Free The Red House by Emily Winslow

then your insecurity is what you need to resolve, not a web of lies from your loved ones. Isn’t that good news?’
    The chaplain’s smile stretched across his face. I nodded and stretched my mouth wide too. ‘That is good news, yeah,’ I said. It sounded so simple. Despite the chaplain’s young age, I wondered if this was what it’s like to have a dad.
    He smiled back at me. ‘It’s good to admire your partner, and to feel like the lucky one of the pair. Ideally, each of you should feel like the lucky one. But it’s something toconsider, that you feel so out of step with her …’
    ‘No, I … We’re fine. I just … I needed to think about things differently. You’ve helped; you really helped. Thank you so much,’ I said, pumping the man’s hand. ‘You make me want to come back to church,’ I admitted.
    ‘Of course you’re welcome, here or elsewhere,’ he assured me. But he stood as he said it, and I knew it was my cue.
    I rose too, pushing my wooden chair askew behind me. ‘Well, I really can’t tell you what a relief it’s been to talk it out. I couldn’t tell anyone we both knew and …’
    ‘I’m honoured that you felt you could trust me, and I’m glad I could help.’ He gestured towards the door.
    ‘We
will
have the wedding here,’ I decided.
    ‘If that’s what you feel ready for. You can set the date with the Conferences and Events Office, and email to schedule further counselling,’ he said, and his eyes flicked to his watch.
Of course; he must have duties and appointments.
My face heated.
    ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
    ‘I’m glad you felt you could talk to me,’ he said, with what appeared to be genuine warmth.
    I rallied. It would have been unkind to leave him with anything but a smile.
    I held that smile until I was through the college gate, then let my face twist in guilt. The chaplain had explained my suspicions of Imogen away, which should be a relief, but in their absence I could see that I had treated Imogen horribly for no good reason at all.
    I phoned her but she didn’t pick up. I didn’t know the city well enough to walk to our hotel directly, so took aroundabout route, past the few landmarks I knew. It took half an hour. I jogged the last little way; I needed to see her. Upstairs, I thrust the key into the lock and turned. ‘Imogen?’ I called, ready to apologise. She wasn’t there. She could have been at any of a dozen places.
    Most likely, she was on her way to where she’d told me she’d go: meeting the man who claimed to be her brother.
    I opened my laptop. The keywords
adoption, discussion, sebastian
and today’s date got me what I was after.
    The Reunions website looked like it was created in the early days of the Internet and never updated. I turned my volume off to avoid the sentimental and tinkly background music, and squinted at the light blue type on a dark blue background.
    Eight years ago, Imogen had posted:
    Baby brother Sebastian,
    We were separated fifteen years ago and I’ve never forgotten you. Now that you’re eighteen I hope you’ll come looking for us. We want to see you again! I want to tell you about Mum and Dad, and how much they loved all of us. You have a big sister and two brothers waiting for you.
    We all went into care in July 1989, in Cambridgeshire. You were almost three years old. Curly blond hair, brown eyes. I had long brown hair and was eight years old. Dad was a surgeon at Hinchingbrooke Hospital and Mum looked after us. She was beautiful and wore bead necklaces because you liked to play with them. Robert and Ben were eleven then.
    Before we were adopted:
    Parents: Isobel and Joseph Llewellyn
    Children: Robert, Ben, Imogen and Sebastian Llewellyn
    Home: Meadow View, Highfields Caldecote
    I hope you’ll contact us soon!
    The only responses were contemporaneous, and merely in the way of encouragement, until today:
    Are you still reading here? I think I’m who you’re looking for. PM me pls.
    I didn’t know her login to see