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The Memory Collector: The emotional and uplifting new novel from the bestselling author of The Other Us
Fiona Harper
‘Touching and uplifting, this is Fiona Harper at her very best.’ MILLY JOHNSONFrom the author of The Other Us***THE WINNER OF THE 2018 SPECULATIVE ROMANTIC NOVEL AWARD***‘This book tore my heart into tiny pieces, then put it back together and made it fly.’ JANE LINFOOT‘A beautiful story of loss, discovery and recovery.’ HEIDI SWAIN'Heart-wrenching and compelling.’ SARAH MORGAN'Beautiful, poignant and thought-provoking.’ CRESSIDA MCLAUGHLIN***Heather Lucas lives her life through other people’s memories.Heather doesn’t want to remember her childhood, not when her mother’s extreme hoarding cast her family life into disarray.For Heather’s mother, every possession was intimately connected to a memory, so when Heather uncovers a secret about her past that could reveal why her mother never let anything go, she knows there’s only one place she’ll find answers – behind the locked door of her spare room, where the remains of her mother’s hoard lie hidden.As Heather uncovers both objects and memories, will the truth set her free? Or will she discover she’s more like her mother than she ever thought possible?A powerful, uplifting story about love, loss and the things we leave behind, perfect for fans of Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine and The Keeper of Lost Things.
As a child, FIONA was constantly teased for two things: having her nose in a book and living in a dream world. Things haven’t changed much since then, but at least she’s found a career that puts her runaway imagination to use.
Fiona’s first book was published in 2006 and she now has twenty-six published books under her belt. She started her career writing heartfelt but humorous romances for Mills & Boon, but now writes romantic comedies and feel-good women’s fiction for HQ, including The Little Shop of Hopes and Dreams, which was a Kindle bestseller in 2015. She is a previous winner of the Joan Hessayon New Writers’ Award, has had five books shortlisted for a RoNA Award and won the ‘Best Short Romance’ at the Festival of Romance for three consecutive years.
Fiona lives in London with her husband and two daughters (oh, the drama in her house!), and she loves good books, good films and anything cinnamon-flavoured. She also can’t help herself if a good tune comes on and she’s near a dance floor – you have been warned!
Copyright (#ulink_ba6bbcab-ce4b-546b-b188-8bdad8aa2f8e)
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Fiona Harper 2018
Fiona Harper asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008216962
For Siân and Rose
Contents
Cover (#ulink_ff41c422-4c84-54aa-af39-6cf68b8d0888)
About the Author (#ulink_aceec2e9-62e3-54e0-975d-27883c9ba4e6)
Title Page (#ulink_fb86ad1b-b89b-5a64-847d-fc6c10c8ec48)
Copyright (#ulink_cc29b410-2c95-5c09-976c-5e32c36d2de0)
Dedication (#ulink_8e0bf2d5-0b42-5209-bee2-c5b40ec0cabd)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_fbc79806-12cd-50c7-9ccf-2e74124f5aa9)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c85e3d99-7542-5ac3-a7a3-2d2449bd191d)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_eec22440-3646-5ae3-9974-e97ac8f76674)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_b9bda992-fb72-5f97-8f6b-71bdeafd5601)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_6eac8c55-c1da-5351-9ebb-5bd8cea7e77b)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_e7cbc5f7-19f3-5aea-a9c9-abf7a18e530a)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_c072facb-c9e8-5936-ba1a-ac5ea441289b)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_2cc50689-88a9-5fc4-9474-96fc6b218ce8)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_71d87ed0-7430-51d4-8a15-a75632f0013c)
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_8774f435-911a-5a9e-8df4-9b770546caad)
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_7c572eab-b20a-5930-9049-4485e904bc66)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_009df44a-a4c0-580c-b451-10d760d01bac)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_d2dc2185-668b-5d01-a44e-6ef1cc97b7eb)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE (#ulink_9f17c97b-926f-5a6f-b956-80474ee772ea)
RED COAT
The coat isn’t the orangey-red of postboxes, but the crimson of a film star’s lipstick. It has boxy shoulders and it nips in at the waist then flares out again, ending just above a pair of shapely calves. Even after all these years, every time I go to the seaside I look for a red coat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another one like it.
THEN
The lady in the red coat is laughing. She smiles down at the little girl standing beside her. It’s windy today and hardly anyone is at the beach but neither of them cares. They race each other along the pier, and their shrieks of mirth blow over the railings and get lost in the vastness of the sea beyond. When they can’t run any further, when the sturdy railings stop them leaping onto the flinty waves and sprinting into the horizon, they stand there, panting. Then the woman goes and gets them both an ice cream.
The girl thinks this might be the best ice cream she’s ever had, but she doesn’t say that out loud, just in case she’s wrong. Her mummy has a really bad memory, and sometimes she wonders if hers is the same. There are so many things to keep in her head, you see. So many secrets. It’s hard to store all the memories and things for school in there, too. Maybe mint choc chip isn’t her favourite after all. Maybe she likes something else better. She really can’t remember.
They eat the cones, leaning against the railings and looking out to sea, hair flapping behind them like ribbons.
‘I think this is my favourite place in the whole wide world,’ the little girl says.
The woman nods. ‘Mine too. Whenever I come to the seaside, the first thing I do is walk to the end of the pier. It’s a place where land and sea blur into one, a place where you feel anything might be possible.’
‘Even flying?’ the little girl says, her voice full of awe.
‘Even flying,’ the woman says, smiling softly at her. ‘But maybe not today, eh? I think it’s a bit too blustery for that.’
‘Can we come back tomorrow, then?’
‘Of course,’ the woman says, turning to stare out to sea again. ‘We’ve come here every day so far and we can come back every day after if you’d like.’
The little girl thinks about this for a while as she eats her ice cream. Where could they fly to? France or Spain, maybe even Africa? She’s not sure she’s got the right clothes for hot weather, though, so she turns to ask the woman what she should wear and discovers her companion is no longer smiling.
