Murder On Bwytheney by Elizabeth. Newby (adult books to read .txt) 📕

The doctor laughed, “Yes, and the animals. Only the best of both on this island – it’s far better than the other Nord Isles, you know?” He winked at Fred. “Hello there, Shadow. Hey, Cara. Well, I think you and your parents should come with me for a bit. I need to keep an eye on you for a few hours, just to be sure. But all looks well.”

Shadow stood up, stretched and came back to stand by my side.

“Thank you again,” said Fred’s mother.

“Think nothing of it,” I replied, “but before you go, I wondered if you’d mind me writing about this on my blog. I won’t share Fred’s name or anything—”

“Oh, you’re not the person behind Nord Isle Living, are you? I love that blog!”

“Guilty as charged.”

"No, no, of course not. Go ahead. And it might be a good warning to other parents not to let their children loose on a beach with inflatables. He was sat right there next to me just a few minutes before."

“Thanks. I best get going. I think someone has earned a treat.” I ruffled the top of Shadow’s head and started making my way home, unaware that this would not be the only dramatic event of the day.

Chapter 2

As we headed back towards Islethorpe village, we passed the Beachview Campsite. Tents were dotted across the fields in an array of bright colours, and children ran around free from the usual ties to their electrical devices. A few of them seemed to have gathered some sticks from the woods and were now sword fighting with them.

A red, old Jaguar came storming out the entrance and skidded round to the right heading towards the village. It kicked up dust, covering Shadow and me. Shadow gave himself a shake while I tried to wipe myself down. As the cloud of sandy mud cleared, I could see Melissa standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Was that Gregory?" I called across to her. There was only one person on this island that had a car like that, but, of course, it might have been a guest. Unlikely on a campsite, but you never could tell.

“Yeah, he’s just having a tantrum. He’ll get over it. Fancy a coffee?”

"I should get back, really—"

"Oh, go on, Cara, I could do with a break from scrubbing showers and toilets. I might even be able to find a treat for Shadow. What do you say, Shadow?"

One of his ears pricked up, and his head turned to the side.

"Well, okay, then. He has earned a treat, haven't you, boy? Have you heard what's just happened at the beach?"

“No? Come in and tell me all. I’ll put the kettle on.”

We walked in via the back door that opened onto a boot room containing all manner of wellies, boots, hats, and jackets. This led to Melissa's kitchen, which was a typical farmhouse one. The floor was covered in old flagstones. Some of them had a few cracks now, but they'd done the job for over a hundred years. A place like this saw its fair share of mud, especially when the heavens opened, and flagstones were easy to clean down. A sturdy wooden table stood in the centre. It had been built decades ago by Melissa's father using wood he found lying around when the place had been a farm. It was now covered in dints and marks that told their own stories, enriching it with personality.

“Tea? Coffee?” asked Melissa stepping out of her wellies and into slippers.

"Coffee, please, black, no sugar."

Melissa popped on the kettle and grabbed a couple of mugs from the welsh dresser standing proudly at one end of the kitchen. “So, what happened at the beach?”

“A boy almost drowned. Well, that’s a bit dramatic. But he was on some inflatable and got taken out. Shadow here raised the alarm. Raced down to the shoreline and started barking.”

“Oh wow, who’s a good boy, eh Shadow?” she said while pouring water into the mugs. “Is the boy okay?”

"Yeah, he's fine. Matthew and Bronwen were at the beach too, and Matthew dived in and saved him."

“Sounds like Matthew. But I can’t say I’m surprised he was swept out. There’s a storm coming, and the sea always gets unpredictable when one’s on its way. I put a warning up on the chalkboard this morning, but some have still chosen to go down to the beach.”

I looked out the window at the blue sky that only held a wisp of clouds here and there. "How can you tell a storm's coming? There was nothing on the weather forecast."

“One day, you’ll stop listening to the forecast. You must know by now it’s utter rubbish when it comes to these isles. I don’t know how I know. It’s in my bones, I guess. And a smell in the air. It comes with being an islander—”

"Which, of course, I'm not."

Melissa laughed, “What is it now? Fifteen years? Nowhere near being a real islander, yet.”

Not many people moved in and out of The Nord Isles. Sometimes, people would go to the mainland for a job or university, but they would inevitably land back here. Nord Isle roots ran deep, and even when you were new, the place soon took hold of you. Many of the families had been here for generations. In the last few years, a new sheltered accommodation development had been built on Port Ynys, the largest of the islands, which meant many of the over seventies would relocate from the smaller isles. But generally, not many people moved on.

“What was all that about with Gregory, then? He seemed in rather a sour mood,” I asked.

"The bloomin' cheek of the man. Honestly. I would have been well in my rights to beat him out of here with my rolling pin." Melissa picked up her wooden pin, brandished it above her head and started running around the table.

We both almost fell over laughing, and Shadow scarpered under the table.

“He’s been pestering me