Someone Else's Life (37 page)

Rosie

“I still can’t believe it!” Jack paces up and down the car park as Sarah nervously hugs her coat. “
You’re
Sarah?” Jack stares at her, his eyes popping from their sockets. “You’re—You
did
this?”

She stares at her feet. She looks wrecked, like she hasn’t slept in days.

“I can’t believe it.” Jack shakes his head incredulously, hands in his hair. “How can you still work in a—How can you still be trusted with
babies
, after …” He glares at her, his eyes wild. “How many times? How many babies have you stolen? How many lives have you destroyed?”

“I—I’m so sorry.” Sarah crumples before him. “It was only once—only Rosie …” She glances at me.

“Well, aren’t we the lucky ones!” Jack explodes. “And how dare you come near my daughter again? How
dare
you!”

“I—I didn’t know it was her,” Sarah says helplessly. “I didn’t know—”

“What have you done to her this time? Given her MRSA? Taken a kidney?”

“Jack!” I protest.

“Holly’s fine,” Sarah assures him. “She’s completely recovered.”

“No thanks to you—you left her for dead!”

Sarah flinches. Then she takes a deep breath, her voice shaking.

“Mr. Woods, you have every right to be angry—”

“Damn right!”

“But you have to understand—I didn’t …” She falters. “I thought I was doing the right thing—I had
no idea
Holly was going to survive—”

“That’s even worse!”

“Or that anyone was going to come back for her,” Sarah insists. “I was told she was being put up for adoption—her mother had abandoned her—I didn’t think it would hurt anyone.”

“Well, it has—
you
have—have you any
idea
what you’ve done to my family? To my
daughter?
”

“Yes.” She nods wretchedly. “Yes, I have—it’s all I’ve thought about since I got Holly’s email.” She presses her eyes closed, her face tortured. “And she’s got every right to sue me, to tell the police—whatever she wants to do—whatever
you
want to do …” She trails off, looking at Jack miserably. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Yes, well!” Jack looks at her, then looks away agitatedly. He rubs his forehead.

“Look,” she sighs sadly. “We can stand here all day agreeing that what I did was wrong—it was terrible—and I deserve a multitude of punishments for the pain I’ve caused you all …” She looks from me to Jack, who stares at her, his jaw tensing and untensing. “Or we can do that later—and go and find Holly, make sure she’s okay now.”

Jack looks away, glaring at a parking meter. I glance at Sarah, so worried, so drained, then watch as Jack rubs his hands over and over his face. Finally he looks up.

“You got a car?”

Holly

I look at her in surprise. “For me?”

“It’s Andrew.” She smiles, and my heart sinks. “I’ll just go and make another brew,” she whispers, closing the door behind her.

Andy. Great. No doubt Rosie’s put him on my case
.

I sigh as I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Andy.”

“Holly, thank God—I didn’t know how to get hold of you.”

“Look, Andy, you don’t have to worry,” I tell him irritably. “I haven’t said anything, and anyway it’s really none of your—”

“Holly,” he interrupts. “It’s not about that.”

I falter. “It’s not?”

“Holly, the clinic rang—they still have my mobile number for you.”

I freeze. The
clinic? So soon?

“You need to call the clinic in Westhampton,” Andy tells me. “They want to see you. Today.”

“Why?” I ask, the phone trembling in my hand. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Andy says carefully. “Not that I know of.”

“Then …” I can hardly hear, my heart’s pounding so loud. “Then what?”

“Holly,” he says gently. “Your results are in.”

Rosie

As soon as Sarah slows down, I spill out of the car and race up Nana’s driveway, skidding on the gravel as I run to her front door, ringing the doorbell and knocking madly on the glass.

Please
, I beg.
Please tell me it’s not too late!

“Rosie!” Nana’s eyes widen as she opens the door. Her hands fly to her mouth and I stare at her, paralyzed.
Does she know?

“Oh, Rosie!” she cries, engulfing me in a hug. “I can’t believe it! What are you doing here? Holly didn’t say anything about you coming back so soon!”

I freeze.
Holly
. So I am too late. I close my eyes, limp in her arms.

“Nana,” I begin. “Oh, Nana, I’m so sorry, I can explain …”

“Tush!” Nana chides, stroking my hair. “There’s nothing to explain—it’s a lovely surprise.”

“What?” I pull back and look at her, confusion and fear jostling in my head.

“We had a lovely chat, Holly and I—she’s a charming girl, isn’t she?”

I stare at her, searching her eyes, tortured.

“Oh, it’s just so good to have you home!” She grabs me in another hug and I feel myself relax slowly. She doesn’t know. Holly didn’t tell her. She was here, but she didn’t tell her.

“I’m sorry—and you are?” Nana smiles, turning to Jack.

“Jack Woods,” Jack says, extending his hand. “Holly’s dad. I mean—”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Nana says, “But I’m afraid you’ve just missed her—Andrew rang and she had to dash off in a taxi.”

Andy? Andy rang Nana’s house? He stopped Holly telling her?

“Do you know where she went?” Jack asks.

She frowns. “Yes, Westhampton, I think she said.”

Westhampton … the genetics clinic!

“Thanks, Nana—I’ll be straight back, okay? We just have to find Holly.”

“Oh, okay then, dear. Doesn’t she know you’ve come to see her?” Nana smiles at Jack. “What a day of surprises!”

I kiss her cheek, then hurry back to Sarah’s waiting car.

She can say that again.

Holly

I pay the cabdriver and stand for a moment, staring up at the redbrick building, unable to move. Across the street is a playground. How ironic. I look away, the sound of children’s laughter playing like torturous music in my ears, and just concentrate on breathing—
in, out, in
,
out
—watching my breath rise in wisps and float away to nothing.

I’ve longed for this moment, for the waiting, the endless waiting to be over. And now it is … finally.

You don’t have to know
, Charlotte said.
You don’t have to collect your results
—
lots of people pull out partway through
. I gaze up at the clinic.
You have to be ready to live with the result, whatever it is. Positive or negative …

I thought I was ready. I’ve imagined this moment so many times—both bad news and good news—I thought I was prepared …

But here I am. Now. Today. I look at the clinic, my heart hammering madly, all my hopes and dreams and wishes whirling with my fears and doubts and anxieties, about to hear the news of my life. Literally.

I close my eyes, trying to preserve this moment, to predict what the outcome will be. For both of us. Our future. Or not.
Fifty percent
. Heads or tails. Place your bets now.

I take a deep breath and force my legs to move, slowly, one after the other; force myself to breathe—
in, out, in, out
—
and
suddenly I’m at the door, my breath fogging the glass. My last clinic visit? Or the beginning of a lifetime membership?

With the last of my strength I push inside, the rush of warm air making me dizzy.

“Holly Woods,” I tell the receptionist. “I’m here to get my results.”

Rosie

“Come on, come on,” Jack urges as Sarah speeds through Bramberley, through Maybridge, and on toward Westhampton, to the clinic.

I stare out the window, willing the roads to clear, the lights to turn green.

We have to get there in time—she can’t go through this alone, it’s too hard.

“It’ll be okay,” Sarah says quietly, catching Jack’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Whatever the outcome, I promise it’ll be okay.”

He looks away.

We finally arrive at the clinic, and I race into the waiting room, an awful feeling of déjà vu hitting me like a sledgehammer as I scan the patients waiting anxiously on the hard plastic seats, reading the same magazines I flicked through just weeks ago. I feel sick.

“Holly?” Jack cries, bursting through the door.

“She’s not here,” I tell him miserably. “She must’ve already gone in.”
All on her own
.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks.

“I’m looking for my daughter,” Jack tells her breathlessly. “Holly Woods. Is she here? Has she gone in yet?”

The receptionist glances at me, then back at Jack. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that information, sir,” she says awkwardly. “Patient confidentiality.”

“Screw patient confidentiality!” Jack bangs his fist on the counter, sending leaflets scattering to the floor. “She’s my daughter—my little girl!”

The receptionist backs away, startled. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m her midwife.”

I turn, surprised, as Sarah walks confidently up to the counter, showing her ID.

“I need to see my patient urgently. Could you tell her I’m here, please?” She eyeballs the receptionist, who hesitates.

“Look,” she says slowly. “I’ll let the counselors know you’re here, all right? Then
if
Holly’s here, she’ll be told. Okay?”

Jack hangs his head, exhausted. “Thank you,” he sighs as she picks up the phone. He glances at Sarah. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She smiles.

“Take a seat,” the receptionist says, and Jack slumps into a chair. I follow silently. There are no words. No comfort. Only the wait. Always the wait. The weight.

I sigh, my eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, feeling uncomfortable and restless in this too-familiar place. This was me. I’ve lived this. This is where I sat while Mum had her tests, got her results, where I sat to get my own. The familiar wallpaper, the saccharine-smelling air freshener. But this time it’s worse. This time there’s so much more at stake.

My gaze trails to the window, the winter sunlight struggling through the stubborn clouds. Across the street, children squeal and giggle as they chase each other merrily round a colorful payground. My eyes follow a little girl as she races from the climbing-frame to the swings, her daddy pushing her higher and higher as she shrieks in delight, until suddenly she jumps off, sprinting toward the seesaw, the slide, her next adventure. The swing jangles wildly in her wake, careering forward and backward, joyful still, despite her absence.

On the swing next to it, someone else sways listlessly, barely moving at all.

Holly

I kick at the leaves as I swing slowly by, watching as they scuffle and scatter, living for a moment in the breeze, before dropping, lifeless, into the mud.

One leaf still clings to its branch, high above me. It quivers, fluttering and flickering as the wind tugs at it again and again—and yet still it stubbornly holds on, glistening in the sunlight.

In all likelihood it too will eventually fall and become mucky, trampled into the sodden ground. But maybe a merciful breeze will spare it—carry it safely to alight on a rooftop or a nest. Maybe, somehow, it will cling to its branch forever. But for now it glimmers, golden in the winter sunshine. Untouched. Its destiny undecided.

I watch the children race around me, laughing and shrieking, their chubby cheeks rosy with adventure, their eyes sparkling with possibilities, and I close my eyes, the hot tears spilling down my cheeks. I hug my coat tighter, as if I can protect my child with this cocoon, keeping out the cold and the danger, holding on to my burning heart, my aching hope.

“Holly!” The word whispers on the wind and tickles my ear. “Holly!”

I open my eyes.

“Holly!” the voice calls, louder now.
“Holly!”

Dad? I look up slowly, my face numb with tears.

“Oh, Holly!” Dad runs across the grass toward me. “Holly, thank God!”

“Daddy?” My voice cracks as he drops to his knees in front of me, engulfing me in his arms.

“Dad …,” I cry, drowning in his embrace, unable to believe he’s real. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, his eyes deep green overflowing pools. “You’re here,” he says simply, stroking my hair from my face, kissing away my tears, which are mingling with his own. “You’re here, Holly-berry. Where else would I be?”

I crumple into his arms, the pain suddenly overwhelming.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes, holding me tight. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through—what you’ve been going through all this time—all on your own …” He trails off, his eyes bright. “But I’m here now. It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right!” I cry miserably, tears flooding my words. “Daddy, I’m pregnant—the baby—”

“Shhh.” He pulls me close, holding me together as I fall apart. “It’ll be okay, I promise—whatever happens, whatever you decide.”

My insides twist painfully.

Whatever I decide …

“I’m here for you,” he says gently. “I’ll come into the clinic with you, hold your hand—if that’s still what you want?”

I stare up at him, sobs clogging my throat, tears filling my eyes.
I want to be strong, to be brave enough to face the truth
—
the consequences, but …
I clutch my stomach desperately.
But I can’t
 …

Dad strokes a tear from my cheek.

“If not—if you’ve changed your mind and you don’t want to know yet—that’s okay too,” he promises, kissing my forehead. “It’s not too late.”

I screw my eyes shut, helpless to stop the tears as they stream like acid down my cheeks, my head throbbing mercilessly, my heart on fire.

“It’s your child, Holly,” he says gently, his voice like cool water. “Your choice. I’ll support you either way, you know that.” He strokes his thumb gently along my jawline and I bite my lip. “You’re my little girl.”

I look up at him, his face shining with love. Words stick in my throat and I hold on tighter, his arms warm and strong around me.

My dad
, I think, melting into him. No matter what the truth is—the blood, the DNA. He always has been. Even though he knew he might not be. But I didn’t know, and I was happy. I bury my head deeper into his jacket, into the familiar smell I’ve known since I was a little girl.

Sometimes it’s not the lies that hurt you
, I realize.
It’s the truth
.

I close my eyes. “Daddy …,” I whisper, my skull throbbing. “I want my baby.”

“Okay,” he sighs, engulfing me in his warmth. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s okay.” He folds himself around me, shielding me from the cold winter wind, the world, the truth.

“You’ve made a lot of tough decisions lately, huh?” He glances over at the parking lot, where Rosie is standing with Sarah, then back at me, his eyes full. “I’m so proud of you, Holly-berry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he holds me tighter than ever. “You’re gonna be a wonderful mum.”