The Summer Girl by Jenny Blackhurst

Author:Jenny Blackhurst
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Claire

I was coming out of the tourist information with my trusty new map when I saw the woman again. Only this time I knew who she was. She was Gina Burton, the sister of Natalie Burton, the girl who had died accidentally in the marina five years ago. She stared at me more openly now, and she had positioned herself so she could see exactly what I was doing. Had she followed me here after seeing me in Oak Bluffs the other day?

I spun around and strode towards her and watched her eyes widen in surprise.

‘You’ve been following me,’ I challenged.

Her face reddened and she looked as though she might deny it but instead she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes sunken dark circles.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said. Clearly this woman was harmless and grieving, and I knew how that felt. Grief didn’t make you crazy, but it made you feel that way. Like no one on earth could ever be experiencing the exact pain that you were. Like that hole inside you could only ever be filled with despair and madness. Since Mum had died, I had been consumed by it on an almost daily basis. ‘I know what happened to your sister, I’m really sorry.’

She paused, as if that was the last thing she expected me to say. ‘I suppose they told you I’m crazy, and to stay away from me,’ she said.

‘No one has said anything about you. But then again no one’s exactly been forthcoming with any information about anything.’

‘That’s because you’re asking too many questions. I know why you’re here – they won’t like you asking questions.’

Okay, now she really did sound crazy. All right, so no one had exactly showered me with information, but the locals had been as nice as nice could be to me. There had been no covert warnings or horses’ heads on my pillow.

‘Who’s they?’ I asked, trying not to sound overly sceptical. I didn’t want to upset her, but my patience was wearing thin. Every moment I wasted entertaining this grieving sister was a moment my own was still missing.

She opened her arms in response to my question and gestured wildly around her. ‘Everyone!’ She must have caught my look because she scowled. ‘I know, you think I sound crazy too, but if I’m crazy it’s because the people here made me crazy. Denying facts, twisting evidence. You know they tried to say my sister’s death was suicide? Suicide. She’d been knifed twelve times in the stomach. Then they said it was an accident – that they weren’t knife marks but propeller blades, that she’d slipped into the marina and been cut up by a boat. They ruled that there was no foul play within twenty-four hours of finding her. No investigation, barely any evidence gathered…’ She was talking so quickly that I thought she was going to pass out. What the hell was she going on about? Stabbing, murder?

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