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

by Tracy Buchanan

  Chloe looks between us, then turns to her sisters. ‘Shall we go look at the memorial?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Sam says, nodding at Claire as he leads the girls away.

  ‘It’s been too long,’ Claire says when we’re alone. ‘We promised we’d keep in touch but—’

  ‘Life gets in the way,’ I finish for her, smiling. ‘It was lovely to get your letter last year, though. I’d been toying with the idea of bringing the girls here for the ten-year anniversary, but it wasn’t until you got in touch again that it cemented my plans.’

  ‘Must feel strange being back here,’ Claire says, her voice soft.

  ‘Yes, but at the same time…’ I pause, watching Nora dip in and out from behind the trees. ‘Happy. I feel like Mum’s getting the chance to meet her namesake. Does that sound weird?’

  ‘Not at all. She’s just like your mum, you know.’

  I smile. ‘Very much so. Helps her dad’s an artist, too.’

  ‘He is?’

  I nod. ‘Sounds like a cliché but I met Roger while doing an arts and crafts evening class. He was my tutor.’

  ‘Worked out to be more than just a cliché though, didn’t it?’

  I nod as I look down at my wedding ring. ‘Eight years next week, we’ve been married. He’s wonderful. He’ll be joining us later; he wanted me and the girls to do this alone.’

  ‘Well, you deserve wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me saying but I always wondered if you and Sam…’ She lets her voice trail off.

  ‘Me too for a while. We wrote, I even said I’d fly out. But, I don’t know, I guess it’s like you and your friend, Jay? He’s brilliant, but a friend, that’s all. And anyway, the world’s not big enough for another torrid love story. Speaking of which, how’s Milo?’

  Claire’s eyes sparkle with happiness. ‘He’s great. He’s in his element when he’s at the farm.’

  ‘Yes, I was surprised when I got your change-of-address card. I never thought you’d return to Exmoor.’

  ‘Me neither. But we’d always talked about how running away from our tragedies do us no good. One day, he just woke up and said: “I need to go back home.” So we just went for a week and you know what? Though there were bad memories, there were the good ones too. When we saw his parents’ old farm for sale, we both knew we wanted to buy it and renovate it.’

  ‘You can’t be there much. I’ve read your articles; you seem to be everywhere all at once.’

  Claire laughs. ‘Oh, we’d never give the travelling up. Exmoor is just a base we return to every now and again. Milo took on an old friend who runs it while we’re away and the profit goes towards funding our travels. Most of the time, we’re travelling all over, me writing articles, Milo working on farms and bringing back what he’s learned to make our Exmoor farm even better.’

  I reach into my bag for my suntan lotion, the sun beating hard onto my neck, despite it starting to set. ‘Like the water buffalo herd?’ I say as I rub some lotion on my skin. ‘Olivia saw Milo’s vlog from last month.’

  Claire nods. ‘Yes, we went to India so I could write about how sand mining is encroaching on the Western Ghats, a mountain range there. While I did some research, Milo worked at a local farm. He learned so much. First thing he did when we got back was make enquiries about where he could get some water buffalo.’

  I shake my head in admiration. ‘What a life you two lead.’

  Claire looks out to sea, her face soft with contentment. ‘The life I’ve always wanted.’

  I watch the girls as they chase each other around the garden. ‘Chloe’s reading your travel memoir, she says it’s great.’

  ‘Thanks. It was quite cathartic writing it. I’m working on another book actually, I’ll—’

  A scream of delight rings out from behind me, and Claire peers over my shoulder, her whole face lighting up. I turn and see a young girl about Nora’s age running towards Claire, her arms open, dark hair like Claire and Milo’s bouncing around her shoulders with every step. Claire swings her up in her arms and twirls her around, her nose pressed against the little girl’s neck.

  ‘This gorgeous little bundle is Scarlett,’ Claire says, letting her down. Scarlett presses her cheek against Claire’s arm, gazing up at her adoringly.

  I think of the article Claire had written about her struggles with infertility and my heart swells. ‘Oh Claire, she’s beautiful! You must be so delighted after everything you went through.’

  Claire smiles. ‘Yes, I feel very lucky Holly had such a lovely little girl.’

  I bite my lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Claire says. She looks down at Scarlett. ‘Why don’t you go play with those children there, see?’ she says, pointing towards my girls.

  ‘Can I give them some sweets, Nanny?’ Scarlett asks Claire in an Australian accent, pulling a packet of fruit gums from her pocket.

  Claire nods. ‘Of course, sweetheart.’

  We watch her run off then I turn to Claire. ‘Claire, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed she was yours.’

  She shrugs. ‘Easy mistake to make. I’ve never had children, never will. When I said I was infertile, I meant it.’ She pauses a moment. ‘You know, I really ought to stop using that word infertile. It suggests nothing has come of my life; that nothing has come from the love Milo and I share. But so much has grown from what we have together. Holly. Scarlett. All the wonderful experiences we’ve shared, the people we’ve met.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful way of looking at it.’ I watch Scarlett offering Nora a sweet. I can now see Erin and Holly in her wide cat-like eyes and high cheekbones.

  ‘Do they live in Australia? I noticed Scarlett has an accent?’ I ask.

  Claire nods. ‘Holly fell in love with the country when she stayed with me and Milo all those years ago. She’s married my nephew, Alex. He runs a pro bono law firm out there while Holly writes articles.’

  I smile. ‘Are they here?’

  ‘Just in the café,’ she says, nodding towards the nearby café. ‘They’re feeding little Bo – he’s six months old.’

  ‘Wow. Holly and Alex must have their hands full.’ I pause a few moments. ‘How is Holly? She went through such a lot when she was young, didn’t she?’ I ask carefully. I never did discover the secret Mum protected by retrieving Claire’s atlas but I could tell Holly was on a downward spiral when I saw those photos of her in the press ten years ago.

  Claire smiles. ‘She’s good. After we returned to the UK, we headed out to the States for a few months where a therapist friend of Jay helped Holly sort through her demons. They’re not gone, by any means. But she knows how to deal with them. Alex has helped too, as have the children. The memories will always be there, deep inside her, but she’s good, really good.’

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, look!’ I hear Nora shout out at me. I look over to see her standing with Scarlett by a large stone memorial in the garden, black plaques dotted all over it.

  ‘We better go see what they’ve found,’ Claire says, smiling.

  As we stroll over, something else comes into view: bright reds and oranges. A large eye. Dark hair.

  Mum’s painting.

  It’s the one Sam and I found flung onto the beach, her one eye blinking out at us, the vivid aqua sea beyond her. It’s been retouched very carefully and the colours once faded by water and time are bright and overwhelming. It’s drilled into the marble wall to the left of the stone memorial, the sea beyond merging into the sea in the painting to create a stunning effect. In a special plaque next to it are the words:

  ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty.’

  In loving memory of Nora McKenzie, artist, mother and grandmother, who joins her best friend Erin James, finally found after many years of searching.

  I purse my lips together, feel tears sting my eyes. ‘It’s wonderful,’ I say. ‘Who arranged this?’

  ‘I did.’ I turn to see Holly smiling at me. She looks the same, red hair even longer, beautiful green eyes slightly ti
red. There’s a gorgeous red-haired baby with almond-brown eyes in her arms and a handsome blond man by her side.

  Then Milo limps over, his dark hair long now, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he smiles at me. Claire had told me his leg had been injured during the tsunami. I suppose we all still have our scars to bear from that terrible event.

  ‘Hi Louise,’ he says, putting his hand out and grasping mine. It’s calloused and sandy, the farmer in him oozing out of his pores. I notice the scar on his face, white and faded with age, and I wonder if the pain of losing his brother has faded too. Probably not. It’s like Claire says: the memories are always there, deep inside.

  ‘Look,’ Claire says, nodding towards Nora and Scarlett who are sitting cross-legged in the sand in front of the painting, both their heads tilted as they contemplate it.

  ‘My nanna did that,’ I hear Nora explain. ‘I never met her, but Mummy says I’m like her. Your nanna Erin was her best friend.’

  ‘I know,’ Scarlett says matter-of-factly. ‘Your nanna saved my mummy.’

  ‘I hope Nora and Erin are looking down watching all this,’ Claire says sadly.

  ‘Do you think our paths continue after this life?’ I ask her.

  She smiles. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Me too. I hope Mum knows I got this,’ I say, reaching into my bag and getting out the letter I’d found on my doormat when I returned home ten years ago. It was a short letter but meant so much, Mum finally telling me how deeply she regretted the two years of silence and how she planned to make amends when she returned home.

  ‘Oh yes, I remember you mentioning it,’ Claire says. ‘She told me on Christmas Day that she was hoping to make amends.’

  ‘She did. I just hope in her last moments she knew it would reach me.’

  Milo puts his hand on Claire’s shoulder. ‘Ready?’

  She nods, so he reaches into the bag he’s been holding and pulls out two flat square objects, one red, one orange. He hands one to Alex and they both pull the corners of each object out.

  Sky lanterns.

  ‘For Erin,’ Milo says, passing his lighter to Holly. She lights one of the lanterns with Claire’s help as Alex holds Bo.

  Then Claire hands the lighter to me. ‘For Nora,’ she says.

  ‘What is it, Nanny?’ Scarlett asks Claire in awe as she watches me light the tiny tea light inside.

  ‘Wait and see,’ Claire says.

  I hold my lantern up high above my head, Holly and Claire doing the same with their lantern. Then we throw them into the air.

  They hover where they are for a few moments as though taking in the land below them one last time. Then they swoop up on the wings of a breeze, the lights inside trembling against the setting sun, before gliding up and up and away, two blinking lights above the calm aqua sea below.

  A Letter from Tracy

  Hello!

  Phew, I hope you’re able to recover from that intense read! The Lost Mother is such an important novel for me. I wrote it during a difficult time in my life, struggling with infertility like Claire, trying to find my own place in the world. Like many of us turn to reading during difficult times, I also turn to writing. And writing The Lost Mother saved my sanity during dark times. I look at this novel like a dear friend, a friend who pulled me up when I was feeling down…

  And now thank you for being a friend. Okay, we may not have met and friendship goes deeper than a reader’s connection with the author of a book they’ve read. But you’ve just delved into the deepest part of my heart and soul by reading this novel, and I’ve just been wrapped up in your world the past few days or weeks too. So we’re kind of friends, right? Therefore, I want to thank you for taking the time to be part of my life, and to allow me to be part of yours. Whether you enjoyed The Lost Mother or not, it means so much to me that you took a chance on it.

  If you did love it, then I’d be delighted if you could share the love in the form of a review and lots of shout outs on social media. I want to keep writing, I want to keep connecting with my readers, readers like you. But without those reviews, that ‘noise’, there’s never any guarantee publishers will continue to want to share my stuff with the world. So it will mean the world to me if you let people know just how much you enjoyed The Lost Mother.

  And even more importantly, get in touch with me to let me know what you think! I genuinely love chatting to readers, especially those who might have been through the same trials and tribulations of my characters. I’m on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, and I love receiving emails via my website.

  Finally, if you’d like to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the link below:

  Tracy Buchanan email sign-up link

  Until we meet again in-between the pages of my next novel…

  Many thanks, Tracy xx

  P.S. if you loved The Lost Mother then you would also love My Sister’s Secret, out now.

  @TracyBuchanan

  TracyBuchananAuthor

  www.tracybuchanan.co.uk

  My Sister’s Secret

  Get the the #1 Kindle bestseller here!

  What if everything you’d built your life on was a lie?

  Willow’s memories are happy: full of smiles, love and laughter. But a mysterious invitation to a photographic exhibition exposes a secret that’s been buried since a tragic accident years ago.

  Willow is forced to question everything she knew about Charity, her late mother, and Hope, the aunt she’s lived with since she was a child.

  How was the enigmatic photographer connected to Willow’s parents? And what is the secret Hope has been keeping from her sister for so long?

  Willow can’t move forward in her life without answers, but no-one wants to give them.

  Is there anyone she can trust?

  A gripping, page-turning and emotionally powerful story, perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty and Diane Chamberlain.

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  Read what people are saying about My Sister's Secret...

  ‘Completely unputdownable. From the first page, I was hooked … a perfect holiday read … I am still thinking about it.’ NovelKicks

  ‘I can't imagine forgetting this story anytime soon. It really was that good’ With Love for Books

  ‘It’s such a compelling and emotional read that pulled me in from the very first page – full ofintrigue and secrets, a riveting story that I know will stay with me for a very long time.’Alexandra Brown

  ‘An addictive novel that gets under your skin’ Gill Paul

  ‘I was completely hooked on this story of love, sacrifice and the things people will do to keep the truth from coming out. A sad, powerful and absorbing story.’ Julia Williams

  ‘I cannot praise My Sister’s Secret enough. This book is mind-blowing, complex and utterly compelling.’Cosmochicklitan

  ‘Beautiful, poignant and captivating. I recommend this to anyone who loves a good summer read.’ Holly in Wanderlust

  ‘This really is a brilliant story with lots of twists and turns that had me hooked right from the start.’ The Book Magnet

  Also by Tracy Buchanan

  My Sister’s Secret

  No Turning Back

  Acknowledgments

  This novel has been on quite a journey and there are many people who’ve helped along the way. My writing voyage started with my mum Dot Fountain who taught me to love words, setting a fabulous example by reading with a passion and teaching me how to form words from an early age. My journey then picked up speed when I met one of my closest friends, Elizabeth Richards. Always there to provide spot-on feedback, this book simply wouldn’t be here without her. Alongside Liz and my mum, there are two brilliant ‘readers’ who I road test all my work on: Angela Cranfield and Emma Cash. Thank you, my lovelies! And I must thank the Hilary Johnson Author’s Advisory Service whose fabulous reader helped me too.

  My journey to publication got serious when my agent Caroline Hardman plucked me from the slush pile. She believed it my writing
right from the start and fought hard to get it out into the world. A brilliant editor, tough and funny too, I’ll forever be grateful to her. It’s thanks to her my novel arrived in the offices of editor Eli Dryden at HarperCollins who turned this novel into what it is today and is always there for me, and the wonderful team at Bookouture who have made sure it gets to a US audience.

  And finally, a heartfelt thanks to my husband who’s been there every step of the way the past few years, looking after our beautiful daughter Scarlett and our Jack Russell Archie, cleaning and cooking when I was just too wrapped up in Louise and Claire’s worlds to leave my laptop. Without Rob, there’d be no novel… and no gleaming kitchen surfaces.

  Thanks, Tracy

  Published by Bookouture

  An imprint of StoryFire Ltd, 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN. United Kingdom

  www.bookouture.com

  Copyright © Tracy Buchanan 2015

  Tracy Buchanan has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  Originally published in the UK in 2015 by HarperCollins

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.