‘Don’t lie,’ I’d said, interrupting her. ‘Daddy’s not unhappy with you. He loves you and I know he’ll be sad if you leave. You’re leaving because you’re unhappy. Not just with Daddy but me too.’
‘Oh no, Lou, it’s not that. I—’
I’d jumped off the bed then, going to the door and holding it open. ‘It’s true. Beauty is truth, truth beauty, remember, Mum?’
She’d peered up at me then, still on her knees, and I’d felt strangely powerful, quoting the poem she so loved, twisting it around and using it for my own purposes.
I still remember watching Mum walk down the path with her suitcase a few minutes after that, and the feel of Dad’s hand, sweaty and desperate as he clutched at mine. She’d turned once before stepping into the taxi, her eyes seeking out mine. But I’d turned away.
Now I have my girls, I understand how she must’ve felt. There must have been very good reasons why she left. It makes me even more determined to find her and hear her side of the story.
Sam and I eat the rest of our meal in silence, both exhausted from the day’s events. As Sam walks me back, I stare out at the blur of black against black.
‘Thanks for everything today,’ I say as we stop outside my hotel. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘No problem. I hope your chat with Jay goes all right tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you at the café at ten, okay? Then we’ll get on with the search.’
‘Thanks. ’Night, Sam.’
When I get to my room, I get everything ready for the next day, just like I’m used to doing at home. But instead of laying out the girls’ clothes and getting out their bowls for breakfast, I’m laying out my own clothes. As I place Claire Shreve’s atlas in a spare plastic bag to give to Jay, something falls from it. I lean down, then hesitate a moment. I mustn’t look at whatever it is; it’s private… and belongs to a dead woman whose family should now have it. But this will be my last night with it before I meet with Claire’s friend Jay and what if this item holds a clue to Mum’s whereabouts? I quickly turn it over before I change my mind and see it’s a photo from a newspaper article of a man with dark hair, signs of a faint scar on his right cheek. There’s a caption beneath it: Milo James will be taking to the stand tomorrow to defend himself.
Milo. The person who’d written in the front of the atlas?
I stare into his dark, wretched eyes and feel my heart thump against my chest. Defend himself against what? What if he was out here with Claire Shreve, and Mum had met him too? Would she have been in danger from him?
I think about how he’d feel if he knew I’d been poking about in his dead girlfriend’s belongings. I quickly shove the article back into the atlas’s pages and place it in my bag ready to give Jay Hemingford tomorrow.
5
Exmoor, Uk
1997
It was a beautiful night, unusually warm for the time of year. Pink fairy lights shimmered all over the wedding marquee and tables had been set up outside with bright lanterns all over them. Claire pulled her cream pashmina from her bag and wrapped it around her arms as she headed towards the stream where Sarah had said Milo was, her small heels digging into the mud. There was a roar in her ears, like she was on the verge of something and it both exhilarated and terrified her.
She couldn’t see Milo at first. But as she reached the end of the small meadow that led down to the stream, the music growing fainter and fainter the further away she got, she saw him standing in front of a large oak tree, throwing pebbles into the stream.
She stood on something – a branch maybe – and he turned.
He didn’t say anything as she walked towards him, just watched her, his eyes blinking in the darkness.
‘Sarah mentioned you were out here,’ Claire said when she got to him.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘There’s only so much seventies music a man can take.’
Claire laughed. ‘I tried to find you.’
‘And now you have.’
‘Yes.’
She peered down at her pretty silk shoes and suddenly felt ridiculous, standing here under the stars across from a man who wasn’t her husband. Her life was taking a turn she’d never anticipated, like a current that suddenly changes direction. And yet she didn’t want to resist it as it urged her along. It felt too good, too right.
‘I didn’t get the chance earlier to say how beautiful you look,’ Milo said softly.
Claire’s breath caught in her throat. The night seemed to open up to her then, the sound of the stream throbbing at her temples, the stars above closing in on her. She felt as though she was on the edge of something and was about to step off.
‘And I didn’t get a chance to say how handsome you look,’ she said, taking that step.
‘Not bad for a stag-killer.’
‘A reluctant stag-killer.’
They were quiet for a few moments then Milo stepped towards Claire. ‘That quote your dad liked, the one about marching off the edge of our map?’
‘Yes?’
‘I understand why it scares you, going on the path less travelled, especially after what happened to your dad. But he went off on his own, didn’t he? If you have someone beside you, then it doesn’t have to be so daunting.’
He gently took Claire’s hand. Her heart fumbled, floundered, trying to find its beat.
‘I know you still yearn for it,’ he said, ‘the adventure of following the path less travelled. I do too. I’ve wanted it for so long, this idea of just leaving everything behind and travelling. But I’ve kept it at a distance, always thinking deep down inside it’ll never happen.’ His handsome face lit up. ‘Until I met you, that is. You make me feel like I can really do it. I think you can do it too.’
As she looked at him, she felt all the dreams she’d once had of living in one country to the next spread out before her. She’d kicked them all away that day she’d found her dad dying in his flat, terrified she’d end up like him. But the travel bug that fought against her desire for normality was always inside, like it was inside Milo, flapping its wings, urging her to return to being the free spirit she once was. Meeting Milo had sent it flying and she wanted to chase it with him.
So she nodded. ‘Yes, I do want that.’
His brow creased slightly, like he was considering very carefully what to say next. ‘I’m taking a leap of faith here and I know we’ve only known each other a couple of days. But I think things would be a lot less scary if we marched off the edge of the map together.’
The space between them contracted, shimmered. Maybe she didn’t have to be alone, after all? In the distance, people laughed and the music turned up a few levels, making the birds fling themselves from the trees above in alarm. But they barely noticed and suddenly they were in each other’s arms, Milo’s lips finding hers, Claire’s fingers tangling in his hair as his hands glided over the bare skin of her arms. The blend of his soft lips on hers and the look in his eyes made her skin dance with feeling.
As his lips moved against hers, his fingers trailing over her cheek, sensations bubbled inside. She hadn’t felt this in such a long time, the searing urgency; body selfish and hungry for more. He glided his hand down her neck, grazing his fingers over her nipple, the calluses on his hand rubbing against it through the thin material of her dress as she let out a muffled cry.
She reached down, pulling his shirt from his trousers, gliding her palm over the warm flesh of his taut stomach as her eyes stayed on his. He slipped his hand under the neckline of her dress, dragging the lace of her bra away as she reached for his belt.
They stumbled back towards some nearby hedges, the river shimmering beside them, and Milo pulled Claire to the ground, the mud and grass cold on her skin. He stopped a moment and smiled, his eyes playful, and she smiled back. Then he slowly pushed up her skirt, as her fingers clumsily unbuckled his belt. He pushed her knickers to the side as she unzipped his trousers, yanking them down urgently.
He paused a moment, the tops of his cheeks pink, his dark fri
nge hanging in his eyes. ‘This okay?’
Claire didn’t need long to consider what they were about to do really; she just knew with all her heart it was right. ‘Yes.’
His smile deepened, his dark eyes deep in hers. He manoeuvred himself so he was in between her legs, the coldness of his zip gliding over the folds of her skin.
Then there was the sound of movement nearby.
Someone was limping towards them in the darkness, hands out.
They pulled away from each other and Milo jumped up, quickly doing his trousers back up, belt still hanging open. Claire straightened her dress and slowly stood with him.
‘Jen?’ Milo said, stepping towards the figure.
His sister leaned down, taking in gulps of air. ‘Dale… he’s got Dad’s gun. He’s lost it, Milo. I tried to stop him but he pushed me out of the way. He was so angry, screaming …’ Her voice trailed off as she looked at Claire.
Claire put her hand over her mouth. What was Dale going to do?
‘We did it all wrong,’ Jen said, shaking her head. ‘We – we should’ve—’
Milo grabbed her hand, face anguished. ‘No, Jen. You did nothing wrong, it was me!’
Claire couldn’t comprehend what they were both saying, her mind focused on the strange hitch in Jen’s breath, the wretched look on Milo’s face.
‘Do you know where he went?’ Milo asked Jen.
Jen peered towards the marquee, and Claire and Milo exchanged horrified looks.
‘Where’s Holly?’ Milo asked.
‘She was in there with Archie a few moments ago,’ Claire said. ‘Dale won’t really hurt anyone, will he?’ But as she said that, she knew he would; she had seen the darkness in his eyes the night before.
‘I – I don’t know,’ Jen said through chattering teeth.
‘Jesus Christ, you don’t know? We – we need to call the police,’ Claire said. She pulled her phone out with shaking hands then remembered there was no reception. ‘I’ll go to the hotel and call, you—’
‘No.’ Milo’s voice sounded cold, hard. Something had changed in him, and so quickly too. ‘It’s not safe. I’ll go. Both of you stay here.’
That’s when the music stopped. Abruptly. And the screams started. Lots of them. A chorus of horror punctured by gunshots.
‘Oh Christ,’ Milo said, backing away, his face distraught. ‘Stay here, please stay here.’
He darted away into the darkness as people flooded out of the marquee. Claire couldn’t see the expressions on their faces from where she was, but she could sense their horror. Her brain whirred and trembled as it tried to comprehend what might be going on in there… and what Milo was running into.
‘I need to go help Milo,’ Jen said, taking a step forwards then wincing.
Claire put her arm around her shoulder. ‘No, you’re hurt.’
‘But what if Milo needs our help? He can’t deal with Dale alone when he’s like this. And Holly’s in there, what if—’
Claire closed her eyes and imagined Holly’s sweet face slick with blood. Then Archie, the terrible sound of his whimpers. Both helpless and innocent with no one to help them.
She opened her eyes, her whole body suddenly buzzing with adrenaline. ‘I’ll go,’ she said to Jen, not quite believing the words when they came out of her mouth. But for so long, she hadn’t had control over her life. Right at that moment, she had control. If she went into the marquee, she could save a life, protect a child, ensure Archie felt no pain… she might be able to save them even if she couldn’t save the embryos that had once grown inside her.
She started heading towards the marquee, the adrenaline still surging through her, tears drenching her cheeks before she even knew what she would see.
In the distance, Jay stumbled out, face stricken as he peered back towards the marquee. He grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go in there,’ he said, his usually jolly voice quivering. ‘Milo’s brother has a gun.’
‘What happened in there?’
‘He was shooting at people. Please Claire, come with me, you can’t go in there.’
He tried to pull her away but she continued walking, breath coming in spurts as her mind tried to grapple with what she might see in there. When she got inside, it was worse than she could ever have imagined: the fairy lights dotted around the marquee illuminated patches of blood on the white walls and dance floor, the beautiful pink roses on the tables splattered with blood too.
She heard a man sobbing to her right, so ran in the direction of the sound to find Matt sitting under a table with Sarah in his arms, her wedding dress turned scarlet, her eyes wide open. Matt was rocking her back and forth, tears streaming down his face as he looked down at her.
‘She’s dead,’ he whispered. ‘My God, she’s dead.’
Claire pressed her fist to her mouth to stop the sob coming out then knelt down, checking Sarah’s delicate wrist for a pulse.
Nothing.
‘Where’s Dale James?’ she asked.
‘Over there,’ Matt said, pointing towards the back of the marquee, Claire’s view blocked by a toppled chair. He looked back down at Sarah and started sobbing.
Claire put her hand on his arm. ‘We need to get you out of here, I—’
A shot rang out from the back of the marquee, making her ears ring. Someone started sobbing then a dog barked – Archie. She jumped up and started heading towards the back of the marquee, resisting every urge inside to run away.
Milo came into view then. He was sitting on the floor at the back of the marquee, legs flat out in front of him with a figure crumpled in his arms. There was a bad cut over his right cheekbone and blood was seeping out of it. A rifle was leaning against the wall near his shoulder and he was staring blankly into the distance.
As Claire drew closer, she realised it was his brother he was holding. Dale’s eyes were closed, a blunt, red hole in his forehead.
Claire stifled a cry of shock.
Milo peered up, his eyes locking onto Claire’s. He looked utterly broken.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, crouching down in front of him and placing her hand on his leg as she tried not to look at Dale.
‘No,’ he said in a monotone.
‘Where’s Holly?’
His eyes slid to his right, towards a table. Claire saw two blue shoes there. She shuffled over to find Holly huddled under the table, her beautiful eyes wide with shock. But she was unharmed, thank God. Blue was lying across her legs, Archie curled up in her arms. He let out a whine and struggled free, hurtling towards Claire. She picked him up, checking him all over. He was fine, completely unharmed. She placed him down and crawled under the table, reaching her hand out towards Holly.
‘Come on,’ Claire said to her. ‘It’s safe now, sweetheart.’
Holly’s face was very white, her teeth chattering. Blue stood up, slinking out from under the table, and made his way to Milo. Holly put her hand out and Claire took it, helping her slide out.
‘Close your eyes,’ Claire whispered, pressing Holly’s face against her shoulder as she led her away from the table. ‘Don’t look until I say. Okay?’
Holly nodded against her arm as the sound of sirens rang out in the distance. Milo looked up at them both, his eyes passing over Holly then sinking into Claire’s. There was nothing in them and Claire realised in that moment the Milo she’d spent the day with was gone.
His eyes slipped away from Claire’s. Then he looked back down at his brother’s bloody face and let out a small tortured moan.
6
Krabi, Thailand
2004
I check my watch. Already ten past nine. Jay Hemingford’s ten minutes late. Something tells me he’s going to be a no-show. Can I blame him? He’s lost his friend, after all. I’m not sure I could even drag myself out of bed if I’d found Mum’s body at that temple.
There’s a cough. I peer up to see two middle-aged women standing over me. One of them hands me a missing poster with two girls on the front waving from the top of
a mountain, rucksacks on their backs.
‘Our daughters,’ one of the women says in an exhausted voice. ‘They’re cousins. Have you seen them, they were staying nearby?’
I think of my girls and imagine how awful this must be for them. ‘I haven’t, I’m sorry. But I’ll keep an eye out.’ I show them Mum’s photo. ‘Have you seen this woman while you’ve been here?’
They shake their heads. Then one of them peers towards the line of computers at the back, a misspelled sign saying ‘Free for relatevs’ hanging above.
‘There’s a computer free,’ she says. ‘Better check email, just in case.’
They wish me luck, then both head towards the computers. A man sitting at the end computer stands, stretches, then walks away, leaving that one free too. I take another look at the entranceway – still no Jay – then head to the free computer, thinking of the photo that had slipped from Claire’s atlas the night before, Milo James’s haunted eyes staring out at me. If it turns out Mum and Claire Shreve met each other out here, maybe he knows where Mum is?
When I type Milo’s name into a search engine, a bunch of articles come up. I click on one, my fingers freezing on the mouse when I read the headline.
Bride shot dead at Exmoor wedding
New bride Sarah Levine was tragically shot dead at her wedding last night in an unprovoked attack. She is believed to have died at the scene from a gunshot wound to her stomach. The shooter, local farmer and Falklands veteran Dale James, opened fire at the evening reception before being shot dead by his own brother, Milo James. There is believed to be no connection between Sarah Levine and Dale James other than the fact his brother-in-law owns the inn where her wedding was held. Dale James’s daughter, fourteen-year-old Holly James, is now being looked after by relatives.
The Lost Mother: An absolutely gripping and emotional read that will have you hooked Page 11
