The Lost Mother: An absolutely gripping and emotional read that will have you hooked

by Tracy Buchanan

  Milo frowned. ‘Is this what this is about? You feeling like you’re holding him back? Maybe he doesn’t feel that way at all.’

  Claire shook her head. ‘He does.’ It was right at that moment she realised Ben wanted it to be over. He was just too kind to do the ending.

  And Claire wanted it to be over, too.

  It all got too much then, the tears starting to come. She didn’t want Milo to see her like this so she scraped her chair back and ran to the toilets. When she got there, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her face looked like it was stuck mid-argument: skin stretched, the tops of her cheeks red, eyes angry.

  Her face crumpled and she slumped down into the wicker chair next to the sinks, sobbing into her hands. Her marriage was over, and she was terrified. Terrified of what the future held, terrified of the road she’d be forced to take. It wasn’t just Ben she was leaving behind, it was kids too. There was the possibility of adoption with Ben. But if she stepped away from her life with him now, that might mean turning her back on ever having a family.

  ‘So be it,’ she said, her jaw clenching. ‘This is what fate’s dealt me. So be it.’

  She took a deep breath, got up and patted some water over her face before walking back outside, pausing at the entrance when she noticed Milo leaning over the railings with Archie, pointing something out to him as Blue stood with his paws on the railings.

  How could it have taken a farmer from Exmoor to help her see the truth?

  She walked towards him.

  He turned when he heard her approach. ‘I’m so sorry, it’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about it all.’

  ‘No, it’s helped. Really…’ She paused, trying to hold herself together. ‘I need to accept my marriage is over. I think Ben has; it’s time I did too.’

  On the way back, Milo let Claire quietly sob as she digested the acknowledgement she’d just made about her marriage. Her heart ached for Ben and every wonderful moment they’d shared: the footprints they’d made in the sand during their wonderful honeymoon in Sardinia; the way he’d carried her over the threshold the day they’d moved into their house; the long dinners they’d shared with their friends, talking into the early hours. There were sad moments too, the touch of his hand when she woke from being sedated in their IVF clinic, the tears they’d shared at yet another negative pregnancy test.

  After a while, they reached a small village crammed with thatched-roof cottages. The sun was starting to set, casting a pink glow over the village. As Milo drove into its centre, a castle appeared. Claire looked up, wiping the tears from her cheeks and smiling slightly.

  Milo smiled as he noticed her reaction. ‘Nunney Castle,’ he said. ‘We used to come here as kids – Dale, Jen and me. I thought you might need something to smile about.’

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  As they drew closer, she could see its exterior walls were discoloured and crumbling, its turrets falling apart, huge weeds curling around their bases. Circling the castle was a moat, grey water glistening in the setting sun, ducks shaking their wings on its banks.

  They left the dogs in the car and stepped inside the castle, taking in the disintegrating walls and empty windows which looked out onto the pink sky. Claire pulled out her camera, noticing how perfect the light was.

  She started taking pictures as Milo leaned against a nearby wall and watched her. She tried not to get distracted by the sight of him there, his dark hair in his eyes, arms crossed.

  ‘I can imagine you living somewhere with no roof,’ she said as she crouched down to take a picture of a cobweb that stretched across a crook in the wall.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘You always like to be outdoors. I bet you have the window wide open in your room when you sleep, even in the winter.’

  She thought about watching him sleep. She imagined the way his eyelashes would curl over his skin, the way his mouth would open slightly, the way his dark hair would look against a white pillow. She pressed her nails into the skin of her palms to drive the thoughts away.

  ‘I’m not that daft, though I do like to camp out in the summer and sleep under the stars,’ he said. ‘Funny you say that, though. When my grandfather went to Greece, he slept on the beach for a week because he couldn’t afford a hotel.’

  ‘He sounds really interesting.’

  ‘He was; it’s great reading all his letters. Shame things ended for him the way they did.’ Claire thought again of what Henry had told her and Milo rolled his eyes. ‘Henry told you, didn’t he? I can tell from the look on your face.’

  ‘He did mention something.’

  ‘He probably forgot to mention my grandfather had liver disease and was in terrible pain, according to his final letters. He couldn’t take the pain any more.’

  Claire thought of the pain her own dad had suffered. ‘That must’ve been difficult, making that decision, going through with it,’ she said.

  Milo sighed. ‘I understand why he did it. I’d do the same. But it hasn’t exactly helped our family’s reputation.’

  ‘What reputation?’

  His jaw clenched as he looked down at the dusty ground. ‘Mum used to say the James family was cursed – the “James Curse”. There’s lots of stuff in our family’s past going back generations, various scandals. That farmhouse has seen more action than most. If it weren’t for our mad family, we’d have a lot more money, that’s for sure. I personally think it’s more about the James’ propensity for depression. My dad had problems with drinking, probably the reason he had a heart attack in the end.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Milo.’

  ‘It was hard growing up. Just hope I don’t end up the same,’ he mumbled.

  ‘You don’t strike me as being like that,’ Claire said softly.

  He smiled. ‘Mum said the same. She said I’m different from the other James men. Apart from the sleeping in the open, that is,’ he added, raising an eyebrow. He looked up at what remained of the castle walls. ‘Reminds me of Venice in this light,’ he said. ‘Pink crumbling rocks, the strange gaping emptiness of it all.’

  ‘Very poetic. When did you go?’

  ‘School trip ages ago. Haven’t you been?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I found it a tad tacky actually. It was probably nicer before the twentieth century got hold of it.’

  Claire smiled. ‘I’m pleased you said that. I always thought the same.’

  Milo stepped into a large hole in the wall. ‘This’ll make a good photo,’ he said, peering up. ‘Come look.’

  ‘Can it fit us both in?’

  ‘Sure.’

  It wasn’t so dark inside but it was small, just wide enough to fit three, maybe four people. Milo blinked at Claire in the gloom and her heart rebounded against her chest. She wondered if he could hear it in such a small, quiet space.

  ‘Here,’ he said, taking her shoulders and twisting her around so she was facing outwards again.

  Her arms tingled at the feel of his fingertips through the thin material of her cardigan. She pressed the camera into her chest to try to still her heart.

  ‘See,’ he murmured into her ear, his lips close to her neck. ‘You get a great angle from here.’

  It was true. The sky was framed by the jagged outline of the entrance to this small hideaway, orange light gleaming in through all the different-sized windows. But Claire could hardly focus on it; all she could sense was Milo behind her.

  ‘Look up,’ he said, smiling. She lifted her camera but he put his hand on her arm. ‘Without hiding behind that camera of yours. Look with your eyes.’

  She lowered her camera and did as he asked, taking in the slice of red sky that showed through the gap in the ceiling above. He was so close now, she could feel his breath on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost feel his lips there. She closed her eyes. She had two choices: step away into the safety of the castle, or stay here and see where the moment took them.

  Her dad had said something similar a few d
ays before he left: I want to see where the moment takes me. I want to try a new path.

  Where had that led him? Dying of cancer all alone, that’s where.

  Claire stepped out of the crevice and thought she heard Milo sigh.

  ‘We better head back to the car,’ he said after a while. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

  Claire saw Milo as soon as she stepped into the wedding marquee the next day. He was standing with Holly in a dark grey suit, pulling awkwardly at the collar of his white shirt as he watched Matt and Sarah’s wedding guests walk in from the warm autumnal evening. When he caught sight of Claire, he stopped what he was doing and smiled.

  She smoothed down her hair, then walked up to him and Holly, feeling awkward in her oriental dress, the kitten heels of her shoes digging into the mud.

  ‘I love your dress, Claire,’ Holly said. ‘Is it from your travels?’

  Claire nodded. ‘Japan.’

  ‘I’d so love to go there! A Japanese lady came to school to tell us about their culture. It’s so different from boring old England,’ she said, wrinkling her nose as she looked towards the farmhouse.

  Claire smiled. She remembered feeling the same each time her family returned to the UK for a family event. ‘Maybe you will go to Japan one day.’ She took in Holly’s dress, the same blue taffeta one she’d worn for her birthday. ‘You look pretty yourself, Holly.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Dad said he can’t afford a new one,’ she said. ‘It’s too childish. They’ll all think I’m a little girl.’

  ‘No they won’t,’ Milo said, putting his hand on his niece’s shoulder. ‘Claire’s right, you look really pretty in it.’ Holly looked up at Milo, beaming.

  Claire pulled the bejewelled clip from her hair. ‘Take this,’ she said to Holly. ‘It goes better with your dress than mine.’

  Milo smiled.

  ‘Oh, I can’t!’ Holly said.

  ‘Please, consider it a belated birthday present. A freedom fighter in India gave it to me when I was about your age, so you can wear it and feel very grown up knowing that.’

  Holly’s eyes lit up as she took it, staring down at it in her open palm as Milo mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Claire.

  ‘The heroes!’ someone shouted out.

  They turned to see Matt strolling towards them. He was clearly already drunk but looked happy and very handsome in a black morning suit and pink cravat. He pulled Claire and Milo into a sweaty hug, pressing their faces together as Holly laughed. Then he beckoned some friends over and they spent the next twenty minutes listening to him tell the story of his ‘rescue’ all over again.

  ‘If I have to hear that story again,’ a familiar voice murmured next to Claire, ‘I think I’ll combust.’

  She smiled. ‘Hello, Jay.’

  He was wearing an usher’s suit in a similar style to Matt’s but he’d added a dash of his own style with a smart top hat and pink silk handkerchief.

  ‘I’m pleased you’re here,’ he said, completely ignoring Milo. ‘I want you to meet Yasmine. She’s an associate editor at Travel magazine in the US and was only saying the other day how she needs some fresh blood on her editorial team.’

  Travel was big, glossy and had a huge circulation aimed at people who had the money to discover new places without missing out on the luxuries. Her dad would turn in his grave at the thought of her working for a ‘sell-out’ magazine, as he’d call it. But she’d heard great things about the way they treated their staff, a contrast to her current employers. And if her marriage was really over, she’d need a change. She couldn’t face continuing to live in Reading, seeing the same people, bumping into Ben.

  Milo took Archie’s lead from Claire. ‘You go ahead, Claire. Holly and I will take Archie and go find Blue. We’ll come back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jay said. ‘Lugging a dog about isn’t going to impress Yasmine.’

  Milo smiled tightly then strode off with Holly as she twisted around to frown at them.

  ‘Come,’ Jay said, steering Claire towards a group of people.

  She didn’t see Milo ‘in a few minutes’. In fact, she spent the next hour talking to the editor Jay had mentioned, as well as a host of ‘important people’ she couldn’t get away from. When she finally did extract herself, she couldn’t find Milo, just Holly who was feeding Archie wedding cake under a table at the back.

  She stood on her own, imagining what it would be like at future weddings without Ben. She’d cope. She’d always been independent. She glanced at Yasmine. Maybe she wouldn’t have time to go to weddings if she was jet-setting around the world with Travel magazine? It was a completely different vibe from her magazine – which was run on a shoestring – and from her ramshackle travelling days with her family. She’d be drawn into a different world, a world with money and privilege. Did she want that, no matter how much of a welcome change it offered? She looked over at Jay, who was clearly used to a world like that. One of the bridesmaids he was talking to, a beautiful girl with long black hair, let out an ear-piercing laugh as he whispered something in her ear.

  ‘What is he like?’ Claire turned to see Sarah smiling down at her. She’d seen her earlier, looking dazzling in her sleek ivory wedding dress; her curly blonde hair was piled on top of her head, set off by a silver and pink tiara. ‘I thought he was gay the first time I met him. But he’s since slept with half my friends. And that fashion sense of his? Turns out he got all his style from his mother: she was a fashion designer. She died when he was young and his dad’s a typical rich banker type, hence Jay’s job at the Daily Telegraph. But his heart is in culture and the arts.’

  Maybe herself and Jay weren’t so different.

  Sarah peered towards a woman with black hair. ‘You must meet my boss, Audrey Monroe, later. Have you heard of her?’

  Claire shook her head.

  ‘She set up her own foundation, the Audrey Monroe Foundation,’ Sarah explained. ‘It helps animals affected by war. Our volunteers are in Chechnya right now and I’m due to go to Serbia in a year or so, my first trip for work. We rely on volunteers to pass the message around, so please do.’

  ‘I will. Sounds like a wonderful charity.’

  Sarah looked around her. ‘Where’s Milo?’

  ‘I don’t know. He just disappeared.’

  ‘I suppose this isn’t his kind of thing really, is it? All these people, hemmed in by white plastic?’

  Claire laughed. ‘No, you’re right.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’ Claire’s laughter trickled away. Sarah clearly hadn’t noticed her wedding ring. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t let a hunky farmer like Milo slip from my grasp. In fact, I’d be down at the stream at this very moment.’

  ‘The stream?’

  ‘He’s there, I saw him a moment ago when I popped out for some fresh air. Archie’s fine.’ Claire followed Sarah’s gaze towards Archie, who was tentatively lifting his paw towards Holly as she dangled a piece of wedding cake over his nose. ‘Go on, go find Milo. Make sure your dog isn’t the only one having some fun tonight,’ she added with a wink.

  Claire looked out into the warm summer evening, the soft tinkle of the nearby stream calling out to her like a siren, the champagne running through her veins making her feel brave and foolish. Maybe Sarah was right, maybe she shouldn’t let a man like Milo slip from her grasp? She put her arms around herself and stepped out of the marquee, the grass tickling her toes…

  4

  Krabi, Thailand

  2004

  I look up from the note I’d found in Claire Shreve’s atlas, eyes blinking into the sun as I peer out of the window. Huge mountains hover in the distance, large signs and palm trees jostling for position on the dusty roadsides. I think we’re in Ao Nang now, I recognise it from the tourist book I got at the airport. But the busy market stalls they showed in the photos are empty, the glimpses of a sweeping yellow beach in the distance clear of crowds. I’d heard it wasn’t hit as badly as other resorts I’d seen on the news, henc
e choosing it as somewhere to stay. Its location meant the power of the waves had dissipated a little by the time they reached its shores. But lives were still claimed here, and I see signs of that now: wood clogging the road’s edges, photos hung up on walls, ripped clothes tangled around lampposts. And then there’s the eerie silence.

  I quickly gather my stuff and stand on shaky legs, moving down the middle of the bus as quickly as I can as it bounces up and down. ‘Stop?’ I say to the bus driver. ‘Can you stop please?’

  He seems to be ignoring me. I panic. What if he doesn’t stop and takes me to some far-flung town? I shake his shoulder and point out the window. He brings the bus to an abrupt stop and I stumble backwards, my mum’s bag dropping from my shoulder and its contents spilling out onto the bus’s floor. The Thai couple next to me scramble to pick everything up, even smiling at me as they do so. I’m grateful for their kindness and smile back.

  When I get off the bus, I look up and down the street, trying to recognise the orange exterior of my hotel. Then I notice it a few doors down, one of several small two-storey buildings sitting right in the heart of Ao Nang’s shopping district. Though the streets are quiet, there are people milling about, including exhausted-looking relatives handing out posters of their loved ones.

  I check in, struggling with the heavily accented voice of the receptionist, then head to my room. It looks different from what I expected, more ‘Western’, with clean white sheets over the small double bed, a dark wooden table fitted to the wall, with a leather-topped stool, a small balcony overlooking the quiet streets. A fan whirs above. I walk across the cream-tiled floor, my shoes making a clicking sound. The wardrobe is the only indication of the country I’m in, made from thick pale wood, two square panels with ornate wooden carvings running down each door. As I move past it, I breathe in the faint scent of eucalyptus.