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

by Tracy Buchanan

  As I watch him, I understand it’s now over between us.

  I feel a heady mixture of nausea and relief, nausea at how upset the girls will be but relief I’ve finally admitted to myself there’s something deeply wrong with our relationship. As for the girls, I’ve learned from bitter experience, if a relationship is flawed, no good can come of it for the children involved.

  I look down at the envelope then tear it open. It’s a leaflet from an accommodation complex called The Lotus in Tonsai Bay, the area we first arrived at when we got here. Attached to it is a note in Thai.

  Sam takes it. ‘I know a bit of Thai.’ He scans the note then peers up at me. ‘Looks like Niran has a contact in the Thai police who’s been compiling names of people who stayed in resorts on the south of the island. Turns out Holly James was staying at The Lotus. So was Claire Shreve.’

  ‘Then we have to go there,’ I say. ‘If Mum was looking for Holly, maybe she went to this hotel, too?’

  I take in a deep breath and brace myself for what I’m soon to see.

  22

  Dubai, Uae

  2004

  Dubai astounded Claire when she first arrived: a mirage of a city erupting from the sand with its glistening skyscrapers and robotic cranes. It felt like the beginning of something hopeful and ambitious. And though Claire soon learned of the sacrifices made to bring it that far and the tragedies had that brought it to life, she couldn’t help but still regard it in awe.

  As for the gaping hole left by Milo’s absence, she stared it in the face and it stared right back at her. She’d refused to see him after his confession about Erin. He’d written to her, begging her not to give up on him. But she couldn’t handle the lies any more, despite how much she desperately loved him. She’d worked so hard to face the truth of her own tragedy, her infertility, that she craved honesty. Milo was too entangled in lies, not just small lies but the worst kind of lies. For her own well-being, she needed to be away from all that. So that’s what she told him in her reply to his letter. What she didn’t tell him was that each morning when she woke, her mind hiccupped and floundered like an old computer as it tried to grapple with the concept of him not being there beside her.

  Claire stayed with her sister in the grim year following the awards ceremony, freelancing from their spare room, trying to figure out what was next for her. Without Milo, she felt she’d lost her compass. When it was confirmed that the body that had been found was Erin’s, and the fisherman’s hut she’d been found in belonged to Dale, there had been an inquest into her death. Claire accompanied Holly to the inquest after she begged her to and it had been heart-wrenching to see the way Milo had looked at her with such desperate sadness in his eyes as he gave his evidence. After a while, she couldn’t take it any more and had to look away, just as he had looked away all those years ago in that courtroom in Exeter. When it came to him providing evidence, he recounted exactly what he’d told Claire, adding that he’d presumed Erin’s body had simply disappeared into the sea. But as the inquest went on, it became clear Dale must have found Erin’s body then hidden it in his hut after a local coastguard logged his boat circling the coastline in the weeks following her accident. In the end, the coroner returned a verdict of misadventure.

  She left the inquest before Milo could talk to her, knowing her resolve would falter being in such close proximity to him. The inquest seemed to create a new resolve in Claire too. It had felt as though she’d been living in limbo at her sister’s in the year since the awards ceremony. But after the inquest, she decided to rent a small flat in London and got a temporary contract working for a travel magazine for a few months. Then, a few months later, Jay’s editor friend Pinar offered her a contract with Time magazine based in Dubai. She took it up without hesitation, seeing in 2004 on the plane ride out there. It was the accumulation of everything she’d been working towards these past few years: writing articles of substance. She even wrote about her experiences with infertility, and it allowed her to map out her journey of grief, a journey she was still on. First the horror she felt at never holding a child in her arms, then her anger at a society that refused to acknowledge the validity of a woman who couldn’t be a mother. And then her struggle to prove her validity through her writing before, finally, a calm acceptance of the path that was stretching out before her.

  She made new friends in Dubai, had old friends come to stay. And they all commented at how together she seemed. Only one friend, Jodie, seemed to notice the sadness Claire saw in her own eyes each morning when she woke to find Milo not there. But Jodie didn’t say anything, nor did Claire. What use was it? Everyone has their ghosts, as Filipe had once said. They haunt us but we grow so used to them, it isn’t long before they’re another shadow, another cloud.

  Jay visited her in November. She hadn’t seen him in a while and when he approached her as she waited in the rusty old car she’d won in a bet with another journalist – same plush suit, same curly blond hair – it hit her just how much she’d missed him. She pushed open the passenger door. ‘Come on, you old snob. I know it’s not an Aston Martin but you have no choice.’

  He slung his Louis Vuitton bag in the back and slipped into the passenger seat, throwing her his trademark smile. ‘As long as I get to choose where we go for lunch.’

  ‘Don’t you always?’

  His eyes softened. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too.’

  He pulled her into a hug and she smiled as she breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

  Two hours later, they were looking out over the turquoise Persian Gulf in one of Dubai’s most luxurious restaurants. Nearby, the windows of steel buildings laddered up into a hazy blue sky, while the sea shimmered below. Combined with the shiny cars that glided past and pavements so pristine they glistened, it felt as though they were surrounded by mirrors. It was such a contrast to Australia with its curves and soft reds.

  ‘Jesus, Jay, I thought you said we were getting a bite to eat?’ Claire said.

  ‘Have you learned nothing about me?’

  She laughed and three businessmen turned to look at them. Claire wondered what they thought: Jay with his ridiculously expensive suit and glossy blond curls, Claire with her messy dark hair and frayed T-shirt. Maybe they looked just as they should, a rich flamboyant man talking to a busy journalist.

  ‘I can’t believe you haven’t been here already,’ Jay said, nodding at the waiter hovering over them to pour more champagne in their glasses.

  ‘If you knew what construction workers had to go through to build this place, you might think twice.’

  ‘Ah, I sense the award-winning journalist has her teeth sunk into a story.’

  ‘I’ve just finished the first draft actually,’ she said, popping a shawarma into her mouth, the delicious mixture of soft lamb, zingy spices and nutty tahini dip bursting in her mouth.

  He peered towards Claire’s bag. ‘Do you have a copy?’

  ‘It’s not exactly what Pinar had in mind.’

  ‘So you’re going off the grid, are you? Be careful, my dear. Pinar doesn’t like it when people disobey her orders.’ He put his hand out. ‘Do share.’

  ‘I don’t know. It needs a lot of work.’

  ‘Oh come now, don’t be coy with me.’

  She sighed, reaching into her bag. Whenever she wrote something new and fresh, it felt so delicate, like someone else’s touch might make it crumble away. She handed the printout over and Jay took it, leaning back in his chair.

  As he read it, Claire drank her champagne, nervously watching his face for signs of response. She’d been working on the article for weeks now. Only that morning, she’d been interviewing a construction worker willing to go on record about the appalling conditions he lived in as the city he helped build grew bigger and richer. Maybe she was becoming a little obsessed with that, finding the reality beneath the veil of happiness, having denied the truth coiled up beneath her and Milo’s veil of happiness for too long.

&nbs
p; She studied Jay’s face as he read her article, his white eyelashes, his plump lips. She was so used to seeing Milo’s dusky skin and dark eyes, he looked almost alien to Claire.

  He peered up at her. ‘Your writing’s changed.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘There’s a fierce, frantic rawness to this.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’

  ‘I think so. Though it scares me a little.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What was it your father said in the note he wrote before he left? Marching off the map, darling, that’s why.’

  ‘I’m not marching off the map!’ Claire said, annoyed Jay had brought that note up. ‘I’m firmly on the map, thanks.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he said, looking unconvinced. ‘Speaking of which, I’ve seen the stories about Holly.’

  Claire sighed. Holly was taking a gap year, using the money she’d been given from the farm sale to travel around Thailand with some friends she’d made at university. Occasionally, the tabloids ran photos of her, stumbling out of clubs, eyes glazed. Claire often wondered if Milo had seen those photos, wherever he was. Holly had told her he was travelling around various farms in Europe, getting work where he could.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Holly a few times,’ Claire said to Jay. ‘She assures me she’s just doing what most twenty-one-year-olds do: having fun. I can’t say I led a sober life myself at that age so it’s difficult to judge.’

  ‘But you didn’t see your uncle shoot your father,’ Jay said quietly. ‘Nor your mother fall over the edge of a cliff.’

  Claire sighed. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Enough of this morbid talk,’ Jay said, making his voice bright again, sensing her discomfort. ‘Over the next three days, you’re going to take a break from your scribbling and we’re going to have the time of our lives. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds wonderful.’

  And it was as he dragged her on lots of adventures, from camel rides and a desert safari in a four-by-four where they smashed over sandy dunes, to evening river cruises and an oasis experience in the desert with belly dancers and henna tattoos where they both got horribly drunk on yet more champagne.

  On the third night, they stumbled back to the house Jay had hired for his stay, a sprawling one-storey condo overlooking a stretch of beach, Dubai’s stunning skyline glimmering in the distance. Claire sunk down onto one of the massive plump cushions as Jay poured her some wine, the exotic smell of spices and perfumes drifting from the market below and making her feel even more heady.

  ‘You could get put away for that,’ she said, peering at the bottle. ‘You’re not supposed to keep alcohol.’

  ‘Who’s going to tell?’

  ‘Maybe me.’

  ‘You’ll be too drunk, they won’t believe you.’

  She laughed as he handed over her glass of wine. ‘You really are changing, my dear. It’s not just your writing.’

  ‘God, Jay, you’re making me paranoid.’

  ‘Really! Your face is changing. The way you hold yourself too.’ He put his glass on the ground and took Claire’s glass, placing it next to his. Then he took her hand. ‘Come see,’ he said, pulling her up.

  She let him lead her towards a huge gilded mirror inside, her head spinning slightly from the wine she’d been drinking all night.

  ‘Stand here,’ he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and making her stand right in front of the mirror. ‘Look at yourself.’

  She let her eyes travel up and down the reflection in front of her. She’d put on the weight she’d lost in Australia thanks to her love of Middle Eastern food. Beneath the eggshell-coloured dress she’d bought in the Gold Souk the week before, her legs looked bronzed, her arms too. Her hair was very long and dark now, curling down to her elbows.

  Apart from the lines around her eyes, she looked like the old Claire, the carefree traveller she’d been as a teenager before she’d discovered her dad in that bedsit.

  ‘Step closer,’ Jay said, making her shuffle forward. ‘Look into your eyes.’

  ‘You sound like an actor in a cheesy film.’

  ‘I’m serious, Claire.’

  She looked at Jay in the reflection. His face was very serious, his eyes searching out hers in the reflection. She sighed, and did as he asked, looking right into her own eyes. They blinked back at her, brown, tired, eyelids drooping slightly from the wine.

  ‘I said it scared me but the fact is, you’ve carved a place for yourself,’ Jay said. ‘You’re strong, you’re independent, you have a wonderful career. It’s everything you ever dreamed of.’

  Except for Milo, she wanted to whisper, the love of my life.

  For a second, she thought she could see him reflected in her eyes. She closed them, heart pounding. Jay was right. She was finally finding her way in life and that way had to be without Milo. But she hadn’t changed there, in Dubai. She’d started changing the moment she met Milo. And that’s why it had all been so painful. Weren’t all metamorphoses? Bones crunching into place, skin stretching. Now it was complete, no wonder she was starting to feel healed.

  Was it the same for Milo, wherever he was? Was he feeling healed?

  Jay suddenly leaned down, pressing his lips softly against her neck.

  She stepped away from him in surprise.

  His face dropped.

  ‘I adore you, Jay, and think you’re bloody gorgeous—’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But I value our friendship so much, I don’t want to ruin it. Not just that. What I had with Milo was so overwhelming, I know it would be a mistake to jump into another relationship, because I know that’s what this would become if we let it go further. Do you understand?’

  Claire’s phone started buzzing. She went to press the ignore button then hesitated. It was an international number, one she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Get it,’ Jay said, sighing.

  She went to tuck her phone away. ‘No, Jay.’

  ‘Please.’ He turned away, taking in the cityscape with a sad look on his face.

  She hesitated a moment then answered the phone. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Claire?’

  She recognised the voice instantly. ‘Alex! Is everything okay?’

  ‘It’s Holly,’ her nephew replied.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is she okay?’

  ‘I think she wants to kill herself.’

  Panic mounted inside. ‘My God. What happened?’

  ‘I found her in the sea. She nearly drowned, Claire.’

  ‘Is she in hospital?’

  Jay turned back to her, frowning.

  ‘No,’ Alex said. ‘She’s with me, she’s safe for now.’

  ‘Is she still in Thailand?’

  ‘Yes, we’re in Ko Phi Phi Don. She’s asking for you, Claire. Will you come?’

  Claire took a deep breath. ‘Of course. I’ll book a flight out as soon as I can. I’ll call you once I know. Keep Holly close, Alex. Don’t let her out of your sight.’

  ‘I won’t. Thanks, Claire.’

  She put the phone down then looked up at Jay. ‘That was my nephew. Holly’s in trouble. I need to book a flight out to Thailand.’ Jay didn’t say anything. ‘Jay?’

  ‘I’ve tried to keep up with you, Claire, I really have,’ he said. ‘I knew as soon as I got here a few days ago you’ve got itchy feet again. Dubai can’t keep hold of you, just like Australia couldn’t, nor Serbia or Finland. You’re more like your father than you know.’

  ‘I’m doing this for Holly, Jay.’

  ‘Yes, but what’s the betting you’ll stay there a few weeks, maybe months? That wanderlust inside you is batting its wings; I can almost hear it from here. You yearn to march off the map.’

  Claire frowned.

  ‘I know you don’t like me using that quote,’ Jay said, ‘but your father’s problem wasn’t marching off the map, darling, it was the fact he was alone when he did it. If you’re with Milo, you won’t be alone.’

  ‘Milo isn’t there, I swea
r. This is for Holly, you know how much she means to me.’

  He sighed. ‘Holly. Milo. Either of them. They’ve both engrained themselves into you. If you’re with one of them, you’ll be fine. Let me make some calls, see if I can get you on the next flight.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose we do these things for the people we love.’

  ‘Love?’

  His blue eyes sunk into hers. ‘You’ve never understood, have you? You’re my Milo.’

  ‘Oh Jay…’

  Claire reached out for him but he turned away, picking up his phone. ‘I’ll get your flight sorted,’ he said with a resigned sigh.

  23

  Ko Phi Phi Don, Thailand

  2004

  When Claire arrived in Ao Nang two days later, she felt swallowed up by the place. The rush of colourful tuk-tuks along the dusty roads and the screech of the monkeys hanging from the shoulders of passing men disorientated her, so much so she had to sit down to regain her composure. And yet she’d been to far busier places. Perhaps her heart was longing for some time away from the heat after the stretches of time she’d spent travelling hot lands lately. She almost found herself yearning for the cold of Finland.

  Just as she was thinking that, she noticed Alex walking towards her, even taller and broader than before. She called out his name and ran towards him, shoving in between shoulders and shopping bags.

  He smiled when he saw her. ‘Aunt Claire!’

  ‘How are you?’ she asked, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

  ‘All right. You?’

  ‘Not bad.’

  ‘You didn’t tell Mum, did you? She thinks I’m still at uni.’

  ‘Of course not. Have you actually dropped out?’

  Alex shrugged. ‘They’ll probably take me back but I don’t want to be a solicitor, never have really.’