The Island Angel Read online

  It had started to rain, and she drove the lame car into a closed service station to the sound of the rubber flapping around a rim. Why is this happening to me? She got out and found that, in the boot, the spare was in good condition. Lifting and yanking, she was able to pull the wheel out. She knew how to change a tyre. Her father had shown her how to do many things before he died. It was odd she was thinking about him. It was something she rarely did. First, my mother, then my brother, then Megan, and now my father. And none of them are here to help me!

  The rain was starting to soak through her jumper. She hurried to position the jack, but it was hard to see with only streetlights that seemed to emit shadows instead of illumination.

  Jessica managed to loosen three of the lug nuts, but the last wouldn’t budge. Using all her strength, she shoved at the tyre arm, but it slipped off, causing her hand to slam into the lip of the wheel rim and scraping the skin off two of her knuckles.

  “Fuck!” She slapped her hand over her bleeding wound and got back into the car. She had seen a pack of tissues in the glove box and used them now to cover her injury.

  A lump formed in her throat. The universe was out to destroy her, but she’d done nothing wrong.

  Unable to cope with any more of tonight, she crawled into the back seat and yanked a musty tartan blanket over herself. She wanted to cry, but, somewhere, as she had transitioned to adulthood, she’d forgotten how. Her head felt waterlogged, and her breathing was shallow and fast. Most of all, she was afraid and didn’t want to move.

  Tired and hungry, she listened to the rain on the car’s canvas roof leaking onto the passenger seat. There was an inch-wide gap where the left clasp for the convertible’s top was broken, allowing in a steady trickle. She pulled the blanket over her head and, with her knees close to her chest, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Three

  JESSICA WOKE TO tapping on the driver’s window. Not sure where she was, it took a minute for her mind to replay the sequence of events that had taken her to the here and now. She folded the driver’s seat forward, yanked the door handle, and climbed out of the old Saab.

  “You can’t stay here,” a rotund man in a hi-vis jacket told her.

  “I have a flat tyre.”

  “Let me guess, you don’t know how to change it,” the man sneered.

  Jessica ignored him and fitted the tyre arm onto the same bolt she’d struggled with last night. She stood on the wrench and was finally able to loosen the nut.

  “Do you need help?” the man asked, his tone having flipped to friendly.

  She continued to ignore him, and he wandered off to the service station.

  When the tyre was changed, she checked her watch. It was after eight in the morning. All she wanted was to be at home on the sofa with her duvet wrapped around her.

  Home… Is it really my home? On the few occasions her girlfriend had stayed over, Megan had commented on the fact that Jessica’s flat felt like a hotel room. Megan was her opposite, and the attraction hadn’t lasted. When they had split up a couple of years ago, Megan had moved to Edinburgh to do a doctorate in European history.

  Jessica shook her head; she had been sitting in the driver’s seat, staring off into middle space while thinking about the past. Just get back and Skype Megan. God, I really need a coffee. She started the engine and drove twenty minutes to her flat in the Docklands.

  Once there, she parked in her reserved space and entered the four-storey glass and brick building, which was wedged between others and surrounded by waterways and a marina.

  Inside, Jessica came to a shuddering stop and ducked back into the stairwell. A man, a woman, and two police officers stood outside her door.

  With her back against the wall, she could hear the voice of Adrian Chapman from the Serious Fraud Office.

  “Officer, break the lock,” Adrian ordered.

  Shit, they must have a warrant! If they have that then… They’ve come to arrest me!

  Her brain raced. Should she turn herself in and hope she would be proven innocent or run and make time so she could talk to Chris and find out what the hell had happened? The more she thought about it, the more she suspected someone had set her up. Events had been too perfectly timed for it to be a simple software bug. She needed a fucking phone to find out what had been done to the systems and who had orchestrated her downfall.

  She slid along the wall, withdrawing on quiet footsteps. When the staircase turned a corner, she leapt down the steps, three at a time, and raced out of the building back to her brother’s skip-on-wheels.

  Minutes later, she had joined the A12 to head north out of London. Her thoughts were a muddy grey mess, and the best she could come up with was to drive to Edinburgh. Megan will help, if she still lives there. They had parted with slings and arrows, and Jessica wasn’t sure Megan would actually help, but she desperately hoped so.

  ANNA STOOD AT the bottom of the stairs. “Abbie, come down, breakfast is ready! I won’t call again!” Anna yelled.

  Abbie had arrived home from her boarding school late last night. As was their weekend tradition, Anna was making American flapjacks and already had a stack of twelve. It was too many, but Anna still hadn’t got used to cooking for just the two of them. She had set out breakfast on the old elm table situated at the centre of the spacious, if dated, kitchen. Worn handcrafted cabinets ran in a U-shape along three walls. A window above the sink overlooked a narrow muddy lane that was their drive. At the opposite end, an archway stepped down into the small lounge, while a short hallway connected Anna’s office and upstairs.

  “Why don’t you make pancakes instead sometimes?” Abbie asked, slipping sideways into her chair at the table and hooking both feet on the stretcher of the chair next to hers.

  “You mean crêpes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t like these now?” Anna asked, serving three flapjacks onto Abbie’s plate.

  “I do… It’s just, in England, they eat pancakes. They’re thinner.”

  Anna took a seat at the table with a mug of coffee. “Well, we are pretty close to Scotland, perhaps we should eat haggis for breakfast?” She wasn’t very hungry, and the thought of boiled sheep’s organs served in the lining of a stomach put her off completely. She watched as Abbie woofed up another flapjack covered in golden syrup.

  “There’s no hot water, and it’s freezing,” Abbie said, after finishing another mouthful.

  “The boiler’s broken. I’m waiting on a quote.” In truth, she had received the quote yesterday. It had recommended a complete replacement, and the cost was £3,450.95. She couldn’t afford anything like that as it would cut into the money she needed for another pony. She wasn’t even sure she had ninety-five pence to spare. I wonder what part of the boiler costs ninety-five pence?

  Anna didn’t want Abbie to know about it, because she hadn’t yet formulated a plan that didn’t involve selling her own kidney.

  “Mum, you’re staring at nowhere again.”

  “Oh.” Anna shook her head, as if her troubles could be got rid of as easily as a drenched dog shakes out water. “Are you going to help me today?”

  Abbie glanced up from her breakfast. “Doing what?”

  “Clearing out the old stables.”

  “Why? Daisy already has one.”

  “I want to get another pony before half term in two weeks.”

  “But we need the roof replaced. And I have homework.”

  “I might be able to put some plastic over the roof.”

  Abbie wrinkled her brow and grimaced. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  The rose-gold iPhone buzzed where it sat beside Abbie’s plate, and it drew her attention.

  “No phones with meals. Put it away.” But Anna’s request was ignored. “I’ll take it from you.”

  “It’s my friend!” Abbie flicked her fingers along the phone while forking another portion of flapjack into her mouth.

  Anna missed Abbie when she was at school, but there wer
e times like this when everything seemed too much. About to be overwhelmed, she swallowed down her emotions with a sip of coffee. “We’ll start on the stables after your homework. First, I’ll go into town and get some trash bags and gloves.”

  Abbie’s head darted up. “Get me some chocolate Mini Eggs?”

  “Please?” Anna insisted. “Is it just me you talk to without manners?”

  “Yes,” Abbie said under her breath, but then looked up and added, “All right, please, Mum. Some Mini Eggs, if they still have them.”

  “Okay.” Anna stood and went over to the kitchen counter to plug her phone in to charge. “You can do your homework downstairs. I lit the fire in the lounge so at least it’ll be warm there.”

  “Can I go to Katy’s to do my homework?” Abbie’s pleading was echoed in her big blue eyes.

  Anna sighed. “It’ll be warm there, I suppose. All right, but be back after lunch. And make sure you’ve done all your work.” She grabbed her purse from the counter, went to the peg rack, and unhooked her coat.

  When she opened the front door, a light rain promised a day that would chill her bones. “Don’t be any later than one,” she said, glancing briefly at Abbie, her sister’s mirror, before exiting their home.

  THE NEEDLE HAD read empty for the last sixty miles. It was seven in the morning, and Jessica hadn’t found an open petrol station. She’d hoped to beg someone for a few litres of fuel.

  “Keep going… Just keep going, stupid, stinky car!”

  Since London, she had been travelling north, stopping halfway at a motorway service station when the engine temperature gauge was on “about-to-explode.” There, she had convinced a woman let to her use her phone to make one call. But Megan hadn’t answered. She had fallen asleep waiting for the engine to cool down. It was 04:00 a.m. when she woke and set out again.

  She had decided to divert to the eastern coastal road. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she didn’t want to break down in the middle of a major motorway and be picked up by the police.

  Two hours later, she knew the car would sputter to a stop any minute. A sign showing a petrol pump flashed by, and she took a quick right turn. Three miles on, it was obvious it had been a mistake.

  To her left and right, in the dawn drizzle, there was nothing but sand and sea. She was halfway along a causeway, with no possibility of turning around.

  As she drove, the sea gave way to sandbanks, then firm fields and, finally, a village. She steered into a public car park and switched off the ignition. Dead tired and with her eyes closed, she listened to the wind and rain. She knew she was on the island of Lindisfarne with no fuel, no money, no phone and still seventy miles from Edinburgh, the city where she hoped Megan would be her salvation.

  ANNA REGRETTED TAKING the longer route back to the farm. She was walking east out of the village and had just diverted down a small path, which ran along the large visitors’ car park, when the gentle raindrops turned to a downpour.

  After getting her supplies, she had been to Priory’s Cup coffee shop to ask about part-time work. The owner, Linda Conway, must have taken pity on her or known about her situation, since she’d been offered a trial as a barista to start the next morning. It was a big conflict for her, taking on other jobs to pay the bills or focusing on what she had intended—namely, getting the pony trekking business ready for the season.

  Normally, she was an optimist, but there was a huge amount of work that needed to be done to the farm. Most of which, she hadn’t a clue how to do.

  As she marched on, the fears she’d put aside were slowly inching their way back into her present.

  “Morning.” A familiar face poked out of a hooded anorak. Mr Foster was walking his dog in the rain. The Border collie didn’t appear too happy about its forced exertion.

  “Morning, how’s the piglets?” Anna asked. It was clear the man wanted to chat, even though they were in the middle of a downpour.

  “The piglets are doing fine. I’m glad we decided to bring them home. But they’re getting big now. Almost ready to be pork chops.”

  Anna failed to hide her shock at the remark. She didn’t know Mr Foster well. In fact, she didn’t even know his first name. She knew he was a farmer on the island and harvested hay in the fields next to hers. She thought the sheep on the island were likely his. She knew of him because he was Abbie’s friend’s grandfather. Abbie and Katy had gone to see the piglets two weeks ago. “I didn’t know pigs were kept on the island.”

  Mr Foster smiled. “My oldest, Daniel, runs the farm on the mainland. He keeps pigs and dairy cattle. Me and my youngest just have sheep here. I’m too old to do much more. And my youngest is too lazy.” The man appeared to be in his late sixties and was a picture of health, with rosy cheeks and strong hands. He looked as if he could still fight an ox and win. “Daniel has been doing pretty well. He’s been diversifying. It’s all the rage. Diversifying.”

  “Diversifying?” Anna asked, glancing down at the dog, shivering beside its master’s legs.

  He nodded. “Yup. It’s camping now. Why anyone would want to sleep out in a field of cowpats, I have no idea. Edward says he has many bookings already, and the volunteers are building a toilet block.” His eyes flicked up to the grey clouds. “But not today perhaps.”

  “Volunteers?”

  “Foreigners mostly. He puts them up in return for work.” The collie whimpered and weaved around his legs, tangling its lead. Mr Foster rotated on the spot as if he was an unravelling barber’s pole. “Yes, from the Interweb. He has a website.” He leaned down and patted the dog. “I better take Fairweather in. Good day, Anna. Well, good grey and raining day.” He laughed and walked past her back towards the village.

  Anna paused, watching him head out. Wondering how he knew her name. She guessed Abbie must have told him. But, then again, everyone except her seemed to know each other on the small island. She should probably be more social, but they had always been outsiders. And John hadn’t helped. He had a knack of rubbing people the wrong way.

  The rain had eased up. Anna yanked down her hood. She started along the footpath that paralleled the car park.

  A woman was leaning against an old convertible. When she spotted Anna, she headed in her direction.

  She’s in trouble? As the dark-haired woman got closer, Anna wondered if she should’ve ignored her. The woman’s posture was intense, her shoulders jutting forward and her pace urgent. Mentally unstable?

  “I was wondering if I can borrow your phone to make a call,” the woman asked in a refined accent, but her words wavered.

  Anna blinked a few times, trying to decide if she was a friend or foe. The woman, despite being attractive, looked like a drowned rat. An expensive wool sweater hung heavily on her slender frame, weighed down and distorted by being damp.

  “What is the problem?” Anna asked.

  “I’m a bit stuck. I need to call a friend to see if she will come and get me.” Her long fingers pushed her wet hair around her ear. “I’m sorry to bother you. I guess you’re visiting.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “You have an American accent.”

  “Actually, I live here. But I don’t have my cell with me. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” The woman turned away and started back to her car.

  She needs help. The question is… Do I want any more problems to deal with? Anna turned away and took a few more steps along the footpath. I know it’s a holy island, but I’m no Mother Teresa. She stopped in her tracks. What if it was me?

  Her decision made, she stepped onto the tarmac of the car park. Anna caught up with the woman and put her hand on her shoulder. “Wait a second. What’s your name?”

  The woman spun around. Her eyes were red. She might have been crying. “Jessica.” Her voice was laced with desperation.

  “I’m Anna. I live over there.” Anna pointed to her farmhouse, beyond two hedgerows in the distance. “I have a phone at home you can use. It’s a ten-minute walk, or if y
ou drive, I can show you the way. You’ll get soaked if we walk.”

  Jessica wiped her eyes. Obvious relief lifted her lips into a smile. “That’s… That’s very kind.”

  Anna took hold of Jessica’s forearm and squeezed. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

  At the car, Jessica opened the passenger door for Anna. She let out a long, frustrated breath. “I’m sorry the seat is soaked. You can’t—”

  “I can sit in the back,” Anna suggested, before noticing Jessica’s eyes were fixed on the refuse bags she carried in her left hand. “Oh, yes.” Anna unfolded the pile and passed one over. Jessica placed it on the seat.

  “It’s not my—” Jessica had stopped in mid-sentence.

  When nothing more was said, Anna climbed in. After a few attempts, the car started, and they were underway.

  “To the left here. It’s narrow.” Anna pointed to a small lane between stone walls.

  Water was dripping through a gap in the roof directly onto her thigh, and she brushed the splashes off.

  “I’m sorry. The latch is broken,” Jessica said.

  “Not a problem.” Anna glanced at the woman’s profile as she drove. She was pale, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. “Where have you come from?”

  “London.”

  “Take the next right.” She positioned her stack of refuse bags to protect her jeans from the steady drips. “Where were you headed?”

  Jessica didn’t answer.

  Anna noticed her hand where it gripped the steering wheel. “How’d you hurt your hand? Were you in a fight?” She realised she had switched into question mode. Maybe she’ll start cutting my fingers off or just mug me and take all my money. Anna frowned at this last thought. She didn’t have any money, and Jessica looked as if a moth would win a one-on-one with her.

  “Well, I was changing the tyre, and the spanner slipped.”

  Anna kept quiet for the next mile, until she started to sneeze. “Your car is musty. Turn right here.”

  They pulled into the short drive, which led to Anna’s cottage. Now, she was concerned she’d done the wrong thing. Her best guess was that the woman was a drug addict and out of cash. The confusing part was her clothes were too posh.