Chapter 28

Lily

The cubicle curtain opened to reveal a young woman so strikingly like Phoebe that, for a terrible, dislocating second, Lily thought that somehow she must have given birth to her without even knowing it.

Lily stared at Mia, at a face she had seen many times in photographs at her mum’s house but which she had begun to believe she might never see again in the flesh. So many times she had imagined chance encounters on the tube, in the park, trapped in an elevator together. On so many nights she had lain awake envisaging circumstances that would lead her to turn up at Jess’s house and hope that Mia answered the door so she could introduce herself. But none of those scenarios had prepared her for what she would feel when she stood two feet away from a young woman to whom she had always felt indelibly linked even though they had never properly met.

She tried to think of all she wanted to say, tried to remember all the speeches she had prepared over the years in case they met accidentally. But now Mia was standing in front of her, Lily wanted nothing more than to look at her. She felt an immediate sense of attachment to her niece, as though a double helix of DNA stretched between them like an invisible bridge, anchoring them together.

She was aware of needing to do something, say something. But having waited all these years for precisely this moment, she now wasn’t sure what to do with it. She felt like a child on Christmas morning who, after weeks of feverish anticipation, could not bear to open her presents because, once she had, it would all be over.

Lily swallowed hard and willed herself to find the right words. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to meet you at last. You’re . . . It’s just so strange seeing you and Phoebe in the same room. Not strange, I don’t mean that—it’s lovely. It’s lovely to finally meet you. And is Jess . . . is your mum here too?” Lily heard the tremor in her voice and smiled in the hope of smothering it.

“Not yet. But she’s on her way.”

Chapter 29

Jess

The soles of her sneakers squeaked against the rubber floor as she ran past a sea of anonymous faces, past blue plastic chairs and an empty water dispenser, her forehead pleated in a frown, her cheeks pink with exertion.

At ER reception, Jess waited at the desk while the receptionist stared at a computer screen, her long red nails tapping percussively at the keyboard.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for my mother, Audrey Siskin. She was brought in a couple of hours ago in an ambulance. My daughter’s here already, I think.” Anxiety hung on the sharp edges of Jess’s consonants.

“If you take a seat I’ll find out where she is.”

“Can’t I just go through? My daughter must be in there with her. I keep trying to call her mobile but it just goes straight to voicemail.”