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Back Where The Story Starts Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
  64. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

‘Oh, my God,’ I said when I had recovered enough to speak. ‘If we’d got stuck there I’d never have lived it down. Only the bloody tourists get themselves stranded at the lighthouse.’

‘Something must have distracted you,’ said Marlon. He was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

‘Can’t think what?’ I replied, but I was grinning too.

When we were back on the mainland everything felt different. It was like the island had cast a corny lovers’ spell over us. I couldn’t quite believe that we’d been kissing, and for long enough to miss the tide.

‘We’d better get back before we freeze to death,’ I said, to take my mind off it. I couldn’t seem to look at him and he, reading the signals that I must have been giving off, stepped further away. It was as if we had never kissed at all.

26

26

LEAH – NOW

We walked back to the house as quickly as our wet clothing would allow. I was desperate not to be spotted, and as we raced along I tried to think of plausible excuses as to why we looked so bedraggled, but luckily we saw no one who knew me. The cold, wet denim stuck to my legs, chafing slightly as I moved, and my trainers squelched. I could feel a blister starting to rub on my heel. If this had been a date (which it absolutely hadn’t been, of course) then it had turned out pretty crummily. Even though it was warmer out of the wind my teeth were chattering, and Marlon’s pale skin seemed to be turning blue as he sidled along next to me. The kiss scampered between us, like a mischievous monkey.

‘So, tell me about Clio,’ I said to fill the awkward silence.

Marlon thought about his answer for a moment, rather than diving straight in.

‘She’s lost,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t mean because her dad just died. It’s more than that. She’s always been a bit lost.’

I thought I knew what he was getting at, but I wanted more from him.

‘Lost how?’ I asked.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said. ‘And I may be totally wide of the mark here. I mean, I don’t know her that well. I’m only staff, remember.’ He pulled a face that said ‘and that puts me somewhere just south of the peacocks in the pecking order’.

I was starting to see that there was far more to Marlon than just being a gardener. He had that self-deprecating humour that appealed to me, but he was also sharp and observant. I wondered if that came from the sketching thing. Maybe you had to see what others didn’t in order to sketch well?

‘It’s like she’s always searching for something,’ he continued. ‘But she has no idea what it is.’