The Lying Game by Tess Stimson Page A

leave them to sort it out.’
    ‘Where’s the first letter?’
    She stood up and rummaged through a heap of papers on her writing bureau. It had taken her ten days to get round to opening the first letter, the one she’d shoved in her kitchen drawer. It
hadn’t been her Pap smear results after all; instead, she’d been surprised to find a request from the Princess Eugenie Hospital that she and Nell – and Nell’s father, though
obviously that wasn’t going to happen – come in to ‘clarify some confusion’ with regard to Nell’s medical records. It had all sounded so routine, it hadn’t
occurred to her to be concerned. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Richard. The hospital had given them an appointment for the following week, and she had, without questioning, taken Nell to
it. Zoey trusted authority, believed in it. People who ran things had to know better than she did; she relied on it.
    The two of them had been in and out of the surgery in ten minutes. A simple cheek swab each and they were done.
    Thinking back now, maybe it
was
a little odd that they’d been seen so quickly; she’d taken her new Maeve Binchy for the waiting room and hadn’t even had time to get it
out of her bag. But why should she have been suspicious? This was a
hospital,
for goodness’ sake. They knew what they were doing. Didn’t they?
    ‘It’s obviously a mistake,’ she said again as Richard reread both letters. ‘I’ll just let them know and—’
    ‘Zoey,’ he said, ‘Zoey, what if it’s not?’
    ‘Oh, don’t be silly! Nell’s the spitting image of Patrick! You only have to
look
at her. No, this is ridiculous. Some pen-pusher’s got his wires crossed and made
an almighty cock-up, that’s all this is.’
    ‘The hospital seems fairly sure of the facts.’
    She leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the second letter. ‘A
discrepancy.
That’s what it says. Look. They’re just saying there’s a discrepancy in the
results. They haven’t been able to test her father, obviously, so that probably messed everything up. It’s a big hospital – dozens of babies must have been born the same day as
Nell. They’ve just asked us to come back for more tests, which means even the doctors can’t tell their left hands from their right.’
    ‘Or they’re trying to soften the blow until you come in, so they can tell you the full story in person.’ He took her hand. ‘Look, darling. I’m not trying to upset
you. But you need to face this. What if the hospital is
right?’
    She stared at him. Richard was the steadiest, safest, most conservative man she knew. He never leapt to conclusions or took anything for granted until he had it before him written out in
triplicate, and preferably notarized. If he was taking this seriously, if he thought it might be true . . .
    No. There was no way this could be true.
How
could the hospital be right? She was Nell’s mother! She’d loved her fiercely with every fibre of her being for fifteen years.
When Nell hurt,
she
hurt. When Nell smiled,
she
smiled. She’d fed and changed and bathed her, she knew every freckle and scar, she’d kissed every scraped knee and
taught her to roller skate and plait her hair. She saw herself reflected in her daughter every day; not physically, though they’d always shared those great grey eyes, but in the way she
thought, in her mannerisms and quirks. How could Nell be any
more
hers?
    A devil of doubt on her shoulder prodded her.
Quirks and mannerisms could be learned.
She’d raised her alone for years; of course Nell reflected her. Even the grey eyes –
was that just wishful thinking?
    ‘I’m not going for any more tests,’ she said firmly. ‘They can’t
make
me, can they?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not a lawyer. Maybe. Look, Zoey, the important thing is no one can take Nell from you, not now. She’s not a baby –
she’s fifteen years old. They’re not about to switch her back. But if she isn’t your