like they’re being squeezed. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘She’s sniffed out something that might be of interest to you.’
‘Meaning?’ Kate presses.
‘She’s tracked down someone who’s used those genealogy websites to find their long-lost relatives.’
Kate shudders involuntarily, her blood feeling like it’s freezing over. ‘Wh-who’s she found?’
‘A woman who’s been reunited with her sister by uploading her DNA – just like Lauren and that girl.’
Kate’s jaw spasms and there’s a banging in her head as she imagines Jess and Lauren’s faces peering out at the five million people that read the Echo. Would they really be that stupid? Kate can’t take the chance.
‘My girl promises it’s a corker,’ Matt goes on.
My girl? If Kate were in a forgiving mood, she’d acknowledge that it was a phrase he’s used before, but right now it just leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
The noise in her head is getting louder, like a beating drum that’s getting closer and closer. She can see this spiralling out of control.
‘You can’t run it,’ she says.
‘What? Why not?’
‘Because . . . because we’re running a similar story tomorrow.’
‘Oh shit!’ groans Matt. ‘Are you kidding me?’
She hates lying to Matt, as they’ve always managed to give and take where work’s concerned, both of them careful not to tread on the other’s toes. But this is different. This is personal.
‘Yeah, sorry,’ she says. ‘I offered it up in conference and the news team went with it. Their story’s much stronger than your girl’s, I’m afraid.’
‘What have you got?’ he sighs, not picking up on Kate’s sarcasm.
‘Erm, I really can’t say.’
‘Seriously?’
She needs to think quickly. ‘We’ve got a relative of someone who’s been charged with an offence in the US,’ she says, biting down on her lip, hating herself. ‘A mother who the police were able to trace the criminal’s DNA back to.’
Matt lets out a long breath. ‘Is she even allowed to talk?’
‘Seemingly so,’ says Kate, praying that he’ll take the bait.
‘And you’re definitely running it tomorrow?’
‘Yep, ’fraid so.’
‘Okay, I’ll give you until then, but if it doesn’t go to press, I’m printing mine the day after.’
‘Cool,’ she says, grateful for the extra twenty-four hours she’s got to stop that from happening.
‘You’re a royal pain in my arse, d’you know that?’
Kate forces a laugh. ‘You wouldn’t want me any other way.’
By the time Kate gets off at Waterloo, she’s caught up in the after-work throng that’s spilling into the station. If she didn’t have to get somewhere else urgently, she’d go for a walk along the South Bank, the need to not waste such a lovely evening at the forefront of her mind. She’d no doubt stop off to listen to one of the many buskers, each hoping to be the next Ed Sheeran. Kate always bought the home-burnt CDs that were sold out of the musicians’ empty instrument cases, mostly because she wants to support hard-working talent, but there’s a little part of her that likes to think that maybe, one day, she’ll own a rare recording of a global superstar.
She smiles at the thought, but then reality steps in, and drags her kicking and screaming to the here and now.
She needs to stop that story from running, knowing that if it does, it will destroy her family once and for all.
29
Lauren
Lauren’s just put Jude to bed when the doorbell goes, and she knows that at gone 10 p.m., the only person she’s going to answer the door to is Simon, who she assumes has forgotten his key. She does a cursory look out of the front bedroom window and is dismayed to see Kate standing on the pavement below. After the day she’s had, she doesn’t need this right now.
‘Hello,’ she says wearily, as she opens the door.
‘I need to talk to you,’ says Kate, stepping straight into the hallway.
Lauren probably has things she should tell her, but she’s tired.
‘Can we do this tomorrow?’ she says, looking at the time on her phone to emphasize the point.
‘There’s something you need to know about Jess,’ blurts out Kate, seemingly unable to hold it in.
Lauren can’t help but roll her eyes. ‘Seriously, Kate, can’t you give it a rest?’
‘I’ve been checking her out,’ says Kate, almost triumphantly. ‘And she’s not who she says she is.’
‘I don’t think even she knows who she is,’ says Lauren.
‘No, you don’t understand,’ Kate goes on. ‘She’s lying to you, me, everyone. Jess Linley isn’t even her real name. She’s nothing but a fraud.’
The words slice through Lauren as if cutting the very strings that are holding