Free Someone Else's Life by Katie Dale

her real granddaughter died the day she was born? It would break her heart.” I swallow, the pain in my chest swelling. “It’s broken mine.”
    “Rosie, it’s okay.”
    “No. No, it’s not. You don’t know what it’s like, Andy. I’m stuck here, trapped in this life that’s not even mine with a grandmother I have to lie to, no friends, no qualifications, no life —there’s nothing left!” My voice cracks. “It’s all right for you, you’re buggering off around the world—you can escape!”
    “Then come with me.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “I’m serious—why not? You said it yourself, what’s keeping you here?” He looks at me. “We always wanted to travel, didn’t we? This is our second chance!”
    I hesitate, and he squeezes my hand, his eyes softening. “Come with me, Rose. It wasn’t the same without you—I missed you the whole time. This was our dream, after all. We planned it, we dreamed of it and then missed it because of a stupid misunderstanding—so let’s go now!”
    I look at him, the idea dancing enticingly in my mind—to just fly away with Andy, leave everything behind, pick up where we left off, but … it’s too much, too sudden.
    “No strings,” he promises, reading my doubts. “I’ve missed you, Rosie. I’ve missed you —just being with you … hanging out, educating your taste in music.” He grins, those dimples making me falter. “Come on, Rose. It’s just what you need, it’ll take your mind off everything.”
    “It will not!”
    He looks up at the anger in my voice.
    “You have no idea, do you? You think dashing off around the world will make me forget that my mother’s dead? That she wasn’t actually my mother?” I look at him. “How could I ever come back, Andy? To this mess of—of lies and deceit and, and …” I trail off and look out the window, but all I can see is my tearstained reflection and the dark clouds beyond. “It’s such a mess, it’s all such a mess, and I just … There’s nothing left, Andy. None of it’s real …” I close my eyes.
    He sighs, rubs his brow.
    “So, what now?”
    I shrug. “I dunno.”
    We sit in silence for a moment.
    “Actually, I do,” I say eventually, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to find her.”
    “Who?”
    I swallow hard. “My real mother.”
    “Hello? Mr. Woods? Hi!” I cross my fingers tightly. “Hi, I’m a friend of Holly’s, and—Sorry? Holly Woods? She doesn’t?” My heart sinks. “Sorry to bother you. Bye.”
    I sigh heavily, dropping the receiver into its cradle and my head into my hands. There were thirty-five Woodses in the phone book. That was the last one.
    “Tell me you’ve had better luck with the birth records?”
    Andy shakes his head at the computer screen. “ ’Fraid not. According to this birth records site, no seventeen-year-old Holly Woods even existed in the year you were born.”
    “What?” I look up. “That’s impossible! Maybe Sarah guessed her age wrong. Try the years either side.”
    “I have,” Andy sighs. “I’ve tried five years either side. No Holly Woods.”
    “None at all ?”
    He shakes his head.
    “I don’t understand.” I frown. “That’s impossible. We know she was here—she was seventeen, she ran away, she had a baby …”
    I drop the phone book and pick up my jacket. “Come on.”
    Andy stares at me. “Where are we going?”
    “To the one place we know she has been.”
    The snow has all but melted as we drive into town, mounds that were once snowmen glinting in the fields and gardens as the afternoon sun struggles through the clouds.
    “All set?” Andy asks as we pull into the car-park.
    I take a deep breath and hug my clipboard. “All set.”
    He squeezes my shoulder, and we head into the small country hospital, the stench of disinfectant stinging my nose as we follow the signs down the lino-lined corridor to a ward painted in pastel colors.
    Maternity .
    Little goose bumps break out down my back. This is it. This is