Someone Else's Life (18 page)

Holly

Something bats at my nose and my eyes fly open. A white paw prods my cheek and a long trail of drool dangles precariously over my face.

“
Dumbledore!
Dumbledore—get off!” I hiss, sitting bolt upright and swiping the cat away. He jumps off the bed, nose in the air, his little bell jangling petulantly as he trots off to find his next victim.

Ugh!
I wipe my cheek.
Gross! Why does he always pick on me?
I glance at the bedside clock.
Four
-
thirty a.m.?
I groan and flop back on my pillow, wide awake now.

I stare at the window, the faint moonlight glowing through the thin curtains, the dark branches dancing back and forth with the breeze.

Four-thirty-two a.m.

I look across at Melissa splayed on her bed, snoring loudly, oblivious. Typical. I roll over, burying my head in my pillow, restless and wakeful. This is so unlike me! Normally I sleep like a log, straight through my alarm and into next Tuesday, given half a chance. Not like Dad, who’s always up at the crack of dawn.

Dad
.

My heart twists suddenly, remembering him standing there, so hurt, so dejected. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know—he didn’t
know
he wasn’t my dad all these years … This has all been an incredible shock—for both of us. And how do I react when I find out? My words ring painfully in my ears.

You’re not my father!

I fumble for my cell phone. Fifteen missed calls. My heart sinks as the first message begins:

“Holly
—
Holly, sweetheart, please come home. I love you so much, just please come home
—”

I click it off, scramble into my jeans and run downstairs, the cold air hitting me like a slap in the face—my wake-up call—as suddenly I’m running down the street, the wind in my hair, the lampposts smiling down at me.

I’m coming, Dad, I’m coming
.

I’m coming home
.

Rosie

I open my eyes and stare miserably at the ceiling. It’s no good. I’ve been lying here, wide awake, for ages, the events of the past twenty-four hours swirling and spinning round my head, refusing to let me sleep. What they said—what I said—what I didn’t say—what I
should
have said … whether I should’ve said
anything
 …

I sigh and gently slide out of bed, careful not to wake Andy snoring softly beside me. I shiver as my feet hit the floor, and pad out onto the landing.

I flick the bathroom light on and stare at myself in the mirror.

So this is what they see. This is the girl who waltzed in and turned their world upside down. Who took everything they knew and threw it out the window. Who’s imposed herself on their lives—their family. I sigh heavily, covering my face with my hands.

It’s up to them now
. It’s all up to them. I’ve done my bit. The snow globe is well and truly shaken up. Who knows how it will settle this time … if it ever will.

I close my eyes and dip my head to the tap, drinking the cold water as it flows over my lips, cool and soothing and numbing.

“Holly?”

I jump at the voice, bashing my lip on the tap and spilling water down my front.

“Sorry!” Jack says, backing out of the bathroom. “Sorry, Rosie—I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you were—Sorry.”

“What time is it?” I yawn, taking in his jeans and woolly sweater. It’s still pitch black and freezing.

“Four-thirty-three,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “My mind won’t keep still.”

He nods. “Yes, there’s—well, there’s a lot to think about.”

I nod. “You?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been looking up Huntington’s online, trying to get my head around it all.” He rubs his eyes. “But there’s only so much you can take in.”

Don’t I know it. “If you want to talk, or have any questions …”

“Thank you.” He nods. “But right now I just need some air—I’m heading down to the fish market. No rest for the wicked.” He smiles. “Good night.”

“Good
morning
.” I smile, heading into my bedroom.

“Actually, Rosie …” He follows me. “Rosie, would you—”

Andy grunts in his sleep and rolls over.

“Oh!” Jack starts, backing away into the hallway. “Oh, God, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay.” I pull the door closed, following him. “Jack?”

“Sorry, I—I didn’t know—I was just going to say—to ask, really—since we’re both up …” He clears his throat. “I’m heading down to the market now—as I said—and I just wondered …” He frowns suddenly. “Sorry. Forget it, go back to bed.”

“I’d love to come.” I smile.

“You would?”

I nod. “Just give me five minutes to throw some clothes on and I’ll see you downstairs.”

He stares at me, surprised. “Right. Great!” He turns to leave but doesn’t move.

“So, you and Andy …,” he begins. “The two of you, you’re … close?” He glances at me.

I smile. “Yeah, we’re … close.”

He nods, takes a deep breath. “Right. Lots to learn.” He smiles shyly. “I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Five minutes,” I confirm.

“Right.”

I smile as he disappears down the stairs. He’s right, there is a lot to learn. Father and daughter and we don’t know the first thing about each other. Well, there’s no time like the present, even if it is the middle of the night—and freezing!

Holly

A stitch stabs at my side as I finally round the corner onto our street. I race up the steps at the back of the house, scrabble under the mat for the spare key and rush into the kitchen.

“Dad?” I fumble for the light switch and knock something off the counter. “Dad?” I race upstairs. “Dad?”

“Holly?”
Megan opens her bedroom door. “Jeez, you scared the life out of me. Are you okay?”

“Where’s Dad?” I ask urgently, looking past her at the empty bed.

“He’s gone to the fish market, sweetie,” Megan says. “It’s Monday.”

The fish market
. My heart sinks. I should’ve remembered.

“Are you all right?” she asks anxiously.

“Yes,” I say, my breath in starts. “Yes, I’m fine, I just—I just really wanted to see him—to tell him …”

“Oh, sweetheart, he knows.” Megan pulls me into a tight hug. “He’ll be so glad to see you.” She kisses my hair. “
I’m
so glad to see you.”

“Holly?” Ben’s door opens and he rubs his eyes sleepily.

“Hey, Benji-bear!” I smile, hugging him close, breathing in his sweet little-boy smell. “How’s my favorite cuddle monster?”

“Good!” he cries, giving me a sloppy kiss and clamping his pudgy arms around my neck.

“We’re just glad you’re home,” Megan says, stroking my hair tenderly, and I crumble, melting in their warmth.
Home
.

“Yeah.” I smile, drying my tears against Ben’s soft pajamas as he snuggles up to me, so warm, so familiar. “Me too.”

“Do any of you know where Rosie is?”

I look up, surprised. Rosie’s boyfriend is standing in the doorway of the spare room. In pajamas.

“I just woke up,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Megan glances at him, then looks at me. She hesitates.

My stomach hardens. “He’s with
Rosie
?”

Rosie

It’s still pitch black when we reach the fish market, but the place is already bustling. Fishermen unload their glistening wares while customers jostle and crowd round the counters, scouring the writhing mass for the biggest and best fish from the morning’s catch. I huddle deeper into the padded jacket Jack’s lent me, burrowing my face away from the biting cold—and the stench!

“Fragrant, huh?” Jack returns proudly with his fish gleaming like treasure in his box. He lifts it up and inhales deeply. “Poo-ee! I love the smell of fresh fish in the morning!” He grins at me, his cheeks pink from the cold, his eyes sparkling. “Brr! We’re lucky it’s not snowing.”

I stare at him. “Are you serious? You come down here in the snow? In the middle of the night?”

Jack laughs. “It’s not night—it’s morning! See?” He nods toward the churning mass of black sea slapping at the shingle, and the horizon beyond. The sun is just creeping up over the edge, and the beginnings of color are returning to the world. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

I shiver in his jacket and he laughs.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s dump these and grab a hot drink to warm up. There’s a greasy spoon over there that does a mean hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows?” I mumble through the coat, my nose an icicle.

“Is there any other kind?” He grins, leading the way.

Holly

“She’s still here?” I look at Megan accusingly as she pours tea into three mugs. “She stayed the night?
Here?
”

“I’m gonna—I’m just gonna go get …” Rosie’s boyfriend gestures to the door. “I’m just gonna go.” He disappears back upstairs.

“It was late, sweetie.” Megan hands me a mug and leads me into the living room. “She had nowhere else to go.”

“How about back to England?” I mutter, taking a sip of tea. It burns my tongue.

Megan sinks onto the sofa and sighs. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. It’s an awful shock, but … Rosie might be his daughter, sweetie.”

“I’m his daughter!” I protest, my eyes stinging. “Aren’t I enough?” I stare at her, daring her to answer. “Maybe I should just go away and leave them to it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Holly, you mean the world to your dad. You should have seen him last night—he was beside himself with worry.”

“Yeah, so worried he replaced me, huh?”

“Holly!”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? He’s got a new daughter now.” I hug my knees. “His real one.”

“That’s not true! Holly, don’t even think it. Your dad loves you so much—”

“Yeah, but he’s not my dad, is he?”

“He’ll always be your dad!”

“It’s not the same, though—it’s not biological. He’s
her
dad now.”

“Holly, we don’t even know that—not for sure! They did a test last night—let’s wait for the results before—”

“What’s the point?” I sigh. “He
knows
she’s his—he looks at her and he sees
her
mother—Katharine—doesn’t he? Look at me! I’m a redhead—I stand out like a sore thumb! No wonder she didn’t want me—she
knew
I was a mistake, an impostor …”

“Holly, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” I bite my lip hard, twisting my finger tightly in my hair—my horrible ugly, traitorous red hair.

“Look at me,” Megan says suddenly. “Look at me, Holly. I’m not your biological mother—I never was and I never will be.” She squeezes my hand. “But do you think that I love you any less? That any of this matters to me? To Ben?”

I look at him, carefully building his tower of wooden blocks—painstakingly adding one and then another, only for them all to come crashing down. Like my life. My heart aches.
Dad’s not the only one I could lose …

“That’s not the same,” I sigh. “Ben doesn’t know the difference.”

“Exactly. Exactly, Holly—that’s the point!”

“It’s not! It’s different!” I insist. “It’s different when it’s your child, a part of you …” I trail off, a stabbing pain in my chest.

“Okay,” Megan says carefully, leaning closer and looking me in the eye. “Okay, then. Do you honestly think I love you any less than I love Ben?”

I look at her, then look at Ben, hugging my knees hard. “You must—he’s
yours
, you gave birth to him—”

Megan shakes her head. “Oh, sweetie, it’s just not that simple. Giving birth doesn’t make you a mom,” she says. “Look at this Katharine woman. She abandoned her baby—she’s nobody’s mother. But your dad—your dad would move heaven and earth for you, and not because he thought you shared his genes, but because he loves you
so much
. It’s that love that counts—that bond. You’re a team. You’ll get through this.”

I stare into my tea, biting my lip.

“And what about Rosie?” I whisper. “How does she fit into all this?”

Megan sighs. “That’s just something we’re gonna have to figure out.”

Rosie

We slide into a booth by the window and I clamp my hands around my steaming hot chocolate, the feeling slowly returning to my fingers, the fishy aroma lingering persistently around us.

“Isn’t it spectacular?” Jack sighs, gazing out the window. “My favorite time of day.”

I must admit the scarlet sunrise is beautiful—a lot more so now I’m sitting indoors feeling warm marshmallows melting in my mouth.

“If only it rose later,” I muse.

Jack grins. “Sorry about that. I’m used to getting up early. My dad ran a chippie, so after my A levels I worked there for a bit while I tried to figure out what to do with my life. He always sent me down to the market at the crack of dawn to get the best fish, but I didn’t mind. I kind of loved it. I fell in love with the sunrise. The peace. The promise of a brand-new day.” He stares out at the golden light spreading over the horizon. “That’s how I met Katharine, actually.”

I stare at him. “At a fish market?”

“No!” he laughs, a deep warm sound. “No, Kathy wouldn’t be caught dead at a fish market. No, she’d gone down to see the sea, she said. She was standing there, right on the beach, shivering in her miniskirt and fluffy white jacket.” He pauses. “I’ll always remember that jacket …”

I watch him closely.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “I’m rambling. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken of her …” He shakes his head. “Anyway, how’d you like your hot chocolate?”

“Please,” I whisper. “Tell me.”

Jack looks at me for a moment, his eyes uncertain. Then he takes a deep breath.

“She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.” He sighs, looking out the window, into the past. “Her hair was tangled from the wind, her mascara streaked across her cheeks, and she’d lost her shoes somehow—she was standing there barefoot on the pebbles, with goose bumps all down her legs—she was freezing—but she wouldn’t leave. I offered to call her a taxi, but she refused, said she wanted to see the sun come up, that she wouldn’t leave until she had.”

“She’d been there all night?”

“That’s what she said. At least, she’d been out all night. I doubt she’d got all dressed up to go to the beach.” Jack blows on his hot chocolate, clasps the mug tightly. “Actually, she seemed sort of upset, so I decided to wait with her, make sure she was all right.”

“What happened?”

“She told me to sod off!” Jack laughs. “You can’t blame her, really—middle of the night, some stranger chatting her up—but I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. We were stubborn as mules, the pair of us. And eventually we got talking.” He smiles, staring at the table.

“I kept asking her name, but she wouldn’t tell me, wouldn’t tell me anything about herself. She said the night was too beautiful to talk about ordinary daytime things—anything serious or personal or real. So we just talked … about nothing, really. Star signs and dreams …” He trails off, sips his hot chocolate. “Then, before we knew it, the sun had come up. She had to go and I was late with the fish. I gave her my number, hoped she’d call, but to be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. But the next morning, when I went down to the market—there she was.”

I smile, the cup warm in my hands.

“Well, after that it became kind of a ritual. Every night I’d go to the beach, earlier and earlier, and she was always there, staring at the sea. I took warm clothes, coffee, sleeping bags and blankets, even, anything to keep her warm—she seemed so cold all the time, her skin like ice inside her fluffy jacket. And we’d just lie there on the beach, staring at the stars, talking about nothing, or not talking at all, till the sun came up.” He grins at me suddenly. “I got last pick of the fish for two whole weeks, but you know what? No one noticed,” he laughs. “They didn’t even care.”

I look at him. “Two weeks?”

“Two wonderful weeks …” He sighs, swirling his cup. “And then one night I turned up and she wasn’t there. I waited for her all night and well into the next morning. But she didn’t come. She never came again. She just disappeared.”

“Did you try to find her?”

“How could I? I didn’t know her name, where she lived, her phone number—I didn’t know anything about her. Only her star sign. Scorpio.” He sighs. “It was like she’d never existed, like I’d dreamed her up—the girl of my dreams …

“And then, the following winter, in the middle of the night, I get this phone call. It’s Kathy, she’s having our baby, she’s scared. Can I come? I didn’t think twice—I just dropped everything and jumped in the car. I drove for hours in the dark, hitting this dreadful storm on the way—I didn’t think I’d make it. Finally, just as I was approaching the hospital, I saw Kathy running up the road. She looked exactly the same, the same fragile beauty, the same frightened, haunted look in her eyes, except this time there was something else—an urgency about her.

“I pulled over and she just stared at me for a moment, frozen. Then she burst into tears. I opened the car door and she climbed inside, crumpled over in the seat, and sobbed her heart out. I asked her about the baby—what had happened, why she’d left the hospital—but she wouldn’t answer, just begged me to drive—to take her away somewhere, anywhere. So I did. I drove us to a little park and I pulled over. But still Kathy couldn’t stop crying. She kept saying over and over how she’d thought I wasn’t coming, that I’d left her. I tried to comfort her, told her I’d never leave her—that I’d do anything for her. She stared at me then. Just stared at me, for the longest time.

“Then she smiled, her beautiful face streaked and blotched with tears as she took my hand. ‘You’re a father,’ she whispered, the words filling the air around us, tingling in my ears. ‘You’re a daddy.’ ”

His eyes fill and I swallow hard.

“We drove back to the hospital and Kathy took me inside, but the baby had been moved—taken to a bigger hospital for special care.”

I stare at him, the breath caught in my throat.
She came back …

“So we followed,” Jack says, his expression softening. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw her—this tiny precious little person, so small, so fragile inside her incubator, fighting for her life.

“ ‘She’s yours,’ Kathy told me, showing me the identity bracelet—the name she’d chosen.
Holly Woods
. ‘She’s all yours.’ I just stared at her, at this tiny miracle with my name, and the earth moved beneath me. It was the most incredible moment of my life. Suddenly I was a father.” He looks at me and smiles. My insides glow.

“Kathy seemed so relieved. She started collecting her things, giving me instructions. I was confused, I didn’t understand. Then it dawned on me. She was leaving—and she wanted to leave the baby with me.

“I tried to convince her that everything would be all right, that I’d look after her and the baby, but she refused—she couldn’t be a mother, she said, she was only seventeen. I hadn’t known she was that young … She grew hysterical, saying no one knew, no one
could
know—that it was
our
secret. That she was relying on me.

“Nothing I said made any difference. The baby was mine, Kathy said, or else she’d give her up for adoption—end of story. She was so upset, I agreed. Of course I’d take the baby, look after her, love her. I was convinced Kathy would change her mind, you see. I thought if I just stuck around long enough she’d have a change of heart—that we’d be a family …

“And for a while it seemed to work. Holly had to stay in the special unit at the hospital, so I booked us into a nearby hotel in town, and the next day Kathy seemed much calmer, we even registered the birth together, that’s how I finally discovered her name. Katharine.” He smiles. “I always think of her as Kathy—like Cathy from
Wuthering Heights
—so wild and untameable, so fragile …

“I visited Holly in the Unit every day, and sometimes Kathy would come with me. She seemed to be getting much better—I was convinced that once the shock wore off, that once Holly was fully recovered and we could bring her home …”

Jack sighs suddenly. “But the day I brought Holly back from the hospital, Kathy was gone.”

I stare at him, frozen.

“She left a note—she was sorry, she’d gone to California, I shouldn’t try to find her, please look after Holly.” He rubs his brow. “I … didn’t know what to do. I took Holly home to my parents, and they went ballistic, told me I was an idiot—how did I know she was even mine?—that I shouldn’t let some slapper ruin my life. Then, when I told them I was keeping the baby, they threw me out.”

I gasp.

Jack shrugs. “They didn’t understand. Holly was my
daughter
—I loved her more than anything in the world, except—” He swallows. “So I left. My grandparents lived in San Francisco, so Holly and I got on a plane, stayed with them, and I got a job in a fish restaurant while I tried to find Katharine. I was sure she’d have come to her senses by now, knew she’d regret abandoning her baby for the rest of her life …” He sighs. “But it was hopeless. She’d vanished. Again. By the time Holly was old enough to ask questions I decided to tell her that her mother had died. It seemed easier somehow. Kinder …

“Then I met Megan.” He smiles. “The girl with the sunshine in her hair. And the rest is history. Her folks lived on the East Coast, so we moved here, and when her granddad died we took over his restaurant, got married.” He smiles. “She was so beautiful, and warm and funny, and so good with Holly—it was like everything had worked out.

“Then, about eight years ago, I got the shock of my life when I saw Katharine on TV. Calling herself Kitty now.
Kitty Clare
—no wonder I hadn’t been able to find her. It was so surreal—I couldn’t believe it, after all that time …” He shakes his head incredulously. “I wrote to her through her agent, telling her where we were, sent photos of Holly, but she didn’t reply. Perhaps she never received the letter, I told myself, so I kept trying—letters, photos, a couple of times a year—via her agent, her studios, determined to give her every opportunity possible to know her daughter. But when I never heard from her again I knew I’d been right to lie to Holly. It’s better to have a dead mother than one who abandoned you, right?”

He looks at me, stricken. “Rosie, I’m so sorry—I mean—”

“It’s okay,” I say quietly. “I know what you mean.”

He sighs. “I’m not sure Holly’ll see it that way, though.”

“You were just trying to spare her feelings,” I reason.

“Well, yes,” Jack admits. “But how did you feel when you learned the truth about your mother—that she wasn’t dead after all, that she was alive on the other side of the world?”

“I was angry,” I admit. “I was hurt that I hadn’t known the truth. But then that was all mixed up with the fear of Huntington’s—of inheriting the disease. It wasn’t the same. Holly’s never known her mum, so she’s probably more upset about you—she’s frightened of losing her dad.”

“She’ll never lose me.”

“I know.” I smile. “And deep down I’m sure she does too. I’d already lost my mum when I found out she wasn’t my mother. In the end, though, it doesn’t affect how I feel about her. She’s still my mum, she always will be. But watching her die from Huntington’s … dreading it happening to me … I always thought I’d rather know the truth—about everything. Then you can find a way to deal with it.”

“And now?”

“Now … I don’t know.” I sigh. “I mean, your life was a lot simpler before I came along, huh? And as for Holly …”

Jack sighs. “It’s been a bit of a bombshell for everyone.”

“Yes.” I nod. “But for Holly it’s going to be worse. My bombshell was finding out my dead mother wasn’t my mother, that my real one was still out there, and that I was never going to inherit Huntington’s—Holly’s is that you’re not her dad and she’s at risk from a disease she’s probably never even heard of. Would you want to know? Really?”

Jack considers for a moment. “There’s definitely no cure?”

“No,” I sigh. “Not yet.”

He pauses. “And yet you wanted to know—you took the test.”

I nod.

“Why?”

“I suppose I needed to know one way or the other—so I could make informed choices …” I trail off. “My mother …” My voice catches. “Trudie … said she might not have had children if she’d known.”

Jack looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then stares into his cocoa. “Well,” he says softly, stroking his thumb round the rim of the cup. “That really would have been a tragedy.”

I look away, my cheeks hot, the lump in my throat the size of a watermelon.

Jack sighs. “I’ll tell Holly about Huntington’s. Take her out for the day, just the two of us. It should come from me.”

I look up.

“She needs to know.” He nods. “You’re right, she needs to make an informed choice. I can’t make this decision for her, and I won’t lie to her anymore.” He smiles sadly out the window. “My little girl’s growing up.” He looks at me. “Both of them are.”