Page 28

Tara scraped her palm along her trousers, brushing off the damp, briny residue from the seaweed. Her fingers ached from gripping the slimy, uncooperative strands, and her back twinged from bending over the tidal flats.

She glanced towards Amelia, who was effortlessly securing her own haul. Even from a distance, Tara could tell Amelia was trying not to smirk.

‘You did… fine,’ Amelia said, her tone betraying her amusement as she walked over with her basket balanced effortlessly on one hip.

Tara raised an eyebrow, her basket—a pitiful fifth full—hanging limply at her side. ‘I’d be generous to call it mediocre.’

‘Come on, we’ll drop these off to dry in the shack. I think you’re done for the day.’

Tara followed, her boots squelching with every step. The salty air was brisk and sharp. Her muscles ached. The gnawing suspicion that Solhaven was hiding something dark had been replaced by the sheer physicality of fumbling with slippery seaweed. She had forgotten, for hours, why she was even here.

But it was easy to do, she realised with a jolt, as they passed the central square of the village. Tara glanced around, taking in the tidy arrangements of cottages, the Long Hall, the stone church, and the islanders bustling with quiet purpose. Everyone seemed busy but not hurried; their movements synchronised like the tide itself. It was kind of idyllic, Tara was forced to admit to herself.

But there was no way this place was as perfect as it seemed. No community could thrive for over a century without cracks in the facade, without secrets tucked away in shadowed corners.

They reached the seaweed storage shack. It was cold and dark inside. Amelia set her basket down and gestured for Tara to do the same.

‘We’re done with seaweed for the day,’ Amelia said. ‘Would you like to try some animal care? We could always use an egg picker?’

‘Tempting, but I think I’ll pass,’ Tara replied, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘I could use a bit of time to myself, actually. Maybe take a little wander?’

‘Not alone, you won’t,’ Amelia said nervously. ‘Sorry.’

Tara gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘You’re seriously going to be with me every bloody second?’

‘If I don’t, this will be your accommodation for the night,’ Amelia said, looking awkward.

Tara sighed, realising resistance was futile. ‘Fine. What are we doing, then?’

‘Right now? We could just take a walk.’

Tara nodded. ‘Lead on, Boss.’

Amelia rolled her eyes and led her out.

***

The island unfolded around them in untamed beauty—narrow, bramble-lined paths that wove through grassy hills, fields dotted with wildflowers, and rugged cliffs where the sea pounded relentlessly below. Tara kept pace with Amelia, her eyes drifting to the jagged horizon, the vivid greens and greys a sharp contrast to the mainland’s polished, constructed world.

‘Do you know that there are people on the mainland that would pay good money for this type of isolation?’ Tara said, keeping her tone light as they walked.

‘Oh?’ Amelia asked.

‘Totally. Technology detox retreats are a growing industry. And you’ve got it ready to go.’

‘It was hard enough getting you in, never mind rich mainlanders,’ Amelia said with a smile. ‘Why do they need it, anyway?’

‘Gives you time to think,’ Tara said.

Amelia glanced at her. ‘And what are you thinking about?’

The real answer to that had to be stepped around, and Tara did her best to do it with speed. ‘About what we’ll tell Geraldine. Solhaven’s... assets. Like this seaweed farm of yours. It’s possible that you could teach people how to farm it, as it’s so valuable.’

Amelia smirked. ‘You think it’s an asset now? After all that swearing underneath your breath?’

‘You heard that?’ Tara said, a bit embarrassed.

‘I’ve never seen someone so overwhelmed by a bit of kelp.’

Tara rolled her eyes. ‘Not all of us are naturals at slimy rope maintenance, Amelia.’

Amelia chuckled, and they walked in silence for a moment. Then Tara surprised herself by saying, ‘And what do you think about? Out here in the wilds of Solhaven?’

Amelia looked surprised. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Nothing much.’ She tapped her head lightly. ‘Not too much going on up here.’

Tara examined her. ‘Now, that I don’t believe.’

Amelia gave a little shrug. ‘That’s what anyone here would tell you.’

Tara sighed. ‘Then they’re fucking dipshits who never took the time to know you.’

Amelia stopped walking and turned to Tara, surprise on her face. Tara realised she’d crossed a line. She wasn’t even sure why she’d said it. She had no interest in buttering Amelia up; there was nothing to gain from it. She’d just felt sudden and overwhelming anger at the people around Amelia. They’d underestimated her for her whole life, which had clearly impacted her.

But Tara didn’t have any business criticising Solhaven. It could only serve to mess up what she was trying to do here, which was to go as unnoticed as possible. A benign presence, that’s all she should have been. That didn’t work if she called everyone ‘dipshits.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly.

Amelia slowly smiled. ‘For what?’

‘I thought…’ Tara began, confused. ‘I thought I offended you.’

Amelia nodded. ‘I suppose I could be a bit offended,’ she said mildly, still smiling. She started walking again.

Tara followed, confused. ‘But you’re not?’

Amelia looked at her. ‘I don’t think anyone has ever given me a greater compliment than you just did.’

Tara felt flush. She looked away, unsure what to say next.

‘And you’re right,’ Amelia told her. ‘I’m not emptyheaded. I don’t know why I’d say that.’

Tara glanced at her, the weight behind the words pulling at her curiosity. ‘What else?’

‘I guess maybe I’m more melancholy than people think,’ Amelia said with a sad smile.

Tara nodded. ‘Of course you are. You lost your husband.’

Amelia frowned. ‘Yes.’

‘You miss him?’ Tara asked.

Amelia hesitated but kept walking. The rhythm of their steps seemed to loosen her tongue. ‘When my husband passed, people expected me to fall apart. But it never hurt me the way they thought it would. I just… carried on.’ Her voice quietened. ‘I’ve never told anyone that.’

That didn’t surprise Tara. What surprised her was that Amelia was telling her. But she wanted her to keep talking. She wanted to know more. And not for any article.

‘Why do you think that is?’

Amelia sighed. ‘I don’t think I can say it.’

Tara gave her a nudge as they walked. ‘Yes, you can.’

Somehow, that was enough. Amelia swallowed. ‘Losing Dane hurt. But love—the kind I’ve read about, the kind Shakespeare wrote about—we didn’t have that. I married him because he was my best friend. And now... I feel guilty. Like I stole his chance to find someone who could love him the way he deserved.’

Tara stopped, turning to face her. ‘Amelia, that’s—’ She faltered, unsure of how to respond.

‘What?’ Amelia said dryly. ‘Tragic? Or just a bit pathetic?’

‘Neither,’ Tara said firmly. ‘It’s human. We all do things because we think we’re supposed to, even when it’s not what we want.’

Amelia’s expression softened. ‘Have you done what you were supposed to do?’

Tara started walking again, and Amelia followed. ‘I almost did. My ex, Paige—she proposed in front of everyone I knew. All my friends were thrilled because they thought Page was a catch for someone like me. She was good-looking; she was rich, and she would have done anything for me. It felt like I didn’t have a choice but to say yes.’ She shook her head, her voice quieter. ‘But later, I panicked and backed out.’

‘That must’ve taken courage,’ Amelia said, her tone thoughtful.

‘Or selfishness,’ Tara countered.

‘Sometimes they’re the same thing,’ Amelia replied. After a pause, she added, ‘What was that about a ballroom she said just after she slapped my breakfast?’

Tara sighed. ‘After I said I couldn’t marry her, Paige didn’t accept it. She booked a place to get married. She said I’d come around. Said she had enough love for both of us and she’d be there when I realised it. The wedding is in a few weeks. I could still marry her.’

‘That doesn’t sound loving,’ Amelia said, frowning.

‘No?’

‘No,’ Amelia said flatly. ‘In fact, having spent a few minutes in her presence, she seems… Can I say something you may not like?’

Tara nodded. ‘Go for it.’

‘She’s dreadful,’ Amelia spat. ‘Rude, angry, violent. And your story makes her sound tyrannical, to boot. She tried to force you to wed her?’

‘Well, I did say yes at first.’

‘But then you changed your mind.’

Tara sighed. ‘I should have blocked her, I guess.’

Amelia got that, what is this modern nonsense? look.

‘It means that she can’t call me,’ Tara explained.

‘But she came to your home. You can’t, er, block her from turning up uninvited. I assume.’

‘I need to be firmer with her about boundaries,’ Tara said quickly. ‘I’ve let it get too far. I should have told her it was over. Well, I mean, I did once or twice. But I should have kept saying it until she got it. Or I should actually marry her.’

‘It seems to me she’s clinging to what isn’t hers to keep. And she knows it. She’s pulling at you, using your kindness,’ Amelia said with an almost angry conviction. ‘You’re not to blame.’

Tara blinked, surprised at her directness. She tucked away Amelia’s assertion to consider later, wanting to talk more about Amelia. ‘And I don’t think it sounds like you’re to blame for how you felt about Dane. Didn’t you say you felt pressure to marry?’

‘Not like that,’ Amelia replied, clearly appalled. ‘Matches here are always a choice.’

‘But the pressure...’

Amelia sighed. ‘Isn’t so different from what you described. I wanted it to work because it made sense. Isn’t that how you felt about Paige?’

Tara met her gaze, the wind tugging at their hair. The moment stretched, fragile and loaded. Tara looked away first, clearing her throat. ‘So, what’s next on this island tour?’

Amelia seemed to welcome the shift, though something lingered in her eyes. ‘There’s a patch of wild herbs over the next hill. Come on, I’ll show you.’

They walked on, side by side, but the air between them felt different. Tara still had her mission, but the path they walked seemed to lead her deeper into Solhaven’s world—and Amelia’s.