The Lost Sister: A gripping emotional page turner with a breathtaking twist. Tracy Buchanan

      ‘She is, isn’t she?’ Mike said proudly.

      ‘My mummy’s very clever!’ Becky added, jumping up and down in excitement. So this was how it felt to be the wonderful mother and domestic goddess Mike wanted. Why did it make me feel so empty?

      ‘Oh Selma, how do you do it?’ I peered up to see Cynthia approach, looking at the cake in awe as she elbowed Donna out of the way. ‘Working, writing … and cake-making! I’m pre-booking you for Elijah’s first birthday.’

      So now suddenly I was flavour of the month. What measures these people judged success on!

      ‘Sorry but I’m never making a cake again,’ I declared, forcing myself to be jolly. ‘I’m still emotionally scarred from this experience.’

      ‘So’s the kitchen,’ Mike said with a laugh. ‘It looks like a bomb hit it.’

      Other mums jogged over, cooing over the cake, but I felt numb. I was hoping I’d enjoy it, the secret deception. But I felt nothing, not even guilt. In fact, as I watched Haley carry the cake over to the large food table, I hoped she’d slip over, and that the cake would tumble through the air before landing face-down on the hard floor, sickly sweet monkey skull caving in, sugar bananas flying everywhere.

      Music started blaring from some speakers as a sprightly-looking woman in a ‘Monkey Fun Children’s Entertainment’ T-shirt bounded into the room. Behind her, Julie and Greg walked in. My stomach sank at the sight of Greg. I’d hoped he wouldn’t be there. I wasn’t sure I could take much more of that man.

      ‘Gather around, children!’ the entertainer cried out as the children rushed over.

      I retreated with Mike to the back of the hall as the party games unfolded. Over the next hour, I gulped down warm wine, growing hot in the stifling hall. I went to unwind my scarf but Mike put his hand on my arm. ‘Best keep it on.’

      ‘But you wanted me to look sexy,’ I whispered, smiling at him, the wine making my head whir.

      He glanced at the fine lines between my breasts. ‘It’s a bit low cut.’

      I felt my cheeks flush again and caught sight of Donna, who was watching from nearby with her son Tom.

      I suddenly felt the urgent need to be the person she thought I was. So I yanked my scarf off.

      ‘Well, I’m hot so I’m taking it off,’ I said defiantly to Mike. ‘I’m also getting another wine.’

      Donna smiled.

      By the end of the party, children were running around, hyper from a mixture of E numbers, exhaustion and excitement. Becky’s pink tutu and white top were filthy, her cheeks red from all the fun. The party entertainer started singing an off-key version of ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone joined in, including Becky, who screamed the lyrics at the top of her lungs as she bobbed up and down. I felt my heart surge as I looked at my daughter. There’s never been anything fake about Becky, especially back then. It was all pure and unadulterated joy. As I watched her, I wished I could be like that.

      ‘Pub?’ Greg said to Mike as the party wrapped up. ‘Few of us going to The Kingfisher next door.’ I noticed he didn’t look at me this time, even with my low-cut top.

      ‘Yay, pub!’ Becky said, clapping her hands.

      Greg and Julie burst out laughing. ‘It gets Becky’s vote,’ Mike said. ‘That okay?’ he asked me. ‘Just one pint.’

      I shrugged. ‘Go on then.’

      That one pint turned into many and one hour turned into three as several sets of parents gathered around two pub benches in the setting sun. The pub had a pretty garden surrounded by trees, with benches littered all over. As I sipped my gin, a welcome reprieve from the warm wine, I grew quiet, watching the others chat, enjoying the way the gin made my head swim.

      ‘Right, listen up everyone,’ Cynthia said dramatically, clapping her hands like a headmistress, the sun dipping into the sea behind her. ‘I’ve started a petition to get rid of that homeless man.’

      I looked at her over the top of my sunglasses. ‘Idris, you mean?’

      Mike frowned. ‘Is that his name?’

      ‘That’s what I’ve heard,’ I replied casually, taking a quick swig of gin and sweeping my dark fringe from my eyes.

      ‘If we get enough signatures,’ Cynthia said, ‘our local councillor has agreed to look into it, get the man evicted from that cave.’

      ‘Isn’t it owned by the Petersons?’ Haley asked.

      ‘Not any more. It was taken over by someone else years ago,’ Greg said.

      ‘No one can get hold of the new owner,’ Cynthia added. ‘But the councillor I know says he’s found a way of getting around it. He’ll have the man out within the week if we add some pressure as local parents.’

      ‘He’s not doing any harm though, is he?’ Donna said softly.

      ‘Of course he is, Donna!’ Cynthia exclaimed. ‘He’s dealing drugs from that cave.’

      ‘We don’t know that,’ I said, irritation ticking at the core of me. ‘The country’s in the middle of a recession, Cynthia. He might have just lost his job.’

      ‘But it’s obvious something’s going on,’ Cynthia’s husband Clive said, a man who held himself in that straight-backed way that suggested he wanted to let everyone know he was in charge. ‘All those kids hanging around.’

      ‘Kids,’ Greg said. ‘That’s the operative word here. I don’t think drugs is the real issue. The man clearly has a thing for young girls.’

      Everyone nodded apart from me and Donna.

      Donna frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s very fair.’

      ‘Speak up, love!’ Clive said, Cynthia laughing.

      ‘She said it isn’t fair!’ I said in a loud voice. ‘Can you hear yourselves?’

      Mike put a warning hand on my leg but I shoved him away.

      ‘There’s no evidence of these allegations,’ I continued, feeling all the frustrations of the past few days building up inside. ‘Just rumours and speculation.’

      ‘Rumours should be enough when it comes to our children, Selma,’ Cynthia said, the lines around her mouth tight. ‘As a mum, you should—’

      ‘Oh yes, as a mum,’ I replied, taking another swig of gin. ‘I should be perfect in every single fucking way, shouldn’t I?’

      Cynthia shut her mouth as Greg raised an eyebrow, everyone around the table going quiet. Only Donna smiled slightly.

      ‘Selma,’ Mike hissed, hand now painfully squeezing my knee.

      I closed my eyes, felt something boiling and frothing within. Part of me wanted to contain it, but the other part wanted to let it explode and roar. Mike could sense it – I felt it in the firmness of his hand on my leg.

      ‘You do like defending the man, don’t you?’ Cynthia asked.

      I opened my eyes, looking right into Cynthia’s cunning green ones.

      ‘And you like defending your husband, don’t you?’ I snapped back. ‘Despite the fact everyone knows he fucked the nanny?’

      Everyone’s mouth dropped open, even Donna’s. Cynthia’s cheeks flushed and her husband’s face went white.

      ‘Jesus, Selma,’ Mike said.

      I looked at them all, at all the shocked and wounded faces around the table. I knew I’d gone too far, but I realised I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all.

      I stood up. ‘I need to get away from here.’

      ‘Yes,