Текст книги "Someone Else's Life"

Автор книги: Katie Dale

Соавторы: Katie Dale,Katie Dale
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Chapter Eleven

“This is never going to work,” moan, struggling to

carry the wobbling silver platter along the hotel corridor

without the lid falling off.

“Well, it won’t if you give up,” Andy urges. “Now

come on, you must’ve inherited some of Kitty’s acting

talent! Next room.”

groan and stop outside the next door.

“Room service!” sing for the umpteenth time.

middle-aged man opens the door, his belly

hanging over his boxers.

plaster on smile. “Room service?”

“I ain’t ordered no room service,” he grunts.

“Whatya—”

“Sorry, wrong room!” Andy interrupts, steering me

on down the corridor as tug the tiny black skirt farther

over my bum.

“I feel ridiculous!”

hiss. “Besides, this is

waitress’s uniform, not room service!”

“Well, it’s all Lola had.” Andy grins. “And it is very

cute.”

glare at him.

141

“Andy, we don’t even know which room she’s in,”

protest. “She hasn’t even ordered room service—and what if someone else actually has? All we’ve got are chocolates!”

“Who doesn’t like chocolates?” Andy smiles. “Come

on, next room.”

Lola’s master plan—as seen on one of her favorite

sitcoms—involved her causing

distraction in the hotel

lobby by pretending (?) to be crazed fan while Andy and

snuck in and got changed in the toilets. Now, starting at

the top of the hotel, we’re knocking on every single door

holding Lola’s covered silver platter, pretending to be

room service, until we find Kitty. We’ve gone through two

whole floors already, but there’s still no sign of her.

The next door opens almost immediately. An

enormous man in

suit glowers down at me, his bulk

filling the doorway.

“Yes?” he grunts.

“Er, room service?” say timidly.

“Typical!” Another man strides forward and the

Incredible Bulk steps aside. “Grab the cases, will you,

Stan? Trust Kitty, ordering room service at the last

minute. We’re never gonna leave! think she’s fallen in

love with your town.” He winks at me, the warmth of his

smile making my cheeks burn. “Please, go on in. And tell

her I’ve gone to see what the hell’s happened to our cab,

will you?”

“I, er, will!” call after him, watching him stroll

away down the corridor, the Bulk following behind, laden

with heavy suitcases.

142

“Oh. My. God!”

hiss, turning to Andy. “That was

Luke Reynolds!”

“Who?” He frowns.

“Kitty’s costar—they’re engaged!”

“Well, we’ve got the right room, then, haven’t we?

Come on!” He pushes me inside.

“Oh my God!” stop dead in the doorway. My jaw

drops as gaze round at the marble fireplace, the roaring

log fire, the silver candlesticks, the beautiful bouquets,

and the luxurious deep-pile Indian rug sprawling across

the expansive floor. It’s absolutely incredible—and

far

cry from her parents’ cramped semi in Bramberley.

“You forget something, babe?” Kitty pads out of the

bathroom.

stare at her, my breath catching in my throat. Here

she is, in front of me, in the flesh. Her black hair swings

smoothly as she stops and looks at me, her green eyes

penetrating mine.

“Can help you?” she asks, her accent muddle of

American twang and round English vowels.

“I, um, er …”

glance at the platter in my hands.

“Room service!”

She frowns. “I didn’t order any …” She lifts the lid,

surprised. “Chocolates? don’t eat chocolates.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I—”

“He knows

don’t eat chocolates.” She beams

suddenly. “I love that man. He spoils me rotten.” She

winks as she pops one in her mouth. “Where’d he go,

anyway?”

143

“Uh, he—”

“He went to see about the taxi, ma’am,” Andy

interrupts, bowing and closing the door behind him as he

steps back into the corridor.

“Have found the perfect guy, or what?” She grins.

“Now, let me get you nice fat tip.” She picks up her purse

and

tiny frown flickers over her features. “Do know

you?”

“I—”

nod helplessly, my throat paralyzed,

butterflies dancing circles in my stomach. Could it be?

Could she really recognize me …?

“Ah, know!” She points finger at me. “You were at

this afternoon’s show, weren’t you? Huge backpack, no

umbrella?” She smiles.

nod quickly.

“So?” she says eagerly. “Did you like it? never trust

the critics.”

“Oh, thought it was wonderful,” gush.

She beams at me. “Cigarette?” she offers, opening

packet.

“No, thanks.”

She settles back in her armchair. She looks so

young, so beautiful.

“You’re not really room service, are you?” she says

suddenly. “Unless the Ritz suddenly changed their

uniform since this morning.”

feel my cheeks grow hot.

“And the chocolates—are they from you too?”

144

“I—” struggle to breathe. “I’m really, really sorry—

“Relax!” she laughs. “I’ve done some crazy things to

meet stars in my time, believe me. And thank you—they’re

delicious.” She grins. “So, what can do for you?” she asks,

placing

cigarette between her lips and feeling for

lighter. “Autograph? Photo? I’m afraid haven’t got long—

my taxi to the airport will be here soon. I’m off to sunny

Las Vegas.”

She smiles at me expectantly.

The butterflies go crazy. It’s now or never.

“My name’s Rosie.” swallow. “Rosie Kenning.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosie.”

“And I’m—”

take

deep breath, my cheeks

burning. “I’m your daughter.”

She looks up quickly.

hold her gaze fearfully,

rabbit pinned in

headlights, not daring to breathe. can’t believe just did

that—just blurted it out like that!

She stares at me for

long moment, my heart

hammering wildly. This is it. The moment of truth.

And then she smiles, cocking her head to one side. “I

didn’t know had daughter.” She exhales coolly.

“I know,” say, my breath shallow. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m always the last to know,” she

says, waving her cigarette. “Usually I’m just handed

script and it’s ‘Action!’ Nice to have

heads-up for

change.”

frown, confused.

145

“Actually, Janine’s been on about getting me

kid

on the show for

while now—change my image, keep

things fresh.” She shakes her head. “She keeps saying

need

hook, you know, to capture the public’s

imagination, attract media interest, constantly raise my

profile …”

“No,” interject. “I’m—”

“Do you know, was up to play Maria in the remake

of The Sound of Music but they said wasn’t star name—

never mind that I’ve been on prime-time telly for the last

eight years—and that no one would buy me as motherly

nun after For Richer, For Poorer Offered me the Baroness instead– the Baroness Well, we’ll show them, huh? We’ll show them motherly.”

She smiles at me, looks me over.

“They’ve done

pretty good job too,

must say.

Black hair, green eyes—you’re even British!” She leans

forward. “Or is that just really good accent?”

“No, I—I am.”

“Well, I’m very impressed.” She beams, leaning back

in her chair and looking me up and down. “You’re bit old,

though, aren’t you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, mean I’m sure they could make you look

bit younger with makeup, but—what are you, seventeen?

Eighteen?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Well, exactly! I’m not old enough to—”

“You’re thirty-five.”

146

She chokes on her cigarette smoke. “And you’re

cheeky minx!”

“I’m eighteen,” say again. “Eighteen today, actually.

It’s my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday, but that’s really no excuse

for—”

“And eighteen years ago today, when you were

seventeen”—I

take

deep

breath,

seizing

my

opportunity—“you gave birth to me.”

She stares at me, then coughs. “What?”

hold her gaze expectantly. “In England.”

She looks at me for long moment and then gives

little laugh and stands up, hugging herself.

“Well, you’re good, I’ll give you that—a backstory

and everything! The studio must’ve pulled out all the

stops for this one, though can’t think why they never told

me, mean—”

“It’s nothing to do with the studio!”

interrupt

loudly. “I’m not an actress! I’m real. I’m your real

daughter!”

She turns deathly pale and just stares at me. “Stan

…?”

“Please, listen—”

“I don’t know what you want, but—”

“You gave birth to me in St. Anne’s hospital,

Maybridge.”

“I really don’t think—”

“You ran away after was born, you—”

147

“Look,” she says suddenly, turning to me. “Hon. I’m

sure you’re very nice, and hope you find your mum,

really do, but you’ve got the wrong lady.”

“It was stormy night and—”

“Rosie,” she interrupts. “Look,

don’t know who

you’ve been talking to, but—”

“Your mother.”

“What?” She stares at me.

“I’ve spoken to your mother, Pam Sinclare.” hold

her gaze. “My grandmother.”

She looks at me, speechless.

“That’s how

found you. She told me how you’d

always wanted to be an actress, how you came to America

when you were seventeen. But she doesn’t know the real

reason you left, does she?”

“I—”

“She doesn’t know that you’d just had baby, that

you were scared, that you ran away.”

“Now, listen—”

“But after you ran away, Kitty, there was

mistake—”

“Damn right, there’s been

mistake!” she shouts,

striding to the door and flinging it open. “Stan’s always

telling me– Stan?

“Kitty,” beg. “Kitty, please.”

“Rosie …” Andy steps inside.

“And who the hell are you?” Kitty demands.

“Kitty, I’m your daughter!”

148

“I don’t have

daughter!” She rounds on me, eyes

blazing. “Now please leave—both of you!”

“No. Kitty—”

“Stan!” she calls again. “Stan!”

“Rosie,” Andy hisses. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes!” shrug him off. “Kit—”

Andy catches my arm again and holds it tightly.

“Really sure?”

look at him.

He lowers his voice. “What if you’re wrong? What if

it’s not her?”

“What?” stare at him. It has to be her.

Doesn’t it?

look at Kitty, who’s punching

number on the

hotel phone. She looks like me—same hair, same

eyes

She’s the right age. She had daughter called Holly

Woods

My breath catches.

Didn’t she …?

Sinclare

There were several on record—just

because Kitty lived locally, it doesn’t necessarily mean

swallow.

My mother was runaway—she could’ve come from

anywhere to have her baby in secret

shiver runs down my spine. Pam never

mentioned

baby,

pregnancy—I assumed because

Kitty’d kept it secret, but what if

stare at Kitty as she clutches the receiver.

“Security?”

What if there was no baby?

149

My heart hammers painfully.

What if she’d just gone off, as Pam said, to follow her

dream?

was so sure. So sure

But what if it was all huge

mistake? What if she’s the wrong Sinclare?

“Rosie,” Andy says gently, wrapping his arm round

my shoulder. “Maybe we should go.”

stare at Kitty, doubt gripping me with icy fingers.

It’s not her All this, and it’s not even her!

“Come on, Rose.” Andy steers me toward the door,

the room spinning wildly.

was so sure

I’ve come all this way, left Nana, lied

to Andy—all for nothing. got it wrong, so wrong

She’s

not my mother I’m not her daughter, not

“Wait—” stop suddenly in the doorway, my last

chance. “Holly Woods.” turn to Kitty desperately. “Kitty,

I’m Holly Woods.”

She stares at me for second, her green eyes wide.

Then, trembling, she replaces the telephone.

“Who sent you?” she whispers, her breath ragged,

her face ashen. “Did Jack send you?”

“Nobody sent me!” insist, my pulse racing.

“What does he want? Money?”

“No, Kitty, you don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand!” she cries, eyes wild as

she stares straight at me. “I do not have daughter!”

The words sting like boiling water. stare at her.

Her face is white and she’s shaking.

“What’s going on?”

150

Luke appears in the doorway.

Kitty stares at him. For an instant something like

terror flashes over her features. Then it’s gone.

“Oh, thank God!” she gushes, rushing to his side.

“Oh, darling, they just burst in—they’re stalkers—they

wouldn’t leave!”

Stalkers?

Luke pulls out his mobile and dials. “Police?”

“We’re leaving,” Andy insists, taking my arm.

“But—” stare at Kitty helplessly. “Wait—”

“Oh, darling, was so scared—she was saying such

crazy things!”

My jaw drops.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, they’re leaving.” Luke puts

down his phone and pulls Kitty close, glaring at me.

“Come on.” Andy drags me away down the corridor,

my head reeling.

Crazy things? She recognized me—she knew was telling the truth!

droop against the mirrored wall of the lift, the

glass cold and hard against my forehead as we travel

down, down, and Andy walks me numbly outside, the

lights from the hotel splintering on the wet pavement as

an icy wind whips my cheeks.

“God, Rosie, you’re shaking! Where’re your clothes?

Are they still inside?”

shrug, my body shivering uncontrollably. But

don’t feel cold. don’t feel anything.

“Wait here, I’ll go and get them.”

151

stare blindly out at the street, at people bustling

by, blur of color and movement.

can’t believe it.

found her.

met my real

mother

and she kicked me out slump against the wall,

the conversation reeling round my head—her shock, her

anger, her denial—her recognition The look in her eyes when mentioned the name Holly Woods—that whimsical

name she gave me before she ran away

Suddenly it hits me, as hard and as painful as

punch to the stomach.

She ran away. From me. That’s why she gave me

different name. She didn’t want me—she never had—she

was going to give me up for adoption

Andy was right,

she made her choice. There was no mistake, no regret. Her

voice rings painfully in my ears– don’t have daughter!

She’d never wanted

baby, and now, as far as she’s

concerned, she never had one.

yellow shape looms up in front of me.

taxi.

Casey. struggle forward, gripping the wall for support as

the driver approaches the hotel. But it’s not Casey. He

walks straight past me, opening one of the hotel’s heavy

glass doors as

couple hurries out, the woman’s high

heels clacking noisily over the pavement. She turns,

brushing her black bob out of her eyes as she slides into

the car, and shrink into the shadows as it pulls away,

disappearing into the sea of traffic.

There she goes. My mother. Out of my life forever—

just as she always wanted

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“Here you go!” Andy rushes back out. “Come on, it’s

pissing it down.” He wraps my coat around me, hugging

me close as the rain beats down harder, dodging

pedestrians and puddles until finally we find Casey’s cab.

“Is she okay?” Lola whispers as

slump into the

warm backseat.

“I think she’s in shock,” Andy says quietly, shutting

the door. “It didn’t go so well.”

“Oh, no,” Lola sighs. “I’m so sorry. Here, Rosie,

honey, take some of this.”

She passes bottle through the partition and Andy

wraps my fingers around it.

tip it upward, the smooth liquid warm as it slides

down my throat.

“Good girl.” Lola smiles, and Andy kisses my

forehead.

“Okay.” Casey starts the engine. “Where to?”

“Rosie?” Andy asks gently, his voice million miles

away.

“Anywhere,” mumble. “Anywhere but here.”

lean my head against the cold window, my eyes

heavy as

watch the raindrops streak across, changing

color as they smudge their haphazard way down, down,

blurring the world outside as we pull off, leaving the hotel,

my mother, and all my hopes far, far behind. Forever.

Goodbye, Kitty Clare

sigh.

Goodbye, Holly Woods

153

watch the raindrops streak quickly across the

window as the city lights stream past, trying to ignore the

sick feeling in my stomach.

My fingers play with the ring, new and strange on

my finger, weighing heavily on my conscience. think of

the photo nestled in my bag, of my new life, my new

fiancé, my secret

“Babe?” turn to him, but he’s already asleep, his

head lolling heavily against the seat.

stroke his cheek. He looks so happy, so peaceful.

glance again at the ring, gleaming on my finger,

then kiss it tenderly.

Goodbye, Holly Woods sigh.

Hello, future.

154

Chapter Twelve

wake suddenly, startled and disorientated. Warm

sunlight streams onto my face, and I’m curled under

blanket on the backseat of the empty taxi.

My neck aches as stretch and struggle upright to

look out of the window—at the ocean. The ocean? Where

am I?!

Rap– rap– rap!

turn to see Andy outside the opposite window, his

arms filled with bags, flower between his teeth. reach

over and open the door.

“Not quite

rose, I’m afraid, but the best could

find at short notice.” He grins, putting the bags down and

presenting the flower to me. “Happy birthday.”

“What?”

smile, confused, stroking the delicate,

velvety petals, my stomach growling as the rich aroma of

coffee fills the cab.

“Happy birthday!” Andy repeats, reaching into bag

and handing me steaming Styrofoam cup and muffin. “I

decided that yesterday wasn’t so great, as birthdays go …”

“No kidding,” sigh.

“So,” he says. “Today we’re going to start again. Do

it properly.”

155

“Hence the waking up in

cab in the middle of

nowhere?”

smile, gazing out at the pale blue sea and

soaring seagulls.

“Come on.” He grins, taking out his own coffee. “All

the best birthdays begin by waking up in

cab in the

middle of nowhere.” He winks. “Welcome to Plymouth!”

“Plymouth?” stare out the window. “How long have

been asleep?”

Andy laughs. “Plymouth, Massachusetts, New

England. Though

am surprised you slept all night,

especially in car. You must’ve been shattered.”

“Yeah.” take sip of my coffee. “Shattered.”

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” Andy says gently. “I never

dreamed Kitty’d react like that.”

sigh. “What doesn’t kill you, right?” smile weakly.

“Right.” He sighs. “She’s the one who’s missing out,

okay?”

look up at him, my throat swelling. “Thanks.”

take another deep breath. “I just want to forget about it,

really.”

“Of course,” he says. “And that’s what today’s all

about.

fresh start. Casey and Lola have buggered off

sightseeing for the morning, so it’s just us, I’m afraid—

you, me, the beach and the sea.” He grins.

beam. “Perfect.”

“Almost,” he says, pulling candle from his pocket

and sticking it into my muffin.

156

smile as he lights it, the warmth of the flame

spreading through me, chasing away the shadows of

yesterday, of the past eighteen years.

“Make

wish.” He grins, his eyes twinkling in the

candlelight.

take deep breath, close my eyes and blow.

New England is the perfect antidote to New York.

Peaceful and sleepy, with its quaint little picket fences

lining the gardens of the pretty white clapboard houses, it

feels like it’s tucked away from the world and all its

worries and problems. Mum would’ve loved it.

We spend the morning wandering lazily round

Plymouth. buy some postcards and call Nana; then we

meet Casey and Lola and drive right along to the farthest

tip of the Cape, to Provincetown. The tiny town is

practically shut up for the winter—letters that once

spelled OPEN now rearranged to NOPE in the shop

windows, while others cheerfully proclaim SEE YOU IN

APRIL!; streets and restaurants that are probably

crammed with tourists in the summer, now reclaimed by

the laid-back locals: the fishermen with their enormous

Christmas tree built from lobster pots, the families digging

for clams along the empty shore. It’s perfect.

After

delicious seafood lunch, Andy and finally

wave goodbye to Casey and Lola and book into gorgeous

little B&B. We unpack, shower, and then wander slowly

down to the boardwalk pier, the Pilgrim Monument

spearing the clear blue sky behind us, the huge black-and-

white faces of fishermen’s wives staring out from the

157

wharf walls as little brightly colored boats bob up and

down beside us, the waves splashing wildly below. For the

first time in ages feel like can really breathe.

“Surprise!” Andy announces as we reach

shiny

white boat with Wesley’s painted on the side.

“Sorry?”

“This is your birthday surprise—I organized it this

morning!”

raise my eyebrows. “A boat?”

“A boat trip,” Andy corrects, helping me aboard.

“But not just any boat trip—now, take

seat and keep

your eyes peeled.”

“For what?”

“It’s surprise, just—watch the waves.”

We ride for what seems like hours, salty spray

peppering my lips as the wind tugs wildly at my hair, the

glittering waves glinting blindingly as stare out at the

distant horizon—blue sea merging into blue sky. The sun

beams down on my face, sea air filling my lungs as the

steady rise and fall of the boat lulls me with its lazy

rhythm, my thoughts drifting with the seagulls reeling

high overhead—wings outstretched, surrendered to the

wind like great white kites.

Mum bought me kite for my sixth birthday. It was

beautiful. Snowy white with

long tail of ribbons. She

held the string, and ran and ran as fast as could, but it

kept dropping to clumsy heap on the ground. When got

tired Mum took over, holding it high above her head and

running and running until, all at once, sudden wonderful

158

gust of wind took the kite soaring high, high into the sky,

so had to squint to see it.

“Hold on, Rosie!” Mum had called. “Hold tight!”

And did, gripping the string with all my might as

the kite danced high up above, gleaming bright white

against the blue sky, its ribbons sparkling in the sunlight

as it flew, soaring and dipping like bird, forever pulling

at the string in my hand—higher, higher—tugging to get

free.

Then let go. The string snapped from my grip and

was gone. Mum raced after it, but it was too fast, soaring

up, up and away, higher than the trees. She scooped me up

in hug and told me it was all right, she’d buy me another

one. But didn’t want another one. That was my kite, and

it was free. I’d let it go. It’d wanted so much to be free that just couldn’t hold on, couldn’t hold it down. smiled as

watched it whirl away—above the trees, above the birds,

above the clouds, sparkling into the heavens, dancing free.

It was the most beautiful thing have ever seen.

“Hey!” Andy nudges me, and open my eyes. “You’re

meant to be watching!”

“Watching for what?” laugh. “Give me clue! The

pier, the beach? We’re almost back!”

“No—we can’t be!” Andy says, panicking. “We

haven’t seen them!” He rushes round to the other side of

the boat.

“Seen who?” ask, following him.

“The whales! We’re meant to see whales!” He leans

over the rail and strains his eyes.

159

look too. Nothing but sparkling water. “Whales?”

“It’s supposed to be

whale– watching trip!” Andy

moans. “If we don’t see any whales, it’s just—it’s just

boat!” He slumps against the rail as the boat slows to

stop, glowering at the empty waves. “Some surprise, huh?”

laugh at his mournful expression.

“It was wonderful.”

squeeze his hand as we

clamber down the gangplank back to dry land. “Thank

you.” kiss him. “For everything. For today, for this

for

everything yesterday …”

“You’re welcome,” Andy says gently, his hand warm

in mine as we wander back along the jetty. “I’m just sorry

how it turned out.”

“Yeah,” sigh. “Well, maybe it’s for the best.”

He looks at me. “Really?”

shrug. “Now at least know who she is—where

she is—and told her who am.” swallow. “That’s all

wanted.”

Andy frowns.

“I mean, of course it would have been great if she’d

wanted to get to know me, to have some kind of

relationship,”

admit, slipping my shoes off as we step

onto the beach. “But it’s clear that’s not what she wants—

what she ever wanted. And have to respect that. That’s

her choice.”

sigh again, the sand freezing beneath my

bare toes. “Besides.”

smile. “I’ve already had the best

mother in the world, so Kitty would never have compared

anyway, despite all her glitz and glamor. So”—I take

deep breath—“it’s for the best. Now at least know.”

160

“Really?” Andy squeezes my hand. “You’re still glad

you found her? Despite everything?”

“Yes.” nod. “I just—I couldn’t spend my whole life

wondering what if, you know? It’s like the Huntington’s—I

could have dealt with having it, but no one could tell me if

had it or not. had to watch Mum suffering, wondering if

the same thing was going to happen to me, but not

knowing.” sigh. “But now …” fill my lungs with the fresh, cool, salty air. “Now can move on. I’m eighteen years old, after all—it’s about time!” smile. “Time to be my own

person, live my own life—make my own mistakes.”

look up at him. “I’m sorry lied to you, Andy.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.

should have told you,”

argue.

“Secrets just

they always seem to make things worse,

don’t they?”

Andy nods.

“So. No more secrets, no more lies,” promise. “I’m

old enough to handle the truth—about anything.”

Andy nods. “No more secrets.”

squeeze his hand as glance behind us, back at the

jetty, the beach, and the long trail of clear footprints

leading to where we’re standing now. My footprints

realize with smile. My path

“So,” Andy says finally. “What now?”

take deep breath. What now …?

That’s the million-dollar question. big fat dizzying

future lies in front of me, with million paths to choose,

decisions to make, dreams to follow

161

But not tonight. smile. Not tonight.

“Food!” grin. “I’m starving!”

“Excellent!” Andy grins, linking his arm with mine.

“I know just the place …”

“Fish and chips!” laugh as we stop before

huge

wooden sign: WOODY’S PLAICE. “We’re having fish and

chips?”

“Just the place

get it?” Andy grins. “Just the

plaice …”

groan and cuff him round the head. “You need

new joke book, mister.”

“What do you mean?” he protests. “It’s my own

material!”

“I wouldn’t admit that!”

bell jangles as Andy pushes the door open, and it’s

like stepping into

ship’s cabin. We’re surrounded by

nautical curios: weird and wonderful fishing equipment,

gleaming compasses, nets and telescopes hang from the

rafters; coral curls with driftwood on the walls; and

beautiful carved mermaid masthead guards the old-

fashioned till. It should look tacky, but it doesn’t—it’s like

an Aladdin’s cave of treasures, illuminated by flickering

lamplight and filled with the warm vinegary smell of

crispy batter.

We order fish and chips and gaze out across the

bay.

“It’s beautiful,” sigh, popping the last chip into my

mouth and watching the sun sink slowly beneath the

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sparkling pink waves. “Everything today was beautiful.

Thank you, Andy.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, his eyes glowing in

the candlelight. “Happy birthday—again.”

“Whoa, it’s somebody’s birthday?”

dark-haired

man stops as he passes our table. “Why didn’t you say so?

would’ve put

candle in your cod!” He grins.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” smile.

“English, too! Always

pleasure to meet people

from back home. I’m Jack—I own this place, for my sins.

Did you enjoy your meal?”

“It was perfect,” tell him. “Just like home.”

“Praise indeed!” He bows low. “I thought New

England could do with some proper Old English cuisine—

especially since they’ve stolen all our place names!”

laugh.

“So, what do you fancy for pud? can recommend

the chocolate cake, or we’ve got an amazing homemade

apple crumble.”

“Oh,

couldn’t eat another bite.”

laugh. “I’m

stuffed!”

“Come on, Rosie, you’ve got to have some cake,”

Andy protests. “It’s your eighteenth!”

“Wow! Then double congratulations! Oh, and here

you are in the States, where you can’t drink—legally,

mean.” Jack winks. “Bummer! Well, many happy returns,

Rosie.” He starts to collect our plates, then stops. “But

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actually

Listen, I’ve got an idea,” he says, his eyes

twinkling. “I’ll be back in jiffy with your dessert.”

He rushes off with our plates and

giggle as he

disappears into the kitchen.

“Can you believe him?” smile at Andy. “We didn’t

even order any dessert!”

“Yeah …,” Andy says distractedly.

“What’s wrong? Aw, did you want the homemade

apple crumble?” grin, ruffling his hair.

“What? No, no it’s not that.” He stares at the table.

look at him. “Andy?”

“Rosie …” He runs his hand through his hair. “It’s

just …” He hesitates, leans forward. “Listen, you know

what you were saying earlier, about the truth and secrets,

and how you said you were glad you’d found Kitty even

though it didn’t work out—because you finally knew the

truth?”

“Yes …,” say carefully.

“And we agreed

no more secrets, right?”

nod nervously.

“Well.” Andy takes big breath. “Don’t get mad, but

when went back into the hotel toilets to get your coat,

Kitty came in …”

“What?” My stomach tightens.

“She didn’t see me—she was on her mobile.” Andy

pauses and looks at me. “She was calling the operator and

demanding to be connected to Jack Woods.”

look at him. Jack Woods? As in Holly Woods?

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Andy holds my gaze. “A Jack Woods in

Provincetown.”

stare at him, my skin prickling, Kitty’s words

ringing loudly in my ears: Did Jack send you?

“Well—I called the operator too,” Andy continues

quickly, taking my hands in his. “Rosie, this is the only

address for

Jack Woods in Provincetown. This

restaurant.”

stare at the menu. “Woody’s …”

Andy nods.

And he’s English

Suddenly the lights go out, plunging us into

darkness. grip Andy’s hand, startled.

“What the …?”

“Happy birthday to you!” the waitresses sing,

parading out from the kitchen. “Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday, dear Ro– sie …”

Jack appears behind them, beaming as he carries

large cake covered in burning candles.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

Jack places the cake on our table, but can’t take my

eyes off him.

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

look at him for moment longer, then take deep

breath and blow with all my might, wishing hard. When

open my eyes all the candles are out and everyone is

cheering.

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

returns.”

165

“Thank you!” beam, looking at the cake—it even

has HAPPY BIRTHDAY written over it and large number

18.

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.

stare at the cake.

“Are you okay?” Andy whispers.

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

“Seems so.”

“I never even thought—I mean—my father?” 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!”

warm tingle shivers down my spine.

“And he still celebrates it—he makes cake …” 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 cake for me for the child he never knew

My heart constricts.

For the baby who he thinks died

“I have to tell him,” decide suddenly. “I have to tell

him who am. It’s fate, know it is. Finding him here, now,

my birthday, the cake …” turn to the kitchen, my heart

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aching for this poor man and his tragic annual ritual.

“Andy, he thinks I’m dead.”

“Rosie—” Andy starts.

“Everything okay?”

waitress appears beside me.

“Can get you anything else?”

“No, no—I was just wondering, is Mr. Woods busy?”