FREE excerpt from The Lady of the Pier - The Storm

The Lady of the Pier - The Storm

Prologue

The young man was faceless. The only memorable thing about him was a rusty brown scarf that he wore loosely around his neck. As always, The Lady had Sofia's face, and in this dream she was happy. The couple stood on the Pier by the railing, outside the Concert Hall. She began to sing a joyful song of love, and the man caressed her face, holding her closely in his arms.

But then, a wind picked up and his brown scarf caught it, coming loose to rise into the air and float away, towards a mass of rain-threatening clouds. The Lady started to wail, and the man disappeared from beside her.

Just as her dress turned from pure white to striking black, another man appeared to amble towards her, a man sure of himself. He was dark-haired, with piercing blue eyes, the colour and intensity of cold steel.

He took The Lady by the hand and started to pull her away from the railing, but she resisted and wailed still. The man's face contorted with malice. He lifted a hand and hit her across the face. The Lady collapsed to the deck and a heart-wrenching cry left her lips, so devastating, so harrowing, that it made Sofia wake up.

She sat up on her bed in the dorm, one hand on her brow, wiping away cold beads of sweat. What a horrid nightmare! She threw a glance at Annika in the semidarkness, and was relieved to see she hadn't disturbed her. Her roommate was fast asleep, her breathing soft and even.

Once her pulse began to slow down, allowing her to breathe easily again, Sofia put on a cardigan over her pyjamas, found her slippers and left the room on tiptoe to visit the communal toilets down the hall.

Of course, it was vacant at this hour. She rushed to the washbasin and splashed water on her face. It felt wonderful, reassuring, grounding. It put distance between the dreadful nightmare she'd just had and her blissful, uneventful reality. But then, to her horror, she looked up and saw her face in the mirror. Across her cheek, long finger marks, red and angry, made her gasp in shock.

Chapter 1

Sofia and Annika emerged into the street with beaming faces. They'd had enough partying for one night. Behind them, titters from an intoxicated group of girls rose in the chilled air. Their breaths turned into fog as they staggered against each other on their way into the club.

Sofia raised her coat collar and held it against her neck, shivering. Unlike her roommate who was dressed in jeans, her own short skirt and stockings didn't provide much protection from the cold.

"Taxi!" yelled Annika, signalling frantically at the passing vehicle. It pulled to a stop beside them. A snub-faced man peered at them in a benevolent manner from the driver's seat and beckoned them inside.

The girls took the back seat together and informed the driver of their destination. When the taxi halted at a red light, Annika let out a long sigh of relief. "These nights out are a lifesaver. It's perfect for releasing all that tension from the studies, don't you think?"

Sofia gave a little laugh. "Too right. It's no wonder the whole class was in that club tonight."

"And why not? I'm so glad we found this new hangout. So glad we have Sylvia. She's the queen of the night scene in this town! That girl never tires; I bet she'll dance the night away till closing time again," said Annika with a snort. It turned into a hiccup, and she brushed a hand past her face. "Oh, I think I've drunk too much."

Sofia gave a little wave. "Nothing that a good night's sleep can't fix."

Annika nudged her on the elbow. "You seem to hold your liqueur quite well."

"It's easy when you don't mix your drinks. I stayed with gin and tonic all night."

"Is this why I feel so sloshed? Beer, then martinis, then beer again." She rolled her eyes. "Oh dear, sounds like a sandwich. I'm famished."

Sofia tittered. "It's only tea and biscuits for you at this hour, then off to bed."

"Yes, Mummy," joked Annika. "Of all roommates I could have had in the world, I had to get the one sounding exactly like my parents." She turned to Sofia, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Did you see Sylvia tonight? Where does she find all those guys? Different one every night."

"And why not? If she's not going to play around now, when will she? When she's forty and married with kids?"

"What? Who are you and what have you done with Sofia?"

Sofia rolled her eyes. "It's harmless, Annika. She just goes out to lunch or to the cinema. It's not like she sleeps with them."

"I don't recognise you. A month ago you'd have been disapproving of this kind of behaviour."

"I've learned my lesson."

"But you don't do that, do you? You don't go out with different guys like she does. So, how come you approve?"

"Annika, you have a boyfriend who adores you and can't wait for you to finish your studies and go back to Sweden, but not everybody is as lucky as you are. Some of us have been unlucky in love; Sylvia and myself included. Maybe Sylvia needs this to alleviate her frustration. I have my fun too but only on the dance floor."

"That guy you were dancing with tonight was very cute. Aren't you going to see him again?"

"Yes, he was cute; just like the guys I danced with last week and the week before that. But it means nothing, Annika. It's just fun."

"This is not like you, Sofia. I saw you kissing him tonight."

Sofia shrugged. "So?" She barely stopped herself from adding that this was all she could do to dull the pain, and to remove from her lips the lingering feeling of Danny's kisses. But Danny was a subject she'd decided not to broach any more.

"So is this your idea of moving on? Kissing, cuddling, and dancing with a different guy each time?" said Annika, as she glanced at the fleeting street lights outside the window. She wanted to bring up the subject of Danny, of the ghost on the Pier, to try to put some sense into her. But after a month and a bit of knowing her, she knew how stubborn her Greek friend was. It would be futile to try to coax her.

"It is harmless fun, Annika! Nothing more and nothing less."

"Have you even exchanged numbers with any of these guys?"

"Once. Remember that cute ginger guy last week?"

"The freckly one?" Annika gave a pretend-shudder. Freckles wasn't her thing.

"Well, he was good-looking. And he made me memorise his number, insisting that I should call him the next morning and have lunch. I felt sorry for him, and in the end decided to call him, meaning to just have a quick coffee around town. But, when I phoned, he sounded terrified."

"What? Why?"

"You know, I don't even think he remembered me. He must have been really drunk that night. He made an excuse to say he was too busy studying and we hung up. That taught me a lesson."

"What's that?"

"Never take a British boy seriously when he talks with drink in him. They don't mean a word."

Annika tittered and put out a hand to pat her friend on the arm. From the driver's seat, they heard a stifled snigger, but the man sitting there said nothing.

Moments later, the taxi pulled to a stop outside Grand Parade and the driver turned around, named his fee, and gave the girls an easy smile. "Take care now, girls," he said, when they handed him the money. "And careful of those British lads when they're drinking. They'll say anything for a good time. Been there, done that and bought the proverbial t-shirt. I have a daughter your age these days. Makes me damn shamed for lots of the things I did when I was a lad."