very different genetic make-ups. Dad’s the Viking and Mum’s obviously the Mediterranean one. I have a different mix of Mum and Dad’s DNA to Ellie.’
‘That’s no surprise. You’ve always looked like Mum,’ said Marcus.
‘She certainly loves her Spanish holidays,’ her father said drily. ‘Now we know why.’
Their mother flashed a smile. ‘Which reminds me, I must go and check on the potatoes.’
Marcus, Ellie and Scarlett exchanged wide-eyed looks, wondering how potatoes could have anything to do with Spanish holidays.
Anna got up, holding the tea towel she’d carried in from the kitchen.
Ellie groaned. ‘Oh, don’t miss the best bit. The potatoes can wait, Mum.’
‘You won’t say that when you get a plate full of blackened lumps for lunch.’
‘I’ll check them,’ Heidi said, clearly looking for an excuse to get away from the family love-in. Actually, Scarlett didn’t blame her on this occasion and it might be less awkward if she wasn’t there.
‘Are you sure you can manage?’ Anna looked worried at the prospect of Heidi handling a tray of potatoes. ‘They are roasted in goose fat, you know …’
‘I’ll cope somehow.’ Heidi got up and patted her shoulder. ‘You enjoy your special present, Anna.’
Scarlett wasn’t sure if her sister-in-law was being sarcastic or not, but she let it drop. Their mum sat back down on the sofa, still clutching the tea towel.
‘Now, here’s the really exciting part …’ She hovered the cursor over the Find Relatives menu. ‘Who knows. We might find some long-lost second cousins on here. Maybe we’re related to royalty, like Danny Dyer is.’
Marcus groaned. ‘God, I hope not!’
Their father laughed.
‘I don’t think we’re in line for the throne, Dad, but – oh look, we have a first degree relative on the site,’ said Scarlett. ‘What a surprise. Not.’
‘That’ll be me, of course,’ said Ellie, clicking her phone. ‘Because we’re both registered on their database … Let’s take a look. Oh, yes … oh …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Oh.’
‘What?’ Scarlett asked.
‘I think I’ll go and help Heidi with the roasters.’ Their mother was halfway out of the door.
‘Mum, wait! Stay and see some more.’ Scarlett couldn’t conceal her disappointment. Then again, it was her father who loved history.
‘Sprouts need putting on!’ she shouted.
‘This early?’ Marcus laughed. ‘Come on, Ellie, show us this relative-finder thing.’
‘It, um … seems to have disappeared.’ Ellie held up a black phone screen and aimed a look at Scarlett. There was desperation in her eyes.
‘Don’t worry, I can get it up on the telly,’ said Scarlett, cheerfully.
‘Wait!’
Ellie’s cry was too late. The 72-inch screen flashed up a notification.
You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.
Marcus dived on it like a hawk. ‘Half-sibling? What’s that supposed to mean?’
Ellie couldn’t suppress her gasp and exchanged a panicky glance with Scarlett. ‘That’s wrong. It’s not possible. We don’t have any half-siblings.’
‘It must mean sister or brother, of course,’ said their dad. ‘It can only refer to you and Ellie.’
It must refer to her and Ellie. Half-siblings. Scarlett went cold all over as the implications sank in like wet slush soaking through the bunny slippers. Ellie stared at her; lips pressed together. When Ellie had seen the results on her phone, she’d tried to stop Scarlett from sharing them with the rest of the family.
‘It must be a mistake. Let’s try again.’ Faking a sigh of exasperation, Scarlett refreshed the page, hoping against hope it would miraculously show a different answer. But a second later, it flashed up the same horrible phrase.
You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.
The words leapt out at Scarlett and seared themselves on her brain. She felt sick.
Half-sibling.
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,
