grins out,

and instantly the rest of last night comes rushing painfully

back.

Kyle

the

party

kissing

Andy

kissing

Kyle

Kyle sneering

his mocking impression of Mum

jolt like electricity hits me without warning.

Mum

Sarah’s words scream back at me as the room

begins to sway.

Trudie was not your mother

clutch the edge of the sink, my stomach lurching as

the nightmare flashes back, starker, more painful, more

terrifyingly real in the cold light of day.

Trudie was not she was never my mother …

And she never told me. How

how could she keep

something like that

secret, after everything we’d been

through with the disease?

Especially when she found out about the disease …

41

The room spins, and plunge my face down, down

into the icy water, trying to drown the questions, the pain,

the images flooding my head

After Bex called that night,

took

taxi straight

back to school—if Mum was angry about me staying at

Andy’s, he’d be the last person she’d want to see—but by

the time got there she’d gone.

Mum’d turned up at the prom looking for me, Bex

said. Apparently she’d forgotten I’d told her was staying

at Bex’s, then, when wasn’t at school, she’d gone mental.

She’d stormed into the school hall, tottering around in her

favorite heels and nightdress in front of everyone,

searching for me, screaming at the top of her lungs. Bex

tried to explain, tried calling me, but of course hadn’t

answered my mobile

Then Mum’d headed back to the car. The teachers

tried to stop her, said she was in no state to drive, but

Mum just shoved them out of the way.

Then she walked into tree, fell over and broke her

ankle. One of the teachers took her to hospital, and it was

there that they noticed that she wasn’t drunk. That there

was something else wrong, really wrong, with her. And

her life changed forever.

And so did mine.

Andy’s bedroom door flies open.

“I have got better things to do on Christmas Day

than wait around for you, you know?” he snaps.

“I bet,” say, dropping the photo at his feet.

He stares at it, surprised.

42

“Rosie,

It’s not what you think.”

“Whatever.” look away.

“That was just fling— ages ago—”

“About eighteen months ago, in fact.”

“Rosie …” He falters. “She’s not

We’re not

It

didn’t mean anything.”

“Whatever.” swallow, try to move past him.

“Rose—” He grabs my arm, his touch like ice.

“Let me go.”

“Rosie, I—”

“Andy—”

“What did you expect me to do?”

stop short, my breath stuck in my throat.

“What did you expect me to do, Rose? Just wait

around for eighteen months on the off chance that you

might finally call? That we might get back together?”

My throat is paralyzed.

“Tell me, Rosie, what was supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” mumble helplessly. “I thought you

loved me.”

“I did,” Andy says sadly. “But you shut me out.” He

snaps his fingers. “Just like that! didn’t know why, you

wouldn’t tell me, wouldn’t even answer your phone the

fifty times

called to find out why you weren’t at the

station like we’d arranged.

was standing there on the

platform like an idiot, Rosie—I almost missed my train!”

“But you didn’t,” say quietly. “You left.”

“Yes, left. was hurt, was angry, and I’d used all

my savings on

Eurail ticket that was about to go to

43

waste. You wouldn’t tell me why you wouldn’t come,

didn’t give me reason to stay, you just sent me text—a

text—saying sorry, you couldn’t come anymore. No

explanation, nothing!”

look away.

“It’s pretty shitty way to dump someone, Rose.”

stare at him. “I wasn’t dumping you! just

had

lot to deal with. couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t talk to me about it? Couldn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t!” protest. “Not then.”

“Why?” he explodes. “What could be so terrible that

you couldn’t tell me?”

struggle to breathe, even now it’s impossible to

find words to describe the horrible uncertainty and

confusion and terror of that awful, life-changing day when

Mum was finally diagnosed.

He sighs. “As if don’t know.”

“What?”

He looks away. “It was pretty obvious, Rose. The

timing

what happened

or didn’t …” He shuffles his

feet, his cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry if

did something

wrong, if pushed you into nearly doing something you

didn’t want to …”

stare at him, stunned.

He looks at me, his eyes pained. “But you could’ve

just talked to me, you know? was happy to wait.”

“What? No!” protest, my own cheeks burning. He

thinks I dumped him because of that night? “No—no, it wasn’t …” take

deep breath, trying to get my words

44

straight. “Andy, it wasn’t you, anything to do with you. It

was Mum—”

“Then why couldn’t you tell me that? Why couldn’t

you call?”

“I was at the hospital, my phone was off, couldn’t.”

“You could’ve if you’d tried, Rose. You could’ve

called me, could’ve explained, could’ve let me know what

was going on so didn’t keep hoping …”

stare at him, speechless.

“Every city, every station—in Rome, in Athens,

Barcelona—I prayed you’d changed your mind, that you’d

be there waiting to explain, to join me for the rest of our

trip, the adventure we’d planned for so long.” He shrugs.

“But you didn’t come. You didn’t come, and it became

obvious you never would.” He sighs. “I got tired of waiting