Chapter Eight Jade
Chapter Eight
Jade
‘Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ Zac asks as I fumble with my seat belt.
I want to accept his offer – his support might calm my racing heart – but I also need space. ‘No. I need some time alone. To think.’ My pulse thumps like a jackhammer.
He leans over to kiss me, and it feels tender for a change. Like he actually might care about me. ‘Don’t forget your bags are in the boot.’
I frown, blink, then remember the shopping spree we went on hours ago. It already feels like another lifetime. The thrill of new clothes, new everything, seems laughable now. ‘Oh. Thanks,’ I say automatically, my mind skittering elsewhere.
‘Call me later, if you like,’ he offers. ‘Might go down the King’s Head with Jed and Callum, if you’re up for it? Jed’s got a new girlfriend. Apparently she works for Nike. Might score us some freebies.’
Part of me wants to go – any excuse to stay distracted – but I shake my head. ‘Not tonight. Have a good one.’ I force a smile he doesn’t return.
‘Okay.’ He watches me climb out, disappointment in his eyes.
I grab my bags from the boot and make my way across the pavement and up the steps towards the apartment building.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see him give a forlorn wave and drive away.
I want to be alone to process what I saw today, but now that he’s gone, I feel a little untethered.
Back in Lymington, I chickened out of confronting my doppelganger.
Told myself I need to speak to Mum alone first. To discover what’s going on here.
If that woman isn’t my mother, then who is she?
And why has Mum never mentioned her? I might not have spoken to the two women, but I did take a few sneaky photos to prove to myself that I wasn’t hallucinating, and to show Mum the evidence, so that she can’t give me the brush-off again.
After Zac and I traipsed half a mile to get petrol, all I could think about on the journey home was that I might have a twin.
A twin. I repeated the word in my head so many times that it started to feel made up.
Zac tried talking to me, but I shushed him, needing silence.
But thinking only tangled my thoughts further.
It was weird enough seeing that posh version of Mum, but to see my own face on someone else was surreal.
Outside the entrance to our block, my arms are laden with bags, and I pause, trying to work out how to get the door key from my bag.
‘Jade Morgan?’ A man’s voice, deep and authoritative, calls from down the street.
Shit. I freeze momentarily, and my heart starts to pound, but I’m quick-witted enough not to turn around. To keep my face turned away so I can pretend I’m not who they’re looking for. Stay calm, stay calm. If I can just get to my key.
Just when I think I’m going to have to drop all my shopping bags, I glance up to see one of the neighbours heading through the lobby towards me, his gait too slow for my liking. Come on! Come on!
‘Jade Morgan . . . we need a word.’ The voice is closer now, and I hear heavy footsteps along the pavement behind me.
The neighbour opens the door and holds it for me.
‘Thanks so much,’ I stutter and almost shove past him into the lobby in my haste to get inside, sweat coating my upper lip and beading down my back.
He nods curtly and continues on his way as I hurry across the lobby to Mum’s front door, praying none of the other neighbours come along to open the entrance doors before I can get safely into the flat.
I dump my haul on the grey, scuffed mat while I fish out my keys with trembling fingers and finally open our door, my heart a battering ram against my chest. I chance a glance over my shoulder, through the glass doors, to see two huge men in dark jackets striding up the steps outside the block.
With a silent prayer, I slam the flat door shut, thanking God for such a narrow escape.
I can’t believe the bloody bailiffs have managed to track me down.
Thankfully, I’ve kept Mum in ignorance of my debts so far, but it won’t be long until she finds out just how much trouble I’m in.
I’ll have to warn her never to open our front door.
Damn. As if my day hasn’t been stressful enough without this.
The flat is silent and still. I exhale shakily and stand in the hallway for a moment, letting the quiet press in on me. I’m not a sensitive person, but right now I have this big balloon of anxiety in my chest that I can’t shake. I don’t like it at all. It’s not like me to get flustered.
My phone shows no reply from Mum. I stuff my purchases behind the sofa for now.
There’s a chest of drawers in the hallway that’s already bursting with clothes I don’t wear.
I should stick a load of them on Vinted, but I doubt they’d fetch more than the postage.
I don’t know why I keep buying stuff. It’s like a fever comes over me.
A euphoric buzz that I don’t get from anything else.
But, right now, I feel the opposite of that – I’m grubby and tired, my mind spinning, pulse still racing from everything that’s happened.
Mum’s not here, I can tell from the atmosphere, but I check her bedroom anyway – empty.
I’m glad. I need some time to calm down before speaking to her.
My stomach gurgles, but I’m not at all hungry.
I drift over to the kitchenette, pour myself a tall glass of water and gulp it down, hoping it will calm me. It doesn’t.
I head to the little bathroom, strip off my clothes, and step into the shower.
One good thing about this flat is that the water’s always hot and the pressure’s decent, something I’m grateful for now, as the sharp jets get rid of today’s grime and stress.
I squirt on the Bath she comes and plonks herself on the other.
‘Good day?’ I ask through gritted teeth.
She blows on her tea. ‘Not bad. Glad I’m not working tonight, there’s a match on so it’ll be carnage later. How was your lunch with Zac? Surprised to see you back. Thought you’d be living it up in town on your evening off.’
I sip my tea and take a breath. ‘I had a bit of a shock, actually.’
Mum puts her tea down and glances sideways at me. I catch her gaze, but she doesn’t hold it. ‘Oh yes?’ she says warily.
‘Yes,’ I reply, unsure how to phrase what I want to say.
‘Well?’ Mum asks.
‘Well,’ I repeat, cradling my warm mug. ‘I saw you, or someone who looks just like you, in town today.’
Mum picks up her tea again and takes a small sip. ‘Wasn’t me. I’ve been here – shopping, washing, cleaning, followed by a shift at the pub . . . all the glamorous stuff.’
I study her face intently, looking for any signs of a lie. ‘Me and Zac, we both saw you coming out of an accountant’s office.’
‘Very nice, I’m sure.’ Mum finally gives me some eye contact. ‘But, as you well know, Jade, I don’t earn enough money to have an “accountant”.’
‘So, you’re saying it wasn’t you?’
‘Course it wasn’t me. I was at work!’ she snaps. ‘Call Mags if you don’t believe me.’
‘Mum, I know you’re hiding something. Anyway, I have photos.
’ I lift my phone off the coffee table and bring up the picture I snapped outside the accountant’s, and the others I took at Lymington Quay.
I shift around in my seat so I’m looking straight at her as I flash my screen in front of her face.
But she pushes it away, refusing to look, her face suddenly drawn and pale.
She gets to her feet, mug still clenched in her hand. ‘Glad you had a good day, but I’m exhausted. Gonna have an early night.’
My chest tightens. ‘No. Wait.’ I stand, heart pounding. ‘You’re not running off again. You’re not going anywhere till you tell me what you know. Anyway, I haven’t finished telling you everything.’
Mum’s face flushes the deepest crimson. ‘You can tell me tomorrow.’ Her lips tighten, and she starts walking away.
But I keep talking. ‘Zac and I tailed the woman who looks like you. She was driving a brand-new Mini,’ I gabble, shadowing my mother as she leaves the lounge. ‘She drove to Lymington. Got on a bloody great yacht – it was a party, I think. And there was another younger woman on board.’
Mum opens her bedroom door, still ignoring me.
‘This woman,’ I continue, my voice rising, ‘she looked exactly like me! And when I say exactly, I mean, apart from our hair colour, she was identical.’
Mum freezes in the doorway mid-stride, her back to me, but she doesn’t respond.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ I demand. ‘Who are they? You must know who they are, or you wouldn’t be trying to get away from me right now.’
Mum’s shoulders drop and she turns around slowly, her face taut, her eyes bright with emotion. ‘I didn’t want you to find out,’ she whispers.
‘Find out what?’ I ask, my heart pounding.
‘I wanted it to stay just you and me,’ she continues, her hands twisting in front of her. ‘I should never have moved down here. I’m such a fool.’
My voice hardens. ‘Mum, just tell me who they are. Have you got a sister? Have I got a . . . twin?’
She sways, jaw clenched. ‘I think I’m going to need something stronger than tea. Fetch that bottle of vodka from the cupboard.’
We return to the living room, and she sits while I bring a couple of glasses, the vodka, and a can of Diet Coke over to the sofa.
Mum pours herself a generous measure of the vodka with trembling fingers. I top it off with the Coke, and she lifts it like a shield, takes a deep swig before speaking. ‘I suppose I should start from the beginning,’ she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I sink back down on to the sofa and clutch my own glass, fear and anticipation swirling in my gut. I lean forward, scared to hear, but desperate to know. ‘Go on. I’m listening.’