Someone Else's Life (9 page)

“Rose—” We say each other’s name together.

“You first,” I insist.

“I just wanted to say … I
am
sorry we didn’t find your mum. I know how much it meant to you, I just …” He rests his hand on mine. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

My cheeks burn and I look away. “I know,” I say quietly.

He squeezes my hand. “Your turn.”

“What? Oh, no, it was nothing.” I shrug.

“What is it?” He smiles.

“I was just wondering …” I hesitate. “I mean, about your trip …”

He frowns. “I could always put it off for a bit, if you like? If you want me to stick around?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that, it’s just …”

“What?” he asks gently.

“Would you mind … if I came along after all … maybe …?”

“On the trip?”

I nod.

“Rosie, that would be
awesome
!”

“Yeah?”

“Ye-ah!” He grins. “Are you kidding? We’ll have the best time!”

I smile at him. Then shiver as the wind whips past.

“Listen, go in, you’re freezing. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll meet up, sort everything. Rosie, this is going to be so great!” His eyes sparkle as he pulls away. “You won’t regret it!”

I smile weakly.

“And Rosie?”

I turn.

“Trudie would be so proud.” He beams.

His headlights dazzle my eyes as he turns the car around and disappears down the hill, leaving me dark and cold and guilty.

A cold, guilty sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I fidget restlessly, flicking through the litter of leaflets on the clinic coffee table, nervously waiting my turn.

Unwanted Pregnancy?

Your options:

a) Adoption
.

Nope—I need this over with.

b) Abortion
.

I take a deep breath, scan the page …

Up to Seven Weeks: Manual Vacuum Aspiration

Ugh. My stomach turns.

Medical Abortion (Abortion Pill)

I bite my lip. That seems easy enough. Take a pill—no more baby.

Simple.

“Hayley Wilson?”

I jump as the receptionist calls the next patient. But it’s not me. Not yet. I watch as the girl stands up, head bowed as she passes through the double doors.

I wipe my palms on my jeans and pick up another leaflet, anything to keep my hands busy, distracted.

Your baby
—
week by week

Despite myself, my eyes slide down to the picture for seven weeks as words leap out at me—
fingers, toes, elbows, knees, nostrils, eyelids
—this clump of cells is no bigger than a pencil eraser, yet it already has
eyelids?
It’s already moving on its own? Its tiny heart pulsing at 150 beats a minute—twice the speed of mine?

Before I know it, I’ve walked out. I walk out the door and keep walking, the air cold on my cheeks and fresh in my lungs. I take deep gulps of it, sucking it in till I feel dizzy with oxygen, with life, walking away, far away from the clinic …

Toward a future I never planned.

Chapter Eight

“Taxi’s here!” Andy cries, slinging my rucksack over his shoulder and pretending to stagger under the weight. “Good God, woman, what have you got in here? Anyone would think you were going away for eight months or something!”

Sarah laughs as he reels down the driveway while Nana squeezes me so tight I think I’ll burst.

“Eight months! Oh, sweetheart!”

I hold her close and my chest aches—she feels so small, so fragile. “I’ll miss you, Nana.”

“Oh, you’ll be having far too much fun to miss anything round here!” Sarah grins.

“Now, you take care, all right?” Nana says, clutching my hands. “You’re very precious.”

“You too,” I tell her tenderly.

“I want lots of postcards—and maybe a call once in a while?”

“I promise.” I grin. “Now, no wild parties while I’m gone—I know what you’re like!”

She laughs. “Just you try and stop me!”

“Good luck, sweetheart.” Sarah hugs me and I stiffen involuntarily, then smile for Nana’s sake.

I don’t really know
how
to feel about Sarah anymore—whether to be angry with her, or resentful, or
grateful
, even … Everything’s been such a blur these past few days, rushing around frantically packing and planning, there hasn’t been much time to think about anything else. Not even Kitty. With Nana and Andy constantly around and the only computer in Nana’s bedroom, I’ve only managed to Google her once—hungrily devouring a feast of new photographs—before Nana walked in and I quickly shut the site down, stung with guilt.

I climb into the taxi and look back at her waving madly from the doorway, and I feel sick. She’s so happy for me—thrilled that I’m officially negative, delighted that I’m finally going traveling. What would she think if she knew the truth?

I watch as Sarah wraps her arm round Nana’s thin shoulders and blows me a kiss.

How does she do it?
How did Sarah keep her secret all these years, look us in the eye, all the while
knowing?
It’s been killing me lying to Nana, walking on eggshells, double-checking everything I say and do …

I sigh as we turn a corner and she disappears, the trees and fields and houses crowding in, filling the distance between us.

At least now I won’t have to lie for a while.

Not to Nana, anyway.

“Hey,” Andy says softly. “Do you want to stop by the graveyard on the way? We’ve got time.”

“No.” I shake my head, looking away. “I’ve already been.”

Another lie. It’s been one thing holding it together in front of everyone else, but I just haven’t been able to face visiting Mum’s grave—not with my bags packed and a ticket clutched in my hand to go and find Kitty. A ticket paid for with Mum’s inheritance.

“I’m so glad you changed your mind.” Andy beams, his eyes bright. “We’re gonna have such a great time, Rose. Me and you against the world.”

I smile weakly, squeeze his hand, then turn to look out of the window as we head onto the motorway, my stomach tight.

What’s one more lie? It’s like they’re contagious—every time I leave one behind, a new one rears its ugly head. But Andy wouldn’t understand, he’s made that clear. And I don’t need his approval, not really. This is my life, my decision.

Besides, we’ll have a wonderful time traveling together—just as we always planned—and then, when we get to Los Angeles …

My heartbeat quickens as the familiar scenery streams past and disappears behind us, leaving the tiny village, the familiar houses and fields, and my life as I’ve always known it far, far behind.

Who knows …?

The ground is sprinkled with snow but the sky is a brilliant blue as finally we land in New York.

My eyes widen as we enter the crowded arrivals hall, everyone pushing and shoving, waving signs and placards as they jostle for position. I inch closer to Andy.

Suddenly, a guy in a thick tartan jacket grabs Andy in a bear hug that lifts him off the ground. “Hey, shrimp! How’re ya doin?” he cries. “And you must be the lovely Rosie.” He grins, kissing my hand.

“Okay, enough of the charm,” Andy laughs. “Rosie, Casey; Casey, Rosie. Now let’s get going, I’m freezing my arse off!”

“Aw, and it’s such a pretty ass, too,” Casey teases, slapping Andy’s bum and winking at me as he hitches my bag onto his shoulder. “Anyone for breakfast? I’m starved!”

“Breakfast” is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life—sausages, eggs and toast tussle for space next to long streaks of bacon, golden hash browns and a huge stack of fluffy pancakes drenched in sticky-sweet maple syrup. The image of my heaped plate stays with me all day—especially as the ferry bounces over the choppy waves toward Liberty Island.

“Ugh! I shouldn’t have eaten so much!” I groan as my stomach lurches back and forth. “Either that, or I should’ve stayed on dry land!”

“Yeah, but she’s worth it.” Andy grins. “Just look at her!”

I gaze up at the massive green lady, her torch held high above the lights of Manhattan. The view of the city across the bay is just stunning, the skyscrapers shooting like rockets up into the blue, blue sky, the air crisp and clear, the waves sparkling far below. What a sight to greet all the immigrants about to start a new life in the Land of Opportunity.

“Quick, take a picture!” Casey cries, grabbing Andy and striking the
Titanic
pose.

I laugh and delve in my bag for my camera, my fingers tingling as they brush Kitty’s photo. I wonder if she felt like this, arriving for the first time? So full of hope and expectation. Ready to start her new life. To follow her dream.

My heart soars with the seagulls high above as I take the shot, the wind in my hair, my seasickness suddenly gone.

The streets are rammed as we crawl back through the city in Casey’s yellow cab. I’ve never seen anywhere so busy, so bustling, so
alive
! From every direction horns blare and drivers yell abuse as shoppers weave through the endless river of traffic to the bright lights and fancy window displays on the other side.

“Well, Toto.” Andy winks. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore!”

He’s not kidding. Gazing out at this urban jungle, I feel a million miles away from sleepy little Bramberley.

“Everybody out!” Casey says suddenly, pulling up beside Central Park. “I’ll take the bags—you can walk from here.”

“What?” Andy cries.

“Trust me.” Casey winks. “You’ll love it.”

He’s right. The walk through snowy Central Park is beautiful, the lights of the city glittering like stars high above us. A guy on Rollerblades whizzes past, smooth as a train, weaving easily through the crowds of Japanese tourists, balloon sellers, joggers—a constant stream of people.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Andy grins.

I grin back at him, my senses bombarded with new sights and sounds and smells—it’s like anything could happen!

No wonder Kitty came to America.

As if to prove me right, we step through an archway and a fairy-tale castle suddenly appears in front of us—right in the middle of the park!

I gaze at it, enchanted, as a clock above me starts to play “Jingle Bells,” little bronze animals dancing round while monkeys strike a bell five times, ringing out the hour. It’s beautiful. Magical.

Andy grins, his eyes sparkling as he looks at me.

“What?” I ask suspiciously. “Have I got bird poo in my hair?”

“No!” he laughs. “No, I’m just—I’m really glad you came, Rosie.”

I smile as I hook my arm through his, a warm feeling flooding through me despite the icy cold.

“So am I.”

We finally arrive, exhausted and rosy-cheeked, at Casey’s apartment, and I feel like I’m in an episode of
Friends
—except it’s actually about half the size of Monica’s apartment, and looks out on the brick wall of the neighboring building.

“Welcome!” Casey grins, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder. “Make yourselves at home—Lola, shift!”

“Two minutes!” the petite blond girl begs, her eyes glued to her laptop. “It’s almost finished! Hi, guys—sorry—nice to meet ya!”

“Guys, meet Lola—waitress extraordinaire and hopeless TV addict.” Casey rolls his eyes. “Can’t pry her away from her sitcoms—even to do the washing up!”

“It’s your turn!” she protests good-naturedly.

Sitcoms.
Kitty
.

“You can watch online?” I scan the screen urgently. “What’s this one?”

“They’re all the same!” Casey groans. “Coupla guys, coupla girls, awful jokes and lots of canned laughter …”

Lola sticks out her tongue. “They’re
live
audiences,
actually
.”

“Seen one, seen ’em all!” Casey grabs the computer, and Lola shrieks.

“You do it, you die—Brad’s new boss is about to come in and find him dressed as a gigolo! But he doesn’t realize she actually has a crush on him and thinks—”

“Well, fancy that,” Casey says seriously. “Just how credible and believable and downright—ow!” he laughs as Lola hits him. “You can catch up later—it’s New Year’s Eve!”

“All right, already!” Lola grins, grabbing her jacket and turning to me. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”

“Yeah, d’you wanna come to the bar?” Casey hits his head. “D’oh! You’re not twenty-one, are ya?”

Andy hurls a cushion at him.

“You’re coming to Times Square with us, though, right?” Lola asks.

“Actually, I’m pretty knackered.” I yawn.

“But it’s only seven-thirty!” Lola protests.

“Yeah,” Andy says. “But that’s half past midnight at home. We’ve already celebrated New Year!”

I smile. We toasted each other with mugs of hot chocolate in a little café before calling home.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart!”
Nana had cried above the noise of Sarah’s house party. “Don’t waste a single minute of it!”

I glance at Lola’s laptop. I don’t intend to.

“Then celebrate
twice
!” Lola insists. “Come on, you can’t miss the ball drop!”

“Babe, they’ve been on a transatlantic flight, they’re jet-lagged, and they
stink
!” Casey holds his nose theatrically, and I laugh.

“Well, just call us if you wanna meet up.” Lola smiles. “Or we might see you there?”

“Yeah—you and two million others!” Casey laughs. “Have fun, guys—see ya later!” The door slams behind them, leaving us in sudden silence, a siren wailing somewhere in the distance.

“Well!” Andy grins. “It’s been quite a day!”

I smile at him. “It certainly has.”

“I’m going to take a shower.” He grabs his rucksack. “Casey’s right, I reek!”

I wait until I hear the water running, then I pick up the laptop. My fingers trembling, I type
For Richer, For Poorer
into the search engine, and immediately the theme tune blares loudly. I grab the headphones and plug them in quickly, holding my breath as I listen down the hall.

The sound of running water is joined by Andy’s loud off-key singing. I sigh with relief and turn back to the screen.

The latest episode starts playing and I watch as two impossibly good-looking guys comically struggle to coax a kitten down from a fire escape. I wait impatiently, nervously, my eyes flicking over the rest of the webpage.

Episode Guide
—
Catch up quick!

Backstage Gossip!
—
Are Luke Reynolds and Kitty Clare secretly engaged?

Engaged? I stare at the photo. Kitty’s
engaged?
Her face beams back at me, her arm linked with the tall, dark-haired man from the clip, those catlike green eyes sparkling brightly.

Photos; Interviews; Meet the Stars!

Eagerly, I click the icon.

Come join our studio audience! We’re currently on hiatus, but shooting will recommence on March 16 …

No!
I stare at the page. Not till March? That’s months away! And we’re going to be in L.A. in
three weeks
 …

“Bathroom’s free!”

I jump as Andy throws me a clean towel. His eyes flick to the screen.

Too late, I click the webpage closed.

“Oh, no,” he says gravely. “Oh, Rosie.”

“Andy, I—”

“I bring you all the way to New York and you wanna watch TV?” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What? Oh! No, no, I was just … looking, that’s all.”

“You won’t mind me checking my email, then.” He grins. “Shift!”

Numbly, I surrender the laptop and lock the bathroom door behind me. I pull Kitty’s photo out of my bag and sink to the floor.

On hiatus till March. Till
March
, when we’ll be God knows where—Cambodia or Thailand, or … And we’re gonna be in L.A. in three weeks.

I sigh heavily, tracing Kitty’s smiling face with my fingers.

She’d felt so close …

But she could be anywhere.

New York City
.

The thought thrills through me like electricity. I can’t believe I’ve never been before. All these years, it’s been just a plane, or train, or
bus
ride away … but now I’m finally going. I beam at my ticket—my passport to the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, the town that’s inspired more songs than any other, from Frank Sinatra to Jay-Z, home of Carrie Bradshaw, Will and Grace, Central Perk, Broadway …