The Family Secret

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘Why not tell us about that then?’ the detective says gently.

  Lumin puts her hand to her temples and massages them. ‘I heard voices, laughter.’ She looks back at Amber, face softening. ‘It was you and the other two ladies. I looked down at my feet, saw I didn’t have shoes on. Something was wrong. I was – I am – so confused.’ Her breath quickens.

  ‘Take your time,’ Amber says softly.

  Lumin takes a quick gulp of water then nods. ‘I knew I needed help. So I started walking towards the voices. I was so confused. What had happened? Why wasn’t I wearing a coat, shoes? I tried to grapple with my thoughts and I started to realise … I didn’t know anything.’ She purses her lips, tears forming in her eyes, and looks down at her hands. ‘That’s when you came to me,’ she says to Amber. Amber takes her hand and squeezes it.

  ‘What memories do you have from before the beach?’ Detective Matthews asks.

  ‘Eating a gingerbread man. A house or a lodge. Curtains with red robins on them.’ She pauses. ‘A man with a beard. But they feel like distant memories.’

  Amber reaches over for the picture she drew and hands it over. ‘She drew this.’

  Detective King takes it and looks at it. ‘Could be anywhere,’ he says as Detective Matthews takes a photo with her phone.

  ‘Anything else?’ she asks.

  ‘A man with a beard calling out the name Lumin as he reaches towards me,’ Lumin replies. ‘I think that must be my name. It feels right. And – and I just remember crying and it being so hot and feeling scared. But that’s it, that’s all I can remember.’

  Detective Matthews’ brow furrows. ‘Anything else?’

  Lumin takes a deep, shuddery breath. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Lumin has a frontal lobe injury,’ Jen explains. ‘The regaining of memory can be sporadic. Sometimes long-term memories will return – which is what these sound like – but short-term memories take longer. There’s a good chance the memories Lumin described are from several years ago. Possibly one specific event, a significant event,’ she adds with a worried glance towards Lumin.

  ‘How long could it be before she regains her full memory?’ Detective Matthews asks.

  ‘You’re better off speaking to Doctor Rashad about this,’ Jen says. ‘But a few days. In rare cases, months.’

  Lumin’s eyes widen and Amber smiles softly at her. ‘She said in rare cases.’

  ‘We can call you as soon as any significant memories resurface,’ Jen says.

  Detective King nods, snapping his notepad shut. ‘Please do. In the meantime, we’ll do a search on the missing persons database. Lumin is a very rare name, if that is indeed your name,’ he adds. ‘It’s bound to turn something up. If it turns nothing up, I recommend we take some DNA samples. It would be useful to talk to Doctor Rashad now, then we’d like to chat to you, Miss Caulfield.’

  Amber nods. The detectives and nurse walk out, leaving Amber and Lumin alone. Lumin stares at the sketch she drew that morning.

  ‘You okay?’ Amber asks.

  Lumin nods but Amber can see in her eyes she isn’t.

  ‘You’re good at drawing,’ Amber says, sensing the girl wants to distract herself.

  Lumin traces her finger over her drawing of the lodge. ‘It’s not bad, is it?’

  Amber thinks of the detailed sketches in the notepad. ‘Maybe that’s one of your talents?’

  Lumin smiles slightly. ‘Yeah, maybe I’m creative, like you.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m creative?’

  ‘The shop. You have to be to run a place like that. Do you make the stuff in it?’

  ‘I renovate old pieces of furniture and odds and ends I find in charity shops then sell it on.’ Amber gestures to her left hand.‘Takes longer than it should though because of this.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ Lumin asks softly.

  ‘Frostbite. I was four. I was desperate to go outside and play in the snow. Apparently it was the first time I’d ever seen snow, but it was too cold so I wasn’t allowed. I snuck out anyway and got lost in the freezing cold.’

  Lumin scoots closer to Amber. ‘I’m sorry. It sounds as though you might have saved me from something similar by finding me when you did.’

  ‘Maybe. Thank God it didn’t happen,’ Amber says, rubbing at her hand. They both go quiet.

  Detective Matthews appears. ‘Can we have that chat, Miss Caulfield?’

  ‘Sure,’ Amber says, standing up and following the detective out of the room.

  Over the next few minutes, Amber explains how she saw Lumin walking down the beach.

  ‘So what happens next?’ she asks when she’s finished.

  ‘We’re just waiting for the results from some swabs we took when Lumin first arrived,’ Detective Matthews explains.

  ‘Swabs?’ Amber asks.

  The detective nods. ‘From the head wound and beneath her fingernails. We want to be sure she wasn’t hurt on purpose.’

  ‘Do you think she was?’ Amber asks, shivering slightly at the thought. ‘It’s horrible to think someone might have deliberately hurt her.’

  ‘We just don’t know,’ Detective King says. ‘It’s a rather perplexing case.’

  ‘I bet it is. What are the plans for her now?’

  ‘She’ll need to stay in hospital to be observed,’ Detective Matthews says. ‘Hopefully we’ll find out where she belongs very soon.’

  ‘And what if you don’t?’ Amber asks.

  ‘There will come a point when she’ll need to move on from hospital,’ Detective King says with a sigh. ‘I suppose she’ll be under state supervision.’

  ‘So she’ll disappear into the system?’ Amber asks.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Detective Matthews says. ‘It’s a tough one as we’re not entirely sure of her age. She could be over eighteen, but then she could just as easily be under sixteen.’

  ‘Can’t the doctor do more tests?’ Amber asks.

  ‘There aren’t any tests to determine someone’s exact age,’ Detective King replies.

  ‘Either way, she’ll just be given support until she finds her feet. But hopefully it won’t come to that.’ Detective Matthews puts her hand on Amber’s shoulder. ‘You’re being great with her. If she was hurt, having you around when she remembers will help.’

  ‘You’re making it sound like you think she was hurt by someone?’ Amber says.

  She catches the two detectives exchanging a look. But then Detective Matthews quickly smiles. ‘Let’s see what the results say, shall we?’

  As they all stand, Amber peers out towards Lumin’s cubicle. Could she have really been hurt on purpose? And if so, who did it … and why?

  Chapter Seven

  Gwyneth

  Audhild Loch

  24 December 1989

  Pine martens rely heavily on rowan berries as the colder months descend. Their scats are distributed wildly and give a good indication where these elusive creatures have been.

  I sat by the huge roaring fire in the McCluskys’ living room, the contents of my third glass of mulled wine swirling through me, flushing my cheeks. I’d been assigned the large ‘grandad’ chair as Cole referred to it, red and black tweed and big enough for me to curl my feet up on. The rest of the family were tucked up on the sofas, some under vast woolly blankets, except for Cole, who sat more formally on another ornate armchair across from me. Dylan’s older sister Alison was strumming a tune on a guitar as his younger sister Heather sang a beautiful version of ‘The First Noel’ in a soulful worn-in voice. Their father watched them, smiling contentedly with his dogs sprawled at his feet.

  I felt strangely content as I sat with these strangers, more content than I’d felt for a while. I watched the flicker of the flames in the fireplace and the logs crackling, some turning black and withering. Dylan was in charge of throwing new logs on and when he did, I watched as he stretched out his long body to get them from a large wicker basket on the side.

  I was attracted to him, there was no denyi
ng it. There were times when men came along – other cameramen, producers, tour guides in the different countries we visited. I’d feel attraction flit its wings inside me and sometimes it would lead to something. Usually a few stolen hours of sex. It suited me. I wasn’t ready for a relationship; I had never really had one, and my job made it extra difficult as I was away several months of the year.

  As I watched Dylan sprawled out on the rug, his dark eyes on the fire, I imagined joining him, sliding my hands under his thick jumper, feeling the curve of his muscles, the bristly hair I knew would be on his chest. I saw the way he looked at me sometimes too, eyes glancing over me. If we were on a shoot, I think we’d have disappeared by now and wrapped ourselves up in each other.

  But this was different: we were here with his family. And anyway, maybe I’d got it all wrong. I was starting to feel drunk, after all. The alcohol was probably making me read the signs all wrong. He might have a girlfriend turning up later.

  ‘What do you do when you’re not filming, Gwyneth?’ Cole asked me.

  I shrugged. ‘Read. Watch documentaries. Catch up with the odd friend or two. I’m away quite a lot though, months on end. It’s very rare I’ll be home, maybe just a couple of months at a time.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear that,’ Rhonda said. ‘I like my creature comforts too much.’

  ‘I like it,’ I said, looking into my glass of wine, seeing my eyes blinking back at me. ‘I like not being tied down.’

  ‘Where is home for you, when you do manage to get back?’ Mairi asked, her eyes drilling into mine. I got the impression I was being interrogated when she asked me questions.

  ‘I’ve got a flat in West London. It was Reg’s, he passed it down to me in his will.’

  ‘The documentary-maker?’ Glenn asked.

  I nod, my hand straying to the leather notepad he’d given me, which I kept in my back pocket.

  ‘Sounds like he was a bit of a father figure to you,’ Mairi said. She leant forward, eyes still deep in mine. ‘Where are your parents?’

  ‘Dead,’ I lied. It was easier that way.

  The atmosphere in the room shifted.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Alison said, reaching out and putting her hand on my shoulder, her bangles jingling.

  ‘It’s fine, it was a long time ago.’

  ‘How old were you when they passed?’ Mairi asked in a grave voice.

  I swallowed. ‘Fourteen.’

  She nodded slightly. ‘Same as me. How did it happen?’

  ‘Car accident.’

  ‘Mine was a helicopter accident, just a few miles north of here,’ Mairi said. ‘They were on their way back from a romantic break in Paris.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Father so loved this land, his family’s land. It ran through his veins, the dirt and the grit of it. I never stop thinking how sad it is that he couldn’t take his last breath here, on the land he’d inherited.’ She stood up, walked to me and crouched down in front of the chair as she continued to look into my eyes. She grabbed my hands earnestly and I shrank back, unused to such contact. ‘I know the emptiness. It’s hard. But creating a new family helps.’

  Dylan laughed nervously. ‘Jesus, Mum. Leave the poor woman alone.’

  ‘You can tell when Mum’s been on the mulled wine, she gets sentimental,’ Glenn said.

  Mairi paused a moment then smiled, rose and whacked both her sons on the back. ‘Ack, you two.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Time for more food.’

  As she left the room, Dylan shuffled up to be close to my chair. ‘I’m sorry about your parents,’ he said softly.

  I shrugged and mumbled, ‘Been years.’

  ‘Still. Must be hard.’

  I looked into his eyes and, for a moment, wanted to tell him the truth. But then I sighed. ‘Yes, I guess it is.’

  Mairi reappeared with a large terracotta dish with a wooden ladle inside. ‘Some Sowans to get us all warm before we head out,’ she said, placing it on the large wooden coffee table as Rhonda fetched some pretty wooden bowls in the shape of urns.

  ‘Sowans?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a Christmas Eve tradition,’ Dylan explained. ‘We actually call Christmas Eve Sowans Nicht because of this dish.’

  ‘What is it? Porridge?’ I asked, leaning forward and breathing in the oaty smell.

  ‘A bit like porridge,’ Mairi said, handing a bowl to me. ‘We make it from soaking oat starch and mixing it with butter, milk and cinnamon … plus a few other McClusky secret ingredients,’ she added with a wink. She handed me a wooden spoon, its handle decorated with the same carvings of holly and ivy.

  ‘These are beautiful,’ I said, examining the carvings. ‘Where did you get them?’

  ‘Our talented woodworker made them,’ Oscar said, looking at Dylan with pride.

  ‘Not just a pretty face, eh?’ Dylan said, throwing me a smile.

  I smiled back. ‘Clearly not.’

  Mairi ladled some Sowans into everyone’s bowls and we all tucked in. It was delicious, sweet and stodgy … and very filling. Dylan and Cole went in for seconds as the others shook their heads, their bellies full.

  ‘Right,’ Oscar said, standing up when we’d finished. ‘Ready to go out in the cold dark night?’

  Everyone stood up with him, a buzz in the air.

  ‘We’re going outside? I asked.

  ‘Yep, for the jolly old burning of the rowan tree,’ Glenn declared.

  I looked at them in surprise.

  Dylan laughed. ‘Just the twigs. Mum makes us do it every year.’

  ‘Even when there was a blizzard last year,’ Cole added.

  ‘It’s important,’ Mairi said in a firm voice. ‘Otherwise …’

  ‘There’ll be bad luck all year long,’ everyone said, mimicking her strong Scottish accent.

  She rolled her eyes but I could see the affection there.

  ‘Up for it?’ Dylan asked.

  I laughed. ‘I’m the winter queen. I’m always up for standing in the freezing cold. Only problem is, my coat is soaking wet.’

  ‘No problem,’ Cole said. ‘I’m sure we can rummage a few things together.’

  They all lent me various items – an oversized but thick coat from Alison, gloves from Heather, a thick mustard-coloured scarf from Dylan that smelt of him. And finally a navy blue hat from Cole. We all headed out through the back door and a thrill of excitement rippled through me. I felt part of something, this strange family ritual.

  Snow lay thick on the ground, so thick I could hardly make out the garden, just various white foamy forms in the dark, the forest and mountains tall and silver in the background. We stopped under a large leafless tree, its branches caked with snow, and Dylan reached up, carefully snapped off branches and handed one to each of us.

  I thought of all the birds who relied on the rowan’s berries come autumn and winter, birds I’d filmed in the past. I remember once, during a filming stint in Yorkshire, a flock of redwings were found dead or dying after eating fermented rowan berries. I’d always remember the sight of them on the frosted ground, their speckled plump chests still as they stared wide-eyed into nothingness.

  ‘Everyone got a stick?’ Mairi asked, pulling me from the dark memories.

  We all nodded so she led us towards a large chimenea. Cole set the fire going inside with some cinder and logs until flames began roaring, their heat warming my cheeks. Then we each took it in turns to throw a branch from the rowan tree into the fire, the flames leaping up to catch them and turn them to cinder, its strong smell curling towards us.

  ‘As each branch burns,’ Mairi said, throwing hers into the fire last, ‘all bad feelings will be put aside for Yuletide.’

  I looked at everyone’s solemn faces. I couldn’t imagine there being any bad feelings among this happy family.

  ‘Now we kids take it in turns to guard the fire until dawn,’ Dylan said as his parents walked back towards the house, hand-in-hand.

  ‘All night?’ I asked.

  Glenn sighed. ‘Yep. Mum insists. S
he thinks if the fire goes out, it means bad luck. If it was the usual tradition, we’d be indoors. But oh no, the McClusky way means we have to freeze our arses off outside.’

  ‘What is the usual tradition?’ I asked as I stamped my feet and put my gloved hand out towards the fire.

  ‘You’re supposed to use the house fire,’ Dylan explained. ‘It stops the elves coming down the chimney with Father Christmas, right, Alfie?’ he said, putting his hand on his nephew’s head. Alfie looked up at him with a smile. ‘But Mum’s always done it outside, a long family tradition she refuses to let up.’

  ‘Like all her other traditions,’ Heather said with an eye roll.

  ‘Has the fire ever gone out?’ I asked.

  They all went quiet. ‘Just once,’ Heather said in a small voice.

  Rhonda looked at each of them then quickly smiled. ‘Right, time for bed, young man,’ she said to her son. ‘You don’t want to be awake when Father Christmas comes.’ She lifted her son into her arms and gave Cole a kiss before wishing us all goodnight.

  ‘You can go to bed too, Gwyneth,’ Dylan said as he pulled out a large bag of marshmallows and skewers from his large coat pockets. ‘It’ll be an early start with Alfie running riot through the house.’

  ‘I don’t mind helping out here if you want,’ I said. ‘I presume you take it in shifts? I’m used to sitting outside at night filming in freezing conditions, remember?’

  Cole patted the seat next to him. ‘Take the first shift with me if you want. You can keep me awake with tales of polar bears and snow leopards.’

  ‘Nope, she’s on my shift,’ Dylan said. ‘I get dibs as I saved her life.’

  ‘Please,’ I replied. ‘I would’ve figured out how to get out of the lake in the end.’

  The siblings exchanged furtive glances again. What was that all about?

  I sat next to Cole as he handed me a marshmallow. Of course, I wanted to spend some alone time with Dylan, I’d been wanting to all evening. But now the opportunity presented itself, it scared me for some reason.

  ‘Fine,’ Dylan said with a frustrated sigh. ‘Just don’t let her near the lake, okay?’ he said to his brother, giving him a pointed look. Then he walked off.