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

by Tracy Buchanan

  As they headed towards Claire’s bungalow, they passed Nora’s resort. There was almost nothing left, though Nora’s distinctive painting was just discernible, lying against a palm tree in the distance, wrecked and broken.

  A man was walking through the debris with a little boy, calling out a woman’s name. In the distance, volunteers loaded bodies onto the back of a truck.

  Claire could hardly believe she’d been there on Christmas Day, the sea so calm and beautiful nearby, no clue of what was to come.

  ‘Your bungalow might not be so bad,’ Milo said, squeezing Claire’s hand as he noticed the look on her face.

  But when they drew closer to the complex of bungalows where Claire had been staying, it was even worse. The huts were mostly flattened, victims laid out nearby covered in plastic sheets , volunteers looking over them with clipboards in their hands.

  ‘Jesus,’ Alex said. ‘Nora wouldn’t have survived this if she was here when the wave hit.’

  ‘If she ran she might have,’ Holly said, her voice trembling. ‘We did.’

  ‘Wait here a minute,’ Milo said to Holly and Alex. He took Claire’s hand and they walked over to the volunteers, trying not to look at the bodies, their hands over their noses, still not quite used to the smell.

  The volunteers looked up as they approached. Their eyes looked exhausted over the top of their masks, red-rimmed and glassy.

  ‘We’re looking for our friend,’ Claire said. ‘A woman called Nora McKenzie? She’s British, dark curly hair, in her late forties or early fifties, I think.’

  One of the volunteers, a woman with a shock of red hair, shook her head. ‘We haven’t come across her,’ she said in a German accent. ‘She doesn’t fit the description of any of these people either,’ she added, looking down at the bodies laid out before her, her eyes sad.

  Claire sighed and looked towards where her bungalow had been. It seemed more intact than the others. Maybe Nora had a chance? She quickened her step, clambering over a broken suitcase and a mangled bed frame, the remains of the bed she’d slept in during her time there. There were just three walls remaining, the roof completely gone. Lying in the middle of it all was a palm tree. Milo walked around, manoeuvring items to look under them. They didn’t say it, but the truth was, they were searching for Nora’s body… or some trace of her anyway.

  ‘Claire!’

  They both turned to see a man running towards them in a tan suit, blond curly hair lifting with each step.

  ‘Jay!’ Claire ran towards him and he picked her up, twirling her around.

  ‘You’re alive!’ he said, blue eyes filled with tears. He sounded frantic, his voice full of emotion. He set her down, eyes exploring her face. ‘I thought you were dead. I – I saw your body, I—’

  ‘My body?’

  Jay nodded. ‘I managed to get to Ko Pho Phi Don a couple of days after I arrived. I couldn’t believe what a state this place was in. I searched the island, trying to find a trace of you. Nothing. Then someone told me they were taking bodies over to a temple in Krabi. So I went straight to the temple yesterday. That’s when I thought I saw your body.’

  Claire put her hand on his arm.

  ‘She was wearing the typewriter necklace I got you. It was custom-made, I knew straight away it was yours, she had your atlas in her bag.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Claire said, putting her face in her hands as the realisation dawned on her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Jay asked.

  ‘Nora McKenzie, Erin’s best friend,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I gave her the necklace to say thanks.’

  Jay raked his fingers through his curly blond hair. ‘Christ, poor woman. I told her daughter I recognised the name but—’

  ‘Daughter?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Yes, Louise. She was at the temple trying to find her mother yesterday. She has your atlas.’

  Claire nodded sadly. ‘Nora retrieved it from Nathan Styles.’

  ‘Then the body’s definitely hers, isn’t it?’ Milo said.

  Jay nodded. ‘Must be.’

  ‘Where’s Louise now?’ Claire asked Jay.

  ‘I feel terrible. I was supposed to be meeting her this morning.’

  Claire sank down onto the bed frame. ‘So Louise has no idea her mum’s dead?’

  ‘I presume not. Look, I can get my man to take us back to Krabi, but he won’t be available for another few hours. I haven’t eaten all day. There’s volunteers serving food at a café down the road, shall we wait there?’

  ‘Good idea.’ Milo stood and put his hand out to Claire but she stayed where she was. ‘We can go to the temple, make sure Nora’s body is looked after then try to get hold of her daughter when we get back to the UK. Let’s get something to eat first.’

  ‘I want to stay here,’ Claire said. ‘Just for a bit.’

  ‘It's getting dark,’ Milo said, peering towards the setting sun. ‘I’ll stay with you.’

  ‘I’d like to be alone if that’s all right. Come get me after you’ve eaten. I’m not hungry anyway.’

  He scrutinised her face then nodded. ‘Okay.’ He turned to Jay. It was strange seeing them together, Milo’s yin to Jay’s yang. ‘Thanks for coming out here, Jay,’ he said, putting his hand out to him.

  Jay hesitated a moment then shook it. ‘You’d have done the same.’

  ‘I would.’

  They went to walk away then Jay paused, turning back to Claire. ‘I forgot to say, Nathan Styles is missing. His article was never filed, not that it would have made it anyway with this all over the news,’ he said, looking around him with sad eyes.

  When they were gone, Claire walked around what remained of her bungalow. Was it possible Nora had been here when the wave hit? She peered towards the toppled palm tree blocking the door to the bathroom. Maybe she got trapped?

  Claire sunk to the ground, watching as the sun cast a fiery glow over the sea.

  ‘Oh Nora,’ she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

  27

  Ko Phi Phi Don, Thailand

  2004

  I hold my breath as the woman kneeling in the sand turns.

  Is it Mum?

  But as she comes into view, I realise this woman is younger than my mum, her brown eyes larger, her cheeks fuller. She stands and, in that moment, I realise who she is, her face instantly recognisable from the photos in her atlas.

  ‘Claire Shreve,’ I say, even though I know that can’t be possible.

  She frowns and I can tell from the way she’s looking at me, I’m right. It feels strange to see her standing before me, the very woman whose atlas I’ve been travelling with the past two days, whose life I’ve been dipping in and out of. She seems different from how I imagined: a little older, even more petite than in her photos.

  And she’s alive.

  ‘Do I know you?’ Claire asks us.

  ‘I’m Louise. Nora’s daughter?’

  She puts her hand to her mouth, and there’s a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach as I take in the expression on her face.

  ‘You must be wondering what we’re talking about,’ Sam says as I find it difficult to talk, my mouth opening and closing, head spinning. ‘I volunteer at a temple in Krabi and a man named Jay Hemingford identified you – well, I guess it wasn’t you. There was a necklace…?’

  ‘My necklace,’ Claire says. She turns to me. ‘I’m sorry, Louise. I gave your mum my necklace as a gift.’

  I think of the typewriter necklace tangled around that body’s swollen neck and start trembling.

  ‘Do you think we could go somewhere to talk?’ Claire asks. ‘There’s a café that’s open up—’

  ‘No!’ I say, trying to muffle the rising panic inside. ‘If you have something to say, say it now.’

  She pauses, her eyes flittering to Sam then back to me. Then she steps towards me, putting her hand on my arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Louise, but – but your mother didn’t make it. We think it’s her at the temple.’

  I feel my legs go
weak and slowly sink down to the sand, looking up at the star-speckled sky. Every clue, every step of this journey has been taking me to Claire, not Mum. All this time, it was Mum’s body lying in that morgue. My God, how could I have left her alone there?

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Sam says, sinking down beside me and taking my hand.

  I look up at Claire, the tears in my eyes distorting her face, making her look like a ghost. ‘Do you know what happened?’

  ‘No,’ Claire said. ‘But I think she might have been here when the wave hit.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ I ask, needing to be sure.

  ‘A journalist stole my atlas, the one you found in your mother’s bag. It had something sensitive in there, something that meant he could run a horrible story back home about the daughter of your mother’s best friend. Your mother got the atlas back for me.’

  ‘But why was Mum here at your bungalow when the wave hit?’

  Claire puts her hand on my arm, her dark eyes in mine. ‘She called just before the tsunami hit to say she’d be waiting here to give me my atlas back.’ She peers at the palm tree blocking the door. ‘I think she got trapped.’

  I follow her gaze and feel sick at the thought of Mum being trapped here, helpless as the wave headed for her.

  ‘Just because Mum got the atlas doesn’t mean the story’s not going to be published,’ I say.

  ‘The journalist is missing,’ says Claire.

  Anger surges through me. ‘That just makes it seem even more bloody pointless. Mum retrieved the atlas for nothing, she died for nothing.’

  ‘No, Louise,’ Claire says. ‘Don’t you see? What your mum did by getting the atlas off the journalist was amazing, brave, utterly selfless.’

  ‘Claire’s right,’ Sam says softly. ‘It was her final, selfless act.’

  ‘Yeah, well she thought she was doing that by not talking to me for two years too, but she got that wrong. She just made it worse by keeping away.’

  ‘We all get it wrong,’ Claire says. ‘We’re just human. My dad did the same; he didn’t want to bother us with his illness. But in the end, he needed me, just like your mum needed you to come back to find her. Your mum loved you very much, Louise, she made that clear to me when I saw her last on Christmas Day.’

  I pause, so wishing I’d seen my mum on Christmas Day, too. ‘What was she like the last time you saw her?’

  Claire smiles sadly. ‘Good, actually. She talked about you.’ Her eyes sink into mine. ‘I think it finally dawned on her she needed to make amends with you.’

  I look down at the atlas and imagine Mum protecting it as the wave rushed towards her. I trace my finger over the bumpy cover then hand it to Claire.

  ‘I suppose this is me completing my mum’s mission then,’ I say, trying not to get choked up. ‘Make sure you don’t have her dying for nothing, all right? Make sure you get her best friend’s daughter the help she needs.’

  Claire smiles, a tear crawling down her cheek as she looks at the atlas. ‘I will. Thank you, Louise.’

  ‘Thank my mum,’ I say.

  In the distance, a red-haired young girl and two men appear.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Claire says, placing her hand on my arm again. ‘I’ll be thinking of you.’

  As I watch Claire approach her family, I wonder what’s next for her. The man with brown hair leans down to kiss Claire’s cheek and she says something to him. He turns, revealing a long dark fringe. He nods slightly then takes Claire and the girl’s hands, and I watch them walk away together, their new path weaving a pattern beneath their feet.

  I look up into Sam’s eyes. I don’t know what the future holds for me and my girls; all I know is that I need him by my side for what I must do next.

  ‘Let’s go find my mum,’ I say.

  Epilogue

  Ko Phi Phi Don, Thailand: 2014

  When I close my eyes, the water still comes: the violent thud of waves, the tart smell of salty dampness seeping through the cracks of my dreams. But this time, I see Mum emerging from those waves, her face peaceful, a sad smile on her lips, Erin beside her.

  ‘Does it look different?’ Chloe asks.

  I look out from the busy wooden dock we’re standing on as backpackers and tourists jump off the ferry, many throwing off their flip-flops as they press their toes into the warm sand. Palm trees stand tall above us, their long leaves gracefully swaying in the breeze. The sun’s rising in the distance, an arc of yellow across the horizon. No mangled beds or boats flung onto roofs; no suitcases lying in the sand, their innards exposed. Just tourists with red cheeks and food vendors with toothless smiles.

  ‘It’s like it never happened,’ I tell Chloe, looking down at the soft white sand as it spills over my toes. I’d barely felt sand when I’d last been to this part of the island, just debris and grimy water.

  ‘Must be weird seeing it all back to normal,’ Chloe says. She’s so like me, her blonde hair a frizz around her shiny face, blue eyes sad. There’s this look in her eyes too as she stares out at the sea, the same look I imagine I had on my face ten years ago: confusion and fear.

  ‘Why’s it so weird, it’s been ten years?’ Olivia says as we start walking across the beach, rolling her eyes in typical fourteen-year-old fashion. She’s more like her dad, her dark hair still smooth despite the heat, cheeks rosy but not slick with perspiration. She’s fearless too, sometimes oblivious. But there’s a fierce compassion within her I never saw in Will that surprises me sometimes.

  Chloe yawns, ignoring her sister as she places her book in her rucksack. She’s due to start university next year and is planning to study geography. I think that comes from hearing my stories when I returned from Thailand ten years ago. I was only there for a couple of days and for such harrowing reasons too. But I squirrelled away good stuff to tell the girls – the monkey I saw weaving between the foreign embassy desks, the gold spikes of the temple gates, the beautiful traditional Thai dresses I’d seen. I wanted – no, needed – the girls to know the place their nanna spent her last hours was special.

  Olivia opens her mouth to say something patronising to Chloe but Nora interrupts, already a diplomat at just seven years old. ‘Were there really boats on roofs when you last came here, Mummy?’

  I nod. ‘That’s right.’

  Her dark eyes widen and I can see she’s painting the picture in her head. She sees the things her sisters don’t: a lone red flip-flop pressed into the sand; a young Thai girl sitting cross-legged on the ground outside a bamboo-roofed café, black hair dipping over one eye as she reads a magazine. She’ll draw all this later and my heart will ache like it always does when I watch the way she paints, so much like her nanna.

  ‘Don’t worry, the memorial’s not too far,’ Sam says, putting his hand on my shoulder and shooting me a sympathetic smile. Once again, I’d be lost without his presence here. Visiting Thailand gave me a taste for travel and I’ve visited lots of interesting places, from Sri Lanka to Canada and even a cruise around Alaska. But coming here brings back so many memories, many of them very difficult, and I feel a little like I’ve gone back ten years and need Sam to guide me all over again.

  ‘Look, Mum,’ Olivia says, pointing towards a blue ‘tsunami evacuation route’ sign. Nora’s eyes widen.

  ‘Well, that’s reassuring,’ Sam says. ‘It’s good that the people here are safer now.’

  I smile gratefully at him and for the next few minutes we all walk in silence, our flip-flops in our hands as we stare out at the sea.

  ‘Here we are,’ Sam says after a while. We all stop, taking in the simple memorial garden ahead of us. It’s marked by a wooden sign standing on stilts over stone-clad flowerbeds. A path made of light stone bricks curves beyond it, leading to a patch of green. Bright pink, red, blue and yellow flowers bloom among exotic-looking green plants, their perfume working its way towards us.

  We walk towards the garden, and I see her straight away, head bent low as she examines a plaque. Her dark hair’s shorte
r now, with streaks of grey in it, and she looks plumper, healthier. There’s a small tan rucksack on her back and in her hand a bottle of water. She straightens up, wiping the sweat from her neck as she squints up at the blazing sun.

  ‘Is that her?’ Nora asks.

  ‘Yes, that’s Claire.’

  Claire turns as though she can sense us talking about her. A wide smile spreads across her face and she beckons us over. I stand where I am for a few moments, taking it all in. Last time I’d seen her it was on this very island just a few minutes’ walk away as she told me the news I’d been dreading. It’s a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of the sharp tang of grief I’d felt mixed with happiness at seeing her after all these years.

  I take a deep breath, planting a smile on my face. ‘Come on, then,’ I say to the girls. We all head over and Claire’s smile deepens. We give each other a hug and it’s silly, but I feel my eyes well up. I blink a few times, stopping any tears, not wanting to upset the girls. When Claire pulls away and looks into my face, she nods and I know she understands.

  She turns to Sam, giving him a quick hug. ‘Louise said you live on the island now?’

  He nods. ‘Yep, nearly ten years. After I stayed and helped clear up, I fell in love with the place.’

  ‘And a certain beautiful Thai girl we met a few hours ago,’ I say, smiling at Sam.

  ‘Good for you,’ Claire says. She looks towards my three girls and I feel that sense of pride I get whenever someone’s meeting them all for the first time. I introduce her to each of them and, when we get to Nora, Claire’s eyes light up. ‘How lovely,’ she says, shaking her little hand. ‘You look just like your nanna too.’

  ‘And I paint,’ Nora says proudly.

  ‘She’s very good,’ Chloe says.

  ‘I write,’ Olivia butts in, gesturing towards her travel journal. ‘I plan to get this published when I return home.’

  ‘Well, with determination like that, I’m sure you will,’ Claire says, winking at me. I smile at her.