Summer's End Read Online Free Page B

and the sparkle in her eye dying.
    Emily racked her brain for something to say. Should she ask? They were sharing, after all.
    “Do you want to talk about it?” She kept her voice soft and inviting.
    Marianne locked her gaze on Emily, eyes boring deep and face unflinching. Emily swallowed hard and concluded she might be in over her head a bit. This was a sombreness she had yet to encounter in her life. A dull sadness hung in the air and swept away any of the elation Emily had been feeling.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” What was she thinking? That because they’d had a short moment of bonding over the fact that they were both gay was going to make this stranger open up to her?
    “It’s not your fault.” Marianne’s voice was unrecognisable, coming from a low, desperate place. One where words failed. “I just… can’t…” Marianne pushed her chair away from the table. “By no means do I want to trivialise the moment we shared tonight by storming off. I’m genuinely happy for you, but I need to go upstairs now.”
    She walked to the edge of the yard and closed the gate, her movements sparse and precise. When she walked past the table where Emily sat she remained silent. Only when she’d reached the door to the house, she turned around.
    “Just let the door fall into the lock and twist it around twice when you go inside. Goodnight.”
    The tremble in her voice was unmistakable. And so was the pain etched in the lines of her face.

    MARIANNE

    Marianne could kick herself for her cold reaction. The girl had just admitted something life-changing to herself—and to Marianne. Something Marianne could relate to like no other, no less, and this was how she responded? Slinking off like a thief in the night as if it could ever undo the past? As if it made a difference?
    Any sliver of joy, any indication that she might enjoy herself a bit too much, and the guilt set in. Like the storm clouds in rainy season, drenching a perfectly good day in a million tears. And all there was to show for them afterwards were a few puddles that dried up in a matter of hours.
    But she was guilty. And instead of doing time in a prison cell, she spent it in paradise. In perpetual exile, because no one could punish her better than she could herself. When people arrived here, on her little patch of land on Samui, they only saw the palm trees, the glittering ocean and white-headed waves, but they didn’t see—couldn’t see—what wasn’t there. The missing person. Nothing could be more punishment for Marianne than spending her days here, in this place that people dream of, without Ingrid.  
    She peeled off her clothes and slipped into bed. It would have to be a night of medicated sleep. She hadn’t had one of those for a while, had somehow managed to keep the demons at bay—some days it was easier than others, but more so of late. She grabbed a strip of pills from the nightstand—always close by—and swallowed one dry. Sleep came within minutes.

    “Toast?” Marianne grinned broadly—overcompensating for last night’s insensitivity, no doubt. And yes, she’d had a one-way heart-to-heart with Emily, but that didn’t make her qualified to predict her sense of humour, especially before breakfast. Even though it was almost ten. Gosh, the girl slept late. Marianne had been up for hours, skulking around the house, hushing herself when she made too much noise.
    “Do I get my own toaster now?” Emily still looked a bit groggy, a pinch of moon dust had gathered in the corner of her right eye, but she was awake enough for a quip. Clearly, she hadn’t showered yet. Marianne would have heard—but even if she hadn’t—the crumpled look of Emily’s clothes and the riot that was her hair gave that away.
    Suddenly, without notice and from the far recesses of her brain, Marianne envisioned herself waking up to the very sight before her eyes, to a warm body next to hers.
    She blinked twice rapidly and shook off the thought. Where