Just Not Mine by Rosalind James Page A

other words, you’re a man. Am I right?”
    “ Well, let’s hope, or I’ve been laboring under a fairly serious delusion for some time now. Are you in supermarket magazines and gossip columns?”
    “ World-famous in New Zealand,” she said. “That’d be me. A lot smaller fish than you all the same, aren’t I? Because I’ve finally got it. You’re a rugby player. You’re more than that, you’re an All Black. And here I’ve thought …” She began to laugh, she couldn’t help it. “Can’t tell you what all I’ve thought. First on the dole, then builder, then I thought maybe a ship, and the latest was a toss-up between assassin and drug dealer, given the secrecy and all.”
    “What secrecy? ” he asked. “A ship? An assassin? I figured you knew what I did. It’s no secret. Could hardly be that.”
    “You didn’t know that Hugh was a rugby player?” Amelia asked , because she’d been listening. “Really?”
    Josie ignored her, because the penny had dropped. Her eyes widened. “Hugh … Latimer. Hugh Latimer. That’s who you are. That’s why you looked familiar. It’s just that I don’t watch much rugby, and I never watch the Blues, because my dad—Well,” she said with a laugh. “Sorry. I grew up in Chiefs country. Anyway, the …” She gestured at his face. “The hair. The beard. I thought it was a disguise, and I was right, wasn’t I? And then Charlie.”
    “Charlie what? How is this about him?”
    “Telling me it was a secret,” she explained. “Your job.”
    “You say we aren’t meant to talk about it,” Charlie said as Hugh looked at him in astonishment. “You always say.”
    “About what?”
    “About you. And about being an All Black.”
    “I just mean, not go on about it,” Hugh said. “Or gossip about me. That’s all I meant.”
    “Gossip’s talking about it,” Amelia said. “That’s what gossip is, talking about people.”
    “All right,” Hugh said. “You can gossip. Geez. It’s not a secret, Charlie. How could it be a secret?”
    “But you said,” Charlie said. “You did.” He was looking distressed now.
    “I didn’t mean—I meant—” Hugh cut himself off. “Not to share too much with strangers.”
    Josie glanced at him, realized he was stuck. She’d have a go, then. “It can be hard, when you do something where lots of people know who you are,” she explained to Charlie. “Sometimes you don’t want to be talked about, things that might be a little bit private. People are interested, even though they shouldn’t be, because people who are famous, people like Hugh, they aren’t really any more exciting than anybody else, are they? I mean,” and she made her smile confiding, cheery, “how interesting is your brother, really?” She heard Hugh’s snort of surprise. “Why should anybody care whether he actually eats Weet-Bix for breakfast, or who he goes on a date with? But some people do all the same, and it might make him feel like his privacy’s been invaded, do you see, if all those strangers knew all about his life like that? Like somebody was watching him all the time.”
    “I gue ss,” Charlie said, looking a little less unhappy, but still puzzled. “But I don’t think Hugh goes on a date with anybody, so I couldn’t tell about that anyway.”
    “Yes , he does,” Amelia said. “Heaps of times. When he stays gone all night? Those are dates.”
    “Wait,” Hugh said. “How do you know those are dates? And not heaps of times. I don’t—” He stopped again, and Josie looked at him and could hardly keep from laughing, he looked so uncomfortable. He didn’t what?
    “Because Auntie Cora said so, of course,” Amelia said. “She said, ‘Oh, love, he’s on a date. He’ll be home soon, I’m sure.’ When it was Saturday and you weren’t at Charlie’s game, or something. Or when you dress up, and cut your hair, that’s how we know,” she added. “We’re not stupid.”
    “All right,” Hugh said . “I’m sorry I missed