Someone Else's Life (14 page)

Rosie

It’s dark, terribly dark
—
I can’t see a thing. I grope around helplessly, clawing and clutching, stumbling and scratching, through endless stones and brambles and what feels like ice. Then, suddenly, my feet sink into something soft, and it’s sand I’m walking on, its gentle caress cool and soothing between my toes
.

A light flickers in the distance. I walk blindly toward it, a warm breeze whispering in my hair
.

The wooden door opens easily, and a man looks round and smiles, his black hair curling round his ears as a little boy
—
his miniature
—
scrambles to his feet
.

“You found us.” The man beams as they enfold me in a tight hug. I hold them close, sandwiched between the man’s strong embrace and the child’s warm cuddle. A perfect fit, the missing piece. “Rosie, you finally found us.” I close my eyes. “You’re finally home …”

“Rosie?”

“Mmm …” I turn my head, enjoying the warmth surrounding me, the softness against my cheek
.

“Rosie?” a woman says. “Are you awake?”

“Wakey-wakey!” Suddenly the whole world shudders and quakes and my eyes fly open.

The little dark-haired boy bounces over me, giggling happily as sunlight fills the room.

I blink hard and stare at him. Then I smile.

“Ben!” a blond curly-haired woman chides. “Ben, get down!”

She sets down a tray and grabs him round the belly as he squirms.

“Sorry about that!” She smiles apologetically. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um, fine thanks.” I stare at her blankly.

“I’m Megan,” she says. “From the party?”

Party
. Pieces of last night float back to me like a puzzle. Fish and chips, the cake, the party …

“Right, sorry.” I gaze round the unfamiliar bedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay over.” I smile as Ben grins through her legs at me, his dark fringe flopping over his eyes.

“Oh, honey, you’re welcome—there was no
way
I was letting you guys go back to that B and B after your fall. I had to make sure you were really okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.” I struggle into a sitting position, and instantly my head pounds. “Ow!”

“Easy, honey.” Megan lays a cool hand on my forehead. “I’ll give you some lotion for that bruise when you come downstairs, but first: breakfast!” She plops a heaving tray of bacon and eggs onto my lap.

“Wow!” I gasp.

“Don’t blame me!” Megan grins. “Jack always insists on a greasefest when he does breakfast. You don’t have to eat it all.”

“Thanks.” I smile, my heart racing as I remember more.

Jack.
My dad
. My real dad. And he’s made me breakfast, a real English breakfast—eggs and proper bacon, none of that streaky American stuff—and not a pancake in sight!

“The bathroom’s just across the hall, when you’re done. There’s a towel and a spare toothbrush, and feel free to use anything else you find.”

“Thanks, Megan,” I tell her. “I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

“Don’t be silly,” she laughs, tucking a stray ringlet behind her ear. “Make yourself at home.”

My heart soars.
Home
. With my dad—I grin, winking at Ben as he pinches a piece of my toast—and my little brother!

“Shout if you need anything. We’re just downstairs.” Megan smiles, scooping up Ben. “And Holly’s around too—if she ever gets out of bed!”

The toast sticks in my throat as the door clicks closed.

Holly
.

My appetite gone, I slide the tray onto the bedside table, knocking something clattering to the floor.

“Shit!” I lean down and gingerly pick up the broken picture frame. I turn it over and my heart stops. There they are. The happy family. Jack and Megan and Ben—and Holly, sticking out like a sore thumb with her chestnut hair against Jack and Ben’s black, Megan’s blond.

Holly Woods
.

Trudie’s daughter
.

She looks just like her. The same hair, the same eyes, the same bright smile … I drop the picture like a hot coal, sweat cold on the back of my neck.

I have to get out of here. I can’t see her, can’t—

There’s a knock at the door. I stare, paralyzed, as it swings open.

“Morning.” Andy smiles. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” I say, jumping out of bed and scowling at the unfamiliar jogging bottoms and T-shirt I’m wearing. I scour the room. “Where are my clothes?”

“Well, since you drenched us both in Coke with your dizzy spell last night, Megan’s doing a wash for us downstairs,” Andy tells me, wearing a similar pair of makeshift pajamas. “She insisted—said she couldn’t let us leave with dirty clothes. She’s even doing my socks.” He grins. “She’s brave!”

“Great,” I say, pacing the room. “Fantastic. Brilliant!”

“Are you okay?” Andy frowns.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve got to go. We’ve got to go. Now.”

“What?”

“We shouldn’t be here!” I cry. “We should never have come—we have to go—”

“Rosie.” Andy catches my arms. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you
see
?” I stare at him, trembling. “Didn’t you
see
her?”

“Who?”

“Jack’s daughter!” I stare at him incredulously.

“What? Yeah, briefly, but I was more concerned about you when you conked out.”

“It’s
her
, Andy,” I say meaningfully.
“She’s Trudie’s daughter.”

Andy stares at me.

“Rosie … Trudie’s daughter died.”

“Well, obviously not!” I stare at him wildly. “Obviously not, Andy—that’s just one more mistake to add to the list!”

“But wait, I mean—are you
sure
?”

“Andy, she’s
Holly Woods
.”

“What?” His eyes widen. “She’s called Holl—”

“Holly.” I nod grimly. “Holly Woods. And she’s the same
age
as me, she’s got the same
birthday
, she’s living with
my
father and she’s the bleeding spitting image of Trudie—look!” I thrust the photograph at him.

“Knock, knock!”

I freeze as the bedroom door creaks open. Holly peers round with a friendly smile.

“Hi there! How’re you doing? Did you sleep okay?”

I nod helplessly, the blood draining from my head.

“I’m not surprised after that fall!” she says sympathetically. “Anyway, I know Megan’s washing your clothes, so here’s a pair of my jeans and a T-shirt and a hoodie. We’re about the same size, huh?” She holds them up.

I nod again, staring at her hair as it gleams in the sunshine—the exact same shade …

“Is there anything else you need?” She smiles, her hazel eyes shining.

I shake my head numbly. She even has the same kink at the top of her ear …

“Okay.” She beams, looking from me to Andy. “See ya later!”

She closes the door behind her and I sink onto the bed.

“Oh, my God.” Andy sits down next to me. “Oh. My. God.”

I stare at the door. “Do you—do you think she heard us?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I just can’t believe it, Andy. She survived. She’s alive. She’s
here
. How did this happen?”

He looks at me. “I don’t know. I really don’t know, Rosie. There must have been … a mistake. The baby must’ve recovered.”

“But
how?
” My voice comes out high and shrill as hot tears spring into my eyes. “And how did Sarah
not know
?”

Andy squeezes my hand. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I suppose she was too concerned about Trudie and … and you.”

“Me?” I stare at him. “Me?
She’s me
, Andy!
She’s
Rosie Kenning—
she’s
Trudie’s daughter.” I stare at him miserably. “Don’t you see, there was
no need
for Sarah to switch us—no need for any of this—
because Trudie’s baby didn’t die!
”

Andy pulls me to him tightly, my heart thumping against his.

“She—
she
should have stayed with Trudie, she should’ve … and
I
should’ve …”

“Shhh …” He strokes my hair.

“This is my family, Andy,” I whisper against his chest. “My dad, my
brother
 …”

“Then you have to tell them.”

I sigh heavily. “I can’t. Andy, they’re a family. A
happy
family.”

“They’re
your
family.”

“No.” I shake my head, the word scratching my throat and stinging my eyes. “No, they can’t ever be. Not now. It’s impossible. They’re hers.” I bite my nail. “Sarah switched us, so they’re Holly’s. They’re her family, they love each other. They deserve to be together.”

“But Rose—”

“I can’t—I can’t break them up, Andy, I can’t tell them—can’t be that selfish.” I sigh again, rubbing my eyes with my sleeve. “I’ve lasted this long without them, haven’t I?” I swallow hard. “I’ll survive.”

“Rosie …”

“No, Andy.” I stand up. “We have to go.”

“Rose, just listen to me for a sec. If you’re right, if she
is
Trudie’s daughter—”

“She
is
!”

“Then Rosie, you
have
to tell them.”

“Andy! You’re not listening to me—”

“You have to tell them,” he interrupts, “because Holly could have inherited Huntington’s.”

Holly

The wind tugs wildly at my hair, the salty breeze filling my lungs as I head along the harbor. I love this time of year. The chill in the air, the winter sunshine glistening on the waves, the old year gone and done with and the promise of a whole fresh new one to come. A new year, a new start, a new
name
 …

I grin, suddenly warm despite the frosty air.

“Mrs. Holly Samuels.” The name tingles on my tongue, and I giggle like an idiot. I can’t wait. The first time I ever laid eyes on Josh I knew he was The One. I smile, remembering how serious and sexy he looked, studying in the school library—till Melissa flicked a spitball right at him! I can still see his face as he turned around—outraged—and flicked one straight back! And then he grinned, that wide infectious grin, and that was it. I was a goner.

I wonder what he sees in me …

It’s hardly my brain—not compared to Mr. Ivy League Samuels. Not that I’m dumb, but it beats me how anyone can study that hard; can use all that power and strength in those huge sexy arms just to carry schoolbooks; can
enjoy
being stuck in a dusty library for hours on end when the sun’s shining so bright you just
have
to be outside, when the pool sparkles so invitingly, or the sky’s so blue you
have
to go sail around the point to see if the sea matches—when there’s a
whole world
out there just waiting to be explored!

Safe to say, it’s not our common interests that attracted him either …

So … my glittering personality? My hilarious sense of humor? Ha-ha.

Looks? I glance briefly at my reflection in a window.

Hardly.

So … what? What
do
we have in common?

My pace slows, and I shiver suddenly, slipping back into the shadowy doubts that have plagued me ever since Josh started Harvard, remembering how frightened I was every time he called, always expecting him to tell me it wasn’t working out, that he’d realized we’re total opposites, that he’d met someone else …

But instead he took me to New York for my birthday—and proposed!

All my doubts fade with the sparkling memory of my ring, my gleaming proof of his feelings.

Who cares
why?
Opposites attract, after all. We love each other—that’s all that matters.
We’re engaged!

The grin splits my face as I race the last few blocks to his house, unable to wait any longer, to suppress the buzzing, fizzing thrill of this incredible secret longing to burst right out of me, desperate to shout it from the rooftops.

We’re getting married!

Rosie

The clothes are almost a perfect fit. I look at myself in the full-length mirror in Holly’s faded jeans and green Gap hoodie, and shiver suddenly. It’s like I’m looking into another life—the life I would’ve had: the clothes I might’ve worn, the house I’d be living in, the family I’d have—the person I’d be. I look myself in the eye. Holly Woods. I try the name on my lips, whispering at first, then out loud.

“Holly Woods.”

The shapes are alien to my mouth. It’s not me—it doesn’t sound right. I try again, lengthening the vowels and attempting an American accent.

“Holly …” No. “Holly,” I correct. “Holly
Woods.”

I shudder, the girl in the mirror unrecognizable.

“What are you doing?”

Andy stands in the doorway.

“This is a mistake,” I tell him. “I can’t do this. This is her life, not mine.”

“I know.” Andy frowns. “But you have to tell her.” He looks at me. “Don’t you?”

I slump down onto the bed. “Yes—no!” I run my hands through my hair, pulling it tight. “I don’t know!”

“Rose,” Andy says gently, sitting down next to me. “Remember how you felt when you didn’t know if you had Huntington’s?”

I nod miserably.

“And you said the not knowing was the worst bit, right? Well, Holly hasn’t got a clue!”

“I know! But
that’s
the difference!” I look at him. “
That’s
the difference, Andy. I
knew
there was a chance of inheriting the disease—well, I
thought
I knew—and I saw what it did to Mum. I had to live with it hanging over me every day. But Holly doesn’t even know there’s a
possibility
. She could live for years and years without any signs—she might not
have
Huntington’s, Andy! So what good would knowing do?” I shake my head. “It’d ruin her life.”

“So ignorance is bliss, huh?” Andy says quietly. “You want her to live Trudie’s life? Not knowing till it’s too late?”

I look away.

“What if she has children, Rose? What if she passes the disease on to her kids because she doesn’t even know she has it?”

“I don’t know! I don’t
know
, Andy.” I stare at the floor. “What’s worse? Living your whole life normally until one day you discover you’ve got Huntington’s—or suddenly being told you’re not who you think you are, your family’s not your family—oh, and there’s a fifty percent chance you could inherit a fatal disease?”

He looks away.

“It’s impossible!” I shrug helplessly. “How can I make this life-changing decision about a girl I don’t even know?”

“You can’t,” Andy sighs, taking my hand. “Because it’s not your decision to make.”

I look up.

He squeezes my hand. “It’s hers.”

I stare at him hopelessly for a moment, then sigh heavily and collapse back onto the bed.

“It’ll ruin her life,” I say simply, closing my eyes. “Either way, I’ll ruin her life.”