Someone Else's Life (32 page)

Rosie

“Don’t you think we should wait till we hear from Kitty?” I ask nervously as I help Ben tidy his trucks away. “We’re only assuming at the moment—we don’t know for sure …”

“She can’t possibly go ahead with the story now, Rosie.” Jack laughs. “Or the case—it would be professional suicide!”

Yes
, I think, but a little voice nags in my head.
But if she really loved me, if she really wanted me …

I banish it guiltily—what am I thinking? That I
want
her to sue Sarah to prove she loves me after all?

“Rosie’s right, though,” Megan says. “We know how determined she can be. She might think of some way to get around the answering machine message—”

She’s interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. We all stare at it.

“Well, that was quick,” Jack says.

“Should we let it go to the machine?” Megan jokes. “For evidence?”

Jack picks the receiver up carefully. “Hello?”

I stare at him.
Is it her?

“Oh, hi, Pete.”

I sink into a chair, not even realizing I’ve been holding my breath till it comes rushing out.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Jack tells the phone. “Yep. Friday’s great. Okay, glad you’re feeling better. Bye.”

He replaces the receiver and almost immediately the phone rings again. Jack stares at it, startled.

“Place your bets now,” he jokes.

“Jack, just answer it, for goodness’ sake,” Megan urges.

“Hello?” he says, lifting the receiver. “Oh, hello.” I stare at him as he touches his finger to his lips, all humor wiped from his face as he takes the phone into the kitchen.

It’s Kitty.

I hold my breath consciously this time, my fingers crossed so tightly they hurt.

Please
, I beg,
please let her drop the case! Please let this all be over!
I close my eyes and wish hard—trying to block out the little voice in the back of my head, still pleading just as much for the opposite.

Holly

She’s not his daughter.

I stare at the page, hardly able to believe it.

This whole nightmare … this whole awful, horrific fortnight has been some mistake
—
some monumental mistake! Rosie’s not his daughter!

Which means I am!

I laugh incredulously. I feel like Scrooge waking up on Christmas morning to find that Tiny Tim’s still alive, that the spirits have given him a second chance, given him back his life, and it was all just a dream … 
It wasn’t real!
The baby swap, the Huntington’s—I don’t have it and never will—never
can
—because
Rosie got it wrong!
Somehow she got it all wrong—the wrong mother, the wrong father … It was all just one big, bad, terrible nightmare …

And now it’s time to wake up.

I feel dizzy with delirium, laughter bubbling uncontrollably inside me—Dad’s still
really
my dad, I’m not ill, my
baby’s
not ill, and Josh … I stare at the plastic ring in my hand, my heart soaring as I remember his words:
I love you, Holly Marie Woods
—
I will love you till my dying day …
And now there’s nothing in the way—no illness, no reason to hide … it’s time. I have to call him—right now—have to tell him he’s going to be a dad!

Trembling with excitement, I grab the phone extension by my bed, my finger poised to dial—but am stopped short by a voice on the other end.

“Jack, please,” Kitty begs. “Let me talk to Rosie. She has to know I never meant—I didn’t realize—It wasn’t my idea. Janine—”

“Did what?” Dad asks coolly. “
Forced
you?”

I grin, savoring the moment. She’s my mother now, and I can tell her just where she can stick her bogus lawsuit, just how stupid she’d look if she went to press with a humongous lie, just how little I think of her as a mother …

“No, she—I just wanted to find Rosie—to have another chance.” Kitty sighs. “The article was Janine’s idea.”

I take a deep breath, adrenaline surging.

“And the court case?” Dad asks coldly. “The DNA test?”

I freeze.

The DNA test
.

Kitty had a DNA test done too …

And it came out positive.

“Just … tell Rosie I’m sorry, will you?” Kitty sighs. “I’ve had to drop the case.”

Positive
 …

“And the story?” Dad asks.

“The story’s toast, Jack, you know that,” she says bitterly. “I can’t take the risk. The negative exposure …”

I screw my eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all.

“Thank you, Kitty,” Dad says.

“Don’t
thank
me,” Kitty says hotly. “It’s not like I had a choice. Rosie’s my daughter, after all—I have a right. And I don’t appreciate being blackmailed, Jack.”

Rosie is Kitty’s daughter …

“I understand,” he says. “But I’ve got to look out for
my
daughter—this wasn’t the right way, Kitty.”

But she’s not Dad’s …?

“Oh, really? God, you’re so high and mighty—you think you know everything, don’t you, Jack? But you don’t.”

“Really?” Dad says patiently.

But if Rosie
is
Kitty’s and
isn’t
Dad’s
—
and we were born the same night, how …?

“Uh-huh. Because I’ve got news for you, Jack Woods.” Kitty sneers. “That precious daughter of yours? The one you say you’re protecting? Rosie? She’s not your daughter, Jack. When I met you I was already pregnant.”

My eyes fly open and I stare at the phone, stunned to the core. Suddenly the test results fall into place.

He wasn’t the father
 …

“Oh, Kitty,” Dad says eventually, his voice cool, calm. “You think I didn’t know? I’ve always known.”

I gasp.

“Kitty?” Dad says suddenly.

I hang up quickly, my head rushing. I close my eyes, their words tumbling in tangled circles around my head.

Rosie is Kitty’s baby, which means she was swapped at birth
—
with me. Then I was given to Kitty and Dad took me because he thought I was Kitty’s child
—
but he was never the father, never the father of Kitty’s baby
—
never Rosie’s father …
I open my eyes suddenly.

Which means he was never my father either …

And he always knew
.

Rosie

“Well?” Megan urges as Jack slowly hangs up the phone. “What did she say?”

My heart sinks as he slowly turns, his face pale.

“She’s dropping the case.” He smiles weakly. “The article too. I was right—professional suicide.”

“That’s wonderful!” Megan cries, grabbing me in a hug. I hold her tight, that little voice in my head finally extinguished in the flood of relief. I don’t need Kitty. I never did. And now I know I’m better off without her. I can’t believe I risked so much to find her, came so close to losing everything … I close my eyes, breathless with the thought of it. It’s a miracle. She’s dropping the case. She’s not going to print the story, she’s not going to sue. Sarah’s safe and Nana need never know—
thank God!

“We should tell Holly!” Megan says suddenly. “She’ll be anxious to know—”

“I’ll go!” Jack says quickly. “In fact, you three go ahead to the restaurant and order me the spiciest pizza they’ve got—I’ll see if a bit of good news can’t tempt her to come with us.” He heads upstairs.

“We’ll wait.” Megan smiles.

“No need. We’ll catch you up. You lot are slow coaches, anyway.” He grins at Ben. “We’ll race you—last one there doesn’t get any ice cream!”

“Go, go, go!” Ben screams, grabbing my hand and racing for the door as Jack disappears upstairs.

Holly

He was never my Dad …

I stare blankly at the phone. Which means …

I close my eyes as the sky falls in all over again.

It wasn’t a dream
—
or a mistake … It’s true
—
it’s all true
—
the baby swap, the Huntington’s …

I crumple to the floor as my world crashes down once more, twice as hard this time, a million times more excruciating after a brief glimpse of hope.

And he
knew
?

All this time—my whole life—he brought me up, raised me … 
knowing he wasn’t my dad?

I struggle to breathe.

Then when Rosie arrived, claiming to be me, claiming she was Kitty’s daughter, that he was her father—
he let her!
He let her take my family, my life, my dad—
and she’s not even his daughter!

And
he knew!

The door flies open and Dad bursts in.

“Holly!” he says urgently. “Holly, were you on the phone just now—on the extension?”

I bite my lip.

“Holly!” He stares at me, his eyes wide, anxious.

I nod, looking away, the tears spilling over.

“Sweetheart!” He engulfs me in his arms, this man who isn’t, who never was, my dad.

“You knew?” I whisper incredulously. “You knew all along?”

“No!” He cups my face, his eyes deep in mine. “Oh, sweetheart, no, I only said that because Kitty …” He hesitates, swallows. “I didn’t know,” he repeats, his eyes full of sorrow. “But there were times when … I wondered.…” He falters.

“Everything happened so soon after Kitty and I met—and we weren’t together very long.” He looks at me, pleading with me to understand. “But Kitty told me you were mine and I believed her. I wanted you to be! I love you so much—you’ve always been my daughter, you know that. Blood doesn’t matter to us. We’ve proved that already, right?” He looks at me fearfully. “Right?”

“Blood doesn’t matter?” I ask, my voice wobbling.

“No,” he promises, pulling me close. “No, it’s never mattered. Blood isn’t anything when it’s you and me.”

“Okay.” I nod, my thoughts racing. “Okay, if that’s true …”

“It is—sweetie, you know it is.”

“Okay. Then tell Rosie.”

He goes very still. “What?”

“If blood doesn’t matter … if it makes no difference …” I look at him, my heart pounding. “Then you should tell her.”

“Holly …” He pulls back and looks at me. “Why?”

“You’re not her blood father,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Just like you’re not mine. If it doesn’t matter, you should tell her. And if it does matter …” I search his eyes. “She has a right to know.”

Dad closes his eyes, rubs his hand across his face. “Holly, I—”

“She has a right to know the truth, Dad,” I tell him.

He shakes his head, looks away.

“Holly, we don’t—we don’t even know if it
is
the truth. Kitty might be lying now—in fact, she probably is! She’s angry and spiteful, and she just wanted to hurt us, sweetheart. She just wanted to hurt
me
—
that’s
why I told her I already knew—that’s the
only
reason. There’s no evidence that she’s telling the truth, and absolutely no reason to believe her now!”

“Yes, there is.”

“What?” He frowns, confused, as my eyes fall to the letter, discarded on the floor. Slowly, I hand it to him.

“What’s this?” His eyes scan the page and I watch as the color drains from his face.

“You have to tell her,” I say quietly. “But if you don’t …” I take a deep breath. “I will.”

“Holly, no.” He grabs my hands. “Please. You can’t!”

“Why not?” I cry angrily. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Do you have any idea how she would feel—to find out something like this?”

“Yes, actually!” I choke on the words. “I know
exactly
how she would feel!”

“Holly …” He looks at me, torn. “Holly, I’m sorry, but that was different.”

“How?!”

“She only told you because she didn’t have a choice—you needed to know about the disease!”

“Lucky me!” I laugh bitterly.

“Holly, if you told her the truth …” He trails off, shakes his head. “Sweetheart, please, think about it. Your biological parents loved you—
I
love you. Imagine how Rosie would feel to learn that
neither
of her real parents wanted to know her—that they both abandoned her. Look what she’s been through with Kitty!”

“I don’t care!” I exclaim. “It’s the truth!”

“Holly!” He stands up, paces the room, hands in his hair. “What is it—you want to hurt Rosie? It would make you feel better if she knew I wasn’t her father either?”

“Yes!” I explode, the truth bursting from me like a jack-in-the-box—bright and bold, and ugly. “Yes! Why should she get you as a dad if I don’t—
if she’s not even really yours?
It’s not fair!”

“
Life
isn’t fair, Holly!” Dad yells suddenly, his face pale. “You think it was fair that the woman I loved was already pregnant with another man’s child? You think it was fair that I loved her so much I didn’t care, I didn’t question, I took them both on? That she then left me to come flitting over here like a moth to the spotlight? That I
followed
her, for Chrissakes, taking care of her child, loving her, and she didn’t even
care
?”

I stare at him.

“You think any of this is fair, Holly?” he asks wearily. “On any of us?”

I bite my lip hard.

“But it stops here. Now. No more revelations that are going to hurt this family—I don’t care if it’s the truth. We’re saturated. We’re done.”

I look away, the tears springing afresh, my hand moving instinctively to my stomach.

No more revelations …

“I’m not going to tell Rosie, Holly.” He sighs. “And neither are you.”

I stare at my feet, my heart beating fast, my eyes stinging. “Then I can’t stay here.”

“Holly-berry.”

“No, Dad,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay if she’s here.” I look at him. “Not if you don’t tell her.”

“Holly!” He shakes his head. “Holly, please, telling her would just be spiteful, vindictive—you’re not like that, I didn’t bring you up that way—”

“You shouldn’t have brought me up at all,” I retort. “You’re not my father!”

He sighs. “Holly …”

“Just like you’re not her father,” I say. “But you won’t let
her
go. You’d
rather
have her as your daughter. Is it because she looks like Kitty?”

“Holly, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Or is it because she’s healthy—
normal
?”

“Holly!” He stares at me, shocked. “I would
never
choose her over you.”

“Then prove it,” I demand. “Tell her the truth.”

He looks at me for a long moment, then rubs his hands roughly across his face.

“No,” he sighs heavily, his voice cracking. “Holly, sweetheart, I can’t.”

“Then you’ve made your choice,” I say, opening the door, the blood pumping in my ears. “Now go.”

“Holly!”

“Go, Dad! Go on—go to her!”

“Holly-berry, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Holly …”

“
Are
you?”

He searches my face desperately, a deep frown furrowing his forehead, his eyes tortured, watery—but I don’t care. He’s choosing her over me—the healthy daughter over the sick, the brand-new daughter who looks like his first love over the girl who’s loved him her entire life.

“Go,” I order.

“We’ll … we’ll talk about this more later.” He sighs, reaching for me as I turn away. “Holly, I promise, we’ll—”

“I won’t be here.” I slam the door behind him, cutting him off as the world blurs around me.

Rosie … I can’t believe he chose Rosie …

I look around the room, my pulse stabbing my temples as my eyes skim over the wallpaper Dad put up for me, the keyboard I begged him for when I was twelve, Mr. Brown … Everywhere I look, presents and photos and memories …

A scream rips from my throat as I fly at them savagely, shoving and clawing, ripping at the pictures on the wall, the photos, the posters—tearing at the lies, the souvenirs of a life I should never have had. I lob books and shred photos and kick at a pile of clothes, when something small and pink tumbles out of a pocket.

I snatch it up, about to rip it—when suddenly I realize what it is.

Rosie’s address book.

I’d forgotten all about it. I open it up, its neat pink square small and hard in my hand as I flip through it. All these people I’ve never met. Who might have been my friends, my family … My thumb stops suddenly as a name jumps out from the thin pages.

Nana Fisher
.

I stare at it, rubbing my thumb gently over the black ink as if I could touch her, see her. This woman who would have been
my
nana, my
family
, but for the mistake that’s kept us apart.

My whole life’s one huge, horrible mistake.

Or rather, it wasn’t a mistake, at all …

Suddenly my fingers scrabble in the pages, flipping through quickly to the
S
section. I scan the lines urgently, but it’s all surnames. I take a deep breath and start at the beginning, forcing myself to go slowly, be thorough, my pulse racing as my eyes dart over the pages, searching, searching …

Until I find her.