The Lost Sister

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The Lost Sister Page 28

by Tracy Buchanan


  For the first time, Becky is beginning to understand why her mum might have done what she did.

  She frowns. But did that justify leaving her daughter behind? What happened when the honeymoon period wore off?

  Hannah sits next to her, pulling her phone out. ‘I forgot to show this to you in all the excitement hearing about Kai’s fall. We saw this in the cavern, and I took a photo of it for you.’

  Becky takes her phone to see it’s Idris and Solar’s inscription. ‘Oh yes, I saw this too. Can you email it to me when we’re back? Kai has my address.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Hannah goes to put it back in her pocket but Becky stops her. ‘Wait. Maybe if we zoom in, we can see the other name better?’

  ‘Good idea. I have a sharpening app actually. Let me try.’ Hannah messes about with her phone for a few minutes then hands it back to Becky. ‘Got it! I am officially the queen of forensic photograph investigations.’

  Becky takes the phone off Hannah and stares at the other word on the inscription.

  Idris, Solar and Oceane were here. 2001.

  Oceane. She recognises that name. Wasn’t it Caden’s ex, the one who left the group before they went to Spain?

  ‘Okay, another game,’ Ed says.

  Becky reluctantly hands the phone back to Hannah. She could stare at that inscription all night, her mind whirring with the possibilities of how and why Idris, Solar and Oceane had ended up here in this cave.

  At eight the next morning, the five of them reappear from the cave. Lev smiles wryly as he holds the iron gate open for them.

  ‘I did tell you I wouldn’t hang around,’ he says to Iskar. ‘My wife would not have been happy.’

  Becky blinks up at the bright morning, yawning. They’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep in the end, huddled up together in the cold, her head on Kai’s shoulder. But she still feels as if she’s been bulldozed.

  Lev frowns at the empty bottle of vodka Iskar is carrying. ‘You drank all that inside?’ he asks her.

  ‘To keep warm,’ Ed says as he yawns.

  Lev shakes his head. ‘You Brits really are crazy. And I should know, I’m married to one.’

  ‘You never mentioned that your wife is from the UK,’ Iskar says.

  Lev laughs. ‘Perhaps I haven’t. And people certainly can’t tell from me mentioning her name. Solar sounds more cosmic than British.’

  Everyone’s mouths drop open. Becky has to take deep breaths to control herself. Tears flood her eyes.

  Had she finally found her sister?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Selma

  Kent, UK

  8 September 1991

  I ran down the beach towards the collapsed cave. There was a crowd gathered around it, police and paramedics being guided by Julien and Maggie to the front. The small entrance was gone, replaced by fallen rock. I put my hand to my mouth. Idris and I had been in there just the morning before.

  ‘What happened?’ one of the officers asked.

  ‘We heard screams, then a crashing noise,’ Maggie replied, voice trembling.

  ‘How many are in there?’ he asked.

  ‘Three, maybe four,’ Julien said.

  ‘Is Idris in there?’ I asked, leaning down to catch my breath.

  He nodded. ‘Oceane, Tom and Caden too.’

  My stomach sank as I stared into the cave. What if Idris – the father of my baby – was lying in that cave injured … or worse, dead?

  Suddenly, my thoughts of getting rid of our baby without telling him filled me with horror as I imagined him dying in that cave, not knowing about the child that was growing inside me.

  I suddenly felt sick.

  ‘What’s going on?’ We turned to see Donna running down the beach, shopping bags smashing against her legs.

  ‘The ceiling’s collapsed,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Donna – Oceane and Tom are in there.’

  Donna let out a gasp, her shopping falling from her hands. Jars smashed, red sauce congealed in the sand, staining it scarlet.

  ‘I told you and Idris how dangerous that bloody cave was,’ she screamed at me. ‘I fucking told you to talk to him!’

  I opened my mouth then closed it. I’d completely forgotten to mention it to Idris.

  Donna ran towards the cave but the policemen stopped her.

  ‘We need to call in the fire brigade and some cavers,’ one of them said. ‘If you go in, you’ll only make it worse.’

  Over the next half an hour, we watched as men entered with hard hats, shovelling fallen stones out of the way. I tried to comfort Donna but she wouldn’t let me near her. I understood. If it was Becky in there, I’d be angry too. I should have mentioned her concerns to Idris, used my influence on him to tell the others not to go in.

  As I thought that, Oceane limped out, her arm around a distressed-looking Tom who was hopping on one leg. I caught a glimpse of Tom’s bloody leg, a hint of bone protruding. I flinched, turning away.

  Donna rushed forward with the paramedics.

  ‘Where’s Caden?’ Julien asked.

  ‘Is he not here? I thought he’d stormed out after our argument.’

  Argument?

  ‘There’s someone coming out,’ Julien said. Idris appeared from the cave with Caden, who was holding his arm delicately.

  I ran to them.

  ‘Idris!’ I said as I looked at his dusty shocked face. ‘Idris, are you okay?’

  He peered towards Tom, who was being treated by the paramedics, crying out in pain. Then at Caden who was being led to another ambulance. Oceane walked over to Caden, trying to comfort him, but he just kept shoving her away, refusing to look at her.

  What had happened in that cave before it collapsed?

  Oceane looked up, catching Idris’s eye. He quickly looked away.

  Panic flooded my chest.

  ‘What happened in there?’ I asked him. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t look me in the eye. The panic increased. ‘Idris, what the hell happened?’

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ he said, gaze meeting Oceane’s again.

  I looked between them, humiliation darting through me.

  In that moment it became clear to me that they had been sleeping together after all … and Caden had caught them in the act in the cave. The same cave where Idris and I made love.

  I looked at Idris in disgust and then ran off.

  I sat beyond the chalk stacks for what seemed like hours, watching the blue lights of the police cars and ambulances swirling against the white walls.

  People walked past, desperate to see all the drama.

  ‘Knew something like this would happen,’ I overheard one woman say as she walked by.

  ‘Disaster waiting to happen, that bloody cult,’ her friend said.

  They were right, had been right all along. The ceiling had literally come crashing down on our heads, letting light come in to highlight what Idris really was: a deceiver, a nobody. Just a man looking for some cheap thrills.

  What did that make me? The very middle-aged desperate housewife I was so terrified of becoming?

  A couple walked over, peering towards the drama outside the cave.

  It was Julie and Greg.

  Julie caught sight of me, her face filling with anger. Greg followed his wife’s gaze, his face registering surprise then fear. Julie went to walk towards me but Greg grabbed her arm, saying something to her. But she shook her head and strode towards me anyway.

  What now?

  I slowly stood, stomach turning at the look of anger on my old friend’s face.

  ‘I know about the lies you’ve been telling about Greg,’ Julie spat when she got to me, body rigid as she tried to contain her anger. ‘That yoga teacher told anyone who’d listen about the lies you told her.’

  She was referring to what I’d told Anita about Greg perving over me. Great.

  ‘They’re not lies, Julie,’ I said softly. ‘I didn’t want you to find out this way, but honestly, I was telling the truth
.’

  Greg laughed bitterly as he joined his wife. ‘Oh come on, Selma. You’re a flirt, always have been. Putting yourself on display every chance you can get. And yet I come out the fucking villain, because men always do with women like you, don’t they?’

  I looked at him, hardly believing my ears. He must have been so desperate to save his marriage that he was twisting the truth. And yet he’d been willing to risk his marriage with his flirtations.

  ‘He’s lying,’ I said to Julie, my eyes on hers.

  Julie laughed. ‘That’s funny, coming from you. Did you know everyone calls you Tall Story Selma?’

  I frowned, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling dwarfed by their remarks.

  ‘All backfired now, hasn’t it?’ Greg said, pointing towards the collapsed cave. ‘The dream’s over, Selma.’

  ‘You’ve torn your family apart for nothing,’ Julie added, shaking her head.

  For nothing.

  Had it really been for nothing? Losing my job, my marriage … losing Becky. I thought of Idris and Oceane. All lost for a pack of lies because, let’s face it, without the appeal of Idris, would I have really stayed in that cave?

  I curled my hands into fists. I couldn’t let it be for nothing. I wouldn’t!

  ‘Accept it, Selma,’ Julie said. ‘You made a mistake – a mistake that has cost you your daughter. Even more so after the cave collapse. There will be no Children of the Current,’ she said, using her fingers for quotation marks, ‘and no cave to take Becky to any more. You can’t keep running away from your problems, Selma. You’re weak.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ I said, glaring at her. ‘I’m strong. We’re all strong.’ I felt resolve build inside. ‘We can get over something like this, you’ll see. And when we do Julie, you’ll always be welcome to come join us. Especially when you see the real Greg.’

  Then I walked away, determination rushing through me.

  I would prove them all wrong! I wouldn’t crumble at the first sign of trouble like my mother did when she was left alone and penniless by her last husband. I’d make this work, no matter what it took.

  As I walked towards the cave, movement above caught my eye. I looked up towards the hotel, noticing someone watching me.

  Idris.

  Why was he up there?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Selma

  Kent, UK

  8 September 1991

  I quickened my step, taking the rickety path that led up towards the hotel from the beach. The steps were cracked and clogged with weeds, the metal handrail rusted.

  When I got to the top, Idris had disappeared. I walked up to the hotel. It looked even more neglected up close with its peeling paint, overgrown grass and cracked windowpanes. I peered in through the cobwebbed windows, noticing a figure slumped over the reception desk inside. It was Idris.

  I tried the handle on the front door. To my surprise, it slipped open. I stepped into the reception area, the sound of my feet echoing around the walls. It was dark and smelt of damp.

  Idris looked up, his cheeks shining with tears.

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ I asked him. ‘You need to be down there with the others.’

  ‘I – I can’t. It’s too much. It’s all my fault. What have I done?’ Idris let out an anguished cry and put his head in his hands. I looked at him in shock. It was so surreal to see him cry, this man who seemed to be made of stone, a god, indestructible. I felt sorry for him, seeing him like this. But I quickly stifled my pity. He’d brought this on himself.

  ‘Stop this,’ I commanded.

  He looked up. ‘Stop what?’

  ‘This self-pity!’ I walked towards the counter, putting my hands on the dusty surface as I glared at him. ‘This is no time for weakness, for Christ’s sake. Be the man they think you are. They need you now more than ever! We have to show everyone we can get through this.’

  ‘What’s the point?’ he said. ‘It’s over. There’s no way we’ll be allowed to stay in the cave now anyway. It’ll be deemed unsafe.’

  ‘Then we fight them! Surely there’s something we can do? A bloody hotel wouldn’t have been built on a cave that was about to crumble, would it?’ I looked towards a closed door behind Idris. ‘Is that the office in there? Maybe there are documents, structural engineering stuff.’

  I went to walk behind the desk but Idris grabbed my hand. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me about Oceane?’

  ‘Do I need to?’ I countered, my voice showing the first sign of a tremble.

  ‘It happened before I even saved the boy. Not after … not when you arrived.’

  ‘Then why the argument in the cave?’

  ‘Just Caden and Oceane having one of their usual dramas. I went in to check on them and Tom must have been drawn in by his sister shouting.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘Really? Why not tell me that when I confronted you with the rumours a few weeks ago?’

  ‘You asked if something was going on between us. It wasn’t then – it had stopped.’

  ‘Oh, stop with that crap!’ I shouted, my voice echoing around the walls. ‘I’ve had enough of it. I need the truth now. If we’re to survive, if the Children of the Current is, I need the truth, every bit of it. Like why are you here, in the hotel? How the hell did you get in?’

  Idris sighed. ‘I used to live here.’

  ‘In the hotel?’

  He nodded. ‘My parents owned this place, the cave too. I used to play hide and seek under here,’ he said, pointing to the space beneath the reception desk. ‘And I’d help my dad pour pints in there,’ he added, gesturing to the bar. ‘Even helped my mum sort the gardens.’

  ‘Is that why you’ve been able to stay in the cave? You own it?’

  He nodded.

  I looked around me, imagining a child running through the hotel’s halls, breathing new life into this place, not as a hotel but as a family home for me and Becky … and for my new baby too. The Children of the Current could still continue, but I’d have a secure home to bring my children up in … and to keep social services at bay if we could move in before the court date in a month or so.

  I grabbed a chair and sat on it, rolling it over to Idris so I was sitting in front of him, knee to knee. I took his hands and looked him right in the eye. ‘So you actually own this hotel?’ I asked him, heart thumping hard against my chest. ‘Your family anyway?’

  ‘Not any more, just the cave.’

  My heart sank. I let go of his hands.

  ‘After my mother died, my father struggled to run the place.’

  ‘You’re a Peterson?’ I whispered. He nodded. ‘Your mother, she …’ I said softly.

  Idris closed his eyes. ‘Yes. She took her own life.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That must have been difficult. Must still be so difficult.’

  He nodded, not saying anything.

  ‘So what happened to the hotel?’ I asked, looking around me, still so disappointed he no longer owned it.

  ‘Dad met someone – a woman. She moved in to help him then they got married.’ His jaw clenched. ‘She was awful. The things she made me do while she lazed around. Sweeping floors, cleaning toilets. Even serving bloody food. I was her male Cinderella. I was just thirteen for Christ’s sake.’ He curled his hands into angry fists. It was good to see the spark back in him, even if he was angry. I’d been worried, seeing him so defeated. I needed him strong now, more than ever. For Becky, for our new child … for the Children of the Current so we could prove everyone wrong.

  ‘Dad turned to drink,’ he continued. ‘It was easy for his new wife to get him to sign the lease over. Funny thing is, the plan was for her to sell it and go off with the money.’ He laughed. ‘Hasn’t been able to sell it though, has she? She refused to budge on the asking price so it’s been on the market for nearly twenty years.’

  ‘Then how were you able to stay in the cave?’

  ‘
That’s one thing that did stay in the Peterson family. My mother used to love writing in there, and Dad couldn’t bring himself to let it go.’

  ‘And where’s your dad now?’ I asked softly.

  ‘Drinking his life away in a flat a couple of miles away from here. That’s why I came back a couple of months ago, to see him after his friend called to say he was in a bad way. I couldn’t face staying in his flat with him and couldn’t afford to pay for a hotel. So I broke into this place,’ he said, looking around him. ‘My old home. What should still be my home if it weren’t for my stepmother. That’s when I saw Oceane. She’d come here some nights with friends to drink, smoke pot.’

  ‘And you slept together?’

  He sighed. ‘She lied about her age. It was stupid, reckless. I was high. I was mourning, too.’

  ‘Mourning?’

  ‘My dad passed away just before I saved the boy.’

  I took in a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I squeezed his hand. He’d experienced such tragedy. ‘Where were you before you came back to see your dad?’ I asked.

  ‘London. I moved there when I was sixteen; I had to get away. Those street artists you see doing caricatures?’ I nodded. ‘That was me until a few months ago.’

  I thought of all the rumours about him: New Zealand, Australia, the States, even Russia. A rock star. A drug dealer. A millionaire. When all along he’d been selling his art on the streets of London.

  ‘Is that how you managed to live when you first got there?’ I asked. ‘Selling art?’

  He avoided my gaze. ‘I had money – money my stepmum thought belonged to her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Dad agreed to make his bank account a joint account with her. She drew a few thousand out once to buy a car, left it on the side as she took a phone call. I grabbed it and ran off with it, heard her shouting out at me as I jumped in the taxi I’d called.’ He swallows, peering out into the darkness. ‘Ever since then, I’ve been looking over my shoulder. She told me once her family were known criminals and that if I crossed her, I’d never be safe. It made me dislike her even more. Maybe she was a criminal herself and was just with my father for the money?’

 

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