Someone Else's Life (3 page)

I’m losing him.

Josh’s words tumble painfully around and around my head:

“We need to talk.”

I know what that means.

Ever since he started college I’ve been expecting, dreading, fearing those words.

“Coming for a swim?” Melissa grins, running up beside me. “I’ll race you fifty lengths!”

“Not today.” I shake my head. “I’m not in the mood.”

She sighs. “You’ve been
moody
for days now—this must be a record!”

I hug myself tightly.

Her face softens and she hooks her arm through mine. “Have you tried a hot water bottle?”

“What?”

“That works for me—or camomile tea?”

I stare at her. Why does everyone think anything can be solved with a cup of tea?

“Or I read that lavender oil can really help, if you rub it in.”

“Where?”
I ask, totally bemused.

“Your stomach, silly—it’s supposed to help ease the cramps.”

Cramps?
Suddenly I understand.

“No, I haven’t got—” The words stick like thorns in my throat as I calculate quickly.

“Oh, I get it!” Melissa grins. “You’re just scared I’ll beat you, huh? Frightened of a little competition?”

I smile weakly, my head pounding painfully.

Five weeks … nearly six …

“Come on,” she laughs. “Don’t be a 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 a baby …

Chapter Two

The ground rushes up to meet me, and it’s only now, collapsed in the snow, that I realize where I 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 I screw my eyes shut, trying to drown out her voice, her pitying face. Her expression shifts into a smile, and now the face I see is my mother’s, her brown eyes shining with warmth and love and life.

“Liar!”
I 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!”

But she was!
She
was
my mother. The only one I had. And now this … this is all that’s left.

I crumple into the snow, the crisp pain stinging my skin as my tears mingle with the ice.

I miss you, I miss you so much …

I close my eyes, remembering how we used to lie like this, making figures in the snow—a mummy angel and a baby angel.…

Tears flood the memory.

She was never my mother, never mine. My whole life
—
my whole
life—
is one big lie …

I struggle to my feet, bombarded with a 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? I had a right
—
I have a right to know who I am …

The graveyard spins around me.

Who am I …?

I close my eyes.

“Rosie?”

I 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?”

I nod silently, glad of the dark hiding my tears.

“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.

I 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.”

I follow his gaze to the brightly lit church, its stained-glass windows spilling colored light over the chattering families huddling together outside.

Suddenly I shiver.

“Bloody hell, Rose, you’re freezing. Here.” He pulls off his jacket, and as he wraps it round me a bottle falls out. Vodka.

“That’ll help too!” He laughs nervously, picking it up.

I stare at it, surprised.

“Well, you know.” He shrugs. “Sermons can get a little dull …” He grins that familiar lopsided grin and my heart flips. “Not really—I’m off to a party. This big family Christmas thing is driving me crazy, and—” A frown flashes over his features. “I mean …”

I take the bottle and tip it skyward, the liquid burning my throat and making me feel sick. I take another swig.

“Easy!” Andy laughs. “I know you—two glasses of wine and you’re a goner.”

I look at him.
I know you
. My chest aches.

“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 a long time.”

It has, but suddenly it feels like yesterday.

“Can I give you a ride home?” he offers.

Home
. I wince, thinking of the dark, empty house filled with lies. I shake my head. It’s not my home. Not anymore.

“Okay.” He shuffles his feet, turns to go. “Well …”

“Wait,” I say quickly. He turns.

I 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 a party?”

The door opens, and I surrender to the music. The whole place is throbbing with it—
thud thud thud thud
—consuming and obliterating all thoughts, all conversation. I welcome it. Dropping the empty bottle by the door, I step into the throng.

Anonymous faces crowd in as Andy weaves us through the room, past flashes of blond hair and glittering earrings; heavy-lidded goths and pouting lip gloss; flesh, piercings, bottles, lines of shots, shrieks of laughter and, permeating it all, the unmistakable smell of weed.

“You want something to eat?” Andy mouths.

I shake my head, reaching instead for one of the shots. I down it easily, barely feeling the sting as it slides down my throat. I reach for another, but Andy catches my arm, pointing over my shoulder. “Hey, there’s Bex!”

I turn and squint into the crowd, but the dark mass of writhing bodies twine into each other anonymously. I turn back to Andy, confused, and am suddenly shoved headfirst into his shoulder, beer slopping over my back.

“Hey!” Andy pushes the guy who knocked me. “Watch it, okay?”

The guy staggers away and collapses on a sofa.

“Ow …,” I moan quietly, the taste of fresh blood salty on my tongue, the scent of Andy’s aftershave tickling my nose.

Andy looks down at me, concerned. “You okay?” He brushes my lips carefully with his thumb, and my head swims with more memories.

“You’re soaked!” He grins, wiping beer from my hair.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Apart from a pile of jackets, the bathroom is empty, the faint
thud thud thud
pulsing distantly through the floorboards. Andy grabs a damp cloth and starts to gently clean my cut, his brow furrowed in concentration as he leans closer, making me dizzy. He cups my cheek and my skin blazes, my heart pounding as his eyes meet mine.

Without thinking, I lean forward and press my lips against his.

He pulls back, surprised. “Rosie—” I search his eyes anxiously, his gaze deep in mine.

Then suddenly we’re kissing, the taste of his soft lips so sweet and familiar, my heart thumping frantically against my ribs.

God, I haven’t been kissed
—
haven’t been touched
—
in so, so long …

I press closer, the kisses deepening, lengthening, as my mind spins into oblivion, my body on fire.

This is it. This is what I need. To escape. To just lose myself completely. To forget …

I kiss him harder, pushing my chest against his, my hand moving to his zip.

“Mm …,” Andy groans.

I tug at the little metal pull.

“Rosie …”

I push closer, my tongue sliding against his as I slip my hand inside …

“Rose, no—Rosie!” He pushes me away, my lips stinging in the empty air.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I can’t … I can’t do this.”

“What?” I blink, his face swimming in front of mine. “Why? What’s wrong?”

He looks away and I frown, trying to search his eyes, but they won’t keep still, won’t focus.

“Andy?”

“Rosie, I just … I can’t.” He looks at me, his eyes pained, then looks away, sighs.

Then I realize.

“You don’t want me.” I swallow painfully, my throat sour as I shiver, cold suddenly. “You never did.”

“Rosie, no, that’s not what I—”

I push past him, my chest tight, the room blurring as I stagger for the door.

“Rose, wait—” He reaches for me

“Get off me!”
I wrench away, reeling as I lurch into the corridor.

There are bodies everywhere—leaning against walls and sprawled over the floor, yelling at me as I stumble over their limbs, my own legs threatening to buckle at any moment. I clutch at the wall, feeling my way along, trying to keep going, stay upright, get out of here,
breathe
.

Suddenly the wall ends. I feel myself falling and can’t stop. I wince, ready for the slamming pain. But it never comes.

“Whoa there, tiger.” A guy’s face swims in front of mine as he pulls me upright and he leans me back against the wall.

“You okay? Nearly had a little fall there.”

“Another one falling for you, Kyle?” his friend jokes.

Kyle laughs, and I hear myself join in. He takes a swig of beer, then offers me the bottle. I take it eagerly—too fast—the glass crashing against my teeth as the cool liquid slops down my front. Kyle laughs, and I smile up at him, licking my lips, the taste of beer bitter and cool in my mouth.

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asks, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Do I know you?”

“I …” I try to concentrate, but his face keeps swimming out of focus. “Um … Ro …”

“Ro?” He has dimples when he smiles. “Well, Ro,” he says, leaning in closer, “you’ve got very pretty eyes.”

He moves to tuck my hair behind my ear, and suddenly I’m kissing him, hard. He smiles in surprise, then kisses me back hungrily, pressing his body against mine. My head bangs violently against the wall, but the pain is welcome, the kisses rough, desperate, his stubble scratching my cheeks, his tongue writhing in my mouth. His grip tightens, and I clutch fiercely at his back, my eyes screwed shut, blotting out everything else.

Suddenly he’s ripped away, my lips burning as I gasp for air.

“Hey! What’s your problem, Andy?” Kyle snarls.

Andy.
Shit
.

“Leave her alone, Kyle.”

“It was her! Couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

Andy grabs my arm. “Come on.”

“Hey.” Kyle stops him. “She’s a big girl, Hunter, she can do what she wants.” He winks at Andy. “And she wants me.”

“She’s had too much to drink.”

“What are you, her mother?”

I wince.

“Just … Leave her alone, okay?” Andy says.

“What’s it to you?” Kyle challenges.

“I said”—Andy steps closer—“leave her—”

“Yeah, Andy,” I hear myself slur. “What’s it to you?”

Andy stops. He’s looking at me, but I can’t see his eyes.

Kyle laughs. “Oh, dear, Hunter. Seems you’re not needed after all. Do us all a favor, eh, mate? Get a life.” Kyle drapes his arm round my shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s find somewhere we won’t be disturbed.” He pushes past Andy.

“Wait.” Andy catches my arm.

“Back off, Hunter!”

“Rose,” Andy says. “Rose, look at me.”

I stare at the floor.

“Rosie!”

“Whoa—hold on a minute.” Kyle’s arm drops from my shoulder. “Rosie? Wait, you’re Rosie
Kenning
?” He swipes my hair from my eyes and peers down at me. “Jeezus Christ.” He smirks. “Now, what’s Crazy Kenning’s daughter doing on the loose?”

What?
My face burns.

“Hey everyone! It’s Crrrazy Kenning’s kid!”

“Kyle!” Andy grabs him, and Kyle holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, she’s all yours, Hunter. My mistake, mate.” He staggers off along the corridor, drunkenly toppling from one wall to the other. “Should’ve recognized her by her walk, eh, lads? Just like her old lady—remember the prom?” They laugh and whoop appreciatively. “Whoaoaoa! And as for that fall—whoops!” Kyle falls into a chubby guy’s waiting arms. “Classic trademark.”

“I …” I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He dances over and slings his arm round my neck. “Nothing personal. You’re very cute, really. Just crrrrazy genes.”

Hot. Too hot.

“Yeah?” Andy growls. “Why don’t you come over
here
and say that?”

“Look,” Kyle coos, “Hunter.
Mate
. No hard feelings, okay? She’s yours, and I respect that.” He slaps Andy on the shoulder. “In fact, I owe you one, mate—any longer and I might’ve caught something!”

Andy swings at him, but Kyle ducks just in time, laughing. “Uh-oh, looks like we might have another one for the loony bin, eh, lads? And don’t they make a lovely couple? Him all macho honor and her—Oof!”

My knuckles sting like mad and the room spins crazily as my back slams against the wall and I slump to the floor as Kyle crashes headfirst into the drinks table.

Merry Christmas
, I think as everything fades to black.

I slump to the floor as Melissa locks the bathroom door behind us.

“Okay,” she says. “Spill.”

I chew my cookie, tasting nothing as it crumbles dryly in my mouth, buying time.

“Sweetie, what is it?” She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve been quiet all day. This isn’t like you.”

I close my eyes.
How can I tell her?

She sighs. “As if I don’t know.”

My eyes fly open.

“I know you.” She smiles sadly. “And you’re going about this all wrong—you need to pick yourself up, get back to the party, drink some punch and have some
fun
!”

I stare at her.