The Island

Mary Grand

Description

The Island - where everyone knows everyone, and secrets are impossible to keep...

‘Be careful, you don’t know them as well as you think. Remember - anyone can kill.’

Juliet has returned to the Isle of Wight from years abroad to visit her sick father and to be reunited with her three sisters – Cassie, a professional musician who seems to have lost her way in life, Mira, who is profoundly deaf, is married to the local vicar but their relationship is falling apart, and Rosalind, glamorous and charming but now deeply unhappy and secretive about her life.

As Juliet’s father lies dying, he issues her with a warning. There is a killer on the loose, and they may be closer than she can ever imagine. He anxiously tells Juliet that he confided a family secret in son-in-law Rhys, and now regrets ever saying a word.

Days later, as the clock strikes one in the morning, a man comes out of Rhys’s church, walks along the path and is run down by a car driven by an unidentified person. When the finger of suspicion points to Juliet, she realises the only way to clear her name is to uncover the secrets her family has been keeping from her for years. But with a killer on the loose, danger is getting closer all the time…

The Island is set on the Isle of Wight - insular, claustrophobic, and where secrets are hard to keep**. Mary Grand's heart-stopping who-dunnits are perfect for fans of Louise Candlish, Agatha Christie, Lucy Foley and The Isle of Wight Murders.

What readers are saying about Mary Grand:

'Truly a great puzzler with a superb ending! I HIGHLY Recommend!!!'

'Wow I'm so so impressed it had me gripped start to finish and I couldn't put it down. I completed within 1 night and such a page turner'

'So many twists and turns to keep the reader guessing to the very end. An excellent read.'

'Brilliant if you love psychological thrillers like me.'

'A sinister "whodunit" that is not your typical police procedural.'

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Policier
• Vie de famille
• Relations familiales
• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Women Sleuths
• Private Investigators
• Amateur Sleuth
• Traditional
• Holidays
• Siblings
• Thrillers
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Adventure (Guyana)
• Suspenso
• Isla de Wight
• Friendship
• Cozy
• Psychological thriller
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Domestic
• Sibling
• General officer
• Woman
• Psychology
• Isle of Wight
• Espionage
• The Women
• Great Britain
• General
• Adventure
• Crime
• Family Life
• Suspense
• Île de Wight
• Noir
• Fiction
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 24 juin 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781800481831
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Island


Mary Grand
To my sisters and brother, Anne, Janet, and Gerald, with much love. Thank you for being the best family and friends I could wish for.
Contents



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34


Six months later

Acknowledgments

More from Mary Grand

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
Prologue
Saturday 20 August 2016

Adrenaline numbs the pain of the car keys digging into the palm of my hand. No breeze comes off the sea. Remnants of a scorching day hang in the air.
Hiding in the darkness, I peer at the church door, lit by the feeble night light in the porch, waiting.
Unexpectedly, the church door opens. Stop. It’s the wrong person. What the hell are they doing here?
I step back as they come towards me, hold my breath; they are so close now. I can imagine the warmth of their breath on my cheek. Oblivious to my presence, they move on, down the path towards the main road, and I return to my position, staring at the church door.
The church clock strikes one, the sound bouncing off the gravestones, and I see the lights in the church being switched off; the door opens again. He’s coming out. This is it.
I get in the car and push the keys into the ignition. I hear the clink as the stone-heart key ring knocks gently against the other keys. I wait, timing is everything. No headlights, no engine… yet.
He’s coming this way. That’s it. Now he’s walking down the path.
Quickly: engine on, accelerator hard down. Thud. It’s over so quickly. I screech to a halt, get out of the car. Something catches a slither of light. I check – he’s dead.
Job done.
1
Two weeks earlier – Friday 5 August 2016

The tunnel was stifling apart from the occasional slither of sea breeze squeezing its way through the cracks around the windows. Two lanes: one for people leaving the island, one for those arriving. Juliet, in the latter, was aware of people behind her getting frustrated, but she was weighed down with her backpack and pulling a large suitcase: she couldn’t go any faster. She wanted to tell them that she wasn’t some tourist, she was the real thing: an islander returning home. Despite the sickening dread that had gripped her from the moment she received the phone call, she still felt a childlike flutter of excitement at finally coming home to her family, her island.
Juliet emerged from the tunnel and hit a wall of brilliant sunshine, crowds of overconfident ‘yachty’ types, shouting, their voices clashing with strains of live music and gulls screeching above. The masts of sailing boats jangled, their furled sails white against the blue sky, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and ‘street food’. It was Cowes week.
Juliet was forced to make a diversion around a large group of youngsters who were far too busy impressing their friends to make way for her.
‘Hi. Over here, Juliet.’
She waved to the taxi driver. Although she’d not seen him since leaving school years ago, she recognised him. Juliet grinned, grateful to see a familiar face.
The taxi driver was Mike, who used to live in her village. She had suffered him messing about on the school bus for years. However, she was impressed to see him open the boot, come towards her and take her bags. She held onto the large brown leather handbag.
‘At your service,’ Mike said, smiling as he opened the passenger door. Her heart sank – she had wanted the protection of the back seat.
‘My God, its chaos,’ she commented.
‘Bloody Cowes week, eh. Still, good for business. It’s the hospital, then?’
‘You know about Dad?’
‘It was in the paper this morning.’
Juliet breathed deeply, of course it was, and if it had been in the weekly island paper, then everyone knew.
They soon left the crowds behind and were on the main roads that led out of Cowes to the main town of Newport. Juliet was struck by how quickly her last two years were disappearing, and the feeling of ‘never left’ returning.
‘I’ve always said that road your dad was on was dangerous; there should be more passing places. People speed something awful along there,’ Mike commented.
Juliet wondered how much the paper had said about her father’s accident. Mike soon answered that.
‘Still, I don’t think your dad was feeling, well, quite himself.’
Juliet cringed. So, they’d mentioned the drinking; that would get the island talking. She could hear them all: ‘I never knew he was a drinker. He always seemed such a decent sort of man.’ She clenched her fists in frustration, wanting to shout at Mike, ‘He isn’t like that,’ but she couldn’t bear the pitying look she would get in reply.
Fortunately, Mike changed the subject. ‘So, have you been on holiday?’
‘No, I’ve been away for two years, teaching abroad in China.’
Juliet turned and looked out of the window. She wasn’t in the mood to chat and Mike took the hint.
It didn’t take long to drive to the hospital, and Juliet’s sense of dread grew as they parked outside.
‘Here’s my card,’ Mike said. ‘We’re the hospital’s nominated taxi service. If you or your mum need a lift any time, night or day, give us a call.’ He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I know Mum would want me to send her love to you and your family.’
She knew he meant it, that is exactly what his mother would have wanted him to do, and that, she knew, was the flipside of the closeness of the island.
‘Thanks, Mike.’
Mike handed her the bags. ‘Hope your dad’s all right,’ he said, but the serious tone in his voice indicated he knew how ill he was.
Juliet tried to swallow the deep sense of apprehension as she walked towards the hospital entrance. ‘Intensive care,’ her mum had said. The words filled her with alarm; they were always preceded with something awful. ‘They’re not sure if he’ll make it…’ She used the hand gel, rubbing her hands hard together, headed for the lift, glanced down the list and found it: ICU.
Walking along the corridor, she passed visitors and medical staff milling around, and then turned a sharp right. It was quieter here, a short passageway leading to a row of plastic chairs outside the main entrance to the ward and on these sat her three sisters. Her internet connection in China had made video calls impossible and most of her communications with the family had been by email or text, with only the occasional telephone call. Seeing them now, they looked older, rawer than the pictures she had stored in her mind. They weren’t huddled together; they each sat slightly apart, each an individual.
Mira appeared to be staring unseeing into the distance, but she immediately spotted Juliet, leapt up and raced towards her. Their hug was clumsy but warm.
‘You’ve cut your hair,’ Mira signed and spoke simultaneously, her eyes bright, smiling.
‘Yours is the same,’ replied Juliet and reached out, touched the long brown untidy curls. Juliet glanced around. ‘How are things?’
Mira shook her head, with both of her hands she made a wringing gesture over her heart, the sign for heartbreak, and, as so often, Juliet felt the sign said so much more than the words.
The whole family had been using British Sign Language since Mira had been diagnosed Profoundly Deaf at the age of three, they spoke and signed at the same time. Mira’s speech and lip-reading were extremely good, but British Sign Language was her first language.
Juliet glanced at her eldest sister, Cassie, sat very upright, her hair scraped back into a tight ponytail, arms crossed, legs wound around each other, one foot tapping rhythmically on the floor.
Cassie glanced at Juliet; her mouth flickered in recognition.
‘Thank God you’re finally here,’ wailed Rosalind, who, even at nearly twenty-one, held out her arms in the familiar gesture of the ‘baby sister’ waiting to be hugged and catered for. However, she appeared even more glamorous than when Juliet had left her, with expertly tanned legs and tinted blonde hair.
Juliet put her bag down and went to Rosalind. ‘I’m so sorry, I came as quickly as I could.’ She leant forward and signed to Cassie, ‘How is Dad?’
Cassie glanced over in her direction. ‘Critical. He’s been like it since the accident on Monday evening, four days now,’ Cassie signed in the same way she spoke, clipped and sharp. Today, there was an extra edge and nothing passive about the aggression in her words. She clearly meant that Juliet should have come sooner, cared more.
‘We know it’s a long way to travel,’ interjected Mira, as always trying to smooth things over.
‘I took the first flight I could get from China. What was Dad doing driving at that time of night anyway?’ Juliet signed to Cassie.
‘He’d gone up to the Downs, looking for owls or something. If he’d not been drinking—’
‘Mum said he crashed into a barn?’
Cassie nodded and then stood up. ‘I have to make a phone call; I’ll be back soon.’ She stalked off down the corridor.
‘Can I see Dad?’ Juliet signed to Mira.
‘Of course.’
Juliet gently unpeeled Rosalind and handed her to Mira. She moved to the doors of the ward.
‘Mum is in there now. He might not open his eyes or speak,’ Mira said.
Juliet felt a sickening dread, a knot in her stomach. She felt guilty that part of her wanted to run away, but this was her father. Of course, she must see him.
She pushed open the door. There were six beds, but they were spread out. Unlike so many wards where the nurses seemed invisible, here they were everywhere, quietly, efficiently, going about their work. The sound of machines, purposeful steps, no shouting, no unruly children or groups of families: this was serious.
A nurse cam