Tracy Buchanan - The Lost Sister

Published by Avon, an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Tracy Buchanan 2018

Cover design © Lisa Horton 2018

Cover photographs © Arcangel Images

Tracy Buchanan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008264642

Ebook Edition © July 2018 ISBN: 9780008264635

Version 2019-02-26

‘A pacy read … A great book to take to the beach!’ Daily Mail

‘An emotionally charged new novel.’ Take a Break

‘Perfect for sisters everywhere, it’s both heartbreaking and uplifting.’ My Weekly

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

‘A compelling, page-turning read about secrets in families and the unwitting consequences thereof. 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

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

Alexandra Brown

‘An ambitious and deeply poignant story that will take you into another world.’ Heat

‘I was left absolutely traumatised in a totally brilliant way … Beautiful, heartbreaking, uplifting … Really worth a read.’ Hello!

‘I could see it playing out like a movie as I was reading … I loved it.’ Novelkicks

What readers say …

‘I was busy but found myself thinking about it when I was supposed to be working. Thank goodness I work for myself or else I would have been fired!’

‘The twists in the book kept me engrossed. I couldn’t put it down. I am going to read the other books by this author.’

‘Had great reviews before purchasing. They were completely correct. I just couldn’t put it away.’

‘One of the best thrillers I have read this year.’

‘What a page-turner this book is, I couldn’t put it down.’

‘This is the first time I have read anything by Tracy Buchanan, it will not be the last.’

‘I was totally hooked on the story from the start. I loved the twists and turns, thrills and mystery in this story.’

‘All the lies and suspense kept me just wanting more, I was sorry when the book finished.’

For Archie. We miss you, boy.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Tracy Buchanan’s Novels

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Author’s Note

Some Thank Yous

Read on for an Extract of Tracy Buchanan’s Twisting, Emotional New Novel…

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Tracy Buchanan

About the Publisher

Selma

Kent, UK

18 July 1991

It all started when the boy nearly drowned.

Queensbay was experiencing one of those summer evenings where strangers smile at each other as they pass on the street, everyone in awe that the temperature could be that warm in grey old Britain. Flip-flops and sandals abounded, the slip-slap of soles on the wooden path and the bark of small dogs a familiar reprise. The seafront café was full to bursting, especially the outside area, with children excited at being out so late on a school night, and parents trying to drink wine and smile with friends in between reprimanding hyper and sunburnt toddlers. On the sandy beach, older couples strolled through the shallow water, shoes dangling from their fingertips as their dogs ran in and out of the caves nearby. And beyond it all, the sun as it set, a fierce orange in the sky, fringing people’s heads with fire.

I watched it all through my sunglasses, the gin I’d drunk blurring the edges of my mind, just the way I liked it. The curved sandy bay looked particularly pretty that night, bookended by the café on one side and three towering chalk stacks on the other. People could walk beyond the stacks and there they’d find a secluded bay of caves overlooked by an abandoned hotel … the same hotel I once dreamed of buying. I sighed. Not looking likely now.

My daughter Becky chased her friend around the busy tables and I kept half an eye on her, ready to pounce at the sound of breaking glass, a sob, a crash. Next to me, my husband Mike kept a casual hand on my bare knee, smiling as his friend Greg recounted a difficult client he’d had to deal with. Why did people feel the need to discuss something as banal as work on evenings like this?

I yawned and stretched, noticing Greg’s eyes slide over my breasts, which strained against the thin material of my floral wrap dress.

So predictable. So wrong too, considering his wife Julie was sitting right next to me trying desperately to feed their newborn, his crumpled little red face squashed against her bare nipple as she fanned her hot, freckled cheeks with a menu.

I narrowed my eyes at Greg and he turned away. He was what my mum would call ‘trouble’. I even remember the way my mum said it, sprawled across her sofa, drink in hand as she gossiped with her friend. ‘He was trouble , darling,’ the r stretched out in that deep throaty voice of hers. When I asked what she meant over dinner that evening, she shot me one of her withering looks. ‘What does it matter to you ?’