Someone Else's Life (13 page)

Jack appears behind them, beaming as he carries a large cake covered in burning candles.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

Jack places the cake on our table, but I can’t take my eyes off him.

“Make a wish,” he urges, his eyes sparkling.

I look at him for a moment longer, then take a deep breath and blow with all my might, wishing hard. When I open my eyes all the candles are out and everyone is cheering.

“Happy birthday, love.” Jack smiles. “Many happy returns.”

“Thank you!” I beam, looking at the cake—it even has
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
written over it and a large number 18. I swallow. “Do you have special cakes ready for all your customers’ birthdays?”

“No!” Jack laughs. “No, you were just lucky this time. It was my daughter’s birthday yesterday, but she—well, she’s not here to eat it, so happy birthday!” He grins as he turns back to the kitchen.

I stare at the cake.

“Are you okay?” Andy whispers.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” I swallow. “It’s really him?”

“Seems so.”

“I never even thought—I mean—my
father
?” I look back toward the kitchen. “Do you think he knows? About the baby—me?”

“Rosie, he just said it was his daughter’s birthday yesterday.”

“I know!” A warm tingle shivers down my spine. “And he still celebrates it—he makes a cake …” I stare at it, the knife trembling in my hand. “Andy, this is
my cake
!”

We both stare at it with its beautiful icing and its candles—all eighteen of them.
After all this time, he still makes a cake for me … for the child he never knew
.

My heart constricts.

For the baby who he thinks died
.

“I have to tell him,” I decide suddenly. “I have to tell him who I am. It’s fate, I know it is. Finding him here, now, my birthday, the cake …” I turn to the kitchen, my heart aching for this poor man and his tragic annual ritual. “Andy, he thinks I’m dead.”

“Rosie—” Andy starts.

“Everything okay?” A waitress appears beside me. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, no—I was just wondering, is Mr. Woods busy?” I ask hesitantly, my heart pounding. “Only I’d love to thank him for the cake and—”

“I’m afraid he’s just left,” the waitress says. “Sorry.”

I stare at her. “He’s gone?”
I can’t have missed my chance …

“We can come back tomorrow,” Andy says. “Talk to him then.”

“Do you know where he went?” I ask the waitress desperately.
I can’t wait
—
I can’t
.

“Yeah, his wife just called,” she says, wiping down the table next to us. “He had to hurry home.”

Andy glances at me.

“Do you know where that is?” he asks. “Do you have an address?”

“Yeah.” A puzzled smile flickers over her face, and she points at the ceiling. “Right there. Jack lives in the apartment over the restaurant.”

“Okay.” I stare at the lighted windows above the restaurant, my heart pounding. “This is it. No going back.”

“No going back,” Andy agrees.

“Oh, God!” I say, sinking back down onto the bench for the umpteenth time. “But what if he’s not interested? What if—”

“Rose, there are a million what-ifs,” Andy says gently. “But only one way to find out. Look at it this way, it can’t be worse than Kitty, can it?”

I sigh heavily. “No,” I agree reluctantly. “But—maybe I should come back tomorrow. It might not be a good time, it’s late …”

“It’s seven p.m.”

“Yes, but—”

“Rosie, it’s up to you.” Andy smiles. “We can leave now if you want. We can come back tomorrow, or never come back at all. It’s entirely your choice.”

I sigh, staring at the house. “I need to do this, I’m ready, I’m just … scared.”

“I know.” Andy squeezes my hand. “There’s no rush.”

I nod absently, eyes glued to the door.

“But what if he
is
like Kitty?” I whisper. “What if he doesn’t want me either?”

“Rosie.” Andy strokes my hair from my cheek, looks into my eyes, smiles. “He made you a cake.”

I smile too, a warm feeling spreading deep inside me. “He did, didn’t he? He made me a cake.”

I take a deep breath, stand up, cross the road and climb the steps before I have a chance to change my mind. Andy squeezes my shoulders as I knock on the door, my hands clammy as I cross my fingers tightly.

A blond curly-haired woman opens it, and I freeze.

Oh, God.
Not
part of the plan!

“H-hi,” I stammer. “My name’s—my name’s Rosie, I—”

“Nice to meet you, come in, come in, quickly—didn’t Jack tell you to use the back door?” She ushers us inside and shuts the door. “I’m Megan.” She smiles. “Thanks so much for coming at such short notice—as you know, they weren’t meant to be back today, but then they called from the station, so we’re a bit all over the place! There’re snacks over there, drinks in the kitchen, okay?”

“I …,” I begin, but she’s already hurried off.

“Looks like a party,” Andy comments.

The house is full of people milling around drinking beer and munching crisps, laughing and chatting. I look around for Jack, but there’s no sign of him. My eyes wander over the soft cream furniture, the stripped pine bookshelves, everything in shades of the sea. A beautiful seascape hangs in pride of place above the crackling fire, and twisted pieces of driftwood lie scattered decoratively around the room, their limbs curling and reaching like living creatures. I gaze around, fascinated by one thing after another, until I notice a photo collage hanging on the wall. I move closer.

Suddenly something small and blue collides with my knee.

“Hello!” I smile, looking down at a little boy in Spider-Man pajamas, his dark fringe flopping over his eyes as he stares up at me.

“Sorry!” Megan rushes over and scoops him up. “Ben! What are you doing out of bed?”

“I wanted to say surprise!” Ben whines, rubbing his eye with his fist.

“Well, we’ll see what Daddy says, okay?” Megan smiles, mouthing “sorry” at me as she carries him away.

“Isn’t he cute?” I beam at Andy.

“Yeah …,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen. “And look who ‘Daddy’ is.”

I turn and look as Jack walks out, swinging Ben high onto his shoulders.

“Oh, my God!” I look at Andy, my pulse racing. “You don’t think …?” I look at the little boy giggling as Jack bounces him along.
“I have a brother?”

“Shh.” Andy nudges me as Jack approaches. I take a deep breath, struggling to compose myself as excitement bubbles through me.

“Well, hello again!” He smiles.

“Hi! Sorry—I tried to find you at the restaurant but the waitress said you’d left and that you lived here and we just knocked on the door and … thank you so much again for the cake!” I gush clumsily, my cheeks on fire.

“Oh, you’re welcome!” Jack grins. “Sorry I had to rush off—had to rustle up a sudden surprise party! But now you’re here you can have that birthday drink you missed out on.” Jack winks, reaching for a couple of beers. “You’ve gotta have a drink on your eightee—Wait—” He freezes. “What’s that?”

There’s the sound of a car in the driveway.

“Quick! Everyone hide!” Jack cries, flicking the light off, grabbing Ben and diving behind the sofa. Everyone ducks and hides, and Andy and I glance at each other, bemused, before crouching awkwardly behind an armchair.

“What are we doing?” Andy hisses in my ear.

“I have no idea!” I shrug helplessly.

A key turns in the lock, and Jack shushes everyone again.

The front door opens and the light flicks on.

“SURPRISE!”

Everyone jumps to their feet, and Jack rushes to the door, Ben hot on his heels.

“Surprise!” Andy grins at me as we straighten up, none the wiser. I crane my neck but there’re too many people. Everyone’s crowding round the doorway, cheering and whooping.

“Happy birthday!” people call out, to a chorus of party poppers and camera flashes.

I freeze, flooded with an eerie sense of déjà vu.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Jack cries. “You didn’t think we’d let your eighteenth go by without a party, did you? Even if it is a day late!”

My stomach lurches.

“Thanks, Dad,” a girl’s voice laughs. “Josh, did you know about this? Melissa?”

Feeling very hot, I stand on tiptoe, craning this way and that, but still I can’t see.

“Wow, this is awesome!” she laughs again. “Do I get a cake and everything?”

The sick feeling grows in my stomach.

“Now, that’s a funny story, sweetheart. I, er, I gave it away—you said you were staying in New York, and—”

“You
what
?” she laughs.

I back away quickly, edging past Andy toward the kitchen.

“Rosie …” He catches my arm.

I shake my head as I push past, my chest tight.

I need to get out of here. It’s a mistake. It’s all a mistake. I’ve got it wrong—I’ve got it wrong
again
. He’s not my dad—he’s got a daughter—a real, live eighteen-year-old daughter. Tears prickle at my eyes as I push desperately, needing to get through, to escape …

“Sweetheart! Over here! Here she is!” Jack’s voice booms directly behind me and I freeze. He taps me on the shoulder and I turn round numbly.

“Hi!” The girl grins at me, brushing a strand of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear as my heart stops dead.

“So you’re the one who ate my cake?” Her hazel eyes sparkle as she holds out a hand. “Nice to meet ya! I’m Holly.”

“I—” The breath catches in my throat.
She looks just like
 … Suddenly it clicks.

Holly
.

Holly
Woods
.

Jack’s daughter …

Jack’s
daughter …

No!

I stare at her, the blood freezing in my veins.

It can’t be … It’s impossible …
The chestnut hair … the hazel eyes … my age … my birthday … 
Holly Woods …

I stare at her helplessly as the room spins dizzily around us … It’s her … I close my eyes, but her face is burned deep into my mind, inescapable.
She’s here … She survived … Somehow she survived … Somehow …

She’s me
.

PART TWO

Someone Else’s Life

We know what we are, but know not what we may be
.

—William Shakespeare,
Hamlet

Holly

The sunlight hits my eyelids and a grin tugs at my mouth, even before I remember why. I reach tentatively under my pillow and a tingle shivers down my spine. It wasn’t a dream.

Glancing at the door, I pull out the ring and carefully, so, so slowly, slide it onto my finger, the same rush of giddiness, the same dizzying excitement thrilling through my veins as when he first gave it to me.

It may not be a diamond—I press the plastic gem and smile as it lights up—but if anything, that makes it even
more
perfect. How many other guys would be thoughtful enough to let their fiancée choose her own ring?

“You’re the one who’s gonna be wearing it for the rest of your life, after all.” He’d beamed, his eyes sparkling as brightly as the glowing neon gem. I grin as the light changes color, and kiss it impulsively.

The rest of my life …

“Holly?” Dad knocks, making me jump. “You awake?”

“Mm-hmm—yep, come in!” I call, plunging my hand beneath the duvet as the door opens.

“Morning, Holly-berry!” He grins, his black hair still messed up from sleep. “I brought you some brekkie!” He reveals a tray laden with greasy bacon and eggs. My stomach swims.

“Da-ad!” I laugh, trying to wriggle the ring off my finger. “You know I just grab some cereal—”

“Well, that may have been adequate for a little girl.” He smiles. “But not for a grown woman of eighteen!” He brings the tray over.

I yank desperately, but the ring won’t budge.

“Besides,” he continues. “I didn’t get to make your birthday breakfast …”

“Not this again.” I grin, finally tugging my finger free and sitting up quickly to take the tray. “I told you, it was a once-in-a-lifetime trip—Josh won it—and when else would I get to go to New York?”

“And it just happened to be on your eighteenth birthday?”

“And it just happened to be on my eighteenth birthday, yes.” I smile, gingerly taking a bite of toast. “Come on, Dad, I’m here now—and you’ve given away my cake!”

He pulls a face. “Sorry. I’d forgotten I’d ordered it, and then, you know, you were
away
 …”

I roll my eyes.

“And it was just sitting there, all sad and lonely, and you weren’t due back till late
tonight
 …”

I bite my lip. My bad again.

“And as it was a
specially made fresh
-
cream
cake, I didn’t think it would keep for two whole days …”

“All right, already! I’m
sorry
!” I laugh. “I’m a terrible daughter and she deserved it more than me.” I stick out my tongue. “She up yet?”

“Rosie? No, she’s out for the count. Megan’s gonna take her some breakfast in a bit, see how she is.”

“That was weird, huh?” I say, taking another bite. “How she just fainted like that?”

“Yup. One look at your ugly mug and—bam!”

“Watch it.” I grin. “Or I’ll go back to New York.”

“We weren’t expecting you back till today anyway,” Dad says, his tone softening. “I thought it was meant to be a long weekend?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You complaining?”

“Not at all. Just making sure my little girl’s okay.”

I roll my eyes again. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Sure. Grown woman, remember?”

Dad grins. “You had a good time?”

I beam, thinking of the ring nestled under my pillow. “I had the time of my life.”

“Good.” He smiles, kissing my forehead. “You deserve it.”

I wait till he closes the door. Then I exhale.

It feels weird keeping this from Dad. I’m bursting to tell him—that’s the whole reason we’ve rushed home early, after all—but then … I grin, remembering Dad’s face as he jumped out from behind the sofa. Trust him to spoil my surprise with one of his own!

I glance at the door, then carefully pull the ring back out, stroking the little gem with my fingertips. He’d know by now, if it weren’t for the party—and if Josh weren’t so old-fashioned. I can’t believe he wants to ask Dad’s permission before we tell anyone—as if he’s gonna say no! Typical Josh. It’s all very well to do things by the book, but it’s
killing
me keeping this secret—Dad and I usually tell each other everything!

Well, almost everything. My hand falls to my stomach. I wonder if Mom were still alive if I’d have told her yet … Probably not, not before Josh. I smile. He’s not the only one who can keep secrets. I still can’t believe he took me to
New York
for my birthday—the first time I’ve ever been on a plane!—just because he knows how much I want to travel! That he
proposed
! I tilt the ring so it sends rainbows dancing around the room.

Now I can’t wait to tell him
my
secret, can’t wait to see his face! But first things first—not till we’re officially engaged. If Josh wants to be traditional, I’ll keep things traditional—I can at least do
something
the right way round!

I take a last long look at the plastic ring, then slide open my bottom drawer, home of all my secret dreams—the journals I’ve kept since I was twelve; cut-out photos of singers, movie stars and cute guys Melissa and I fantasized about marrying; brochures of exotic places we dreamed of traveling, tucked inside the empty passport I’ve had since I was sixteen—just in case our dreams ever came true.

And dreams can come true. I smile, tucking the ring carefully between the brochures and the photo of Josh, who’s been top of my list—circled with a heart—since the very first day I met him …

I slide the drawer shut, then lie back on my pillow, grinning at the ceiling, enjoying the delicious feeling of my buried treasure, my precious secret, just waiting to be revealed …