by S. B. Hayes
‘Look … all that stuff was hidden in the secret box so I’d never find it. Mum will never tell me where I was born, and she’s cut herself off from everyone, even her family. She’s been running from something my whole life, and she’s even hinted she could lose me.’
‘This is Britain. Babies don’t get mixed up in hospital, especially with no one noticing. That’s what the wristbands are for. They don’t get taken off until the baby is discharged.’
I swallowed hard and spoke more to myself than to Luke. ‘All Genevieve’s threats suddenly make sense. She says there isn’t enough room for both of us … she’s entitled to my life because it should have been hers. She can’t forgive me because she had such an awful childhood and she came to see Mum, pretending to sell jewellery but really to see her face to face.’
‘How would she have found out something like that?’
‘I don’t know … but we do know how clever she is.’ Luke drummed his fingers on the coffee table while I carried on thinking out loud. ‘It would explain why Mum’s always so secretive and doesn’t like talking about the past. I’ve always thought it was about my dad, but maybe it isn’t.’
‘I’ll have to think about this one.’
‘Maybe you could do some more digging around? Access the hospital records or birth register or … I don’t know; you have your sources.’
‘We still don’t know Genevieve’s/Grace’s real surname,’ Luke reminded me, putting on his jacket. He hesitated, one foot inside the doorway and one foot out. ‘There is an easier solution … find out her birthday. You’d have to be born within a few days of each other for your idea to work.’
‘You’re a genius,’ I told him gratefully. ‘But how?’
Luke looked at me, baffled. ‘It’s a simple enough question.’
‘Nothing’s simple with Genevieve,’ I muttered. ‘And she mustn’t be alerted in any way. I daren’t even ask Nat or Hannah in case it gets back to her.’
‘Sorry, but I’ll have to leave this one with you, Kat. I know you’ll think of something.’
As soon as Luke left I went upstairs and slid open the drawer of my bedside cabinet. There was one thing I’d kept from him – my obsession with the pendant. It wasn’t just my imagination; it felt heavier every time I examined it, as though it was growing with Genevieve’s power. And why couldn’t I throw it away or destroy it? Each time I tried, it came back to me. It was impossible to explain. I lay under my duvet reflecting on everything that had happened, the pendant casting strange shadows on my wall.
You’re marked, Katy.
I remembered the vicar’s wife who claimed she could still feel Genevieve’s presence in the house as if something of her had been left behind all those years ago. Maybe she was marked as well? Luke had a rational explanation for everything, but he couldn’t stop me from fearing this emerald glass. Mum had invited the pendant into the house and I had the strangest feeling that the only way to get rid of it was to give it back to Genevieve. I’d tried already and failed, but now I knew what I had to do.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Luke had to go away for a week on some type of training course, but he offered me a lift to college the first morning after half-term. He dropped me outside just as Genevieve approached, and there were a lot of students milling around. The pain in my ankle was worth it just to see her jealousy as everyone rushed to help. My bag and my folder were carried in as people made jokes about my injury and tried to borrow my crutches. My foot was too swollen to fit into my normal shoes, and I had to wear a pair of Mum’s comfy flat loafers, which were like huge boats on me. But they were so ugly they were almost cool, and a definite talking point. I went straight to class and settled down with some work, glad to sit down.
Miss Clegg came over smiling. ‘There’s a message from the secretary, Katy, for you to report to the office. I’m sure it’s just a formality to make sure you don’t attempt any acrobatics while you’re injured.’
I was getting used to the crutches, although they used muscles I didn’t even know I had and my arms ached like crazy. The secretary, Mrs Wright, made me sit opposite her desk and read a health-and-safety warning of all the things I mustn’t do. My eyes must have glazed over with boredom because she apologized, saying that it was all common sense. As she spoke, Luke’s words came back to me.
‘I’m going to leave this one to you, Kat. I know you’ll think of something.’
Who else would have access to Genevieve’s file? This could be the chance I was looking for.
‘Could I ask a favour?’ I gushed, trying to get up from the chair and wincing with exaggerated pain. ‘Our new girl, Genevieve, is so lovely but … really shy, and she won’t tell anyone her birthday because she doesn’t want a fuss.’
I waited expectantly, hoping Mrs Wright might take the hint and stop me having to ask outright, but her face remained blank.
‘Could you tell me her date of birth so she doesn’t miss out on a party? It’s so sad because she’s an orphan and we all want to give her a big surprise.’
She shook her head with regret. ‘I’m sorry, Katy, I can’t do that. It might seem a little thing to you, but it goes against the rules of confidentiality. I can’t divulge any information about students.’
I got up and began to shuffle to the door, overcome with disappointment. Being in the office had seemed such a great opportunity, but I’d failed, and I couldn’t see any other way. It’d be too dangerous to approach her new foster-parents in case they alerted her to my questions.
‘Katy?’
I stopped, adjusted position and turned around. Mrs Wright was smiling right at me. ‘If you like, Katy, you could ask me the date of my birthday.’
When she gave me a crafty wink I wondered if she’d been working too hard. ‘You see … one of the new students and I were born in the same month, except that I’m close to the end and she’s at the beginning, the very beginning.’
It wasn’t hard to guess her meaning and I laughed. It was kind of her to get round the rules like this.
‘When is your birthday, Mrs Wright?’ I grinned.
She folded her arms. ‘Why, thank you for asking, Katy. It’s on the twenty-ninth of June.’
I thanked her profusely as she held open the door for me. So Genevieve must have been born on 1 June, which meant that our birthdays were within four days of each other. This gave weight to my idea that our mothers could have been at the same hospital together. I was no nearer to finding out the truth, but this provided another possible clue and that felt like something.
There was another hurdle to face. I’d have to see Merlin sooner or later, and I needed to get this over with because I was so jumpy my stomach felt full of butterflies. My heart leaped as he came through the door of the cafeteria at lunchtime and our eyes immediately locked together. He gave me a rueful smile, which made me catch my breath because he looked so attractive and full of yearning. It felt like one of those black and white movies where the hero and heroine are forced to separate forever and they watch each other through unshed tears because they have to be brave but the scene is heartrendingly poignant as a train mournfully pulls out of the station and the sad music plays …
Oh, get a life, Katy Rivers.
After college I waited outside the automatic doors at the top of the steps for Nat to appear because she’d insisted that her mum would drive me home. I squeezed myself into a corner to avoid being crushed or knocked over. One minute I was alone; the next, Genevieve was beside me, putting out her arms like a barrier, with the pretence of helping me. It was a bright day and we were face to face in the late-autumn sunshine. I was mesmerized, unable to turn away. There was an almost imperceptible scar at the side of her nose and I touched my own nose self-consciously, feeling a tiny bump from a similar scar when I fell off a swing aged about ten. Genevieve brushed her fringe from her eyes and on one hand there was a peculiar arrangement of freckles that looked like a star. I had a similar mark, but on the op
posite hand – Mum always said it was a lucky sign.
I hadn’t seen her for a week and had almost forgotten how bad the sensation was. Today she was a curious mix – triumphant and gloating blended with jumpy anticipation.
‘Sorry you missed the party, Katy. We were all devastated.’
‘That’s OK, Genevieve, it couldn’t be helped. It was nice of you to organize it for Nat. She was thrilled.’
‘Yes, she was.’ She examined her nails as if she was sharpening them. ‘I’ve already taken over your friends and there’s only one person left.’
‘You don’t mean Merlin?’
Genevieve shrugged nonchalantly.
‘You mean he hasn’t told you already?’
‘Told me what?’
‘I broke up with him.’
‘As if,’ she drawled. ‘You finish with Merlin?’
‘Ask him if you don’t believe me.’
She took a few seconds to digest this and the tip of her tongue protruded from her mouth. ‘You mean he wanted to finish with you but you beat him to it, to save face?’
‘Not at all,’ I corrected. ‘He wanted to spend more time with me, but I felt a bit … stifled.’
She put on a high-pitched little girl voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Maybe if you’d managed to have your romantic night away together, then everything would have been different. But we’ll never know.’
I moved closer to her, grinning all the time with excessive sweetness. ‘He’s all yours now, and everyone will know you’re just a substitute … second best because I didn’t want him.’ Genevieve’s face was a picture as she struggled to control her feelings and I twisted the knife further. ‘He doesn’t seem so attractive, does he, Gen? Enjoy him while you can.’
For a minute I thought I’d really got to her, but she gave a laugh that chilled me to the bone. ‘He was never yours … not even for a second. I allowed you time together because it suited me.’
‘As if I’d believe that.’
She sighed wistfully and looked up at the grey sky. ‘I could push you right now – just a small push, and everyone would think you’d tripped. Careless Kat, waiting by the stairs instead of taking the lift.’
I was careless to get myself cornered like this. I’d automatically come out of the main entrance instead of using the lift which went down to pavement level.
‘It would be a relief,’ she whispered.
‘You couldn’t even find a life of your own,’ I challenged, ‘so you had to steal mine. How pathetic is that?’
She made a swirling movement with her hand as if writing in the air. ‘All it took was a few brushstrokes and you were completely erased.’
Was she referring to the painting? She didn’t elaborate, and I hoped against hope that Merlin hadn’t let her see it. My foot edged forward and I gazed downwards, the sensation making me reel. I felt helpless, all the time aware of a weight in my hand and the coldness of glass and metal. I almost stumbled and reached out to clutch her jacket, which gave me the opportunity I’d been waiting for. The pendant was slipped into her pocket, and I straightened up, immediately feeling steadier.
‘Is that what happens to everyone who annoys you?’ I asked with renewed confidence.
Genevieve jutted out her chin. ‘Maybe you ought to be more wary.’
‘So sorry about your adoptive parents,’ I mocked. ‘I heard your sad story but … it seems everyone who gets close to you dies.’
She looked almost pleased with my words and her lips curved at the corners. ‘It’s a good job you realize that. Other people underestimate me, but not you. We understand each other.’
The bizarre thought occurred to me that at three thirty on a Monday afternoon I was hearing a murder confession. Her hand suddenly gripped my wrist and my head was filled with her horrible thoughts. I was back there at the cottage, seeing the flames licking the wood, hearing glass shatter and the awful screams of the people trapped inside. And she was glad. I could feel her pitiless satisfaction. If she really was capable of this, then I had to act.
‘Mum and I might be moving away,’ I said quickly. ‘To a new city for a fresh start.’
‘It’s too late for that, Katy.’
‘Too late?’ I said. ‘But you wanted me to go, to leave the way open for you.’
She wrinkled her nose with feigned regret. ‘Yes, I did, but now … it’s not enough. You’d always be out there … somewhere … and that wouldn’t work for me.’
‘So what should I do then? Die?’
‘It should be as if you were never born. That’s why we found each other.’
This was her usual riddle, but I had to ask. ‘How did you find me?’
Genevieve seemed to exhale slightly, and a gentle breeze caressed my face. One of her curls brushed my cheek. ‘You know the answer … you just haven’t realized it yet.’
I blinked and she was gone. Only Nat was beside me now, scolding me for not taking the lift.
I was so unsettled when I arrived home that I locked myself in my room. The thought that Genevieve could have seen the painting made me feel physically sick. I pulled my hair back from my face and gave a long low groan of dismay. When I caught sight of myself in my mirrored wardrobe it made me flinch – I looked so cruel and vindictive that I barely recognized myself. I exhaled several times and smoothed my hands across my forehead, cheeks and mouth, trying to get rid of this awful expression. It would have been nice to talk to Luke, but there was no point in telling him what had happened until he was home. Today felt like progress, but where did I go from here?
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
The train was already packed. My limp managed to buy me some sympathy and I was offered a window seat next to a middle-aged guy with a lunch box laid out on the table, munching egg sandwiches and drinking from a Thermos flask. Everyone else had probably avoided him, but I needed to think and couldn’t do that getting thrown around the compartment. The scenery changed as we left the city behind – tower blocks, factories and shopping centres gave way to fields full of cows and isolated farms with only the giant electricity pylons spoiling the view. My trip had been planned on impulse, a quick call to Gran and Grandad to announce my intention to visit, but now came the hard part – working out what to tell them. I had an hour to come up with a story. I leaned against the headrest to let my mind drift, but I was so tired that my eyes grew heavy and slowly began to close.
The set of three carved mirrors was directly in front of me. Genevieve and I were positioned side by side on a cushioned stool, our movements perfectly synchronized, like some kind of strange charade. An antique silver brush and comb sat on the dressing table. As I lifted the brush to my hair she mimicked my movements as closely as if she was my reflection. I speeded up, wanting her to stop, but her timing was perfect and I couldn’t shake her off. I moved faster, hoping that she’d slip up, but gradually she overtook me in the game and I realized that I was following her and had no control over my actions. She could make my hands jerk about and my head shake uncontrollably. I became confused and exhausted but still she went on, pulling at my strings as though I was her puppet. And then she clutched her head and screamed. But it was actually me who was screaming, yet I had no voice – it was a silent cry of agony and impotence.
I looked around the carriage in panic, convinced I must have made some kind of gruesome noise, but no one was looking my way. Genevieve was even invading my daydreams now. The train was about to pull into the station. I picked up my bag and composed my face to appear bright and upbeat.
‘Katy!’
I was enveloped in a plump pair of arms and breathed in Gran’s perfume, which always smelled of lemons. I turned slightly and my cheek came into contact with rough whiskers.
‘You’ve been in the wars,’ Grandad’s gruff voice joked.
‘It’s nothing, only my ankle. I was on crutches a few days ago and couldn’t put any weight on it at all, but it’s getting better.’
‘Too much dancing?�
�� Gran smiled, dimples appearing in both cheeks.
Grandad insisted on fastening my seat belt for me before we drove to their village. Gran took my arm as soon as we got out of the car.
‘Now come into the kitchen and I’ll make some tea. There’re fresh scones and chocolate cake and those biscuits you used to like. I hope you still have a healthy appetite. I’ve no time for teenage girls starving themselves and looking like skeletons. It doesn’t do at all.’
The kitchen was unchanged, with an old-fashioned pantry, an ancient fridge-freezer, a big enamel sink and a marble-topped circular table where we always sat.
Nerves always gave me an appetite. I devoured one misshapen scone and then started on the chocolate cake before Gran plucked up the courage to ask, ‘Your mum … Rebecca … is she … I mean, is everything all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ I replied, my mouth still full and crumbs flying from it. ‘She’s getting out more and starting some … therapy, even talking of going back to work.’
Gran’s face brightened. ‘That’s wonderful. I should call her and we could drive down one day. We always mean to, but … sometimes … it isn’t that easy.’
She coughed self-consciously and began buttering herself a scone with extra care to cover her discomfort. There was no need to explain. I knew why they didn’t come to see me more often – Mum always made so many excuses.
Grandad slipped back into the room. ‘Does Rebecca know you’re here?’
I shook my head and he murmured, ‘Ah,’ as if this was significant.
I swallowed several times because it felt as if my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. ‘I … wanted to ask you something.’
‘What sort of thing?’ they asked in unison.
‘About when I was a baby.’
There was an awkward silence before Gran spoke. ‘You’re growing up fast … we thought you might start to ask questions.’
‘Is it about your father?’ Grandad asked gently.
‘Mmm … not really. It’s just that … I found my birth certificate and wanted to know about the place where I was born.’
