The Memory Collector: The emotional and uplifting new novel from the bestselling author of The Other Us
‘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.
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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!
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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.
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Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008216962
For Siân and Rose
Contents
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.’
