The Family Secret

by Tracy Buchanan

  She flicks through the other pages then finally finds what she’s looking for: a sketch of a rowan tree, a small furry creature with pointed ears sitting beneath it. 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.

  She turns back to her laptop, looking up pine martens.

  Pine martens are mostly found in the north of Britain. They prefer woodlands, climb very well and live in holes in trees. They are often known to forage in the gardens of people living in the Scottish Highlands.

  She googles ‘loch’, ‘forest’, ‘waterfall’ then ‘mountain’ … and then suddenly, there it is, the exact same waterfall as the one in Lumin’s picture. The Audhild Falls. It’s near one large loch but despite searching into the night, Amber can’t for the life of her find the lodge Amber drew.

  Still, this was a clue, wasn’t it? A big one! But if it’s right, if Lumin does come from Scotland, what on earth was she doing so far from there now?

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, Amber goes to see Lumin and shows her the photo she’d printed off of the waterfall and its surrounding lochs. From the ward’s window, they can see the hustle and bustle of the annual Christmas market stalls being set up. But Amber barely notices, her mind focused on getting Lumin home.

  Lumin taps her finger on the waterfall and nods. ‘There’s something about this. And it looks just like the picture I drew, right?’

  Amber nods. ‘It’s in Scotland, in the Highlands. It’s right near a loch too, Audhild Loch. Ring a bell?’

  Lumin shakes her head. ‘What about the lodge?’

  ‘No sign of a lodge that looks like the one you drew,’ Amber admits. ‘But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one there. Have a look through my printouts, I found lots of photos of the area.’

  Lumin turns her attention back to the photos and after a few moments, a smile spreads over her face. ‘It all feels so familiar.’

  Amber punches the air. ‘Yes! Finally, a lead. I’m going to let Detective King know, all right? There are different newspapers in Scotland, so that might explain why nobody’s come forward. If they focus the media attention there, something might come up.’

  But nothing does. Two days later, Amber gets a call from Detective King. ‘Not having much luck, I’m afraid. Just the usual cranks.’

  Amber’s shoulders slump in disappointment. ‘But she recognised the area. Maybe you can take her there? Being absorbed in the place where all her main memories have come from might trigger even more.’

  ‘We don’t have the resources, Miss Caulfield, especially this close to Christmas. How do we know it wasn’t just a holiday she took there as a child? God knows how many people visit the Highlands each year.’

  Amber bites her nails. ‘It’s more than that, I know it. Lumin does too.’

  He sighs. ‘Look, it’s only been ten days. The doctor who’s treating her is convinced her memories will return with some more time.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas soon,’ Amber says, peering out at the market stalls in the distance and stifling the guilt she feels at not opening the shop yet that morning. ‘She can’t be in that place for Christmas. What if she just went to Scotland of her own volition? Can anyone stop her?’

  ‘We can’t allow that, Miss Caulfield,’ the detective says in a stern voice. ‘If she’s under sixteen …’

  ‘Oh, come on! We have to try something,’ Amber says. She’s deteriorating before our eyes, she wants to add.

  ‘We need to have faith in the people treating her,’ the detective says. ‘Look, I have to go. But rest assured we’re doing all we can. Have a good Christmas if I don’t speak to you before.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Amber says absent-mindedly. She stares at the phone after she puts it down then she sinks back into her sofa. She couldn’t do anything for her daughter … and now she can do nothing for this girl. She stares at her injured hand.

  ‘I’m useless,’ she whispers.

  Later that evening, Amber goes to her mother and aunt’s for dinner. They live together now in the townhouse they’d inherited from their parents, the same house Amber had grown up in. It has a vast garden leading out onto some fields. Her aunt Viv had tried to continue to live in the cottage she’d shared with her husband but there were so many problems with it that it eventually got too much for her. So Rita had invited her sister to move in. It was half hers, after all, as was the cottage. Amber liked knowing they were together.

  As Rita cooks, Amber paces up and down, biting the nails of her good hand.

  ‘Any more of that and you’ll be drilling a hole in your mum’s carpet,’ Viv says.

  Amber looks up to see her mum and aunt watching her with concerned looks on their faces. ‘Fine, I’ll sit down,’ Amber says. She sits on the sofa and starts jiggling her leg. ‘I can’t just leave Lumin in there. You should see her. Every time I go visit her, she seems to just fold into herself.’

  ‘She’s in the best place, love,’ Viv says, leaning over to stroke Amber’s arm.

  ‘Is she?’ Amber asks. ‘She’s just having her mind poked and prodded, it must be so stressful. It is so stressful, I can see it.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do,’ Rita says gently as she stirs a pot. ‘This is not your battle to fight.’

  ‘Why isn’t it?’ Amber says sharply. ‘What the bloody hell else have I got to fight for?’

  The two older women look at each other in surprise.

  ‘Jasper’s right,’ Amber continues. ‘I’ve been so dormant these past few years. Just living one day to the next, battling memories, trying to pretend like I’m happy this is how my life has turned out. I detach myself from everything, from caring and wanting and needing, because it reminds me how it felt to care and want and need my darling Katy.’

  Amber starts sobbing and her mum and aunt gather around her.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Rita says. ‘What’s brought all this on?’

  ‘I think it’s good,’ Viv said, stroking her niece’s back. ‘Get it all out.’

  ‘I just feel so useless,’ Amber says through her tears.

  ‘Like you did with Katy,’ Rita says softly.

  Amber looks up into her mother’s eyes and nods.

  ‘I felt the same with you,’ Rita says, taking Amber’s injured hand in hers and stroking the stubs. ‘Watching you in so much pain. I felt so guilty.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have run out. Anyway,’ Amber says, pulling her hand away, ‘I survived.’

  ‘I know. But it still hurts to see you like this,’ Rita says.

  ‘What can I do?’ Amber asks the two women, looking at both of their familiar loving faces in turn, trying to find the answers there. Her eyes stray to the photos on the walls of the different countries her mum and aunt have visited in their later years. When people commented they were ‘too old for all that’, they’d retort: ‘We’re Caulfields. Nothing stops the Caulfields.’

  Amber suddenly stands up, determination raging through her. ‘How long will it take to drive to the Highlands from here?’

  ‘Hours and hours,’ Viv says.

  ‘Why?’ Rita asks.

  Amber gets her phone out, typing in Winterton Chine to Audhild Falls. ‘Ten hours,’ she murmurs. ‘I can do that, with breaks of course. No biggie.’

  Rita looks at Amber in alarm. ‘That’s a massive drive, Amber! You can’t undertake a road trip like that on a whim.’

  ‘It’s not a whim,’ Amber replies, pacing up and down the room in excitement. ‘Lumin seems so sure she knows the place.’

  ‘What do you expect to do when you’re there?’ Viv asks. ‘Knock on each door and ask them if they know her?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes. Look,’ Amber says with a sigh, ‘just being there can trigger memories. It has to be worth it.’

  The two women go quiet.

  ‘You really want to do this, don’t you?’ Rita asks eventual
ly.

  Amber nods.

  ‘Well then, we better get packing,’ Rita says resolutely, standing up.

  ‘Woah, wait a minute,’ Amber says, making her mum sit down again. ‘You are not coming with me.’ As much as she loves her mum and aunt, the idea of a ten-hour road trip with them sends shivers down her spine.

  ‘We can’t let you go alone,’ Viv says. ‘Especially with the snow coming. And you can’t take your car, it broke down only a few weeks ago! In fact, can’t you fly to Scotland?’

  ‘I got it fixed! Anyway, I won’t be alone. I’m taking Lumin with me, and she can’t fly without photographic identity.’

  Their mouths drop open. ‘You can’t take her!’ Rita says.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You can’t just go marching in and taking a child to see a waterfall in a place that might not be her home. It’s against the rules. Especially if she’s a minor …’

  ‘Oh, come on, it’s obvious she’s over sixteen,’ Amber says. ‘And anyway, since when have you two played by the rules?’

  Her mum lifts her chin up proudly. ‘You have a point there. But still …’

  ‘It’s no use, Rita. She’s got the look,’ Viv says in a reverent whisper.

  Rita narrows her eyes at her daughter then nods. ‘She has, hasn’t she?’

  ‘What look?’ Amber asks the two women.

  ‘The Caulfield look,’ Viv explains. ‘Once you get an idea in your mind, that’s it. No changing it.’

  ‘Nothing stops the Caulfields,’ Amber says. ‘And this Caulfield is going to the Highlands for Christmas.’

  The two women laugh. ‘It’s a crazy idea, darling,’ Rita says as she takes Amber’s face in her hands and smiles at her with tears in her eyes. ‘But it’s the first crazy idea you’ve had in a long time and that makes my heart sing.’

  As they both hug Amber, she watches as snow falls from the sky. Maybe the idea is too crazy. But she needs to try. She has to. She thinks of the young, scared girl currently sitting in hospital and imagines her face when she tells her.

  ‘Scotland, here I come,’ she says with a determined smile.

  Chapter Ten

  Gwyneth

  Audhild Loch

  25 December 1989

  Despite being solitary creatures, snowy owls will protect their young with a ferocity that seems out of place compared with their soft exteriors.

  ‘Heather?’ I turned to see Dylan standing in the open doorway of the house in tartan pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt that accentuated his broad chest and arms. He pulled on some boots and jogged out, hands wrapped around his bare muscled arms as he shivered. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’ he said when he got to the lonely figure of his young sister.

  Heather continued staring out towards the frozen loch.

  ‘I heard her crying out here,’ I said.

  ‘Here, let’s get you in,’ he said, trying to steer his sister inside, but she shoved him off.

  ‘I don’t need your help,’ she hissed, eyes sparking with anger. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’ Then she ran inside, snow flying up behind her.

  Dylan closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

  ‘I told myself I wouldn’t ask,’ I said, ‘but I can’t help myself … is there something going on with your family?’

  He shook his head, teeth chattering. ‘It’s a long story.’

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘I’m here to listen, if you need me to.’

  ‘Really? You want to stand out here in the freezing cold and listen to how fucked up my family is?’

  ‘Jesus, I was just offering a friendly ear, that’s all. Do what you want.’

  I went to walk away but he softly grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him. I looked up at him, felt his fingers like ice on my arm. ‘I just don’t want you tainted with it all, do you understand?’ he said in a harsh whisper, eyes exploring my face. ‘You turn up out of nowhere, fucking beautiful and strong and clever, and I don’t want that all tainted.’

  ‘I’m not perfect, you know,’ I whispered.

  ‘I know.’ He reached down, stroking my cheek with his freezing thumb. ‘Neither of us is perfect, both of us have something inside we’re struggling with. But I don’t want my family’s struggle to be added to yours.’

  ‘Why is your sister so upset? What happened out there?’ I asked, staring at the lake.

  ‘We all have our secrets,’ he shot back. ‘And I can sense you know that as much as I do.’

  I looked into his eyes, suddenly tempted to tell him everything. But I didn’t. Instead, I reached up and traced his beard with my finger. Ice was starting to fringe its dark bristles and his long eyelashes.

  ‘You’re cold,’ I said.

  I moved closer to him and he to me. I placed my hand on his cheek, felt the arch of his strong cheekbones. Then I impulsively stood on tiptoes and pressed my cold lips against his even colder ones. He wrapped his bear arms around me and moved his lips against mine, the warmth inside me radiating out to him. In the distance, the loch shone beneath the moonlight, as menacing as it was beautiful.

  I woke the next morning to the memory of Dylan’s cold lips against mine mingling with the smell of cinnamon and spice coming from downstairs. Had I dreamt the night before? It had that dreamlike quality, the snow and a mind blurry with sleep. I grappled with the fog surrounding my memory of the kiss. After, we’d both stepped apart from each other, shivering from the cold. Then lights had come on in the house and that was it. Dylan and I had gone upstairs, one brief look passing between us before we went our separate ways.

  I stretched, turning over to look through the gap in the curtains at the snowy landscape. My room faced out towards the loch, but I could see a glimpse of mountain stretched to the right. The sky was puffy white with a hint of pink, promising more snow. I’d seen a lot of snow while working, but rarely had I been without a camera. I felt a sense of contentment as I pressed my cheek back into the soft pillow, taking it all in.

  Then I remembered: it was Christmas Day.

  I sat back up, hugging my shins and resting my chin on my knees.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Reg,’ I whispered. And as an afterthought: ‘Happy Christmas to you too, Mum and Dad.’

  I’d woken up in hotel rooms or tents on the majority of my Christmas mornings. In the first few years after leaving my aunt’s hotel to work for Reg, Christmases were usually spent in different countries: from the Antarctic to Russia to Alaska and Norway. I loved it, even when I was climbing a snowy hill with Reg’s camera strapped to my back in a blizzard so intense that I could barely see. I felt like I belonged: to Reg, to his crew, to people I’d grown to see as a family of sorts. When I began getting camera jobs myself, Reg and I sometimes managed to find each other around Christmas: in London at his flat, where he let me stay sometimes, or even on shoots when he’d make a trip out to see me, or me him. There’d be the annual exchange of practical gifts – a windbreaker, a lens cleaner, one year a book on the mating rituals of polar bears. It didn’t feel particularly festive, more a comforting nod to tradition.

  Reg didn’t have his own family. He hadn’t had children and his parents were long gone. I liked to think he found some comfort in our little Christmas meet-ups when they occurred, not that he ever told me that. Even when he suggested I rent the room in his flat as a ‘base’ to save me paying for storage in London, it was delivered in his usual no-nonsense practical voice. ‘I figured out you’d save four hundred pounds a month so pay me two hundred and it’s yours. Throw in brewing coffee on the mornings we’re both here and we have a deal.’

  That was five years ago. Looking back, maybe he was aware of his age – eighty-five then – and the need to have some kind of presence there. Or maybe I’m doing myself a disservice, maybe he just liked my company. Two years ago, we spent Christmas in the flat. I got a turkey, some potatoes, made a simple Christmas meal. We drank wine and I even convinced Reg to pull a cracker and put one of those silly hats on. In the back
of my mind, I was aware it was ten years since I’d spent my last Christmas with my parents. Maybe that was why I’d made the effort, an attempt to prove to myself life goes on when your parents turn their backs on you.

  And now here I was, in a strange family’s vast house in the middle of nowhere. What would Reg say? Would he say I was imposing? I think he’d be more interested in the wildlife that could be found in the mountains.

  I got up, opened the curtains wider and gazed out at the mountains. I couldn’t impose on this family on Christmas Day. Maybe I could go and do some filming in the mountains as they had their Christmas dinner. I’d love to find some pine martens up there; I’d caught a glimpse of one on the drive here. I knew they liked places like that. I’d do some filming then I’d figure out a way to get home.

  I grabbed a plush white towel and padded into the en-suite.

  Half an hour later, I walked tentatively downstairs. It was a bit nerve-wracking, making an entrance on Christmas morning as a virtual stranger, especially to a family as close and as large as this one. And after the kiss Dylan and I shared. The living room was empty but I could hear laughter and chatter from the dining room. For a moment, I thought about just slipping out to do my filming but I was worried that might seem rude … and it would mean not seeing Dylan again. So I took a deep breath and walked into the dining room.

  Everyone looked up as the door slammed shut behind me. The only person not there was Mairi.

  ‘Our guest finally wakes,’ Oscar declared.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t hear this one screaming the place down earlier,’ Cole said, smiling at his son.

  I heard your sister sobbing her heart out in the middle of the night, I wanted to say. But as I looked at Heather now, it was like nothing had happened.

  ‘Come, I saved a space for you,’ Heather said, patting the seat next to hers. She seemed very jolly considering what had happened the night before, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with her soft white Christmas jumper. She was sitting across from Dylan, who raised his dark eyes to meet mine. I felt my tummy stir.