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P lease help yourself to more if you’d like some?” Midge offers.

“Thank you. It was delicious , but I’m full,” I say as I put down my knife and fork.

She smiles then stares at the ring on my finger.

“What does your wife think about your novels?” she asks. “I imagine being married to a writer must be quite something.”

That’s one way to describe it, I suppose.

“My wife was my biggest supporter from the start. She believed in me even when nobody else did,” I say, not wanting to share anything further. It isn’t a lie. Abby did always believe in me and I am still married. Albeit to a ghost. My missing wife has defined me these past twelve months—it’s all anyone who knows me thinks about when they see me—but maybe she doesn’t need to here. Perhaps, while I am on the island, I could just be me again.

If I can remember who that is.

“She must be very understanding to let you go off gallivanting by yourself, leaving her behind at home. Especially a handsome man like you,” Midge says, pouring me another glass of wine.

It’s been a long time since anyone called me handsome and I feel myself blush.

Good wine makes up for the not great food—Sandy wasn’t exaggerating about the horror show that is her sister’s cooking—and the company is... interesting.

“You’re sure I can’t tempt you to a second helping?” Midge asks, eyes hopeful and wide.

“No,” I reply a little too fast, and Sandy hides a smile with her napkin. “I couldn’t eat another bite, but thank you. If the rest of the islanders are as friendly as you, then I’ll have a hard time leaving.”

Midge smiles. “There are only twenty-five of us on the island, but that’s still a lot of new names and faces to remember. Where’s that map of yours?”

I find it and hand it to her. Midge unfolds the map of the island and lays it flat on the wooden table, trying—and failing—to smooth out the creases in it with her palm. “So, the first thing to remember is that only a handful of us were born on Amberly, and Sandy is the only one who has lived here all her life.”

“You haven’t?”

It’s hard to see beneath all the makeup, but I think Midge might be blushing now.

“No, I left for a while. I had dreams of being an actress, and my chances of becoming a movie star on a tiny island where half the population didn’t even own a TV seemed slim. So I worked hard, saved hard, and booked a one-way ticket to Hollywood. But the dream I had spent my whole life chasing turned out to be a nightmare. After a lot of auditions I did get cast in a handful of small roles, but my name was never in lights. The world didn’t see me the way I saw myself, and the reality of that—of not being good enough—crushed me. Soon producers were only offering me parts in exchange for things that I didn’t want to do. All of them were men back then, and it was rarely my talent they were interested in. I became very sad and very lonely very quickly. Sandy paid for me to come home, and I realized that everything I needed to make me happy was right here. On the island. The rest of the islanders feel the same. Almost everyone living on the island now came here in search of a new beginning and a different end. The eternal human quest for happiness. I wonder why you’re really here?”

She stares at me. They both do. Then Midge laughs.

“I’m only teasing. We all know why you’re here,” she says. They both stare at me again and I feel so uncomfortable I think I’m starting to sweat. “To write a new book, silly!”

We all laugh then but I can’t wait to leave. I don’t get out much—or at all—but the people here really are a bit strange.

“Yes,” I say, nodding and taking another sip of wine. “To write a new book.”

She makes it sound so simple.

Midge leans closer and whispers, “And have you started? Writing the new book?”

I nod. “Early days, but I’ve got it all plotted out.”

Sandy smiles, pats me hard on the back. A little too hard. “Good. For. You.”

“Good for you, good for us,” Midge says, clinking her glass with mine. “And we don’t want you getting lost before you finish the book, so pay attention. You are here .” She stabs the drawing of the House on the Hill on the map with a pink fingernail. I can’t help remembering the you are not here on the wooden sign when I arrived. Midge starts to count on her fingers. “We’re your nearest neighbors. Most people live in ‘the village’ as we like to call it. Let’s see, who should you know? Cora Christie runs the corner shop—”

“He’s met her already,” Sandy says. “Made a first impression that she won’t forget.”

“Oh dear,” Midge says, shaking her head. “I hope you didn’t tell her too much. That woman loves scuttlebutt.” I must look confused. “ Gossip ,” she explains. Seems to me Midge may as well be describing herself. “The whole island will be talking about you now but never mind, everyone knows she’s completely mad. You might have noticed she was dressed all in green?” I nod. “Cora has worn nothing but green clothes since I’ve known her. Like a little leprechaun ferreting about the place. Green sweaters, green skirts, green underwear—apparently—she thinks wearing any other color is bad luck. If you like a drink, and from what I’ve seen tonight, I think you do, Sidney and Bella King are the landlords of The Stumble Inn, Amberly’s only pub. Then there’s Jack, a master builder who trained on the mainland donkey’s years ago but then came home to Amberly. It’s been a long time since any new houses were built here, but we get a lot of storms and there’s always something Jack needs to fix after. Good with plumbing, wiring, woodwork, thatching... there’s nothing Jack can’t do. Who else? Travers and family live at The Croft right on the other side of the island, away from everyone else. Travers is fondly known as our tree doctor and takes care of all the ancient redwoods.”

Sandy nods. “Nice family. They have a little girl called Holly and a big dog called Ivy.”

My mind wanders to Abby, as it so often does, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

Midge continues, oblivious. “There’s the hairdresser, Mrs. Sharp. Her smile is as rare as a unicorn, but she’s good with scissors. I’ve lost count again; who am I forgetting?”

“Surely there’s a doctor?” I ask.

“Of course, Dr. Highsmith, but she doesn’t live on Amberly. She visits every Tuesday from the nearest other island. Unless the sea is too rough for the ferry to sail. So I suggest you only get ill on a Tuesday, and only if the weather is good. Did Sandy tell you she was the island sheriff and the ferrywoman?” Midge asks. “She might be a handy resource for your next crime novel!”

“Sandy said there wasn’t any crime on Amberly.”

“Well, technically no and not recently ,” Midge says. “Not even a case of petty theft in over twenty years since Sandy took over. Where else in the world can you say that? But there was something strange that happened almost exactly a year ago—”

“It’s late. We should let Grady go home,” Sandy interrupts.

“What happened here last year?” I ask.

Midge leans across the table. “Well—”

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift,” Sandy says, but Midge continues.

“There was a visitor who came and never left. A woman—”

“ Midge. That’s enough.”

“I’ve started, so I’ll finish,” Midge says, pouring us both another drink and ignoring her sister. “The woman came on the ferry—it was during the tourist season, so Sandy didn’t think to ask too many questions—but, unlike the other day-trippers, she never went back to the mainland. On an island this small, one of us would have known if she was staying, but she arrived on the island, then vanished.”

It can’t be Abby. That would be too much of a coincidence and there’s no such thing.

“And this was a year ago?” I ask and Midge nods. “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know, I never saw her. But here’s the thing, nobody else did either. Nobody except Sandy saw her after she walked off the ferry. And then Sandy found the body a few weeks later.”

I feel sick. “The woman’s body?”

“No. Keep up, she was never seen again. It was a man. No ID, nothing. Just a body washed up on the beach. But maybe the mystery woman had something to do with it.”

“I thought you said there was no crime on the island?” I say, turning to Sandy.

She shrugs. “There isn’t . He’d been dead a long time when I found him. I reckon whatever happened to him happened on the mainland. Tide carried him here is all.”

“What did she look like, the woman who came here?” I ask Sandy.

“I don’t remember her face, but I do recall she was traveling alone and looked very anxious on the ferry. Some folks don’t like boats,” Sandy says. “It was a year ago and, no offense, all people from the mainland look the same to me. Though I confess I won’t forget the dead man in a hurry. The body was so badly decomposed from being in the water he was impossible to identify—”

“ And he was missing a hand,” Midge whispers with a strange sense of glee. “It was like something from a horror film. Are you okay, Grady? You’ve gone quite pale.”