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KATE FORSTER lives in Melbourne, Australia with her husband, two children and two dogs, and can be found nursing a laptop, surrounded by magazines and watching trash TV or French films.
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Perfect
Kate Forster
‘Half the people in Hollywood are dying to be discovered and the other half are afraid they will be.’
—Lionel Barrymore
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Los Angeles 11 May, 1996
The girl shivered and hugged her new baby closer to her chest. It had been a restless night in the hospital room, her friend shifting uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair, while the baby snuffled into her chest, trying to find the source of the scent of milk.
She felt sick, but she wanted it finished. Every second she was with the baby was another second that might change her mind.
Her friend sat watching her, her slim legs in skintight jeans, chewing gum and sipping from the can of Mountain Dew she’d bought from the vending machine down the hall. She was swinging one foot, a habit that her friend knew came from nerves, not restlessness.
‘She’s gonna have a real nice life,’ her friend said for the millionth time.
‘I know,’ she answered numbly.
‘Better than anything we ever had.’
The baby stirred and she shifted her up onto her shoulder, and she felt her breasts ache. She was bottle-feeding, as they had all agreed, but her body yearned for the feel of her baby on her skin.
Her milk was coming in, the nurses had told her this morning, as the baby rubbed her little face against the bare skin on her neck.
Skin hungry, she thought, her tired mind recalling what she’d read about babies trying to bond with their mothers.
Is this what love feels like? she wondered, and then she felt the let-down of her milk, soaking her one good T-shirt.
‘Goddammit,’ she said and stood up from the bed. ‘Take her, I have to dry this,’ and she handed over the warm bundle.
Her friend took the baby with the confidence of someone who had grown up around younger children.
‘Hush now, little one,’ she said to the babe, and started singing about Jesus.
All her friend’s songs were about Jesus, thought the girl as she went into the bathroom and plugged in the hairdryer from the cupboard under the sink. This was a real nice hospital, with fancy toiletries and hairdryers in each room. Better than the apartment she shared with her friend. She waved the hot air over her milk-stained T-shirt. She saw the milk had left a shadow of two eyes on her front.
