Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
‘I guess that’s why we did it,’ Hollie says. ‘I haven’t really thought about it, but Chloe, all kids make up silly games.’
‘But it wasn’t just a game, was it? Not for me,’ Chloe says.
There is silence on the other end of the phone. An understanding.
‘What’s happened, Chloe? You know you can tell me anything. You know that I’ll understand.’
‘You stopped making up stories. You had Dave and Rita. Then you met Phil. You got your house. You wrote yourself a new story and you left me.’
‘I didn’t, Chloe. I never left you, I promised you I wouldn’t. I can’t feel bad that it worked out for me . . . All that other stuff, it’s in the past. And there’s no point looking back, just forward.’
Chloe presses the phone to her ear and shakes her head. What does she have to look forward to? She feels that vulnerability then, the fear she dedicates her life to suppressing. Would she even know how to make the same life Hollie has, if she had the chance? Does she want to? She’s not like everyone else, she knows this. She has always known this.
‘It’s funny how we get away with making things fit while we sleep,’ Chloe says. ‘But we do the same when we’re awake, we sieve through everything, everyone, taking just the bits that fit what we want to believe – what we need to believe – and people think we’re mad for doing so.’
She’s not sure who she is talking about. She looks down at the photograph of Patrick and Maureen, and covers two fingers over Maureen’s face.
‘I don’t think you’re mad,’ Hollie says. ‘I’ve never thought that. Tell me what’s happened, Chloe.’
She turns the cutting over, pressing Maureen and Patrick’s faces against the carpet.
‘I thought I could help,’ Chloe says quietly into the phone. ‘It sounds ridiculous now, doesn’t it? But I really thought that I could bring her home, that I could fix everything. But maybe it wasn’t Angie I was trying to bring home, maybe it was—’
‘Wait, Chloe, you’re not making any sen—’
‘And then the lines got blurred, everything felt so confused and yet so familiar. I let them think . . . they told me . . . well, it doesn’t matter, but then they made me think—’
‘Who did? Chloe, who are you talking about? Who’s Angie? Can you stop talking in riddles for a second?’