The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4) by Gregg Dunnett (best love story novels in english .txt) 📗

it on his species charts. There was her own mom and sister of course, poor Grace was taking it worse than anyone. Billy’s old science teacher from high school had come. It was he that recommended Billy skip a year and attend college early, that he was getting bored with the too-easy work of high school. Had that decision been the one to condemn him? Or was Billy’s downfall all his own doing? The police were there too, sitting at the back, watching. Still watching. Wanting to be quite sure. She turned around, seeing what they were seeing. The backdrop of the church, the little altar. Father Evans standing with his hands folded in front of him, waiting for her. She unfolded her paper, began to cry, and began reading.

After it was over they went to Sam’s house in Littlelea. Some of the fisherman’s wives had cooked, and there was far too much food for the dozen or so people who turned up. The whole time Amber kept wanting this to be a mistake. That somehow this still couldn’t be real, but the evidence of her eyes and ears couldn’t be ignored. And when she knew she wanted to leave it felt somehow disrespectful, that she should stay to the very end, but Sam sensed how she was feeling and suggested to her mother that she take her home. And so Amber left, sitting on the back seat with Gracey, so she could let the little girl rest against her side as they drove away. And when she got back to her childhood home, where her bedroom was still just the way it always was, she cried and cried and cried, until there were no more tears inside her and she felt empty and bereft.

Chapter Fifty-One

There was little point in hanging around, so the day after the memorial she booked a place on the ferry back to the mainland. She’d been given compassionate leave by her firm, and had no fixed day when she was expected back, but there seemed no reason to delay it. If anything she preferred the idea of being at work, alongside people who hadn’t known Billy and therefore wouldn’t be mourning his loss. Let their carelessness and concern for other things rub off onto her.

She took the bus from Newlea to the ferry terminal in Goldhaven, and when it dropped her off she sat, shivering from the cold, in the breezy foot passenger shelter on the harbor side. The ferry was late getting in, she saw it appear on the horizon and slowly grow larger. She remembered the last time she had caught the ferry off the island, that time it had been her and Billy who were late, rushing in with Sam in his truck, and dashing aboard at the last minute. Now she watched the ferry slow as it came through the harbor walls, its great engines churning up sediment from the bottom. It edged closer to the dock, thin mooring lines were thrown ashore, then reeled in by the dock hands, until the much-thicker lines were hauled up. The gangway was hoisted into position, and after a few minutes the departing passengers began trickling out, while the huge bow doors of the boat disgorged cars and trucks. Still she thought of Billy, of what he had said to her, about Fonchem, and their campaign to stop them. Still it nagged at her, the idea that he might do something as radical as bombing it, as stupid. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

There was an idea, a thought in her head. It didn’t make sense either. Sam would have said something, Billy would have said something, if it were true, if he wasn’t gone. But – but if there was just a chance, then shouldn’t she check? Before she went back to her life, before she tried to forget about him and move on? The flow of vehicles leaving the boat eased and stopped, and the reverse happened, new vehicles drove in, ready for the return voyage. The other foot passengers around her were lining up now, ready to go aboard. But Amber wasn’t among them. Inertia glued her to the plastic seat as she watched the line shuffle forward, and then disappear altogether, as they went aboard. She was alone now, the last foot passenger in the shelter. She felt like the last person on Earth. An announcement came over the tannoy, the final call for foot passengers to board. Finally, Amber got to her feet. She shouldered her backpack, and walked towards the gangway. But just before she stepped on it she stopped.

“Fuck it.” She said, to no one but herself. And she turned around.

Chapter Fifty-Two

There was a bus back to Newlea, but it wasn’t due for a half-hour, and she waited in the desolate shelter until it arrived. The lurid colors of a tourist map stared back at her from the glass of the shelter, printed to help tourists orientate themselves with the island, and decorated with cartoonish images. A pair of children playing on the Silverlea Sands, two more searching for silver at Northend. Cartoon men fished from the pier at Holport, as an oversized, friendly-looking image of the ferry sailed past, white smoke puffing from its funnel. But she didn’t look at those. Instead she searched the gaps between the cartoons, between the towns and the places where the visitors flocked. Thinking.

When the bus finally arrived she sat right at the back, even though it was almost empty. She used her cell phone to call her old school friend and near-neighbor, Kelly. Amber had never been popular in school, but her and Kelly had become relatively close, mainly as a result of how they lived in the same street. Amber explained very little about the situation, but begged if she could borrow Kelly’s car, just for the day. Luckily Kelly didn’t need it that afternoon, and agreed. Amber thanked her, and