Secret Joy

Part 5

Both Emily and Mum stood by my side when Mr Dennis introduced me to Helga. To my mother.

She was the mirror of me, the image of me in thirty years. My pale blonde hair had always marked me out in family photos, next to Mum's black hair, and Dad's and Emily's autumn-leaf brown. But now it made sense. Helga's dove grey eyes were mine. Dad had always blamed my hair and eyes on "recessive genes, Laura, nothing more."

Of course now I understood that he'd lied. That both my parents had lied to me. How much had they lied about? How hard had they worked to hide my birth certificate all these years? How had they fooled everyone, my grandparents, our school, the neighbours? And why had I never questioned anything?

Helga - Mor, I had to call her Mor now - smiled at me and held out her arms. "My little girl," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "All grown up..."

Mor's voice was sweet and rich and as clear as glass. With the chaos of the last two weeks, the last thing on my mind had been the sound of her voice. I'd been so worried she wouldn't speak English that I'd barely been able to speak myself. I hadn't asked Mum. I hadn't even asked Emily to ask Mum for me.

How should I feel? Mum was right there, watching. Emily was right there, watching. If I hugged Mor, what would it be? A betrayal? A rejection? A brushing-aside of all the love they'd made sure I grew up with?

I took a step forward. Maybe I'd be able to do it. Maybe I'd be able to hug Mor and be happy in whatever new life I'd have in Copenhagen. I took another step forward.

Mor smiled. And suddenly my feet were nailed to the ground. My breath snagged in my throat like clothes catching on thorns.

I flung myself at Mum, sobbing and clinging to the jacket of her black skirt suit. I felt her hands smoothing my hair and rubbing my back, and I knew then how wrong I'd been to think I'd ever be able to leave her. Leave Emily. Leave my life in London. "Mum," I sobbed, "Don't send me away, please, Mum, I can't go! Please!"

"You don't have to," Emily whispered, wrapping her arms around me, "You can stay here with me. I can be your guardian. I'm eighteen."

"You're only eighteen," Mor said to her, "You have your whole life ahead of you. You... you might not be my daughter, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. Your father wouldn't want you to put aside your studies, your future, for your sister. Not while I'm here to take care of her."

I looked at Emily, and then looked at Mor. Mor was right. But she wasn't my Mum, even if she'd given birth to me. I couldn't just leave Mum behind. Maybe there was something I could do. "If I go with you now," I asked quietly, "Can I come back? Whenever I need to... or want to?"

Mor nodded. And so did Mum. "Whenever you want," they both said.

And for the first time in my life I hugged my mother.