Page 41 of One Summer

‘Thanks,’ she says, looking pleased. ‘I thought it up myself.’

I take my dog food and my single pint of milk, which I’m already wondering how best to ration, when I realise I’ve left my sunglasses on the counter. Ducking back inside, I catch the back view of Edie. She’s looking at a wall of magazines that she appears to be having an animated conversation with.

‘Did you hear all that?’ she asks the magazines.

But when she turns around, I see she has earbuds in and must be on a phone call with someone. She looks a little sheepish when she catches my eye. I take my sunglasses and whisper to her, ‘These are mine,’ just in case she thinks that my Ray-Bans are stocked in her shop and that I’ve chosen this elaborate way to steal them. She nods, gives me a wave and waits until I’m outside the shop before she starts talking again.

Outside, I see the red-haired woman who seems to have been stalking me ever since I got to the island. She’s ditched the electric bike in the dirt and is sitting on a low concrete wall, next to an ancient-looking post-box from the reign of Edward VII.

‘I’m Betty,’ she says. ‘You’re Lindy Hougassian.’

She pronounces it, I note, perfectly.

‘That’s right,’ I reply, feeling my body tense up. Why does everyone here seem to know who I am?

‘You met Edie,’ she says, dropping to her knees to pet Ted, who has already assumed the position: tummy exposed, hindleg raised, waiting for tickles. He looks completely enchanted by her and the feeling is evidently mutual.

‘The shopkeeper? Yes.’

‘She’s our resident psychopath. Did you pick up on that? The wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing vibe? Humans are supposed to be able to sense it, you know, when they’re in the presence of a predator. Not that Edie is a predator in the traditional sense. She’s completely harmless; it’s just that she has absolutely no empathy or conscience.’

I stare at the woman, trying to keep up.

‘The lady in the shop is a psychopath?’

‘Yes, but she’s very nice. Not violent in the slightest. She’d be very handy in a crisis. That’s why humans keep breeding new psychopaths – they’re helpful for the species. They do all the stuff that people with consciences don’t like to do – but stuff that has to be done. I think Halloon has a touch of psychopathy too. You met Halloon earlier. He was the one who drove you in the cart. He’s Edie’s son.’

‘Oh, his name is Halloon,’ I say, blushing. ‘I thought that was a Loor greeting.’

I cringe as I remember saying it to the sexy surfer dude. No wonder he looked at me strangely.

She rolls her eyes.

‘So how do you like your new home? Nice view from that place.’

‘It appears to have an occupant. With a dog. He’s down with the flu.’

‘Ted has the flu?’ she says, looking worried.

‘His owner does. I don’t think dogs get the flu.’

‘He’s not Ted’s owner. He’s just looking after him for a few days. We didn’t think you were coming until Thursday.’

‘Yeah, Halloon didn’t warn me about that. There must have been a mix-up somewhere, but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’

I’m not remotely sure about that. Something has obviously gone seriously awry somewhere along the line, but I have no idea how. All I know is that I have to get that sneezing man out of my bed, out of the beach house, and then I need to bleach the whole place from top to bottom.

‘Bye then,’ I say, but she’s already picked up her bike and is on her way.

Ted and I walk back to the beach house, stopping every now and again to stare at the view, which is breathtakingly beautiful. Turquoise sea lapping into coves, craggy cliffs strewn with wildflowers, gannets diving into the sea in neat little explosions of water.

Things may be less than optimal in my living situation, but whatever happens next, however it all shakes out, this place is a wonderful fresh start and I’m not going to let anything mess it up – a resolution that lasts the whole forty seconds it takes for me to walk to the cliff path, because there he is.

Thirty-Five

Panic

A figure is peering into what looks to be either a foxhole or perhaps a badger sett: obviously some nature enthusiast getting their rocks off.

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