Island for Dreams

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Authors: Katrina Britt
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unlike falling from a great height when he eventually let her go. She swayed, wondering what had hit her, bemused beyond words. But Juan was not so starry-eyed. He bent to pick up the parcel he had dropped before hauling her into his arms, then gave her a withering look.
    ‘ Nice to have met you, Miss Bain. Do me a favour and forget we met. You have a nice little set-up here. There ’ s no reason why you shouldn ’ t have a nice holiday. Goodbye. ’

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    In t he days which followed Nora had to admit that her encounter with Juan Cregeen had shaken her mentally as well as physically. Being alone she tended to brood upon it at first, acknowledging that while it had upset her it had also rammed home to her the danger of becoming too deeply involved with anyone during her stay on the island.
    So gradually she began to enjoy herself, going off in the car to explore the island but doing no more driving at night. The image of the mocking Juan sitting beside her was far too vivid yet to dismiss.
    Most days, weather permitting, she bathed in the sea, taking care to use a particular corner of the beach away from where the yachts and boats were moored near to the pier. Neither Juan nor Tricia had put in an appearance on the water again and Nora hoped they would not do so while she was around.
    She spent some nights on the balcony of her flat, often taking a stroll before bed either along the shore or, if the tide was in, along the pier, along which there were never more than a dozen people enjoying the evening air.
    One night when the tide was in, Nora strolled along the pier, passing the few fisherman who after throwing out a hopeful line were now returning home with their catch. The railway line used by the miniature train which ran down the centre of the pier was strewn with empty mussel shells, a reminder of the skill of the seagulls. They used the rail to smash the mussels open for food.
    It was one of those quiet balmy evenings with very little wind, and the sea was as smooth as a mill-pond. The pier was almost deserted now as it drew near to closing time, but Nora reckoned on strolling to the far end and back before the gate was closed.
    She drew in deeply of the night air and gazed wistfully across the water turning to gold in the dying rays of the setting sun. With her hands thrust into the pockets of her woolly jacket she strolled along, aware of work in progress on the protective rails enclosing the pier.
    The workmen had gone home hours ago, leaving a six-foot length of rail still to be put up. A rope had been put across the space and Nora was on her way back along the pier when she noticed the small purse lying on the edge of the space over the water.
    At first sight of it her heart lurched. Had someone gone off the pier into the water leaving the purse? She walked to the edge of the space and looked over, but there was no sign of anyone in the water, although the rope had been unhooked leaving the space unprotected. The purse, a plastic one, was empty. It was the kind that a child would have, and she wondered if children had unhooked the rope while playing there, and realising the time, they had gone, hence the purse which one of them might easily have dropped. The sudden thrust between her shoulder blades sent her hurtling through space and the scream from her lips was lost in the cries of seagulls overhead.
    After the shock of sudden impact with the water, Nora reared her head and shaking the water from her eyes swam strongly for the shore. The tide was on its way out and was lapping greedily around the girders of the pier. It would have been easier to swim to the iron steps leading up on to the pier, but she had no wish to meet the person who had pushed her into the water in a place that would now be deserted.
    Fortunately the tide had receded from the sea wall enough by the time she got there for her to walk along until she was opposite to her flat. But the going had been rough. There had been a

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