Page 6 of Don't Believe A Word

Thinking that no amount of money could buy off a case of child abduction, Cristy’s eyes moved to Anna as she said, hotly, ‘What matters is that Sadie should know who she really is.’

Cristy looked at Sadie again. ‘Have you done a DNA test to find out if you’re related to your aunts in any way?’ she asked.

Sadie swallowed. ‘Yes, I have, and no, I’m not.’

In spite of having expected the answer, Cristy couldn’t help feeling the girl’s bewilderment and sadness. How on earth must it feel to find out that the space you should be filling in the world is empty?

Anna said, ‘You never know, Sadie’s real parents could be out there somewhere, desperate to find her …’

‘If they’re still alive,’ Sadie put in quietly, ‘and I like to think they are.’

As Cristy’s eyes swept her face, she was wondering about the people who’d made this stunningly lovely young woman and what could have happened to tear them all apart. As privileged a life as Sadie had led, there was clearly a whole other story folded into her genes, running untold through her veins. She wasn’t the person sitting here today, or she shouldn’t be. There was someone else inside her who needed to be heard, to be recognized for who she really was.

In the end, she said, ‘What about your aunt? How’s she likely to take it if you do find your real family?’

Sadie shook her head helplessly. ‘I guess a lot depends on who they are and what they say happened to separate us,’ she said.

Silent echoes of the mysterious story seemed to fill the room before Anna said, ‘Please say you’ll help.’

CHAPTER TWO

Much later in the day Cristy was standing alone at the window of David’s bedroom staring through her own pensive reflection down to the ornamental lake at the heart of the Gaudion estate’s small valley. A veil of mist was drifting across the glassy water where a floating platform of fireworks was being prepared for the New Year’s Eve celebrations at midnight. Daylight was fast disappearing, yielding to the murk of a damp winter’s night, but the earlier storm had subsided leaving everyone hopeful for a grand display at the magical hour.

On a good day she’d be able to glimpse the sea from here, which made her think of Sadie’s aunts and the hilltop holiday home overlooking the Severn Estuary. Where exactly could that have been, she wondered. Presumably, somewhere on the Exmoor coast. She’d read the printed pages again, and had found herself drawn quite easily back into Lottie’s rescue of the little girl on the beach. What a strange thing to happen, presuming it did. Who on earth would leave a child alone at the edge of such a dangerously tidal stretch of water? Who had created the small girl who’d grown into such a beauty?

She was intrigued by the aunts too, seeming so reclusive on the one hand, and yet clearly not, given Lottie’s promiscuousness and overseas travels. If the story was based in fact then Sadie Winters’ real name was Sasha. More importantly, and intriguingly, had she really been found on a beach, or was this odd sort of memoir a purposeful rewriting of history? If so, it couldn’t have been concocted with Sadie in mind, given the sisters’ efforts to pass the girl off as their niece. So who had it been for?

Before coming upstairs she’d scanned the pages in David’shome office and sent them to Connor, her partner on the podcast, to get his take on things. They’d talk in the morning, or maybe he’d call after he’d read them.

Hearing the door open she turned and smiled as David came into the room looking puzzled and concerned, clearly wondering why she was up here when there was so much going on downstairs.

‘Sorry,’ she said, as he came to embrace her. ‘I just needed a few minutes. I’ll come now to help get everything ready for this evening.’

‘There are caterers,’ he reminded her.

‘Nevertheless …’

He stopped her with a kiss and then another that deepened with the kind of promise not easy to resist.

‘Dad! Are you in there?’

He groaned as his head fell back in frustration. ‘Go away,’ he shouted.

‘Can I come in?’ Rosaria shouted back.

‘No!’

Cristy laughed. ‘At least she’s asking,’ she said, reminding him of this morning when Rosie had waltzed right in without knocking. Luckily they’d simply been lying in bed, covered by a sheet. Had Rosie arrived a few minutes earlier …

‘I want to,’ Rosie grumbled.

Caving in, Cristy went to open the door and felt such a rush of affection for David’s eldest that she spontaneously drew her into an enormous hug, despite Rosie being a grown woman. Rosie was simply the sweetest, gentlest and kindest soul in the world whose extra chromosome seemed, for some reason, to make her love people and enjoy life more than anyone else Cristy knew. Thirty-two she might be, with Down’s and an autoimmune condition, but nothing ever upset her for long, or held her back from sharing a secret, or dampened her enthusiasm for a project.

‘Granny’s too busy to take me to the theatre,’ she told her father, ‘and we’ve got a show at seven, so you’ll have to drive me there.’

‘You’re on stage tonight?’ he exclaimed in alarm.

‘You know I am, but I’ll be back in plenty of time for the party. I can’t let everyone down, Dad, soplease.’