Holly hugged her. ‘I know, Sophie, and I do understand. But you looked so terrified when I came in that I thought I should try to distract you so you didn’t have a heart attack or something.’
Sophie smiled. Holly’s intentions were always good, even if she tended to go off on tangents.
Holly clapped her hands. ‘Right. What’s our plan?’
‘I think we should start by trying to find clues or evidence.’
‘Let’s get snooping. Where does your mum keep her papers?’
Sophie had been thinking about it all night. Where did her mother keep her private things? When she was younger she used to sneak into Anna’s bedroom and look in her drawers. She didn’t know what she was looking for. But the only thing she’d ever found were some photos of her mother’s parents and one of her mother with a man, standing arm in arm in front of a house. She’d looked very young and happy. The only thing written on the back of the photo was 1987. It wasn’t much to go on.
‘I don’t know,’ Sophie admitted.
‘Well, my mum keeps her cigarettes hidden in the back of her wardrobe in an old shoebox, so let’s start with your mum’s wardrobe,’ Holly suggested.
They went upstairs and locked the bedroom door in case Anna decided to come home to check on her daughter.
‘You know what you should do?’ Holly said, as she opened the wardrobe doors. ‘You should text your mum to say you’re feeling better so that she doesn’t come back.’
‘Good idea.’ Sophie sent her mother a short text. She received one back immediately – So glad to hear it. See u later. Call if u need anything. Mum Xx.
‘Excellent. She’s off the scent,’ Holly said. ‘We’re free to nose around.’
They spent some time opening and closing shoeboxes, carefully replacing them exactly as they had been.
‘Your mum is so tidy!’ Holly exclaimed. ‘My mum’s clothes are thrown everywhere. It would be difficult to hide anything in here.’
‘Maybe we’re wasting our time. I doubt Mum would leave any clues lying about,’ Sophie said.
Holly stood up, hands on hips. ‘Excuse me, did Nancy Drew ever give up? Or Sherlock Holmes? Or –’
‘OK, I get it, we need to keep going.’
Holly dragged the chair from Anna’s dressing-table across to the wardrobe and climbed up to check the top shelf. ‘Aha, I’ve got something!’ She pulled a heavy, dusty old box down and handed it to Sophie.
They sat on the floor opposite each other. ‘This is it,’ Holly said. ‘I can feel it in my bones. This box contains the answers.’
With trembling hands Sophie pulled back the cardboard flaps. Inside were photo albums, at least fifteen, and several folders bulging with papers held together with elastic bands. Holly took out one of the albums and opened it. ‘Oooooooh!’ she said.
‘What?’ Sophie shut her eyes, afraid to look.
‘It’s you at my party. You’re so cute.’
‘What? I thought you’d found something terrible.’
Holly turned the photo album towards her friend. ‘No, this is just loads of photos of you as a kid.’
Sophie sat beside Holly and they flicked through the pages of album after album. They were filled with pictures of Sophie, hundreds of them. Everything she had ever done had been recorded by her mother and lovingly placed in the albums – Hallowe’ens, Christmases, birthdays, holidays, her first day at St Catherine’s, making her Holy Communion with Holly beside her … swimming, tennis, hockey, lacrosse … trips to mu seums, art galleries, plays … the beach, the countryside, the mountains …
‘What are these?’ Sophie picked up the folders. She opened one. It contained all her old school reports, medical records, essays she had written, paintings she had done, ticket stubs from the first movie they’d been to, from her first trip to Madame Tussaud’s, her first plane ticket …
‘Seriously, Sophie, this is incredible,’ Holly said, leafing through the paperwork. ‘My mum throws all our stuff out. She says it clutters the house. This box is a shrine to you. Look at how carefully she kept everything. It’s so nice. Your whole life is here in front of you. I don’t know anyone else whose mother would do this.’
Sophie began to cry. Holly was right: who else would care about these details? Who else would keep a ticket from her first movie? Who else would take hundreds of pictures of her and file them away so carefully?
Holly leaned over and gave her a hug. ‘Whatever she did to get you, she’s been a devoted mother.’
Sophie nodded, blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
Holly sighed. ‘There’s no question that she adores you. You’re her whole life.’
‘I know, but if she took me, that’s wrong.’
‘Yes, it’s the Eighth Commandment.’
‘What?’
‘Didn’t you listen to anything in religion class for the last thirteen years? The eighth commandment is “Thou shalt not steal.”’
‘Since when did you get so holy?’
‘Since Father James taught us. You know I fancied him.’
‘Urgh, Holly, your taste in men is so weird. He’s so old – he must be thirty-five.’
Holly shrugged. ‘I can’t help it. Older men do it for me.’
‘He’s a priest!’
‘That’s the whole point. He’s unavailable. I want to use my sexual powers to tear him away from his vows.’
‘Seriously, Holly, you’re watching way too much TV. You sound like a bad reality-TV star.’
She jumped up. ‘Take that back!’
‘You do! And reality TV is such rubbish.’
‘I love the Kardashians. They feel like friends to me now.’
Sophie groaned. ‘That is so sad.’
‘I can’t help it. I love the show.’
Sophie sighed. ‘Is there any chance we could get back to my reality now? I need you to focus on this.’
Holly sat down again. ‘OK. We think your mum did something bad but we can’t find any proof. All we have here are the signs of a devoted mother.’
Sophie felt her heart beginning to lighten. ‘And if the baby pictures did burn in a fire, then maybe this is just a mix-up. A case of two babies who just happen to look like each other.’
‘Exactly,’ Holly agreed.
Sophie fished in the box to see if there was anything else at the bottom. That was when she pulled it out. The blanket. The pink blanket with the elephant on it. The same blanket the child was holding in the picture on Laura’s website. She gasped.
Holly grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Don’t panic, Sophie. We need to get your laptop and look at that picture again. We may have been mistaken. Lots of baby blankets look the same.’
Holly unlocked the door, ran into her friend’s bedroom, grabbed the laptop, came back in and relocked the door. They logged on to Laura Fletcher’s website and looked at the picture. The child in the photo was the image of Sophie. The two friends examined the blanket the child was holding. It looked the same: pink with an elephant. The little girl was sucking the corner of it, just like Sophie was in the photo of her at Holly’s second birthday party. There was no denying it: this child was Sophie and Sophie was this child.
They sat in silence, staring at the screen.
‘You could have been switched,’ Holly suggested. ‘I saw this movie where the babies had been switched by mistake when they were born, and years later one of them got sick and then they realized that her blood type was different from her parents’ and that she was someone else’s kid.’
Sophie put her hand up. ‘Holly, there is no other baby. There’s just me. I can’t have been swapped. I’m the same person.’ She began to hyperventilate.
Holly held her hands. ‘Look at me, Sophie. Please don’t have a panic attack. Breathe slowly in and out … there you go. We need to think clearly. We need to be very careful.’
‘It explains so much,’ Sophie puffed. ‘Why Mum is always so overprotective. Why she never went back to Ireland. Why my dad was al
ways this shadowy figure, who actually never existed. Why she has no baby pictures. Why she didn’t understand my synaesthesia. Why she never stayed in touch with anyone from her past, except Joe.’ She sat upright. ‘God, I wonder if Joe knows. How could he? How could he keep a secret like this?’
‘Maybe he doesn’t. Your mum is very secretive. But I must say it does explain why she used to go so crazy if you were even five minutes late coming home. I asked my mum about it one day and she said, “Anna’s just like that because Sophie is all she has. Her life would fall apart if anything happened to Sophie. Whereas if one of you died I’d still have two left.” Then I asked her which child she’d mind dying the least and she refused to answer, but she did smile when I said I bet it was Jessie.’
Sophie paced the room, up and down, up and down. She couldn’t think straight. ‘How could my mum do this?’
‘I’m even more shocked than when you told me Ricky Martin was gay. I’d always fancied myself as Mrs Holly Martin, wife of the very famous, very sexy and incredibly rich Ricky. Besides, your mum is such an upstanding citizen. She’s the headmistress of a Catholic girls’ school, for goodness’ sake. She couldn’t be any more conservative! There has to be a good explanation.’
Sophie wrung her hands. ‘Well, what is it, Holly? Tell me, why would she do such a terrible thing?’
‘Mum always says when someone behaves out of character, there is a definite reason for it. Something must have happened or she saw a bad thing or, I don’t know, maybe Laura beat you or was a bad mother. Maybe she was too busy painting to raise you or had no money or something.’
‘I have to find out. I have to know what’s going on. Oh, God, Holly, who am I? What am I? A fraud? Everything’s –’
Holly stood up and stopped Sophie in her tracks. Looking directly into her eyes, she said, ‘You are you. You’re still Sophie, the same person you were yesterday, just with a slightly psychotic mother … or mothers.’
But Sophie wasn’t the same person. She was confused, terrified, furious. All she could see was a rainbow of colours, all mixing together – red and orange and yellow. She glared at Holly. ‘I have to know the truth. I have to know what happened. I’m going to get in touch with Laura.’
Holly squealed, ‘Have you lost your mind? You can’t just call her up and say, “Hey, Laura, how are you? It’s your daughter here, the one everyone said drowned.” The woman will die of shock on the spot. Besides, you don’t know what kind of person she is. She could be a terrible human being.’
‘I’m going to send her an email. There’s a contact email here for her studio.’
‘What are you going to say?’
Sophie bit her nail. ‘I don’t know. Help me, Holly. I need to word it carefully.’
‘You’re the clever one!’
Sophie took a deep breath. ‘I’ll just –’
Holly screamed. Someone was trying to push the door open. Sophie grabbed the box and flung it behind the bed.
‘Mum, is that you?’ she called.
‘What are you weirdos doing in there? Are you lesbians? Are you having lesbian sex?’ Jessie asked.
‘You little shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.’ Holly let in her younger sister.
Jessie looked around suspiciously. ‘Why was the door locked?’
‘Excuse me,’ Holly poked her in the chest, ‘I’ll ask the questions. What the hell are you doing in this house? How did you get in?’
‘Mum told me to come and check on you. The back door was open so I walked in. You’re lucky I wasn’t some serial killer or rapist.’
‘Go home. Tell Mum we’re fine.’
‘You don’t look fine. You look all guilty and secretive. Have you been drinking in here? Can I have some?’
Sophie finally found her voice: ‘No, we haven’t. Now, Jessie, please go. Tell your mum I’m fine and Holly’s fine. We’re just doing some work on my computer.’
‘So why did you lock the door? Are you looking at porn? Are you on lesbian porn sites?’ Jessie lunged for the laptop. Sophie snapped it shut on her chubby fingers.
‘Ouch. You really hurt me, Sophie. I think you’ve broken my finger.’
‘Sorry, but you shouldn’t be so nosy. It’s rude.’
‘I’ve obviously touched a nerve. I always knew you were lesbians.’
‘Shut up, you fat, ugly cow. The only lesbian here is you because no guy will go near you,’ Holly snapped.
Jessie lashed out, ‘At least I’m not stupid. At least I’m not going to university to dig fields.’
‘At least I’ll have a social life that doesn’t revolve around eating pies,’ Holly told her.
‘You bitch! I’ve lost two pounds.’
‘Bravo. Only three stone to go.’
‘I’d rather be a tiny bit overweight than thick.’
‘A tiny bit overweight?’ Holly shrieked. ‘You need to staple your mouth shut.’
Jessie jumped on top of her sister. ‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Help me, Sophie! She’ll crush me to death,’ Holly pleaded.
Sophie pulled Jessie back.
Jessie was livid. ‘I’m going. You two are being total psychos.’
‘Goodbye,’ Holly said, and pushed her sister out of the door, which she locked again.
‘I’m going to tell Mum you’re up to no good,’ Jessie shouted, from the landing.
‘Oh, really? Well, I’ll tell her about the cigarettes I found under your mattress,’ Holly retorted.
‘I hate you!’ Jessie shrieked.
They heard her stomping back down the stairs.
‘God, my heart.’ Sophie sat down on the bed. ‘I thought it was Mum!’
‘It was a very close call. Look, if you want to send this email we’d better hurry up. It’s almost three and she’ll be home from school soon.’
‘How about “Dear Ms Fletcher, this email may come as a surprise to you but I think I may be your lost daughter, Jody.”’
Holly started giggling hysterically.
‘It’s not funny!’
‘Sorry, it’s all just so … bizarre and crazy. Why don’t you say something like “Dear Ms Fletcher, Guess who? I’m alive!”’
‘Stop it!’ Sophie was laughing despite herself.
‘It’s nervous hysteria.’
‘You’re supposed to be supporting me. Your job here is to be the strong, sensible one. I’m the one who should be hysterical.’
‘You’re right.’ Holly went into Sophie’s bedroom and came back with the scanner. She sat down, pulled the computer on to her lap and began to type. ‘OK, I think you should say this: “Dear Ms Fletcher, My name is Sophie Roberts, I’m eighteen years old and I live in London. I saw your interview on BBC TV yesterday and was shocked by how similar we are. I have synaesthesia too. When I heard about your baby daughter who went missing and saw her picture I got a fright because it looks so much like me when I was a baby. I don’t know what this means. I’m very confused. I am attaching a picture of me when I was almost two. I think if you look at the photo you’ll understand why I felt I had to get in touch. You’ll see even the blanket is the same. I haven’t said anything about this to anyone, I’m too freaked out. Please don’t think I’m a stalker. I’m just a normal girl who had a normal life … until yesterday.”’
Holly finished typing and looked up.
Sophie patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘It’s perfect. Thanks, Holly.’
‘See? I’m a good friend, detective and partner in crime. I just have a tendency to giggle when I’m nervous but I’ll work on that.’
‘Should I send it?’ Sophie was having second thoughts. What if Laura was a nutter, an abuser, an alcoholic, a drug addict, a liar, a murderer even? There had to be a reason why her mum had taken her. But when she had seen Laura in that interview she had felt a strong connection with her, and she had seemed normal.
‘Yes,’ Holly said, scanning Sophie’s baby photo in so they could attach it. ‘You have to send it. You can’t
ignore it. You need to know. Are you ready?’
Sophie nodded and pressed send.
17.
Anna
London, June 2011
When Anna got to school the next day there was a pile of messages on her desk. Mrs Kirkwood, the infants teacher, popped her head around the door to remind Anna that she was due to speak to the class at ten.
Every year, before school broke up for the summer holidays, Anna went to speak to all the classes individually, from the infants to the final-year students. It was a tradition she had started when she first became headmistress. She liked seeing the girls in small groups to have a chat about their year in school and wish them well on their long summer break.
She knocked on the infants’ door and walked into the classroom. Sixteen little girls looked up at her.
‘Now, girls, as a special treat, Mrs Roberts has come to talk to you all about how you got on this year and what you’re going to do in the summer holidays,’ Mrs Kirkwood informed them.
Anna smiled at their expectant faces and asked them to come and sit on the floor with her in a big circle.
‘Well, girls, how has this year been for you? It’s not easy starting big school and having to wear a uniform, is it? And the school day can seem long sometimes, can’t it?’
They all nodded.
‘Let’s go around the circle and ask everyone to talk about what they thought of school this year.’ Anna looked at the little girl to her right. ‘I’ll start so you can see what I mean. My name is Mrs Roberts and this year was a good year for me but very busy. I’m glad the summer holidays are coming up because I’m tired and I’m looking forward to a break. I’m going on holidays with my daughter Sophie – you may know her. She’s one of the final-year students here.’
Anna looked to the little girl on her right. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
‘My name is Georgiana and I’m five and three-quarters and I’m very happy to have holidays soon. I’m going to France with my mummy and my brother Johnathan. He’s seven and he’s mean to me – he pulls my hair quite a lot. Mummy says it’s all the testostreown in his body and that I must ignore him but it’s hard when he hurts me. Daddy was supposed to come to France too, but he moved into a new house with Jenny, who used to be his secretary. Mummy has sad eyes all the time now and when she sees Daddy she keeps shouting about Jenny being a tart.’
This Child of Mine Page 16
