Issy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was it you who put the DNA tests there on Christmas Day? Under the tree?’
‘Me? No! Georgie told me about them, but it wasn’t me. Whoever did, though, they must know about this. They must want it to come out.’
Issy glared at her, blue eyes ice cold. ‘This is about money, isn’t it?’
‘What—’
‘I should have listened to my mother. You came here to set me up. You planted those DNA tests at my parents’ house.’
‘How would I—’
‘Georgie was there. She could have—’
‘I didn’t—’
‘You’re a liar!’ Issy rose to her feet, fury flashing in her eyes. ‘Another freaking liar!’
Meg stood up. ‘Issy, please, I can explain—’ She put a hand on Issy’s shoulder, but she hit it away.
‘Stay away from me,’ Issy warned through gritted teeth. She grabbed her bag and stormed out the door.
Chapter 48
Issy woke up on the first day of the new year with a splitting headache. She’d opened another bottle when she’d got back to the apartment and drank it alone, watching the fireworks on Sydney Harbour, wondering which of the yachts moored in front of the Opera House her cheating fiancé was on. And who he was with. When she’d tired of thinking about Hugh, her attention turned back to the DNA test results, the Venn diagram linking her and Meg. BA and MH.Suggested relationship: Half-sibling. 23% shared DNA: 1865 Cm.
To see her matches, her account had to be public, which was why Meg could see the result too. By now Issy had taken a screen shot and changed her settings to make the account private, but it was too late. Meg had seen the results. The damage was done.
Was it true, what Meg said? Had her father slept with the baby nurse hired to look after her? She knew Heather had struggled when she was a baby. She’d suffered so terribly from hyperemesis gravidarum while pregnant with Felix that she’d decided against having any more children. Heather had told her once that she was filled with dread when she’d discovered she was pregnant with Issy, which was a very confronting thing to hear your mother say. ‘You take things so personally, Isobel,’ Heather had said, when Issy was offended. When the difficult pregnancy ended, post-partum depression had begun, although her mother never called it that. It was ‘a bout of the baby blues’, which made it sound more like a bad mood than a mental illness.
If Issy was honest, shecouldbelieve that her father slept with the nurse. It was repugnant behaviour, with a sick wife and a tiny baby in the next room, but it was certainly possible. The thing she couldn’t work out, though, was why Meg was here, in Hartwell. It all felt like a very unlikely coincidence and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Meg had somehow set her up.
Eventually she’d gone to bed, hoping it would all be less confusing in the morning.
It wasn’t. In fact, she only had more questions. She needed someone to help her make sense of it all. Not Heather, obviously. Or Malcolm. Who else might know what happened thirty years ago?
Rosa lived in a tiny stone cottage with a red tin roof and a pink magnolia in the front garden. When Issy arrived, she was sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch, sipping a cool drink. Issy watched her for a moment from the gate, second-guessing herself. Was she really doing this? Her questions would put Rosa in a terrible position—she knew that—but she was out of options. She pushed open the iron gate.
Rosa looked up. Seeing Issy, her face broke out into a warm smile. ‘Issy, my bébé.’
Issy felt a warm glow inside. She loved it when Rosa called her that. It was like a little secret between them. She never said it in Heather’s presence.
‘Happy New Year, darling.’
‘Happy New Year, Rowie,’ Issy said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.’
‘Of course, of course. Have a sit with me.’ She gestured to a spare chair. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’
‘No, it’s okay.’
‘Darling, it’s such a hot day. Let me get you a drink.’
‘Okay.’ Issy smiled. It was a joy to be cared for by Rosa. There was such confidence in the way she nurtured, every act infused with love. Issy breathed in the warm, sweet air.
Rosa returned, ice cubes clinking gently as she passed Issy a glass. Issy took a long drink, trying to decide where to start.
‘I know about Anna,’ she said, eventually.
‘What do you know about Anna?’ Rosa asked, quietly.
