She shakes her head, crossing her arms. ‘I’m fine standing, thanks.’
He sighs, rubbing at his chin. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I do then. My legs aren’t quite as they once were.’ He sits down with a heavy sigh.
‘So?’ Becky asks, her voice trembling.
‘Your mother contacted me four years ago, when she first got her diagnosis. She saw me in the background of a photo featured in a review of the bar I worked at.’
Becky thinks of the National Geographic magazine. So her mum had been looking for Idris.
‘She called the bar,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t there but she left a message, telling me she needed to speak to me urgently. It was a shock. I tried to call her back but there was no answer. So I headed straight to her house above the cave. That’s when she told me she was dying.’ He sighs. ‘Her doctor couldn’t say how long she’d have, they were looking into treatments. But she was preparing herself for the worst.’ He holds Becky’s gaze. ‘She asked me to watch over you.’
‘She couldn’t do it herself?’
‘She thought you hated her, that you’d push her away. So she asked me, the one man she could trust to keep an eye on her first child. I had, after all, protected the darkest secret she had.’
‘And you did her bidding, just like that?’ Becky says, clicking her fingers.
Idris smiles. ‘I always have, Becky. I loved her. I loved her in a way that’s hard to explain.’
‘Sounds unhealthy.’
He nods. ‘It was. Anyway, we started talking over the fence.’ He shrugs. ‘Things went from there. In many ways, you’re so unlike your mother. But in others, you’re just the same.’
‘I’m nothing like her. For starters, I’m not a liar.’
‘You don’t lie like your mother did, that’s true.’
‘Don’t lie like you,’ Becky says, raising her voice.
‘Yes,’ Idris says, nodding. ‘Both of us were damaged, messed up, experts at weaving stories. Your mother with her novels, me with my life.’
Becky gives him a hard look. He pushes a mug of tea towards Becky but she ignores it. ‘You lied to me too. All this time you’ve been living next door to me, and yet you didn’t even tell me my mother was dying. I could have made amends with her earlier. I could have had more time with her!’ Becky realises her hands are clenched into fists. But she is so frustrated! Everything seems such a waste: all those lost years with her mother, the past month chasing a ghost.
‘Your mother begged me not to tell you she was dying,’ Idris said. ‘It wasn’t my right to interfere!’
‘Is that why you didn’t tell me my sister had passed away too, you didn’t want to interfere? Instead, you just watched as I trekked around Europe searching for her?’
He closes his eyes, shaking his head. ‘I wanted to tell you, so many times. But it wasn’t just a case of telling you your sister had passed away.’ He opens his eyes, tears making them shine. ‘You’d ask how. It was too much to explain. Too painful,’ he added, voice trembling. ‘Has it really been a waste though? I knew taking this journey would be good for you. I could see it was more about just finding Catherine. It was about finding yourself too.’
Becky rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t use me as an excuse for your cowardliness. The truth is, you chickened out of telling me.’
His jaw clenches. ‘Yes, that was part of it,’ Idris admitted.
‘Just like you’ve been chickening out of showing people the real you. Not just me but everyone. Inventing a name. A persona. I presume Idris isn’t your real name? That David is?’
He nodded. ‘It wasn’t intentional,’ he said, looking down at his lined hands. ‘It all started because I saved a boy from drowning. Some people thought I even walked on water.’ He shakes his head, laughing slightly. ‘Ridiculous really. I overheard people talking – they were fascinated by me. I’d never really had that before. I was a good-looking lad back then so I attracted attention from that point of view, but not for my actions. The way it made me feel, it was addictive.’
His green eyes are watery and have faded with age, but Becky can still see a sparkle.
‘It was a chance to start again, become the man I so wanted to be. I created a new persona to match what they thought I was. A new name too. Schoolchildren started gathering around the cave when I painted. They thought I was cool. You have to understand, I was a kid who was never popular at school. I was skinny and odd-looking. Before my mum died, I’d spend my evenings and weekends helping out in the hotel so there was no social life for me, I had no friends. Then when my mum died, I went into myself even more. Other kids called me weird, a loser. They bullied me because my mother took her life. To have these popular, good-looking teenagers looking at me in awe all those years later, the same type of teenagers who’d ignored me at school, was thrilling.’ He scratches at the table with his nail, sighing. ‘I started to believe my own hype.’
‘What about the people who followed you though – how did you feel about deceiving them?’
‘I really thought I was doing good, Becky,’ he says, his lined face sincere. ‘It didn’t feel like a deception to me. You need to understand that year was a tough year here in the UK. We were in the middle of a recession; the economy was collapsing, people were losing their jobs. They needed something to believe in, and I offered them that.’
‘But it was all a lie.’
He sighs. ‘Yes, and the person I lied to most was myself, even convincing myself I was the man they thought me to be. Fact is, I was an unpopular kid who struggled academically, had no friends and got thrown out of his own house. No wonder I wanted people to see the opposite of that. Your mother wasn’t much different, a neglected girl wanting attention.’
‘And she certainly got it. She saw right through you really, didn’t she?’
He nods. ‘Right from the start, I think. She wasn’t like the others. Her focus was on the writing. She saw the cave, saw me, as a way to finish her book.’
‘Not me though. That’s why she left me.’
‘You mustn’t hate her, Becky.’
‘Have you read this?’ Becky says, taking the novel out and slamming it onto the table. ‘How can I not hate her? How can you not hate her? She killed your baby.’
David flinches and she can see the memories ravish him, making his whole face sag with sadness.
Becky sighs, taking the chair across from him. ‘I’m trying to be angry at you. But to have gone through that.’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t imagine …’
He puts his elbows on the table and rests his head in his hands. ‘I knew something was wrong with your mother. Donna certainly did. But I suppose I was lying to myself again, pretending it wasn’t as bad as it was. When I saw her in the sea that night I knew it had gone too far, but I didn’t have a clue just how far.’ He takes a sip of his tea, holding the cup with shaky hands. ‘I thought we’d return to the cave to find Catherine crying her little eyes out.’ He squeezes his own eyes shut, as if he’s trying to block the memories. ‘But your mother kept saying sorry, over and over. And I knew, I just knew …’
His voice breaks and he’s sobbing now, wiping the tears away with his wrinkled fingers. Becky wants to reach for him, comfort him, but she’s still so angry and confused.
‘The silence when we got back to the cave was chilling. Catherine was tiny but, boy, did she have some lungs on her when she cried.’ He smiles slightly then his face darkens. ‘Donna and I searched for her, all over. When I saw the blanket hanging from those branches, I knew I’d find my daughter in there.’ He shakes his head, face filled with such intense sadness. ‘It just looked like she was sleeping when I found her. She still had colour in her cheeks, felt warm. But I knew.’ He hangs his head.
Becky can’t help it, she goes to her old neighbour, the father of her sister, her mum’s great love, putting her arms around him. He sobs into her shoulder as the dogs crowd around, close but unobtrusive, sensing the solemnity of the occasion.
‘I t
ook her to the hotel above the cave,’ he continues. ‘I buried her beneath the oak tree my mother so adored. Years later, I discovered your mother inherited the hotel when your grandmother died, and that brought a smile to my face, knowing Catherine would be with her.’
‘When did you find out my grandmother was your stepmother?’
‘When she died and I read the obituary in the local paper. “Mother to author, Samantha Rhys.”’
‘But how can you not hate my mum for what she did?’ Becky asks him.
‘I could never hate her. I do hate the darkness that took over her and made her do what she did though.’
‘You didn’t stay with her. You left.’
He nods. ‘I couldn’t look at her afterwards. It was too painful, and I knew she needed help. The last time I saw her before I left the cave, she was being driven away by the doctor Donna had found. We didn’t really say a proper goodbye – she wasn’t herself then anyway.’
‘And then you went to see Oceane?’
He nods. ‘She’d written to tell me she’d had a baby and was giving it up for adoption. I couldn’t let that happen; Solar was mine.’
‘Then why did you leave them all those years later when Oceane came to Russia?’
‘I have my own darkness to run from too, Becky. I didn’t think I deserved happiness like that. That’s why I did stupid things like set fire to my paints in Spain.’ He rakes his fingers through his now-short silver hair. ‘I suppose I was restless too. I travelled, ended up in Ireland, managing a bar for many years. Then I get that call from your mother.
‘We met at the café by the cave,’ Idris says, smiling slightly at the memory. ‘She was wearing those big sunglasses of hers, drinking gin of course. She was as beautiful as ever. But I saw the sadness in her eyes when she took her sunglasses off briefly. The same sadness I see reflected back at me in the mirror each morning. It was very hard when she told me how ill she was, even after all those years, the thought of her dying …’ He shakes his head. ‘Anyway, she told me she needed me to look over you when she was gone. She’d convinced your old neighbours to move out with a large sum of money.’
Becky remembers how sudden it had seemed, the young couple moving out, no sale sign outside. They’d told Becky they’d got a cash buyer.
‘She bought this cottage for you so you could keep an eye on me?’ she asks, looking around her.
‘Yes. All I had to do was write her a letter each month, detailing how you were.’
Becky’s heart clenches.
‘Of course, I agreed,’ Idris continues. ‘At the same meeting, I told her that Catherine was buried in the hotel’s garden too. A week later, she moved into the hotel. She hadn’t been able to face it before then, despite it being hers.’
‘And there you have it,’ he says, putting his hands out. ‘My story. The best and worst months of my life in that cave with your mother. It’s been a long and lonely road without her since.’
‘What about Solar?’
He smiles sadly. ‘Another thing your mother made me promise was that I would get back in touch with her. I’m not sure she’ll want me to though, walking out on her the way I did all those years ago.’
Becky remembers how it felt to hear her mum’s voice on the phone a few weeks back, despite her walking out on her. ‘She will. You must call her.’
He nods. ‘I know. So have I lost you?’ he asks.
‘Maybe.’
He puts his head in his hands. Becky looks at his frail shoulders, and her heart goes out to him. She gently reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. ‘You know I have to tell you off, right? How else will you know when you’ve been naughty?’
He looks up, half a smile on his face. ‘I’m not one of your dogs, you know.’
‘But you’re just as loyal as them,’ she admits. ‘You did sacrifice four years of your life to watch over a stranger, after all.’
‘You’re not a stranger. You’re my daughter’s sister. And it hasn’t been a sacrifice. These have been some of the best, most restful years of my life … even with these lot barking at six in the morning.’
‘My family took a lot away from you. Like my grandmother. I presume she’s the face you drew?’
He nods. ‘The light side of the face represents the woman I first met, beautiful, light and kind. The dark how she quickly changed from that into a black hole of dispassion. It was quite something to see. Your mum thought she was like her mother but she really wasn’t. There was too much love inside her … especially for you.’
‘I wish she was still here.’
‘Me too.’
He puts his hand on Becky’s and she looks up at him. ‘So what do I call you now? David or Idris?’
He thinks about it. ‘Idris, please. It’s how your mother knew me. How your sister would have known me too … if she was still here,’ he adds with a sad smile. Then he looks out of the window. ‘Ah, he’s here.’
‘Who’s here?’
‘I was about to tell you after I made us tea.’
She follows his gaze to see someone walking down her path. Not just someone, but Kai.
‘You invited him here?’ she asks Idris.
He shrugs. ‘You gave me your keys to check on the house so I popped in yesterday to put some new milk in the fridge. Kai called while I was there, we got chatting and I invited him for dinner.’
‘Idris!’
‘And actually, come to think of it, he looks a bit like a dog,’ Idris adds. ‘Maybe a Havanese with those dark dreadlocks and puppy eyes? I can see why you like him so much now.’
Becky looks at Kai through the window as he rings her doorbell and can’t help but laugh. ‘He really does look like a Havanese, doesn’t he? And what’s this about liking him? We’re not an item, you know.’
‘Maybe you should be.’ Becky rolls her eyes. ‘Look, this isn’t about me wanting to marry you off,’ Idris says, face serious again. ‘It’s just about not letting those you have a connection with slip through your fingers, okay?’
‘Funny, Donna said exactly the same thing.’ She sighs and stands up, walking to the door.
‘Oh, and before you go,’ Idris says, ‘I got a letter delivered to me by accident.’ He goes over to the side and brings over an envelope.
‘That’ll be from the estate agent’s I’m using to sell the hotel,’ she says, recognising the logo stamped on the front. ‘Or should I say, your old house.’
Idris frowns. ‘You’re really selling it?’
‘Don’t give me that look. It’s too big for me!’
‘You know your mother turned that place into a sanctuary for other women like her?’ Idris says. ‘Women who needed to escape themselves, a lot of them suffering from PND like she did. She even let them bring their children.’
Becky thinks of the discarded mugs and unmade beds, the children’s toys and swings. And all those women at the funeral too, especially the two who did readings.
‘I had no idea,’ she says, amazed.
‘I think she found that old building’s true calling then,’ Idris says. ‘A sanctuary to help those in need. Might be good for animals in need too – you’ve always talked about opening an animal sanctuary. You have the perfect-sized building to do so now, plus the money, thanks to your mum.’
She shakes her head. ‘Pipe dreams.’
‘Your mother had pipe dreams. They turned out pretty good in the end?’
She shoots him a cynical look. ‘Did they really?’
‘You’re not your mother in many ways, Becky. Maybe you can achieve your dreams and keep your family close too?’
He walks over to open the front door and Kai looks up.
‘Hey stalker,’ Becky says, stepping outside.
Kai throws her a lopsided smile. ‘Hey yourself.’
As he says that, the dogs suddenly escape Idris’s house, flinging themselves towards Kai, almost knocking him off his feet as they jump up at him.
‘Well, if the dogs approve …’ I
dris says from behind Becky.
She watches as Kai succumbs and drops to the floor, letting the dogs jump all over him as he laughs. His laugh is infectious and, before long, Becky and Idris are in stitches too.
‘What do you know about the healing properties of caves?’ she asks Kai as she shushes the dogs away.
‘Why?’ Kai asks.
‘Just a pipe dream I might want to turn into a reality one day.’ Behind her, Idris’s face breaks into a huge smile. ‘Fancy going for a drive to check the place out?’ she asks Kai. ‘We can get fish and chips there and watch the sun set from the cave.’
‘If there’s a cave to be explored, then hell yeah!’
She goes to her car, opening it and letting the dogs jump in. ‘You coming?’ she asks Idris.
He hesitates.
‘Come on,’ she says. ‘You came up with the idea!’
He smiles and gets his coat, locking his door and getting into the car too.
Before Becky joins them, she pauses, thinking about the fact this rusty old car of hers contains everything precious in her life – those two unlikely men, and her three crazy dogs. It makes her smile.
Then she peers in the direction of her mum’s clifftop house, imagining her standing in the garden, looking out towards the sea.
‘Goodbye, Mum,’ she whispers.
‘Goodbye, Becks,’ she imagines her mum replying before putting on her trademark sunglasses, her patterned skirt lifting in the wind as she walks into the hotel with Catherine in her arms.
Author’s Note
Hello,
Thank you so much for reading The Lost Sister. I adored writing this novel and found myself completely wrapped up in Selma and Becky’s worlds. I hope you feel the same too. If you do, please leave a review on the website of the retailer you purchased it from, and also on GoodReads if you’re a member – reviews are like gold dust to us writers!
Research trips are like gold dust too, mainly because they force authors to relax every now and again! For this novel, I visited the beautiful Botany Bay area of Broadstairs on the UK’s Kent coast. While Queensbay is a fictional town, it’s loosely based on Botany Bay. If ever you’re in the area, I’d highly recommend a visit! Especially to the lovely Botany Bay Hotel, which inspired the Bay Hotel where Selma spends her final years. It sits right on the cliff, overlooking stunning views. I spent some lovely hours there looking out over those views while writing The Lost Sister, eating cream scones and sipping tea (and yes, sometimes wine too!).
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