

**AMANDA MARTIN**

TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME

VOLUME FIVE

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

_Two-Hundred Steps Home_ is her latest work. Amanda is writing the novel in daily instalments on her WriterMummy blog as part of her 2013 365 post-a-day challenge. This ebook is Volume 5 and contains the 31 instalments from May. To catch up on earlier volumes visit Smashwords.

COPYRIGHT

Published by 3AD Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013

Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be  
identified as the author of this work

Also by Amanda Martin:

Two-Hundred Steps Home: The Complete Journey

Dragon Wraiths

Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the YHA Hostels of England and Wales. 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.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

http://www.amanda-martin.co.uk

http://writermummy.wordpress.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

About the Author
ONE

"Kim, Jeff, over here!" Claire put down her book and strode to the door to embrace her friend. As she grinned up at Kim's boyfriend, she marvelled - as she always did - at just how attractive he really was. "It's great that you were able to get a room here for the weekend. Have you eaten? How was the journey?"

"Hey, Claire." Kim pulled back and stared with concern at her face. "You look tired, I thought you were on holiday?"

With a glance back to where Sky was watching mutely from the sofa, Claire shrugged. "It's not a holiday, you know that. Carl would have my hide if he knew Sky was travelling with me for two whole weeks." _Besides, you don't look so great yourself._ Claire wondered whether to comment on her friend's pasty complexion, stark against the pillar-box red hair. An odd tension between her and Jeff stilled Claire's tongue. _I wonder if they had a fight?_

Kim walked over and sat next to Sky, perched on the sofa. She smiled the uncomfortable grimace of a person who has little contact with small children. "Hello, you must be Sky."

Claire shuddered at the patronising tone in her friend's voice. _She's six, not six-months old. Did I used to talk like that? God, do I still talk to her like that?_

Sky stared wide-eyed up at Kim, but didn't speak. Claire could sense the questions building in the tiny chest. _Auntie Claire, why is your friend's hair red. Auntie Claire why is your friend talking to me like I'm a baby._ Wanting to forestall the inevitable, she went over and snuggled next to her niece on the sofa.

"Sky, honey, I'd like you to meet Kim and Jeff. I've known Kim since I was younger than you. When we first met she had long blonde hair, like yours. I thought she was a princess."

As she spoke the words, two decades slipped away in an instant. She turned to share the moment with Kim, and was surprised by the expression on her friend's face. Her attention was fixed on Sky as if an alien had wandered into the room.

_She looks scared. Or, no, speculative? Don't tell me she and Jeff are planning to have kids._ Claire felt a shiver raise the hairs on her arm. The idea of Kim having a baby felt like a betrayal. Through all the years they had known each other – or at least since they finished their A Levels and went to University - they had shared an antipathy to becoming parents.

_Kim might not earn the same as me, but her career is equally if not more important to her. She and Jeff aren't even getting married until they can afford it. No, it can't be that._ She raised her eyes to observe Jeff and was relieved to see nothing odd in his expression. He leant over the sofa and looked at the game Sky had been playing on the iPad.

"Ah, _Angry Birds_. My nephews love that. What level are you on?" He squeezed on the seat between Sky and Kim and opened himself to the eager words pouring forth in response to his question.

Soon Sky and Jeff were deep in conversation, discussing tactics and cheats for a game Claire barely understood. She felt Kim's eyes on her and, when she looked up, saw the slight jerk of the head that said _Let's leave them to it._

"Shall we go and make tea, Kim? I'm sure you must be parched." She half-expected Kim to suggest something stronger. Instead she stood up and nodded. "Yes, I'm dying for a cuppa and a gossip." Linking arms with Claire, she led her from the room as if she couldn't get away from Jeff and Sky fast enough.

***

TWO

Kim looked over at the curled up shape of Sky, asleep on the sofa, Claire's jumper draped over her like a blanket. A crease formed between her eyebrows.

"How has it been, looking after her? It must be really frustrating having to go to bed at 9pm rather than going out to dinner or for a drink."

Claire thought about the previous week and compared it to the first few weeks of her hostel adventure.

"It hasn't made much difference to be honest. I wasn't exactly partying hard anyway, and not at all after Josh left. I probably eat and go to bed a little earlier but then I'm that shattered I'm ready to sleep." She sighed. "And of course Sky's awake half the night with terrors or because she misses her Mum. Some mornings getting up is like trying to clamber out of a bath of treacle."

The line on Kim's face deepened and Claire's earlier suspicions returned. They grew in strength as Kim shook her head and smiled a little ruefully. "You're not really selling the whole parenting thing to me."

Claire felt her heart jump into her throat. She wondered if she was brave enough to probe. _Kim didn't push me for answers about Michael; I should probably keep my mouth shut and let her tell me in her own time._ There was a pause, both women watching the sleeping child. Kim sucked in air as if steeling herself for a difficult challenge.

"Claire, I –"

"Hello, ladies, are you hungry?"

Kim and Claire turned to face the door together, like rabbits starting at the sound of danger.

"Shhh, Jeff, you'll wake Sky," Kim hissed, her face flushed red. Jeff narrowed his eyes and looked directly at his girlfriend. A sense of what he had interrupted seemed to occur to him, and he raised a hand, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry." Holding up a thin white carrier bag laden with boxes, he shrugged sheepishly. "Chinese?"

When they had eaten more than their fill, they stretched back on the sofas, cradling their swollen bellies. Claire instinctively looked towards her friend, trying to gauge whether her belly was more rounded than could be explained by too much Take-Away.

Kim was snuggled next to Jeff, curled into his shoulder in such a pose of belonging it made Claire's heart contract like withered fruit. She remembered why she didn't spend much time with Kim when her boyfriend was around. Not only was he too good looking for comfort, he was also completely absorbed in Kim to the exclusion of anything else.

When she had been with Michael it made the arguments all the more painful. Now, knowing that the only person sharing her life and bed was a six-year-old girl who would return to her mother in a week, Claire felt the pain like a cavernous empty space in her soul.

Out in the hills, with a destination to distract her and the feel of the sun and wind to keep her company, the loneliness didn't bite. Sitting in the quiet lounge, with guest huddled together reading, playing scrabble, or just existing in each other's orbit, Claire felt smothered by how much it hurt.

Unable to bear it, she rolled off the sofa, weariness dragging at her limbs. She stretched, then walked over and gathered the sleeping child into her arms, glad of the warmth. With a nod at Jeff and a smile to Kim, she cradled Sky close and carried her away to bed.

***

THREE

"Over here, Jeff! Your ball's in the grass." Sky giggled and span round, making her skirt flare in the wind. As Jeff walked over to retrieve his missing golf ball she smiled shyly up at him, then ran forwards and hugged his leg.

"Blimey. Is she normally that forward with strange men?" Kim's voice sounded disapproving and Claire raised an eyebrow.

"It's not really forward when you're six. She's not flirting."

"She so is!"

Claire laughed. "Are you jealous of a six-year-old, Kim? You know Jeff only has eyes for you."

"Exactly," she pouted. "He's never flirted with anyone else before."

"Kim, she's _six_." Claire stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side. Then both girls collapsed into giggles and linked arms happily.

"It's great to see that Sky's relaxed with Jeff. I wasn't sure how she would be with strangers." Claire remembered their meeting with Sky's dad the day before. "And her life is pretty messy right now."

Certainly Sky and Jeff had been giggling together like old friends since they'd started their game of crazy golf. It meant that she was able to relax for the first time since taking charge of her niece, and hang back with Kim. _Hopefully she'll spill the beans, with the other two out of the way._

They followed on behind as Sky tried to scoop her ball into a hole. _It's not really crazy golf,_ Claire thought. _Where are the windmills and silly tunnels to put the ball through?_ She looked around at the pirates hanging from the rigging and the barrels of rum. _Not that Sky seems to care. She_ is _flirting with Jeff, little madam. Maybe that's what you do when you're six. I can't say I remember. If I'd opened my eyes all wide and winsome like that at my Dad's colleagues I'd have been sent to my room._

The sun shone down on the bright green fairway. _If you call it that in crazy golf._ Claire had no idea; it was her first foray into the world of the sport, crazy or otherwise. It had been Jeff's suggestion and Sky had readily agreed, before asking the classic kid's question, "What is Crazy Golf, Auntie Claire?"

Claire felt the weight of Kim's arm through hers, and the wide gulf of space that seemed to separate them, despite the closeness. _Maybe I am going to have to pry. After Jeff's untimely entrance last night I don't think she's going to open up again._ She searched her mind for a way to open the conversation without jumping to conclusions.

"How are rehearsals coming on? Do you have Puck memorised now?"

Kim nodded. "Yes, I think so. It's been fun, and it beats some of the other roles I've done. At least I haven't had to murder my way through a terrible Hull accent.

Claire thought about Kim's last role, playing a Northern woman who worked at a fish factory and sang Tony Christie songs, and her eyes sparkled. "I thought your accent was quite good."

"You have to say that because you're my best friend. That woman from the paper said I was worse than Dick Van Dyke in _Mary Poppins_. That is an insult!"

"Ah well, maybe you won't have to do accents again."

Kim lowered her head and sighed. "Maybe I won't get a chance to do acting again."

"What do you mean?" Claire tried to sound casual, but her heart thumped loudly in her ears.

There was silence, filled with the sound of laughter as Jeff's ball skipped over the hole and disappeared from view. Claire tried to keep her breathing even and resist the urge to fill the void with words. Eventually the stillness was broken by a tiny sob and Claire turned to see tears streaming down her friend's face.

"Oh honey, what is it?"

"Jeff and I... we're going to get married."

Claire reeled at the unexpected response. Struggling to keep up, she pulled Kim over to sit on some rocks and offered her a tissue.

"Is that a reason to cry? Why now? I thought you were going to wait until you could afford a lavish do?"

Kim nodded and gulped down more tears, scrubbing at the ones already staining her cheeks. "We were. But now..." She looked up and away, avoiding Claire's penetrating stare. "Now everything has changed." Kim glanced back at her friend, then sunk her head into her hands.

"I'm pregnant."

The words were muffled by her hands, but Claire was expecting them. Even so, having it said out loud made it too real. The words that sprang into her throat were the obvious ones – _How? What happened? How could you be so careless?_ The kind of things her mother would say, and not at all helpful. She drew in a deep breath and tried to imagine what she would want to hear, if the situation was reversed. It was hard to think, knowing the situation would never have arisen for her, and seeing in her mind also how overjoyed Michael would have been if it had.

"What does Jeff think?"

Kim looked up, eyes awash, and smiled. "He's thrilled. Look at him," she jerked her chin over to where Jeff was teaching Sky how to putt. "He loves kids. And it's not going to wreck his career or his body."

"Ah." As if the girls had suddenly become telepathic, Claire could hear the hours of wrangling debate that had already taken place – either in Kim's head or with Jeff. Knowing she didn't really believe it, Claire said what had to be said. "It won't ruin either thing: plenty of women have babies every day. Actresses, models, long-distance runners. They go back to what they love doing afterwards. Or..."

She hesitated, not wanting to suggest what might be unthinkable. The telepathic bond held strong and Kim shook her head, red hair whipping round with the movement.

"I'm not getting rid of it. No way. It would destroy Jeff, and my mother would never speak to me again."

Silence fell, punctuated only with happy chatter and bird song. Claire reached for Kim's hand and squeezed it tight. There were a hundred things she wanted to say, to ask. She sensed that Kim's head was full of the same questions and that they haunted her. Remembering what it was like to live with an argument in your head for any length of time, Claire forced herself to be silent and let that be enough.

***

FOUR

"How many weeks gone are you?"

Kim and Claire sat watching as Sky and Jeff fought over the last hole. No words had been spoken since Kim's revelation, but Claire wanted to reassure her friend that she had her full support.

"Sixteen."

Claire did a quick mental calculation. _Four months, already? The baby will be due in September._ She shivered. Trying to hide her unease, Claire smiled at Kim. "You're not showing. When did you find out?"

"Two weeks ago."

"And you didn't tell me?" Claire could hear the hurt in her voice.

"How could I? We always said we would build up our careers before we had kids. If we ever had them at all." Something in her voice suggested maybe she hadn't been as clear on the latter point as Claire. "Besides," she continued, her voice low, "I needed to decide what I was going to do before I told anyone."

Claire thought about her friend going through that decision process alone. _Not alone. With Jeff._

"How did Jeff take that?" Following on from what Kim had said earlier, she imagined him pressuring Kim to keep the baby.

"He said he would support me, either way. It wasn't planned. We always said we would get married first and see where we were then. But now..."

Something else her friend had said came back to Claire. "But now you're getting married _and_ having a baby." She hadn't meant to sound accusatory, but she felt Kim flinch away from her words. "Sorry. I didn't mean that how it sounded. My brain is still catching up."

There was a pause, then Kim sighed again. "That's okay. It's taking a while for me to catch up and I've had longer to think about it. Yes, we're going to get married. Jeff's family are quite traditional and, though his mother hasn't said anything, I know they'd be happier if the baby wasn't born out of wedlock."

Claire tried to imagine what her parents would think about it and realised she had no idea. Probably they would think the same and force her to have some hideously formal event at the Country Club.

"When's the wedding? Will you have a big do?"

"We can't afford it. Jeff's wages are more than mine, but only just. Actually, your blog has given us an idea. We thought we might see if we could hire one of the smaller hostels and invite all our friends for the weekend. Ask them to pay for their room instead of bringing a gift. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds brilliant. There are some gorgeous buildings," she gave Kim a cheeky grin, "and I can write about it for my blog!"

***

FIVE

"Have you booked a date for the wedding? I'm guessing it will have to be soon, not that you're showing." Claire leaned back in the sand and looked over at her friend.

Kim laughed, patting her flat stomach. "I am: I just breathe in! I have to hope the baby doesn't get too big before the show's finished. Our Director will have a fit. We'll be a laughing stock if the audience notices Puck is pregnant."

"That doesn't seem right: Aren't there rules about discrimination these days? Surely he or she will be applauded for their political correctness."

"There isn't much political correctness in the acting world, my dear. I'll be considered too old for many roles in a year or two. I'm lucky I'm petite and slim, it hides my age. Not that I'll be slim for long." She frowned and stared down the beach, where Jeff and Sky were engaged in a sandcastle competition. Sky was cheating, flattening Jeff's castles every time he went to collect water or shells.

"You make it sound like we're ancient." Claire shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. "Actually I feel pretty ancient, although at least Sky hasn't had nightmares for a day or two. I think I actually got six hours sleep last night."

"Is it really so bad?" Kim's voice suggested she didn't really want to know the answer. "Being a parent, I mean."

"I'm the wrong person to ask. What do I know about parenting?" Claire gave a dry laugh, picturing some of Sky's more spectacular tantrums.

"Well, you know more than me."

"I thought you attended antenatal classes or something?" Sky tried to remember what pregnant women in the office had wittered on about in the past. She mostly tuned out their chatter, but some of it had obviously gone in.

"Oh yes, there are classes, but they seem to be about getting through labour and keeping the kid alive for the first few months. What about after that? There don't seem to be any lessons on how to deal with it when they flirt with your friend's boyfriend..."

Claire drew breath but Kim jumped in, "I'm joking! Seriously, though. Who teaches you about discipline and what games to play, how to deal with bullying or if your child _is_ the bully."

Claire could see Kim getting emotional but wasn't sure what to say. "I guess you just figure it out. Or you ask your friends, or your Mum." She thought about trying to have that conversation with her mother, and whether she would choose to raise children the way she was raised. "Maybe not the last one. I think we all want a different childhood to the one we had."

"Not me, I had a great childhood. It was when I had to grow up it got hard." The girls laughed.

"Well, let me ask you, how did you learn to be an actress?"

"I went to drama school."

"So maybe kids learn all they need to know at school. And there are books and the internet. There are all sorts of parenting blogs following mine since I started writing about travelling with Sky. You'll be fine. Concentrate on the wedding instead. Are you going to have a big white frock?"

"I might need it to hide the bump!"

They settled into the sand and swapped ideas about food and music. Claire felt herself relaxing, as the sun warmed her skin and Sky's laughter floated on the sea breeze. The phone rang and she considered ignoring it. _It's probably Michael. Now's not the time to talk to him, with my head full of babies and weddings._ The ringing stopped then immediately began again. _Damn it, just go away, I'm trying to relax._

People began looking around to see who wasn't answering their phone. She reached in her bag and put the phone to her ear, unable to see the caller name in the bright sunshine.

"Hello."

"Claire, it's Dad."

She sat up, her skin suddenly cold and her stomach churning. Her father never called.

"Your mother told me to ring. She's at the hospital. You need to come home love, you and Sky. Ruth's had a turn for the worse." His voice shook and that, more than his words, cut through and left her shaking. Claire dropped the phone, her mouth dry and her mind blank.

***

SIX

The sky went dark. Claire looked up, surprised, wondering if the shock had affected her vision. A tiny cloud masked the sun, temporarily plunging the beach into shadow.

"Claire, are you okay, you look dreadful. Who was on the phone?"

"Dad. My sister... He said Ruth's back in hospital and we have to go home." She drew in a shuddering breath and ran her hands through her hair. "What am I going to tell Sky? Look at her, that's the happiest I've ever seen her."

Both girls watched as Sky tipped water into the moat round her sandcastle, flicking some up at Jeff and giggling as he threw seaweed at her.

"Tell her Ruth misses her and wants to give her a cuddle."

Claire looked gratefully at her best friend, knowing she would have blundered in with the truth. _That's why Kim will make a brilliant parent and I wouldn't._ She picked up the phone to see if her Dad was still connected. He wasn't and she called him back.

"Sorry, Dad, phone got cut off. Tell Mum we'll be home in three hours depending on traffic."

Her father assured her he would and wished her a safe journey. Even that many extra words surprised Claire and, for the first time, she wondered how her parents felt about Ruth's illness. For all their distance they had still brought Ruth into the world. It must be terrible to consider that she might leave it before they did. No parent should ever have to bury their child. _Another good reason not to have any._

"Sky, sweetie, can you come here for a moment?"

The little girl looked up, her cheeks flushed from sun and excitement. Claire's stomach tightened. _Life is too cruel._

Sky ran up the beach and threw her arms around Claire. "I love you, Auntie Claire. Don't say it's time to go, please. I'm having so much fun." She pouted. Claire thought of all the times that pout had irritated her, and wished she could take them all back.

_She's just a child. We make them grow up so fast. She's got nearly a century of life ahead of her to do as she's told, feel the pressure of the world on her. Why couldn't I let her have more fun now? Before this._ She shook off the thought and pulled an approximation of a smile onto her face.

"Grandpa just called, poppet. Your Mummy really misses you and wondered if you would like to go home for a cuddle."

Sky's face froze as the words settled and she decided how to react to them. Claire could almost see the thoughts competing for primacy: Sky's desire to stay and play with Jeff versus her need to give her Mummy a hug. Claire's breath caught in her throat as she waited to see what Sky's response would be.

"Why don't we meet up with you guys next weekend, Sky? You could show me and Jeff around one of the places you like to go to." Kim's voice cut through Sky's internal deliberations.

Like a gust of sea breeze blowing away a cloud, Sky's face cleared and she clapped her hands. "The Farm, we could go to the Farm." Then she smiled at Claire. "Yes please, I want to go home and see Mummy. You'll stay for a while, won't you Auntie Claire?"

Claire thought about her sister in hospital and Sky going home to an empty house. "Of course I will, darling. As long as you need."

Sky settled into Claire's lap and wrapped her arms around her neck. Claire nuzzled into the soft blonde hair and let it hide her tears.

***

SEVEN

The road stretched relentlessly ahead of Claire, solid with Sunday evening traffic. To either side, fields as flat as glass met a distant horizon, with flocks of clouds filling the space in between. She tried not to let the lines of red lights make her impatient. There was one road home and the only thing to be gained by chaffing at the traffic was anger that had nowhere to go.

Sky slumped in the passenger seat, sleeping after her long day on the sunny beach. A tiny smile illuminated her face, giving her the look of a cherub. _You sleep my little angel. Enjoy your happy dreams while you can._

A sharp sound rang through the silence of the car. Claire looked at the phone on the dash and mused whether to answer it. With a quick glance in the mirrors to make sure there were no blue sirens or panda cars around, Claire reached for the phone and raised it to her ear.

"Hello, yes? I'm driving."

"So you are coming back then? Your father said you'd be home by now."

Claire bit back an angry retort. Challenging her mother at any time was an exercise in futility and for once she had reason enough to be curt, with her daughter in hospital.

"Sorry, Mum, I'm not the only person heading back from the coast. The traffic has been horrendous. We won't be much longer. Sky's asleep." She hesitated, afraid to ask her next question. Gripping the wheel with her free hand, she inhaled, her nostrils filling with the scent of sand and sun cream. "How is Ruth?"

"Not good." Her mother fell silent and Claire wondered if she wanted to know any more. She was about to hang up when her mother drew an audible breath and let it out in a long sigh. When she spoke again her voice was low, and gentler than Claire could ever remember hearing it.

"Oh, Claire, the doctors think the tumour must have spread before they caught it. They say the chemo will help, but they're fighting the wrong battle. They need to understand how far it has spread and adjust her treatment."

The words rang through Claire's mind without making sense. Her mother sounded tired, beaten, but her words suggested hope. She wanted to ask more, but driving one handed in heavy traffic on the A47 was not the time.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Mum. Ruth's a fighter and she's in safe hands."

There was silence, and Claire wondered if her Mother was drawing breath for a new sarcastic come back. When she did speak, her words were so unexpected Claire nearly drove into the tail-lights of the car in front.

"You're the fighter, Claire. You're the one who has gone out and taken on the world. Ruth, well, she's not strong like you."

Heat rushed to Claire's face at the unexpected compliment. It rattled her more than her mother's unaccustomed gentleness, more than Ruth's illness. She felt wrong-footed by it, as if it was easier to know that her mother loathed her than to believe she really cared.

As if needing to restore the balance, Claire heard her mother cluck her tongue. "Goodness, look at the time. Are you going to be much longer? I need you to take over at the hospital so I can go home and feed your father. You know he's incapable of boiling an egg for his supper."

"What about Sky? I'm not taking her to see Ruth tonight. She's exhausted and needs to be in bed." She heard her mother chuckle and wondered what could possibly be funny.

"Listen to you. Thought you didn't have a maternal bone in your body. I'll take her back with me, we can tuck her up in her bed. I'll bring her in with me in the morning."

It took a moment for Claire to realise the implication of her words. _So I'm spending the night at the hospital am I? I guess it makes a change from a hostel bed._ Stifling a yawn, Claire focused on the sleeping face beside her, reminding her of what was important.

"Okay, Mum, see you soon."

***

EIGHT

Machines beeped and whirred in the darkness. Claire lay on the narrow bed and stared at the lights, unable to sleep or even close her eyes. The regular sound of Ruth's breathing filled the tiny room. It felt comforting. _As long as she's breathing, she's still alive._

It didn't matter what the doctors said: that Ruth was responding well to treatment, and would no doubt continue to respond well once they had established the extent to which the cancer had spread. That was her big sister, lying there on the bed. In a week she had aged a decade, her hair all gone, her skin almost translucent. _What I wouldn't give to hear her whinging about money or telling me off for letting Sky flirt with Jeff. Anything._

She hadn't spoken to her sister since her arrival. Her mother had given her a brief and unexpected hug in the car park, where they had agreed to meet so that Sky's sleeping form could be transferred to her Nana's car. Claire remembered the emptiness in her mother's eyes that belied the upbeat words she managed to form with trembling lips. Unable to say all she felt, Claire had nodded in agreement at the request to spend the night, and had kissed Sky farewell. Since then she had lain on the uncomfortable mattress and watched the rise and fall of Ruth's heartbeat on the monitor.

Something moved in the dark and Claire was immediately on alert, adrenalin coursing through her arteries readying her for action. Ruth sighed gently and shifted position on the bed. The graph on the screen fluctuated then settled back into its steady rhythm, like the beating heart of a giant oak. Claire looked at the arms lying above the white sheet, with IV lines running out of each hand. _More like a sickly sapling than a towering oak._

Claire awoke with a start, unaware that she had nodded off. Darkness wrapped around her, but sounds from the corridor suggested it was nearer daytime than night. Her mouth was dry and her back ached from sleeping on the pull-down bed. Blinking open heavy eyelids, crusted with salt, Claire pulled out her phone and stared at the luminous numbers until they made sense.

_6am. The nurses must be starting their rounds._ As if the thought was a summoning spell, the door swung open and a woman peered round into the room.

"Is she still asleep?" The brusque normality of the nurse's voice made Claire shiver.

"Yes," she responded, her voice a whisper. "Do I need to wake her?"

"No, we're doing the medication rounds but if she's asleep she doesn't need pain relief. Call if she wants anything when she wakes." The nurse nodded towards the button behind Ruth's bed, then pulled her head back behind the door like a timid turtle and the room once more fell silent.

Claire willed her eyelids to close but they remained fixed wide, and she felt as if her eyes might disappear into her head completely. _I wonder what time the restaurant opens. If I can't sleep I may as well get a coffee._

With the stealth of a ninja, Claire crept from the bed and tip-toed past Ruth. Her hand was on the door when it moved swiftly inwards, trapping her between the wall and the bed.

"Ow!" Her exclamation resonated in the small space and was followed by a deep voice full of apology. The familiar sound rippled across Claire's skin and two thoughts clambered through her brain: _Great, that's all I need,_ followed by, _Thank god._

Claire pushed the visitor back out the room with the door, freeing herself from her trapped position, then went out into the corridor, closing Ruth's room behind her. Inhaling deeply she looked up at the newcomer and forced her cheeks to raise a slight smile.

"Hello, Robert, long flight? I was just going for coffee if you'd care to join me."

***

NINE

"How are Francesca and the boys?"

Robert looked up from his coffee as if the question surprised him. "Fine. They're fine."

_He looks uncomfortable? What's that all about?_ "Did they come with you?"

"No." The word shot out like a bullet. "No," he said again, more softly. "Can't take the boys out of school, you know."

Claire tried to work out how old Jack and Alex were, and realised she had no idea. _How can I not know the ages of my own nephews? I really am a rotten Auntie._

They sat in silence, sipping coffee and watching hospital staff stride in for their takeaway caffeine. A pocket of strained calm surrounded them and Claire was glad for her heavy eyes and foggy brain. There was no urge to fill the emptiness with conversation. _Not that I've ever figured out what to say to Robert. You'd think by our age, a six-year gap between us would be irrelevant. Sometimes it feels like a hundred-year gap._

She looked at Robert, his uncrumpled shirt buttoned to the collar, despite the early hour and long journey. He looked like a nineteenth-century doctor, not a twenty-first century businessman. _Whatever it is that he actually does over there in Geneva. I have no idea about that either._

"How is Ruth?"

Robert's question startled her, and she spilt coffee across the table. Keeping her eyes focussed on mopping up the spreading liquid, Claire shrugged. "How much do you know?"

"Only what Mum told me on the phone, yesterday. That the cancer has spread and they need to change her treatment." His matter-of-fact tone set Claire's nerves on edge. She raised her head, about to expostulate, and saw the red tinge surrounding his eyes.

Dropping her head back to the table, away from the horrific image of her brother close to tears, Claire shrugged again. "You know as much as I do, then. I guess we'll know more later, when the doctor has done his rounds." In her mind she added, When you have spoken to the doctor. What were big brothers for, if not to deal with the authorities. Claire felt queasy at the idea of discussing her sister with the intimidating people bustling around the building. She waited, hoping Robert would pick up on her unspoken vibe.

"Right. I will speak to her doctors and discover what the situation is. Leave it to me."

A week ago his assumption of control would have irritated her: Now she felt a rush of relief. For the first time in a very long time she was content to be treated as the baby of the family.

***

TEN

Claire stood chewing a fingernail, watching the two men talking through the small pane of glass in the door. A knot behind her ribs throbbed in time with the ache in the back of her skull. _I should probably drink something other than caffeine before my head caves in._

She could hear Ruth breathing softly behind her. The sound was no longer comforting. Her sister hadn't woken once in the twelve hours and more since Claire had arrived at the hospital. She studied the faces of the doctor and her brother, trying to guess the gist of their conversation from their expressions.

Both looked serious but Claire knew that was Robert's habitual expression, and tried not to let it twist the knot ever tighter in her tummy. The room closed in around her, hot and muggy. Claire had already tried the window but it didn't open.

What do they think Ruth will do, try and shimmy down the drainpipe and run for freedom. Or maybe someone will climb up four stories and break in to steal the personal effects of a sick person. There must be easier methods of security.

A dry cough behind her caused Claire to spin round. Grasping the wall to steady herself as lack of sleep and too much caffeine made her head spin, Claire peered at the lump of sheets on the bed to see if Ruth was awake. There seemed no life and for a moment Claire felt her own heart stop. _Don't let her be dead, I couldn't stand it. Not on my watch. Not ever._

With a push against the wall, Claire propelled herself towards the bed, slumping onto the pull down mattress before her knees betrayed her.

"Ruth? Can you hear me, sis?" And still the motionless silence dragged at the air, making it hard to breathe. Claire leaned closer, trying to see her sister's face. It was turned into the pillow as if hiding from the brightness.

"Do you want me to turn out the light, Ruthie?" There was no response. Then Claire thought she could detect a flicker of movement, a flutter of eyelash. One eye flicked open, searched around, then closed again.

"Light's fine."

Claire exhaled loudly in relief.

"But, Claire..."

She waited, straining to hear the whisper of sound.

"If you're going to lean so close after coffee, can you at least suck on a mint?""

Claire sat back in shock, heat flooding her face. Then she heard the dry coughing sound again and realised her sister was laughing. Feeling as high as helium, she began laughing too. She saw the doctor and Robert turn towards the sound, their matching frowns deepening. The sight only made Claire laugh harder.

***

ELEVEN

"How's Sky? I hoped she'd be here. I miss her like a lost limb." Ruth's quiet voice filled the room.

"She'll be in shortly. I rang Mum when you woke up. She's missed you, too." Claire watched Ruth's complexion turn from deathly white to just pale and felt her own pulse steady in relief.

"Sounds like you guys had too much fun for her to want her boring old Mummy. Every time I spoke to her you were off somewhere new."

Claire didn't miss the bitterness in her sister's voice. "That's because I had no idea what else to do with her. I'm not good with kids like you. And the endless chatter and questions, my goodness it could drive a person loopy!" Claire stopped, realising it sounded too much like she was criticising her niece. A quick glance at Ruth's face reassured her,.

"I know, it can be a bit relentless, especially in the holidays. That's the problem when there isn't another parent to share the load. I don't mind too much, though. She's good company."

Claire thought about Ruth bringing Sky up alone; the bond they must share. It also brought to mind Sky's meeting with her father in Norfolk. _When the hell am I going to break that news to Ruth?_ Something must have shown in her face because Ruth tried to sit up, a frown creasing her translucent skin.

"What is it?"

Claire hesitated, not feeling comfortable lying to her sister but unsure how to get past the question. Ruth held her gaze, her eyes sparkling bright against her ashen face. As the tension stretched between them, Claire became aware of the chemical smell in the room from Ruth's chemo, overlaid by the scent of perfume. The overhead light buzzed at the edge of hearing, as irritating as a fly.

Ruth inhaled and Claire tensed, waiting for the repeated question. A sound tip-tapped at the edge of her hearing and she recognised the rhythm of running footsteps. She turned to the door just as the handle rattled. All tension drained from the room as Claire jumped like a teenager watching a Stephen King movie.

"Mummy, Mummy." Sky called through the door, trying unsuccessfully to release the handle. Claire stood to open the door, but relaxed back on the bed as it swung inward and Sky came barrelling into the room. Claire's mother stood in the doorway, dark circles visible beneath her eyes in the lurid hospital lighting.

Poor Mum, she must be exhausted. I've only had Sky for ten days and I'm beat. She's been looking after Ruth and Sky for weeks.

"Come and sit down, Mum." Claire patted the bed next to her. It was the only free space in the room.

"Thank you, but I'm going to head back home and make sure your father is okay. Has Robert arrived yet?"

"Yes, a few hours ago. I'm surprised you didn't see him, he was out there talking to the doctors." She jerked her chin at the corridor behind her mother.

Her mother shook her head and shrugged. "Robert will be off somewhere finding out all the details I've missed." Her voice was a mixture of rancour and relief. Robert had that effect on people.

Claire looked over to where Ruth and Sky lay cuddled together on the bed. She wondered if she could risk leaving them for long enough to take a shower and find a fresh outfit in the car. Unusually her mother seemed to sense the dilemma. Catching Claire's gaze, she smiled wearily.

"Go on. Get cleaned up. I'll stay for a while and make sure Sky doesn't wear Ruth out."

A lump pushed up into Claire's throat and she swallowed hard against it. Not trusting herself to speak she stood up and headed for the door, rubbing her mother's arm as she walked past.

Striding down the long white hallway, looking for the exit, Claire felt like someone searching for the way out of a labyrinth.

***

TWELVE

"Mummy, Auntie Claire says she'll pay for me to go to ballet again, can I go, can I, please?"

Sky's rush of words made Claire's tummy squirm. She looked up guiltily at Ruth, remembering her thoughts about why the ballet lessons had stopped. _Don't say anything spiteful about the ballet teacher, for goodness sake. Then Sky is bound to tell you she met up with her father and said ballet teacher's baby._

The morning with Sky and Ruth had not been an easy one. Sky's chatter, irritating at the best of times, came with the added burden of fear, worrying what titbit from her ten days with Claire she might toss out for Ruth's entertainment. On top of that, Claire could see her sister was sagging under the weight of endless words, but didn't want to let her daughter out of her sight.

Mouthing, "Sorry," at Ruth, Claire fished in her handbag for the iPad. "Sky, poppet, would you like to play that word game I downloaded for you, so your Mummy can have a rest?"

Sky's head spun quickly, her hair whipping Ruth across the face. She scrambled off the bed and climbed onto the pull-down mattress next to Claire. "Can I paint nails instead? Pleeeeease."

Claire's cheeks flushed red-hot in the stuffy room. _Great, now Ruth's going to blame me for letting Sky play silly computer games. This isn't how it was supposed to go: I was meant to drop her back home and carry on with my assignment, not sit and listen to all my Auntie-Fails being revealed._

She studied Ruth's face to see what level of censure it contained, and exhaled in relief at the sight of her closed eyes. _Poor thing. I find Sky exhausting, and I'm not sick._

Silence spread through the room, punctuated only by the buzzing light and the whir of technology monitoring Ruth's life-signs. Claire let her mind drift, wondering where Robert had disappeared to, and whether Carl had noticed yet that she hadn't blogged a new hostel.

I'll have to call in and book this week as holiday. I have no idea how long Ruth is going to be in here and it doesn't seem right to dash off to whatever remote destination boasts the nearest hostel. Carl will just have to sod off.

Settling back against the wall, Claire shifted until she was vaguely comfortable, then she followed Ruth's example and closed her eyes.

When Claire woke, Sky was no longer sat next to her on the bed. Heart hammering in panic, she flicked her gaze towards Ruth's bed. Ruth was still sleeping, but her daughter wasn't with her. Rising slowly, trying not to disturb her sister, Claire crept from the room and prayed her niece was out in the corridor.

_Maybe she's gone for a wee. Yes, that must be it._ Claire trotted to the ladies and called out for Sky. When there was no answer, she went back to the nurses' station and asked if they'd seen a blonde child.

"Yes, she went up to the canteen with the man that came in this morning. Mr Carleton? Is that Ms Carleton's husband?"

Claire frowned, wondering if Chris had come to the hospital. _How would he know? I can't believe Ruth would have called him._ Then the penny dropped. _Mr Carleton. Robert, of course._

With a smile she shook her head at the nurse's assumption. "No, that's our brother. He flew in from Geneva this morning." Another thought teased into her brain, scratching at her mind like a briar. _Mr Carleton? Not Mr Carleton-Bise? Since when did he drop Francesca's surname? I thought they loved that whole double-barrelled thing._

Claire's mind whirled with conjecture as she walked the now-familiar route to the canteen. _I wonder if everything is alright with him and Francesca._ She recalled their conversation over coffee what seemed like days ago but in reality was only that morning. _Now I think about it, he was acting a bit odd._ It made the knots in her stomach tighten even more. Robert and Francesca had been together since she was a teenager. The idea that anything could shake their marriage gave her the shivers.

***

THIRTEEN

Claire sensed trouble the moment she entered Ruth's room. A whole day without Sky spilling the beans was apparently more than fate thought she deserved. Pushing aside the argument she'd just had with Julia, about booking a week's holiday from work, Claire took a deep breath and entered the arena.

"There you are, Claire. Sky's just been telling me all about her baby sister. Would you care to elaborate? At what point were you going to share this element of your expedition?"

_Oh crap she's gone all school teacher on me._ Ruth's school-ma'm manner usually irritated Claire but it was such a relief to see her sister back to her normal self she smiled. It was a mistake.

"You think it's amusing, do you? Cavorting with my Ex and that..." She grasped for a PG-rated word. "That _harpy_."

_Great insult,_ Claire applauded internally. Sometimes she forgot how smart Ruth was and that she'd also studied the Arts. It was too easy to remember the big sister who mucked about and got into trouble.

"I wasn't smiling at that, just glad to see you with some fight in you. And I don't think she's a harpy."

Claire realised the idiocy of her words as she watched Ruth's face lose any hint of ashen pallor and turn a dangerous hue of red. She struggled against years of habit and forced herself not to fight back. Instead she perched on the bed, prepared to be conciliating.

"Sorry." She reached a hand towards Ruth, and dropped it again at the expression on her face. "All I meant was perhaps now isn't the time to discuss the merits of the woman."

Claire looked meaningfully over at Sky and almost laughed again at the mixture of shock and glee on the girl's face. Her Mum and Auntie scrapping like school kids was high entertainment.

"The truth is I didn't tell you because I knew this would be your reaction and I wanted to tell you when you were better. The meeting was accidental," _The first one at least_ , Claire thought guiltily, "And I gave Chris both barrels, I promise you. Then he produced the child. Sky should know her sister, particularly –" She stopped, unable to continue. Ruth's face resumed the colour of milk and her eyes dilated in horror.

Claire felt sick _. Oh God, that's going to finish her off._ _The idea of Sky living with her Ex, the woman that betrayed her and their new baby is not something Ruth is strong enough to handle._ Then another thought drifted into Claire's mind. The kind of horrible thought that couldn't be undone. _Maybe this will give her what she needs to fight the illness. The knowledge that, if she dies, Sky will go to them_.

Similar ideas appeared to fill her sister's brain. Her face contorted as she processed too many unwelcome images. Pressing her lips into a tight line, Ruth glanced at her daughter then back to Claire.

"We can talk about it later."

Claire had enough sense to recognise the finality in her sister's voice and dropped the discussion. Sky didn't.

"Does that mean I can see Daddy and the baby again, Mummy? Please. I won't talk to the harpy."

Claire stifled a snigger. _She's sharp that child_. _Either that or she's vicious._

Cornered, Ruth just shrugged. "As long as I don't have to bear witness."

Claire wasn't sure if that was a concession or a way of saying _over my dead body_. It was no longer a phrase to be thrown around lightly. _Let's hope it never comes to that._

***

FOURTEEN

Claire folded her cleaned and ironed clothes and stuffed them deep into her rucksack, hoping her mother didn't notice. _I can't believe Mum did all this for me. She hasn't washed my stuff since I was about twelve. If the Boarding School didn't do it, then I had to do it myself._

Looking round her old room, Claire shivered at an unexpected wave of nostalgia. It had felt like old times, with her and Robert both staying in their parents' house for the weekend.

Claire had spent the first few days of Ruth's hospital stay in her sister's house, caring for Sky. Once the doctors had given the all clear for Ruth to return home, Claire had agreed to stay at her parents' house to keep an eye on her brother and father, while their mother resumed her care of Sky and Ruth.

The idea of returning to her hostelling journey felt wrong. Promoting an outdoorsy lifestyle had been odd from the beginning, but now – with her sister fighting cancer – it felt utterly pointless.

Whatever you try and do in life, there is always something that can knock you flat. Look at Ruth: ever since she had Sky she's been a health freak, eating broccoli and giving up the ciggies and wine. Fat lot of good it did her.

"Claire, I'm about to leave."

Robert's voice called up the stairs, echoing round the empty hallway. Another strange sensation twisted in Claire's stomach. _I've spent more time with Robert this past week than I have in a decade._

Not that there had been much chance to chat. Robert had locked himself in the dining room with his laptop, when he wasn't visiting the hospital or speaking to the doctors. Claire had been glad of his presence for that reason alone, as he managed the intimidating people responsible for Ruth's care much better than she felt she would have done.

An image of Josh floated into her mind. _I wonder if he becomes super-scary when he dons a white coat? I can't imagine it. Maybe doctors that care for children are more approachable._

She'd tried to talk to Robert over dinner the previous night, the first time they had eaten together all week. The nagging feeling that all wasn't right between him and Francesca still haunted her, but – despite increasingly unsubtle questioning – Robert had refused to give anything away.

It had become a game, watching his face close up whenever the subject of marriage, family or children arose. He would either deflect the question back to Claire and her perpetually single and childless state, or he would frown and change the subject completely. Through it all their father sat silent, chewing his food and gazing at the salt pot.

Claire pulled the rucksack closed and propped it against the wall. Galloping down the stairs, she arrived just as Robert was about to call again.

"I have to go," he said, his tone defensive despite Claire's silence. "My flight is in a couple of hours and I have to get the hire car back to the airport."

Biting back a retort, Claire smiled and gave her brother a brief hug. "I know. Give my love to Francesca and the boys. I really will come out for a visit." She watched his face, trying to gauge his response. He merely nodded.

He probably knows there's as much chance of me staying with them in Geneva as there is Mum and Dad taking up salsa. Maybe if they lived near a beach or something.

Robert shook hands with his father. "Say goodbye to Mum for me, and let me know if anything changes with Ruth."

He raised a hand in farewell and gathered up his briefcase and wheeled bag. Claire watched him go, shirt and tie in place, clean shaven and spotless, and wondered what had happened to the brother she remembered from old. The one who came home with blood pouring from a grazed knee, or built rocket ships out of cereal boxes.

I wonder what his boys are like. Maybe I will go and visit. I do need to work at being a better Auntie. Besides, then I can suss the gossip for myself.

***

FIFTEEN

When the door closed behind his son, Claire's father seemed to relax and become smaller, shorter. It was as if he had maintained some act of standing tall in Robert's presence that he didn't need to continue in front of Claire.

"Cup of tea, Dad?"

Her father turned and smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, love. Now he's gone maybe we can have a proper natter. Feels like having my old boss in the house, with him in his suit and tie. Doesn't the boy ever relax?"

Claire grinned, feeling like a collaborator. "He's got a lot on his mind, I guess."

"Yes, that stuck up cow of a wife is giving him a hard time, from what I can gather."

"Dad!" Claire stared, open-mouthed, as her father shuffled into the lounge and settled in his favourite chair. She followed him in, perching on the sofa, all thought of making tea forgotten.

"Well, don't tell me you like her? I don't suppose you've visited once since the wedding: silly pretentious affair that it was."

Claire wondered when aliens had come and kidnapped her father. He was the one always a stickler for formality. When he was working, chief financial officer of some major company or other, he'd seemed so stiff and unapproachable. She'd never seen this side to him, lounging in a comfy chair having a gossip.

_In fact, I never see him at all normally. Last time I was home he was off playing golf all the time._ She thought about his question. When had she last seen Francesca and the boys?

"I Skype now and then, on the boys' birthdays. If I remember."

"Ah, yes. Easy to put on a front on the phone. Even with that new-fangled thing that allows you to see the other person." He shuddered, as if the future made him uncomfortable.

"The truth is in what Robert _doesn't_ say. Never talks about her, you know. Nor about the boys much. It's all work, work, work. Well, I gave all that up. Glad to see the back of it, too."

Claire raised her eyebrows. "I thought you hated leaving your job? Mum says you're never here. I guessed you were busy with non-exec roles, that kind of thing."

Her father's face flushed, and he looked towards the door, as if expecting to see his wife enter at any moment. Then he turned back to Claire and his face was conspiratorial. "Don't tell your mother, but I'm usually at the library."

Claire felt like a clown that had just been splatted in the face by a custard pie. "The library? Why? Mum says you play golf, when you're not working."

"Golf? Whatever for? Stupid game. I go to the club sometimes, to catch up with the old boys. Really, though, what's that thing Twain was meant to have said? 'A good walk spoiled.' No I've been doing research."

Settling back into the sofa, Claire leaned on the arm so she could face her father. "Research for what?"

"I'm writing a book." He beamed, like a child admitting they'd won first prize in a competition. "Your mother would think it was foolish, so I haven't told her. She's so busy keeping up with the Jones's and doing her WI things. She would think it awfully common to be writing a book." He frowned. "You won't tell her, will you?"

Claire's mind whirled with the flood of new information. She felt like she had never truly known her father. Either that or her first surmise was right, and aliens had kidnapped Gerald Carleton and replaced him with someone new.

"Of course I won't tell Mum, if you don't want me to. What's the book about?" She expected him to say Business Finance, or Military Strategies in the Second World War.

"It's a thriller. I've been having writing lessons. You know, one of those free Adult Learning courses they do at the college? They say everyone has a book in them. I think mine's tending towards a Grisham."

Laughter built in Claire's chest for the first time in days. She threw her head back and the sound filled the empty magnolia room, rolling off the walls.

"Oh Dad, that's brilliant. Can I read it?"

"It's not finished yet." He looked furtive. "You won't tell your mother," he repeated.

"Why not? It's great that you're doing something with your time, now you're retired. Maybe Mum could proof-read it. She did used to be a secretary."

That was how her parents had met. Her mother had been her father's secretary, just to prove that clichés did happen in real life.

"Lord no, I couldn't do that. She hates being reminded of the past. Between you and me, I think it makes her feel uncomfortable, as if she's a fraud." He gestured at the room. "Take this house. It's got no warmth, but she's so afraid of it turning into her Mother's house, full of tat and mess and pictures. As if clutter somehow makes you working class."

His words, said in a thoughtful tone, amazed Claire. _Who knew the old man was so astute?_ It came as a surprise to think there were busy thoughts going on behind her father's placid face. He'd always been in the background of her life, rarely getting involved in the day to day events. Now he seemed to come alive, three-dimensional and vivid before her.

"Anyway, girl, how about that tea? And then I suppose you best be getting on your way. You'll be stuck awhile chatting at Ruth's and you don't want to drive to a new hostel in the dark."

Almost numb to the shock of fresh revelations, Claire knew she shouldn't be surprised that her father knew she was booked into a hostel for the night, and needed to drive by Ruth's place to say her farewells. Carl had agreed to only the week's holiday and, with Sky returning to school in the morning, her presence was no longer required.

"Okay, Dad. Coming right up."

***

SIXTEEN

Claire was conscious of nerves as she waited on the doorstep. Things had been strained between her and Ruth since the revelations about Chris and the ballet teacher. Even so, it hurt to be saying goodbye to her sister and her niece. The week in the hospital, reading on the bed next to Ruth, entertaining Sky in the canteen or taking her to the park, had been strangely restful.

The week was spent encased in a cocoon of waiting: Ruth had responded well to treatment and the days were merely marking time until the doctors said she was strong enough to return home. Claire had enjoyed helping Sky complete the remainder of her homework. They had even written a letter to Sky's father, although Claire had felt a stab of guilt, knowing she wasn't brave enough to tell her sister about it.

Claire stood waiting for her mother or Sky to open the door. Even though she had stayed with Sky at her house for the week, now Ruth was home it felt impolite simply to walk in.

In the back of her mind she remembered the last time she had waited in the same spot, when she had come to look after Sky, the day of the hospital tests. _Blimey that was nearly two months ago._ In some ways it felt like only days before. In others ways, a lifetime had passed. She had experienced so much, travelling with Josh and looking after Sky. That morning's conversation with her father still echoed in her mind.

How little we really know our family. Look at what I've discovered in a few weeks, that I hadn't realised in nearly three decades: My brother and his perfect wife aren't so perfect, Ruth's ex isn't a bastard but actually a doting dad, my father is writing a novel – a thriller for goodness sake – and hiding it from his wife. He hates golf. And Mum spends her time keeping up with the Jones's to forget she used to be her husband's secretary. You couldn't make it up. We're living an episode of Days of Our Lives.

Hearing footsteps thundering down the corridor, Claire braced herself for a whirlwind of blonde hair and beads. _At least Sky hasn't changed._

Claire held her sister tightly, aware only now of how awful it would be to lose her. She knew, too, that when Ruth was better they would never be quite as close as they were at this moment. Even the betrayal of introducing Sky to her half-sister was forgotten.

"Stay well, sis. Be strong. If you need anything, call me." Claire spoke deep into her sister's shoulder, where her hair would once have been. All that tickled her neck was the floral scarf tied tightly round Ruth's head. Words that couldn't be said face to face could be whispered cheek to cheek.

"You have an amazing daughter. Thank you for letting me get to know her better." She stood back, tears blurring her vision. "I promise I'll call more often, and I'll stop by when I head south again. It won't take long to get through the hostels on the east coast I didn't get to with Sky."

Ruth squeezed Claire's arms, then let them drop as she reached for a tissue. "Thank you for everything, sis. Sorry I got upset about the whole Chris thing. I know you were in an impossible situation. And, well, if the worst does happen." She stopped, unable to say the unthinkable words.

Claire was glad they remained unspoken. In the whole week she had spent in the hospital with Ruth, they had never talked about what might happen. While Ruth was responding to treatment it seemed like tempting fate to discuss the future.

"Try and enjoy your travels. I know it isn't what you wanted, but you seem..." Ruth searched for a word. "You're more alive, since you started the trip. When you looked after Sky in February you looked tight and tired and, I don't know, somehow bitter at life. Now, well actually now you still look tired." She laughed. They both knew what looking after Sky was like. "But it's different. It's a lack of sleep because my niece was up all night tired."

The words seemed to run out and Ruth let them trail away. Even though the doctors had sent her home, she still looked exhausted. Claire gave her another hug, then turned to where Sky was snuggled up with Nana in the armchair, her face wet and blotchy.

"Come here, Sky, give Auntie Claire a cuddle."

The girl hesitated, them scrambled down and ran across the room, sobbing.

"Don't go, Auntie Claire. Please."

"I have to poppet. I'm not ready to be fired just yet, and my mean old boss won't let me take any more holiday."

Sky clung tightly to Claire's neck, and she was conscious of a warm sensation deep in her heart. She no longer wanted to shake her off.

"I'll be back soon. You take care of your Mummy, okay, and do what Nana tells you. I'll call and find out what your teacher thought of your story."

Pulling the thin arms away from her neck as gently as she could, Claire took Sky's hand and led her back to sit with Nana. Then with a quick wave and no more words, she hurried from the room, swallowing down the lump stuck deep in her throat.

***

SEVENTEEN

"You have reached your destination."

The satnav's prim voice startled Claire out of her reverie. She looked out the window, not sure what to expect. She hadn't studied the website for this hostel and so was arriving blind. Her heart pattered anxiously, remembering her arrival at Sheringham.

"Alright, Thurlby, let's see what you have to offer. Please be nice."

It seemed strange pulling up outside the hostel, alone in the Skoda. There had been too much time for thought, driving north with all the Sunday commuter traffic. There wasn't even the novelty of new, as the area was close to where she had grown up. Signs for Burghley House and Rutland Water only reminded her of rare family trips out, sibling bickering and a desire to hide.

Claire climbed out of her car and gazed up at the building. Her soul soared like a Red Kite riding a thermal. Tall Georgian sash windows beamed from deep red brick as tree branches in early bud danced over her head. Two weeks of tension drained from her shoulders as she took in the idyllic surroundings.

_I don't know what surprises me more; that these places exist as hostels, where you can stay for a tenner a night, or that I never knew they existed before I started this assignment._ It felt a betrayal to be glad of anything Carl had done to her, but at that moment she was conscious of a deep sense of gratitude that she could come and stay in a Georgian Manor. _By myself, for free. I'll take it. Even if it does mean I'll have to cycle round Rutland Water and oo-ah at Burghley. Again._

Curled up on the sofa, once more immersed in the adventures of Katniss, Claire felt like something was missing. She glanced up at the empty room, and wondered where the strange sensation was coming from. _Maybe I'm hungry. Dry cereal isn't really dinner. That will teach me not to check whether it was a catering hostel or not._ Her tummy gurgled in agreement, but still that didn't seem to be it. She glanced round the room again, and then she knew. She missed Sky. _How is that possible? This is the first time I've felt free in a fortnight._ And it was good to be alone, without the endless worry and chatter. But still, the room seemed too silent, the night stretching out before her too long.

"Ah well," she said, her voice echoing in the quiet. "It'll wear off."

***

EIGHTEEN

Claire was glad of the satnav, reassuring her she was on the correct road. _I don't remember Burghley being this far out of town._

She'd decided to visit the stately home and get some information together for the blog. Her visitor numbers had suffered, during her fortnight minding Sky, although she had maintained the regular posts by discussing trips out with children. It surprised Claire that they had been her most popular posts for a while.

Mental note to include children's activities in all my blog posts from now on. There's a whole world of parenting out there I was oblivious too. I imagine it's even harder to cater for the tiny ones, although how much entertaining do they need when they can't walk and talk?

At last the satnav announced the words, "turn right." Claire looked across and saw the gate houses nestled deep in the hedgerow, with a wooden sign directing visitors to use that entrance. _The last time I was at Burghley it was for the Horse Trials. I don't think we came in this way._ In fact, during the horse trials they had barely seen the house. Only a sea of white marquees and a milling throng of people.

She had come with some university friends and, as far as she could remember, they hadn't left the champagne tent, except to go shopping. _Did I even see a horse? I can't remember. Those were the days._ With a sigh of regret for her lost youth, Claire negotiated the cattle grid, hoping it didn't shake any rusty parts off the Skoda's bodywork, and drove up the lane. The car park nestled underneath large spreading trees, beginning to leave behind the nakedness of winter and don their spring clothes.

The car park was nearly empty, and Claire wondered if maybe the house wasn't open. _I suppose there aren't many people visiting a stately home on a Monday morning in April._ She shivered as a gust of wind swirled round the car, prompting her to reach into the back for her jacket. When she stood up, she had the impression that someone was watching her. Turning slowly, memories of the mugging in her mind, Claire gave out a startled cry at the sight of a large stag standing only two car-lengths away.

"Blimey, where did you come from?"

The stag didn't move at the sound of her voice. He merely stood in silent scrutiny, reminding Claire of Bambi's father surveying the herd from his hilltop lookout. The stag's antlers spread wide and high above his head.

Barely breathing, Claire walked steadily forward, reaching into her pocket for her phone. The stag showed signs of restlessness when she was a few feet away, so she stopped and slowly took a photo. Then she stood, barely breathing, eyes connected to the impassive stare of the animal. They stood motionless for a minute, and Claire wondered if she could chance getting closer. With her arm outstretched she crept forward. The stag threw up his head, then turned and galloped off to join the grazing herd on the other side of the car park.

_Bloody hell._ Claire let out the breath she had been holding, and gave a shaky laugh. _That's today's blog sorted. I can't imagine some boring old sixteenth-century house can have anything to top that._

***

**NINETEEN**

Claire flicked through the photographs on her iPad, as she waited for the serving person to bring her coffee. _Maybe I should just put photographs up on the blog every day, rather than writing my usual waffle. Some of these are quite good._

Her Burghley House folder had nearly 100 pictures. The tour had taken some time and there had been endless things to see. There was the shot from behind the building that was straight out of Kiera Knightley's _Pride and Prejudice_. This one showed the rooms used for the interior of Castel Gandolfo in the _Da Vinci Code_ movie. And that one was from _Elizabeth: The Golden Age_.

Oh and of course all that lovely architecture and works of art. Not that anyone is interested in that sort of stuff, certainly no one who follows my blog.

Claire looked at the photograph of the stair-lift going up the 'Hell Staircase'. There was something slightly creepy about old and infirm people being able to take a stair-lift to hell. She shook off the thought as inappropriate, and continued to flick through her images.

Draining the last of her coffee, Claire looked at the blue sky and then at her watch. _It's too nice to get straight back in the car and drive to the next hostel._ She wandered into the rose garden that filled the courtyard outside the Orangery. There was a low railing surrounding a large circular pond. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she went to peer in the water, phone in hand to take some pictures.

"Holy crap!" Claire nearly dropped her phone, as a fish the size of a small shark rose out the water beneath her. Heart thumping loudly, she took a step back, then glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed her outburst.

Relieved to see she was alone, Claire ventured back to the railing and peered into the murky pond. Dozens of silent shapes glided and danced in the water, glowing gold or white in the darkness. _I hate fish. Particularly big fish._ With a shiver, Claire took a couple of photos, then turned and went back through the restaurant to wander in the sculpture garden.

In the distance a clock chimed, startling Claire from her reverie. She checked her phone and was shocked to see she had been in the garden over an hour. Ambling beneath the trees, seeking out the hidden sculptures, she had been lost in her own meandering thoughts, wondering what it might have been like to live in a great house like this. To walk through the gardens collecting flowers and having secret assignations with ardent lovers.

Okay, that's too much A Level English Literature going on right there. I'm sure, in the real world, handsome men didn't profess their undying love and sweep the lucky lady off her feet. No different then than now.

To her right, half-hidden by trees, a large metallic face with an enigmatic expression gazed across the garden. She'd seen scrawny cows and metal deer, and a meadow of silver pots that look like an alien invasion. Despite studying The Arts at university, sculpture wasn't really her thing, so she was surprised at how peaceful the garden had seemed.

_All good things come to an end, though. Time I was getting a wriggle on to Woody's Top. Another lovely self-catering hostel. I need to either buy food or get there in time to go to the pub._ She hesitated. _The latter, definitely. A glass of wine is long overdue._

***

TWENTY

Endless fields stretched to the horizon. Claire had a sense of déjà vu and searched her mind for the parallel. _Oh yes, driving back to Mum's house with Sky._ Glad to have an explanation for the sense of oppression the interminable flatness pressed on her soul, Claire was nonetheless relieved when the satnav announced they had reached their destination.

Claire looked around for a hostel, but could see only a cottage partially hidden by high hedgerows and surrounded by trees. There was no sign to say if it was the YHA hostel or not, but Claire had an inkling it was somebody's home.

Great.

She was trying to decide whether it would be better to turn round, call the hostel, or go and ask for directions at the house, when a loud beep behind her made her jump. Her gaze shot to the rear-view mirror and she swallowed as she saw the monster-sized tractor parked directly behind the Skoda.

With a wave of apology in her mirror, Claire pulled into the driveway and looked down as the tractor came past, not wanting to meet the gaze of an irate farmer. The tractor pulled onto the verge in front of her and stopped.

"Oh crap."

With a dry mouth, Claire watched the driver climb down and walk over to the car. Without looking out the window, Claire wound down the glass and waited for the tirade. It didn't come.

"Are you lost?"

Claire looked up at the sound of clipped southern vowels and was surprised to see the voice came from a tanned and wrinkled face, dressed in stained blue overalls.

"I'm looking for the youth hostel."

The face split in a wide grin and the farmer nodded. "Ah, yes. Following your satnav? It always brings people here. It isn't a problem of course, but maybe we should put up a small sign."

When Claire didn't respond, the smile lost some of its brilliance. _Oh bugger, was that meant to be a joke?_ Claire gave a belated grin and was rewarded with a row of shiny teeth.

"The hostel is down the road behind you, about one hundred metres, on your left. I'm afraid there isn't much there; I do hope you've brought some sandwiches." He smiled again and this time Claire remembered to laugh on cue. She was rewarded with a conspiratorial wink.

The farmer leant forward, resting his hands on the car door. "I'm only having fun, young lady. There's a charming public house in Tetford. The White Hart Inn. Tell them Andrew sent you, they'll treat you well."

_I'll do no such thing_ , Claire thought, relieved when the strange man pulled his head out the car and sauntered back to his vehicle. With the speed and precision of a racing driver, Claire slammed the Skoda into reverse and forward again, leaving a cloud of dust behind her as she wheel-span back onto the road.

Sure enough, the hostel was up on the left, tucked into a pocket of trees. _No wonder I missed it. It's not exactly a palace._ Claire swung in through the narrow gateway and pulled up outside the building. It was single story, as far as she could tell, with a mixture of whitewashed walls and red brick. Fields stretched away behind; a blanket of unrelenting brown, as yet unadorned by spring crops.

A bit different to Thurlby. Never mind. All I've got planned is a hot shower, a decent meal, a glass of vino, and my bed.

***

TWENTY-ONE

"Louth: Capital of the Lincolnshire Wolds."

Claire read the sign signalling her entry to the town. _What is a wold? Whatever it is, it doesn't look like there'll be a Starbucks._

Even though she had grown up in the area, or maybe because of it, Claire couldn't imagine there being anything impressive in Lincolnshire, apart from maybe the cathedral at Lincoln. _And it's raining too much for me to think about driving that far._

When Claire had looked out the window after a night of uninterrupted sleep, it was to see heavy rain clouds and deep puddles. Her plan to visit the Cathedral had been driven away by a strong need for caffeine. A glance at the map revealed Louth as the nearest town and she'd set off without checking what she would find when she got there.

Claire drove down the main street, reading the names of the shops through the rain being pushed slowly away by weary wipers. _Luck of Louth, Dragonfly Kitchen, Madhatter's Tearoom. Where am I, for goodness sake? I feel like Alice in bloody Wonderland. Maybe this was a bad idea._

She came to a small square, hemmed in by charity shops and a large Greggs. _Great, I can have a soggy pie or buy some paperback books. I want coffee!_ Reluctantly, Claire parked the car and shrugged on her raincoat. _There must be a coffee shop somewhere. I couldn't move for them in Stamford and it was no bigger than here._

Not wanting to wander aimlessly in the rain, Claire ducked into the nearest charity shop to ask for directions. She shook the rain from her hood and threaded her way through racks of clothes and books until she located the counter. A lady of indeterminable age was serving a customer with a plastic hood over blue-rinse curls. Claire waited impatiently, dripping rain onto the clean floor.

Eventually the women ceased their chatter and, with many cheery farewells, the customer left.

"Excuse me, is there a café near here, please?"

The lady looked at Claire in surprise, as if she hadn't noticed her waiting by the counter.

"I'm sorry, dear?" She spoke in the loud tones of the deaf, even though she had been conversing normally with the previous customer.

"Is there a café?" Claire decided two could play at that game, and enunciated her words slowly and loudly.

"Of course, dear. _Tina and Lynne's_ is just round the corner. They do lovely tea." She rambled on about the quality of the home-made tiffin, while Claire resisted the urge to say it was coffee she was after and it was far too early for cake.

Gradually retreating backwards towards the door with a smile fixed on her face, Claire managed to escape the lady's chatter. She raised her hand and a muttered a quick goodbye, then ducked out into the street, not caring about the rain or where the coffee shop was.

Sod this, I might as well drive to Lincoln. At least it's on the way to the next hostel. Bugger the rain, I need to be in a city and soon, before I'm stuck in Wonderland forever.

***

TWENTY-TWO

Claire scurried into the dim building and caught her heel on a snaking line of black cabling stretched across the floor. Nearby a large speaker wobbled and threatened to topple forward. The world slowed to treacle. Before she could think _Oh Shit!_ a man in black stepped out of the shadows and put a steadying hand on the teetering music system.

"I'm so sorry!" Claire's voice echoed loud in the silent building, resonating high into the roof.

The man frowned and turned away without speaking. Remorse turned to indignation. "Charming," she muttered, none too quietly. "What's all this stuff doing in a cathedral anyway?"

"We recorded a BBC Three concert last night, and the lads are still packing up the equipment. My apologies."

Claire turned at the sound of the lilting Scottish voice behind her. She felt as wobbly as the speaker as her gaze met a pair of chocolate-brown eyes, twinkling at her in the gloom.

"Er, that's okay. I'm sorry I tripped. It's raining cats and dogs outside, I was more interested in getting dry than looking where I was going."

"Would you like a tour of the cathedral?" The stranger gestured along the aisle as he spoke. "The lads don't need my supervision and, to be honest, it'll be nice to have some refined company."

The words were cheesy, but the smile seemed genuine, and the way he rolled his rs resonated deep in her chest. Claire shrugged. "Sure, why not. I need a few interesting stories for the blog. I don't suppose you have any inside gossip?"

They walked on, side by side, their footsteps echoing around them. The man gave a low chuckle. "It depends what kind of blog you're writing, Miss – I'm sorry, I've been very rude and haven't introduced myself. The name's Anthony."

He held out his hand and Claire took it, trying not to notice the smooth skin or the grip that went on a fraction longer than expected.

"Claire." The single word seemed inadequate and she searched for something else - something _interesting_ \- to fill the space. "It's a travel blog, promoting the healthy outdoors."

Anthony raised an eyebrow and flicked his gaze around the spectacular building surrounding them.

A blush suffused Claire's face until her complexion matched the red glass of the stained window. "Yes, well, there isn't much healthy outdoors I want to be doing in a thunderstorm. To be honest I write about whatever has happened to me on any given day, and you can't always be scaling waterfalls or swinging through the trees."

Her words raised a glint of interest in Anthony's eyes and she felt her body respond to his renewed appreciation, like a flower twisting towards the sun. Following his broad shoulders as he led her around the cathedral, she thought how nice it was to let someone else take the lead for a change.

All too soon the tour was over and Anthony had located his team leader to discuss their progress. Claire hovered uncertainly, not sure if she had been dismissed. After a lengthy discussion with the man who had saved the loud speaker from crashing to the floor, Anthony turned back to Claire and raised his lips in a devastating half smile.

"We're finished up here, would you like to go for a coffee?"

_Is he asking me out?_ Claire felt awkward. After the confusion with Josh, she wasn't sure she knew how to read the signs anymore. His smile was enticing, but she had fallen for a warm smile before, and found it only burned. Still, coffee was coffee, and she hadn't yet managed her morning caffeine hit.

"Sure, coffee sounds great. Where's the nearest Starbucks?"

***

TWENTY-THREE

Claire watched the sensuous lips moving, aware she had no idea what words were being spoken. With a mental shake she tuned back into the conversation.

"...wouldn't stop coughing, right by the Number Three speaker. I had to ask Simon to offer the woman a throat sweet. I mean, what can you do? I couldn't throw them out the cathedral for coughing, but it _was_ live on Radio Three. A dreadful dilemma."

Anthony turned a worried frown towards Claire, seeking reassurance that he had done the right thing offering the persistent cougher a Halls. Realising some response was required, Claire nodded, as if discussing the viral ailments of visitors to Lincoln Cathedral was everyday fare. "I'm sure you did the right thing. So very selfish, coming to a concert with a cough."

She was rewarded with a grateful smile that caused forgotten regions of her body to flutter in a disturbing way. Cupping her hands around her giant, sadly empty, coffee mug, Claire dredged her mind for a new topic of conversation. Hopefully a more stimulating one.

_You'd think being in charge of recording concerts for BBC Radio would be an interesting job. Turns out I was wrong. How disappointing that every job is dull when it's_ your _job._

"Where to next then, Anthony? What marvellous audio delights do you have to share with the nation?"

Anthony looked vaguely perplexed, as if Claire had spoken in a foreign tongue.

_Come on, my accent isn't so very different from yours, though not nearly so appealing._ She gave a small shiver of pleasure. Claire found the Scottish brogue inexplicably sexy, particularly when she was able to understand the words being spoken. Anthony's silence gave her an excuse to gaze at his attractive face without hiding a yawn.

At last he translated her words in his head, and his face fell, like a school boy discovering he'd got double Latin next instead of Games.

"Opera." He shuddered, so comically that Claire had to stifle a laugh when she realised he was in earnest. "Britten. The Turn of the Screw."

Never heard of it. I'm such a philistine.

"Not that I've ever heard of it," Anthony added. "But Opera, eugh. At least it's back in London, at the Barbican." He glanced at his watch, as if only now realising he had to get from Lincoln to London in time to oversee set up.

"Christ, is that the time?" He pushed his chair back with a nerve-wrenching screech, and spilt the remainder of his half-drunk latte across the table. Claire stood up just as swiftly, to avoid coffee spilling into her lap. She looked up at Anthony's soft, wavy hair, the kissable lips, the heavenly eyes framed by eyelashes that wouldn't look out of place on a cow.

He would be a worthy replacement for Josh in my dreams. If he wasn't such a boring idiot.

Claire held her hand out to the frazzled man, who took it with a weak grasp, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on her ear, before fleeing the coffee shop.

"Bye," Claire said to the empty space in front of her. Then she collapsed back onto her chair and gave in to the storm of laughter swirling in her breast.

***

TWENTY-FOUR

Claire looked up at the hostel building and felt a sense of calm. _No more cooking, no more sitting like a lemon in a tiny lounge, trying not to feel like the girl that time forgot._

The hostel spread out in front of her – a bespoke built red-brick building. It looked more like a Travelodge than the YHA buildings she had stayed in recently. _I guess it lacks charm, but I bet it more than makes up for that in facilities. Even if it does look a bit like a rocket ship about to depart._

As she headed to her room, Claire's mood continued to rise. A sense of newness permeated the building. Each bunk had a neatly folded sheet, pillow and duvet placed in the centre of the bed. Long-since used to making her bed before sleeping in it, Claire only saw the organisation and happy anonymity of it all. _Just what I need to get back into the swing of my challenge, before Carl gets on my case._

Her phone rang. _Oh bugger, I bet that's Carl, summoned like an evil genie._

She put the handset to her ear, waiting to hear her boss's angry tones down the line.

"Hi Claire, it's Julia. Thought I ought to check in on your progress."

Great. The evil genie has sent his handmaiden. I would have preferred the master, he's easier to discomfort.

"Jules, hi, how are things in the shiny world of AJC?"

Claire could sense the teeth-gnashing that her use of 'Jules' had triggered. She also knew that Julia wouldn't rise to the bait. Not immediately. She would have to try harder.

"I've just been having coffee with the head of Live Recordings at the BBC." _Or something like that. Bumbling idiot, but she doesn't need to know the details._ "Charming fellow. I met him in Lincoln Cathedral. You'll read about it on the blog later. I assume you do keep up to date, so you can report back to Carl my every move?"

Not letting Julia speak was bound to be whipping her temper up to a fever-pitch. Claire wondered if she could keep up the endless prattle, but she was tired and wanted the conversation done with.

"That's why I called." Julia dropped her words into the gap like hot bricks. "Carl says there hasn't been anything interesting on the blog for weeks. I'm sure there's no excuse to be hiding behind a doctor's note or a sick sister any longer. It's time to start earning your wages instead of coasting around have a jolly."

It was Claire's turn to grind her teeth. _She is trying to goad you. Do. Not. Rise to it. Or maybe she is just an insensitive cow. Either way, hold your tongue._ Claire took a steadying breath and re-entered the fray.

"No worries, Jules. I'm in Sherwood Forest. There's bound to be something here that will be suitable. Or you could save me the bother and whiz over one of your oh-so-helpful emails. Actually, yes, why don't you do that, Jules? Then _you_ can earn _your_ wages."

She hung up the phone, before the PA could retaliate, and leaned against the wall. Her heart beat double time, knowing there would be fallout from insulting Julia. A Director's PA didn't fetch and carry at the behest of a mere underling, particularly not one in the bad books as she seemed to be. _When will this farce be done? Maybe it's time I put an end to it. The Maldives would be lovely at this time of year._ The thought didn't make her soul sing as it usually did.

Claire looked round the utilitarian room, with matching bunks and plain blue carpet, and wondered when the idea of hot sandy beaches and sparkling blue sea had ceased to have a pull on her heart.

***

TWENTY-FIVE

Claire ran her eye down the list of links on the website and sighed. _This is wearing thin. Go Ape – done that; country parks – done that; Spa Day – not allowed even if it is tempting; narrow-gage railway – done that though worth mentioning on the blog; country house – done that. Looks like I'm going to have to wait for Julia's email after all._ The only thing on the list that could be considered a high-adrenalin activity was karting, and Claire decided she'd sooner resign.

_There must be something new to do in Sherwood Forest._ Her mind filled with images of men in tights hiding in the trees and the words of the song "Robin Hood" began to play in her head.

_Right, so what is Robin Hood famous for? Archery? That's a possibility. Or what about horse riding? A nice gentle hack through the trees might be nice._ A quick search on the internet threw up several possibilities and Claire was soon booked up.

There we go, Julia, no need for you to lower yourself to the task at all. It's all in hand. Though I don't think plodding through the trees on a pony is going to humiliate me quite enough for you. Tough.

Claire stared between the horse's ears at the rump of the pony in front, and tried not to cry. Her legs hurt, her bum hurt and, thanks to a moment's inattention, her head hurt where she'd ridden into a low-slung branch. _So much for a relaxing hack through the woods._ The worst part was being the eldest in the group by more than a decade. Claire hadn't enquired what group she'd be joining and it turned out to be a bunch of teenagers on some Outward Bound expedition.

Head low, Claire let the horse find its own path through the forest and tried to enjoy the sound of bird song and the occasional sight of snow drops deep beneath the trees. After an hour even the teenage chatter began to diminish. Through the foliage around her, Claire could sense the sky darkening and the humidity rising.

_It's going to rain. Bugger. I really must get in the habit of checking the forecast._ She pulled up the collar of her coat and wished she'd thought to put the hood up underneath her hard hat.

_Well, Julia, is this miserable enough for you?_ Hunching her shoulders, Claire was reminded of a character in one of Sky's story books about a sulking vulture called Boris. The thought made her smile briefly, but the feeling didn't last long.

The temperature plummeted as the sun disappeared behind a charcoal grey cloud, hovering it seemed only metres above the trees. There was a pause, then heavy rain drops began to splatter through the leaves.

Claire felt as if she'd fallen into the percussion section of the orchestra pit. The rain splashing on her hard hat syncopated with the clopping of the hooves on the path and the whistle of the wind through the trees.

The horse in front of her stopped and Claire craned her neck to see the problem. Horses had gathered in a group at the front and she wondered if someone had fallen off or been injured. _I can't imagine any of these plod-a-longs bucking. More likely someone fell asleep from boredom and slid off._

A whisper came back along the line to Claire. The teenager on the pony in front didn't turn and share it with her, but she got the general gist. _We're lost._

Claire gave a quick kick to the ribs of her beast and on the third attempt it shuffled forwards, past the gaggle of teenagers. Eventually she drew alongside the guide, a woman no older than Claire, who was staring at a tatty piece of now-soggy paper, turning it this way and that.

"Are we lost?"

Claire didn't mean to sound so accusatory, but cold and fatigue sharpened her voice. The girl looked up, her face woebegone. She nodded slightly without making eye contact.

"How can we be lost? Surely you know the route like the back of your hand? We're not in the Amazon rainforest."

"I'm new. This is the first time I've taken a group out on my own. I'm used to riding on the downs, these trees make me claustrophobic."

Claire swore under her breath. _I feel a hundred years old._ There clearly wasn't any point bothering with the sodden map. She pulled out her phone and prayed for signal. Luck was on her side. Frowning over the screen, trying to shield it from the rain, she fathomed the general direction of the stables.

"We need to head that way." She pointed through the trees, but the rain had reduced visibility to almost zero. Shouting over the gathering wind, Claire added, "Though I don't know how we find a path through this."

The guide shouted back, her facing losing some of its gloom.

"Sorry?" Claire yelled.

"I said the ponies will find their way home, if we point them the right way."

Claire nodded, then signalled for the guide to lead on. She let the teenagers past, and took up position at the rear again – this time to watch for stragglers rather than to mope.

Only I could come on a pony trek with the clueless newbie. Thank you evil genie Carl and your handmaiden Julia. I don't know how you arranged it, but you managed to inject adrenalin even into this.

***

TWENTY-SIX

Claire looked up at the glorious building, set in parkland, and smiled. She was glad to leave the trees and the rain and the smell of horses behind. All she wanted was a hot bath or shower and something alcoholic to send her into the land of nod.

She walked through check-in like a zombie, nodding in the right places and scrawling her name on the paperwork. She regretted the lack of a private room but, if the outside of the hostel was anything to go by, the dorms would be lovely.

Claire opened the door to her room, then stepped out to double-check the number. _There must be some mistake._ She checked the paper in her hand. It was definitely the right room.

She stared at the chaos, trying to make sense of it. The floor was barely visible beneath a litter of clothes, plastic bags, stray shoes and other paraphernalia. A bra hung from the nearest bunk bed. The top bunk seemed to be occupied, although Claire wasn't sure if it was a body or a crumpled duvet.

This can't be right. There isn't room for a mouse to move in here, never mind an extra person.

Eventually, like a _Where's Wally_ puzzle, Claire spotted an unoccupied bunk near the window. She was surprised it was free – usually the beds under the window were taken first – until she realised the curtains were so thin the morning light would illuminate the bed like a spotlight. Something about the state of the room suggested to Claire that these girls were not early risers.

A memory from early in her trip intruded on Claire's thoughts. _Those bloody Swedish girls. That's all I need. I wonder if it's too late to get a different room._ She backed out and headed down to reception.

"Sorry love, the last bed was taken just after you arrived. Is there a problem?"

Claire thought about the stench of clashing body sprays, the comatose body huddled under a duvet at 5pm, the general clutter and chaos. _I guess that's hostelling, I'll just have to write a post about it._

"No, there's no problem. I'm a light sleeper and the free bed is by the window, that's all."

"I can lend you an eye mask if you like?"

Claire was touched by the offer, but shook her head. "No need, I have one, thank you, and ear plugs." _Like airplane freebies, without the glamorous destination to look forward to._ She sighed, then a thought sparked in her mind.

Actually, hostels should do that. How much nicer would some people find their hostelling experience if they discovered the wonders of ear plugs? You could have a little packet on each bed with the sheets; maybe get the eye-masks sponsored by local businesses so they don't cost anything. If I ever have my own hostel, that's what I'll do.

***

TWENTY-SEVEN

Claire curled over towards the window and buried her nose in the pillow. _This is meant to be an all-female dorm. Why am I stuck with two snorers and a person who farts like a lager lout loaded with kebab?_ Screwing her earplugs in tighter, Claire fumbled under the covers for her phone. _4a.m. What the...?_

The snoring from the bunk beneath resonated through Claire's mattress, undermining the work of the earplugs. _I guess there's a limit to what they can do against that industrial sawing noise._ Swallowing her frustration, Claire pulled the duvet over her head and tried to return to her dream. It had been a rather pleasant one, featuring a leading man that was a morph of Josh and Anthony. _Josh's personality and Anthony's availability._

She smiled, pulling the images back into her head to encourage her dream-self to return to the same place. The snoring beneath her subsided and Claire exhaled.

At least they won't be up early.

The sound of doom-laden rap over a bass beat dragged Claire from slumber. She lay in the pool of light seeping through the curtains, trying to figure out what Eminem was doing in her dream. _He's not romantic hero material, even if his lyrics are rather clever. What's more intriguing is what he's doing in my head._ She lay considering the problem for several moments before a surge of activity beneath her drew her attention to the real source of the music.

"Bugger. Sorry!"

The hissing whisper was loud enough that Eminem probably heard it across the Atlantic. More fumbling was followed by the blissful cessation of noise, as the girl located her phone.

Claire dropped her head into the pillow with a groan and tried to return to sleep.

_Strange time for a phone call. I hope she's had the sense to turn that damn phone off now._ The bunk beneath her began to pitch and rock, like a small boat in a choppy sea, and Claire felt a sigh escape before she could swallow it. She tensed, waiting for retaliation against her obvious displeasure, but it didn't come. The girl in the bunk below continued to mutter in a strident whisper.

With a shiver of fear, Claire wondered if the girl was entirely sane or sober. Then she realised the whispering was directed at the occupants of the other beds.

"Come the heck on, girls. We're going to miss the bloody bus."

The words were followed by a nerve-tingling sound that Claire identified as the rustling of a plastic bag. She lay motionless in the darkness, waiting for the awful sound to stop.

_It's six in the morning. Surely you're not packing now, if you're leaving today?_ Apparently they were.

One by one, the five women slid, climbed or fell from their beds and began rummaging in plastic bags until Claire thought she might scream. Her skin felt raw, like it had been scrubbed with wire wool.

The harder the women tried to be quiet the louder they became. _I should just tell them I'm awake_. The thought revolved in Claire's head, but somehow the words would not come out. Instead she lay in rigid silence, praying for the noise to stop so she could go back to sleep.

When I have my own hostel I think I'll ban plastic bags. Or introduce a curfew. Maybe I'll have quiet rooms, like the quiet coaches on the train, where there can be no silly alarms, no packing before 9am and definitely no snoring. Well, maybe I can't enforce the last one, but the free ear plugs will help.

Trapped in the murky world between sleep and wakefulness, Claire wondered where the hostel ideas kept popping up from. _When this assignment is over I'll be perfectly happy if I never see a hostel again as long as I live._

***

TWENTY-EIGHT

"Bloody Hell!"

Claire looked at the building stretching away from her through the drizzle. From the description of The Pavilion Gardens she'd figured it was just a greenhouse full of plants and a coffee shop perched on the edge of a park. She'd only come to visit the Tourist Information Centre, hoping to find exciting things to do in the area before Julia got there first.

_Those Victorians knew a thing or two about architecture. I can't believe all this is free. I didn't think anything was free any more._ Claire stood gazing at the sight, until she felt the rain dripping down the gap between her collar and her neck. With a shiver she snapped a picture of the Pavilion for the blog and scurried inside.

It took a few moments for her to get her bearings. _This place feels like a maze. I don't think I've got it in me to explore today, thanks to the bag ladies waking me at dawn._ Claire read the sign: Art Gallery, Opera House, Restaurant, Conservatory, Tourist information office. _Come on, there has to be a café. Caffeine, that's what's needed._ A sudden stab of guilt made her pause. _Why is it my first stop is always the café? There must be more to life than latte?_ Even the thought left her feeling panicked and shaky.

She scanned the sign again and saw the welcome words 'coffee shop'. Deciding that the need to warm up after the bitter walk from the car was sufficient excuse, Claire set off in pursuit.

Warm and awake from her drink, Claire wandered through the Victorian conservatory, welcoming the humid atmosphere which snuggled round her like a duvet. Banana trees bobbed alongside vibrant blooms. Up ahead she could see a pond with what looked like metal dinosaurs dotted about. _Sky would love this_.

"Look Mummy, there's Boris!"

Claire searched around her, half expecting to see the London Mayor lurking amidst the foliage. Instead she saw a small child with pigtails jumping up and down while pointing into the pond.

Claire chuckled. For some reason imagining Boris as a fish appealed to her sense of humour. She stood watching the girl's excitement with a smile on her face, until she felt the mother's stare. _She must think I'm a nutter or a stalker._ With a flush Claire turned away, eager to find the Tourist Information Centre and get on with her day.

***

**TWENTY-NINE**

Claire pulled the steering wheel down and negotiated the roundabout, trying to ignore the horns that accompanied her journey through rush-hour traffic. _Oh do shut up. So I don't have power steering, or turbo, or anything other than five gears and a steering wheel. You're not going anywhere; the average speed is twenty miles an hour._

She looked at the satnav and cursed as yet another roundabout appeared on the screen. _You've got to be kidding. What's that now? Five? Six? What is it with this town and roundabouts?_

Either side of the Skoda silver executive cars jostled for position, ushering her forward like a lamb being escorted to the altar. Claire cursed her impromptu decision to leave the Peak District and head south. The morning trip to the Tourist Information hadn't revealed anything to rouse her interest and all the hostels in the area were either bunkhouses or ones she had already visited.

It seemed strange, travelling south. It wasn't as if she'd never been further than Leicester before. Work had involved visiting nearly every county in the UK and she'd spent more than her fair share of time in London.

This is different, though. Whatever lies Carl is telling the rest of the office, I'm no longer Claire Carleton, Associate Director. Now I'm just plain Claire, backpacking round Britain. What does she know about being this far from home?

A knot twisted Claire's stomach as, at last, the satnav ran out of roundabouts and led her off the dual carriage way. The roads had been flat and uninteresting up until then, but familiar, with the ribbons of tarmac and the towering motorway lights. Now, she drove into what looked like a housing estate, only to drive past the houses onto a country lane.

Goodness, Milton Keynes is a place of surprises. Oh look, another bloomin roundabout. At least this one is only tiny, even if there is a tree in the middle of it.

Ahead, indigo and grey storm clouds built on the horizon, while the sun shone briefly behind her. The tree-lined lane was suddenly illuminated, as if God had turned on the studio lights. The contrast of storm and sun took Claire's breath away.

I didn't expect to see anything beautiful in this concrete jungle. Isn't Milton Keynes only famous for roundabouts and concrete cows?

The road meandered past an old red-brick wall framing a white five-bar gate, then red-brick cottages, huddled by the road like old men on a bench watching the world go by. Claire drove past two village pubs, facing each other across the road, before the satnav finally announced, "You have reached your destination."

In front of her, overlooking a green, was a charming old farmhouse surrounded by a smart black iron fence. Claire drove through the gateway and came to a halt on the gravel.

"Well I never." Looking up at the old building, Claire thought how little you could tell about a place from its reputation. _If you'd have asked me whether I would rather stay in Milton Keynes or put pins in my eyes, I'd say 'pass the pin'. How wrong can you be?_

With a broad smile, Claire pulled her rucksack from the back seat and headed into the hostel.

***

THIRTY

Claire looked up at the building and wondered which way to go. The dome dominated the skyline in front of her as if it was a true mountain rather than a monstrosity of steel filled with fake snow. Her nerves were already rattled from searching for a parking space: not that the car park was full, but the rainbow of coloured bays confused her.

It's too early and I haven't had enough coffee. Was this a good idea? It's not exactly Val d'Isère. How can it be anything like the real thing, here in Milton Keynes, as far from the mountains as it's possible to be?

Knowing she had little choice, Claire followed the signs into the building and to her check-in location. _If I don't do something spectacular, Julia's going to be all over me like hives._

She'd thought about cheating – pretending she had never skied and taking a skiing lesson. _I'm pretty sure Carl will remember I went skiing with Michael last November. I don't need that particular conversation. At least learning to snowboard will be fun and something useful for after I've finished this stupid assignment._

A gaggle of children clambered down from a coach nearby, making Claire jump. Their excited shrieking gave her the shivers. _I hope they're going bowling. That's too much energy to share a slope with._

Memories of skiing flickered in Claire's mind and she pushed them away. She didn't want to picture Michael skiing up and showering her in powder before smothering her in kisses. Nor did she want to remember the twelve-year-olds who had swooped round her on the blue runs as if the skis had been on their feet since birth. Much as she had enjoyed skiing, she had to admit she wasn't a natural.

Claire arrived at the desk and smiled at the young woman waiting to check people in. She received a glittering grin in return, and felt some of the tension seep out of her shoulders. Following the directions, Claire went to pull on her snow trousers and jacket and locate her board. _Maybe this won't be so bad._

"Ow!"

Claire glared at the child who had crashed into her, sending her sprawling in the snow.

"Sorry, Miss, I lost my balance."

Fairness caused Claire to grin. "No apology needed, I'm not exactly getting the hang of it myself."

"You're doing great, Miss."

The boy flipped onto his feet, tilted his board, and sailed off down the slope. Claire looked round, trying to work out how to get to her feet with as much elegance. She ached and her clothes were wet. _This snow is far too real for my liking. Though at least it is soft._

A whoosh behind her signalled the arrival of her coach. He held out an arm and Claire allowed herself to be pulled upright.

"Are you naturally clumsy, or just not awake?"

The words were said with humour but Claire bristled. _We can't all be born graceful._

"I'm used to skis," she said, defensively, before regretting her words.

"Ah, yes, that figures. Nice safe option. Boring, but much easier." He raised an eyebrow and Claire felt the ire build in her chest, warming her from the inside.

"I'm not done yet. I've only been here an hour." She gritted her teeth, tilted the board, adjusted her bodyweight as instructed, and headed down the slope. For the first time since arriving she managed to remain upright.

_Wow, this is amazing! Okay I begin to understand the hype._ The words were barely formed in her mind before she lost her balance and landed heavily in the snow, her arm trapped awkwardly beneath her. Pain flooded through her mind like hot ice, and she screamed.

***

THIRTY-ONE

"Your wrist isn't broken, Ms Carleton, but you do have a nasty sprain."

Claire looked up at the A&E doctor and groaned. "How bad? You're not going to plaster it, are you?" _Carl is never going to accept another doctor's note stopping me working, but I can't drive with my arm in plaster._

"No, I think a bandage and a sling will be sufficient. You'll need to rest it for several days, however. Do you work?"

_And how exactly is that relevant?_ Claire glowered at the doctor, who continued to look blandly at her as if she was as interesting as wallpaper.

"Yes, I work. I'm a travel journalist." _Well, I guess that's what I am these days. How odd not to know what my job title is._

"Well, no sitting at a computer for hours, and no driving until the swelling has gone down. You're best to follow the PRICE routine."

Claire looked at the woman blankly, waiting for her to elaborate. The doctor looked surprised at her silence, then seemed to realise she wasn't speaking to a fellow medical professional.

"Protection, Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation," she rattled off, as if listing the ingredients for a cake. Noticing the panicked expression in Claire's widened eyes, the doctor handed her an information booklet.

"The main thing is no heat, alcohol, massage or strenuous activity. Rest, Ms Carleton. You'll be fine in a day or so." She began tapping words into the computer and Claire wondered if she had been dismissed.

"And the pain?" Two hours sitting in the Milton Keynes A&E waiting room, watching small children come in screaming and leaving sobbing, had numbed Claire's pain to a dull roar.

"Over-the-counter medicine should be fine. Paracetamol for the first day or so, to let it heal. Then ibuprofen. Codeine if it's severe. No alcohol."

You said that already, you silly cow. I get it. No G&T to ease the misery. Great.

"How about food?" Claire had no idea what time it was, but it had to be at least mid-afternoon. The two-hour wait had been followed by a trip to X-Ray and a further wait to see the doctor.

"You can eat, if you feel like it. It's only a sprained wrist, Ms Carleton. Book an appointment to see your GP if it isn't improving after a week."

This time the dismissal was clear. Claire thanked the doctor, gathered her bag, and headed out to the waiting room. The First Aider at the snow dome had sent her to A&E in a taxi, and she had no idea how to get back to her car or whether it would even still be there. Looking down, she realised she was still wearing the snow dome clothing and her things were in a locker at Xscape.

She stood motionless, staring blindly at the rows of faces sat like an audience watching the drama of A&E unfold.

_I have to get the car. And get back to the hostel. Except I can't drive and I don't know anyone in this stupid town._ For the first time in weeks, Claire felt defeated. Without caring who was watching, with no real thought at all, she sunk down into an empty seat and sobbed.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

Claire looked up into the kindly gaze of a young nurse, who had rested her hand on Claire's shoulder. She tried to control her tears, but the warmth of the touch made them come faster, until she was gulping for air.

The nurse dropped down onto her haunches and looked into Claire's face. "Can I get you anything?"

Aware of the snot threatening to leak from her nose, and the mascara tracking down her cheeks, Claire smiled through her tears and said, "A tissue?"

The nurse nodded and disappeared from view. She came back with a box of tissues, and sat in the now-vacant chair next to Claire.

Funny how quickly a weeping woman can be alone in a crowd.

The nurse handed over tissues, and sat silent while Claire mopped her face and blew her nose.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. It's only a sprained wrist, for goodness sake. Nothing tragic." She thought about Ruth, and all the time she had spent in hospital with her. Crying over a bandage seemed selfish and uncalled for.

"Sometimes it's the little things that break us. Do you have anyone I can call, to come and collect you?"

The words made Claire sob again, as she realised the answer was no. Her parents were fully occupied with Ruth, and Robert had gone back to Geneva. She thought about calling Michael, but dismissed the idea. He had finally stopped ringing and it wouldn't be fair to reignite his hopes, just to get a lift.

She shook her head in answer to the nurse's question, unable to speak.

"What about a friend, there must be someone?"

Kim. What about Kim? I wonder what it would cost me to get a taxi to her place? I'd have to sleep in the bath. I guess I could go back to the hostel now, and figure it out tomorrow. They'll probably have towed my car away by that point anyway.

She realised the nurse was waiting for an answer, and gave a weak nod. "Yes, I have someone I can call. I need to get a taxi to my hostel though, is there a taxi rank near here?"

The nurse nodded and gave some directions, clearly relieved to have been able to help. Claire watched her leave, then went out to the lobby and dialled Kim's number. _Please be home._

"Hello, Claire. I was about to call you, you must be psychic. We need to talk about the wedding, I've got so many ideas and I want to pick your brains about hostels."

"Hi, Kim." Claire's voice wobbled as she interrupted the flow of happy words, and she was unable to continue.

"Claire, honey, are you okay?"

"No."

"What is it? Is it Ruth? God, is she alright?"

Kim's words stabbed at Claire. _What am I doing, feeling sorry for myself when my sister has cancer._ She took a deep breath and tried to stop the shake in her voice.

"No, Ruth's okay, as far as I know. It's me, I sprained my wrist, and I guess I'm feeling a bit fragile. I wondered if you could cope with a visitor for the weekend?"

"Of course! Actually, that's perfect. Jeff's away, so we'll be able to talk babies and weddings without driving him nuts." She babbled on excitedly, and Claire tried to listen with patience.

_Lovely. A weekend of happy families, love, nuptials and procreation. Just what the doctor ordered._ She let Kim make arrangements and tried hard to hold back the tears.

###

This story is continued on Amanda Martin's daily blog at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Also by Amanda Martin:

BABY BLUES AND WEDDING SHOES

Amanda's latest release, the chick lit novel _Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes_ is available now.

5 out of 5 stars **"** **Wonderful, engaging story** **"**

" _Wonderful, engaging story by a talented writer. Pleasantly surprising depth in a plot which one might have initially assumed would be a predictable meet-cute, boy meets girl, happily ever after. A more thought provoking story evolved than expected in the beginning. Author has a nice way with descriptive words which makes one feel nearly in the room. Readers with an appreciation for a bit of reality and a bit of hopeful romantic wishful dreaming will not be disappointed by this lovely tale. Well done."_

DRAGON WRAITHS

_Dragon Wraiths_ , a Young Adult novel. Read the reviews:

4 out of 5 stars " **Pacey and engaging** "

" _This is a wonderful romp for the YA audience that definitely crosses over to Adult (which is me!). Amanda writes in a wonderfully emotive and poetic yet also pacey style and I was at once absorbed and engaged with the central character. I wouldn't call myself a fantasy fan by any stretch (the work Tolkien just makes me want to snooze...) yet I was completely onboard with this parallel world and I found the transition between them, and the entire storyline credible. I found a Harry Potter-esque sensibility to the author's use of intriguing devices and methods for the real and fantasy worlds combining - but this is not to say there is any pastiche going on. Thoroughly recommend the book - and am hoping there's a sequel on the cards!"_

4 out of 5 stars **"** **Thoroughly enjoyable read** **"**

" _Thoroughly enjoyable read. Loved how dragons and humans worked together. Very original and entertaining._ _  
_ _It's a fast paced novel that any age with imagination could enjoy. I'm way out of YA age and still loved it. The ending really made me smile._ _  
_ _I'd read another by this author."_

