Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📗

I can’t think of a valid reason to knock on their door yet, so maybe I’ll come back and hang around up here – walk Rex every day so I blend in with the locals. Jenna’s bound to ride her horse up to the woods at some point. I recognise the local bridleway from photos on her timeline so she must ride up here.

I walk back to the main street to look for the front of the house so I can walk past it in the hope of seeing my family. I can’t find it initially, but from working out the direction I’ve just come from and the lie of the land it must be around here somewhere. I see a stocky postman approaching in a pair of baggy, knee-length shorts and a red polo shirt. He has a large bag slung over his shoulder.

‘Could you tell me where I can find the Old Hay Barn?’ I ask as he draws level. Rex lunges forward to sniff him and the postman draws back in alarm.

‘He won’t bite,’ I tell him, pulling hard on the lead.

‘They all say that,’ he mutters, pointing to a puckered scar on his leg.

Ouch. Hazard of the job I suppose.

‘The house you want is up there,’ he says. He points to a long gravel driveway.

The barn must be set behind this white farmhouse. No wonder I struggled to find it.

‘Thanks,’ I say and walk away, glancing back at him. He watches me depart, then hoists his bag into a more comfortable position and carries on his way. He’s probably wondering why I asked for directions to the house then walked straight past it. I need to be careful not to raise suspicion in future.

When he’s gone I stand and let Rex sniff the lamp post to give me thinking time. I’m so tempted to call at the house. My real family is in there. My mother and father, possibly brothers and sisters. I need to build up courage and work out what to say, though. If they don’t yet know about the swap they might be shocked and I don’t want that to spoil the reunion. I want to be sure they give me the welcome I deserve from the outset. Not that Jenna will welcome me because she’ll have to step aside and fade into the background. I know the swap wasn’t her fault but it’s tough luck. I’m here now and it’s my family – not hers.

I visit the lane leading to the woods four times before I see Jenna. At first I only hear her, a soft voice drifting through the drizzle and across the paddock.

‘Good boy, Merlin. Steady. It’s only leaves blowing in the wind.’

A thrill of anticipation courses through me and I hurry back the way I’ve come so I’m obscured by the trees dividing the lane from the paddock. I need to keep my distance yet still get a good look at her. Rex glances up in confusion as I pull my hood up, making sure it shadows most of my face, then turn around again and walk slowly back towards the entrance to the field. I shorten his lead and stand still, holding my breath as I wait for her to appear.

Then I see her, riding up on the back of the black horse. She leans forward out of the saddle and pushes a lever to undo the gate. She guides the horse around expertly then pulls the gate shut.

It’s only a fleeting moment, and she’s twenty or more feet away, but as she turns I get a full view of her face and have to stifle a gasp. She’s the image of the Rosemary Butcher I remember from my childhood. The small forehead, the slightly too large nose. The set of the eyes.

There’s no possibility of a mistake. This girl is the real Sarah Butcher and I’m the real Jenna Winterbourne. I should be the one living in that huge house. I should be the one riding a horse and living a life of privilege in a setting good enough for the Homes and Gardens magazine. It shouldn’t be me staying in a dump with an alcoholic old woman and working in a stinking kebab shop.

The girl gives me the vaguest of nods as she sees me holding the dog back so he doesn’t scare her horse. She’s like the landed gentry looking down her nose at the local peasant, taking it for granted that I’m the one who should get out of her way. What a stuck-up cow. Anger bubbles up inside me and I have to fight the urge to run after her and push her off the horse. She rides away, back straight in her fancy riding gear, and onto the track to the woods.

Imposter.

I stand still and breathe deeply to calm myself, my hands clenched by my sides. Rex whines but I ignore him. She’s taken everything from me. Everything. I picture her arriving home from her private school, showing her loving parents what she’s achieved as they all sit around a table laden with home cooked, healthy food. Her father – no, my father! – ruffling her hair and praising her instead of me. I see my real parents sitting proudly in a large University hall, clapping as she’s awarded her degree. I see ‘Daddy’ paying for her driving lessons and buying her a car, then getting her a job in the family firm.

They say the quality of life depends on the bed you’re born in. Well I was born in the right bed but I was pushed out by that cuckoo. The rational part of my brain tries to tell me that Jenna is not to blame for this, but if she hadn’t been born I’d be living a happy life. I want to scream, ‘You bitch!’ but I bite hard on my lip to hold the anger inside.

Be patient, I tell myself. There’s no rush. Far better to plan