Читать книгу A Perfect Cornish Christmas - Phillipa Ashley, Phillipa Ashley - Страница 12

Their father frowned at the screen. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘Scarlett’s right. There must have been a cock-up.’ Ellie got up and turned off the TV. ‘I think they’ve mixed up our DNA with someone else’s. It must happen a lot.’

‘I doubt it,’ Marcus said, ‘I’ve heard these labs are very accurate.’

‘Actually, I saw a programme that said there can be a big margin of error,’ Ellie declared. ‘Huge.’

‘Then why did you bother getting tested?’ Marcus said sharply, treating both of them to a glare.

‘Because we thought it would be fun …’ Scarlett said. ‘Didn’t we, Ellie? Dad’s always wanted to know if he has any Viking in him, and we thought it would be the perfect family present.’

‘Obviously, it isn’t,’ Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at Scarlett again.

‘Let’s not worry about it now. We’ll contact the site after Christmas and get our money back,’ Ellie said, then sniffed the air. ‘Hmm, what’s that amazing smell? I think dinner must be nearly ready.’

‘Mum’s only just put the sprouts on,’ Marcus muttered, his eyes straying to the laptop.

‘Shall I get us all another glass of Prosecco?’ Scarlett piped up, feeling as if she might throw up. She didn’t want Prosecco and had no idea how she was going to eat Christmas dinner.

‘But I don’t understand,’ their father insisted as Scarlett snatched up her laptop, intent on hiding it under her bed, as if that would make any difference at all to the results. The genie was out of the bottle now. Her hands were shaking.

‘If your DNA test says you and Ellie are half-siblings, what does it mean …’ Their father looked at them both. Scarlett hugged the laptop. Oh God, everything was becoming horrifyingly clear. Their mother’s lack of enthusiasm for the DNA test, slinking out of the room when they tried to find their relatives. Oh, Christ on a bike, what the hell had she unleashed on her family?

‘Nothing, because it’s a computer error or a mix-up in the lab. Don’t worry about it, Dad,’ said Ellie. ‘Blooming rip-off! For all we know, TreeFynder doesn’t even have a real lab and it’s a couple of kids with a chemistry set in their bedroom. Let’s forget it for now and have another drink. What do you all want?’

Their father nodded but seemed confused and quiet. Marcus, however, would not be silenced. ‘But I’m still confused about exactly what the results mean,’ he said insistently. Scarlett loved her brother, for all his faults, but at this moment would have happily wished him to evaporate.

‘Marcus. There’s no point having the conversation. Now, come on, let me get you a drink.’

As she looked at him, it hit her. Marcus and Ellie both had their father’s thick dark curly hair. Scarlett was fair. Her mum had light brown hair that the sun bleached in summer, but Scarlett was blonde all year round, and almost wheaten in the sunny months. Her hair was straight and easily tamed, which Ellie had always envied but Scarlett thought was a bit boring compared to Ellie’s bouncy curls. Her siblings had strong noses, ever so slightly ‘Roman’, according to Auntie Joan – which hadn’t amused Marcus, but had made Ellie burst out laughing and start muttering, ‘Hail, Great Caesar,’ to him.

As they’d grown older, Ellie and Marcus had changed but had always at some point resembled their dad. Scarlett never had.

If that test was accurate … Scarlett felt as if she was about to suffocate and her stomach clenched. She had to get out, or she might be sick, but Heidi blocked the doorway, her hands still in oven gauntlets. She’d obviously been there much longer than they’d realised.

‘I’m sure this is all a mistake, Roger,’ she said, looking at their father with pity. ‘Because if that test is accurate, it means that Ellie and Scarlett can’t possibly have the same father. One of them isn’t your daughter.’