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Chapter 4

"I'm fine, really," Clara asserted when her friend Amy insisted on making them a cup of tea. It seemed that there was no changing the redhead's mind. "And I'm honestly not dead."

To make a point, Clara turned around on the spot, proving that she was not only alive but completely unharmed. There was no need to make such a fuss about the matter. In fact, Clara would prefer everyone to just let it go and forget about it. But that wasn't going to happen, was it? Not when the police had already started to investigate and spread the news of Clara's resemblance to the dead woman.

"I can see that you're alive and well," Amy replied as she handed her a mug of tea. "But that doesn't mean I didn't still get a huge scare."

"How do you even know about this?" Clara wanted to know.

She sat back down on the sofa and only now realised that it was almost nine o'clock by now and she was still dressed in her nightie and dressing gown – and she hadn't finished marking a single essay. On the bright side, she hadn't thought about her nightmare again. Amy followed her lead and took her usual spot on the armchair where a couple of minutes ago, the detective had sat. Clara wasn't entirely sure what to think about the man who had just barged into her home.

"Brian came back from his morning walk," Amy started. She was clutching the hot mug of tea in her hands for warmth. "He was out for a really long time and when he came back, he said he had found a dead woman and called the police. At first, Rory and I thought he was making it all up."

"Well, apparently, he wasn't," Clara remarked, for lack of anything else to say.

"And apparently, the police made it sound as if he should've recognised the woman, like it was someone local. He said they drove off towards your house when he turned to look back. I didn't even think, I just grabbed my jacket and drove over."

Clara granted her friend a smile. She and Amy had become close during the previous months and she was grateful for her friendship. Without it, Clara would probably be extremely lonely out here. "It's sweet that you were worried, but I'm obviously not the dead woman, so you can stop fussing now."

"Why did the police come to talk to you then?" her friend enquired.

Clara merely shrugged. "They said the woman looked like me. They thought it was me and I'm sure there's an insult in there somewhere. I probably need to get a tan."

Amy started to chuckle in amusement. "Well, good luck getting a tan around here. My skin has never been any other colour than that of milk," her friend argued, but soon, her face took on a more serious expression. She leaned forward just a little to get a better look at Clara, or as if there was someone close by who could overhear them. "So, did they tell you anything? About the woman?"

She shook her head. "The detective didn't even tell me his own name," Clara said, only realising that fact now. It was a little rude. "He said they didn't know anything yet, but that nothing is being ruled out. It might have been a suicide or a murder."

"John Smith."

Clara frowned at her friend. "Excuse me?"

"John Smith," Amy repeated. "That's the name of the detective who was here."

She scoffed in response. "Well, I'm sure that in a year, I'll know every single person who lives around here just as well as you do."

"He's not from here," Amy explained quickly. "I mean, he is, but he only just moved back this week. He's the son of Malcolm Smith, you know, the old guy who died, the one who lived in the huge house up the hill."

At last, her fresh cup of tea had cooled down enough for Clara to drink it and she took a careful sip while letting the news sink in. She had been living here for six months, but sometimes, she still struggled to put a name to a face. "Was Malcolm Smith the old grump with the sweet dog?"

"That was him, yep," Amy confirmed and suddenly, John Smith's behaviour made so much more sense. Clara had encountered his father right after moving here and upon asking whether she could pet his dog had received a rather rude and unfriendly response. After that, she had made sure to stay clear of Malcolm Smith even though she had seen him around occasionally. "His funeral was Thursday and his son's come to organise everything, but Brian said he might stay and take over his father's estate."

Clara snorted. "Estate is not what I'd call that ramshackle house, and it is way too big for one person. No wonder Malcolm was always in such a bad mood."

"It's not as falling-down as the old Campbell Estate near the cliffs. Also, people say John's single," Amy confirmed and suddenly, a cheeky smile spread across her face. "He might have come back to find a wife. Brian says he used to be close to Kate. Maybe he wants to rekindle an old flame."

"People say a lot of things," Clara replied tiredly. She knew Kate as the mother of two of her students and that way, she had learned of a rather nasty recent divorce. Rekindling an old flame was probably the last thing Kate Stewart wanted right now when she had only just managed to get rid of one idiot. "Especially Brian. Has anyone ever told everyone to mind their own business?"

That made Amy laugh. "We live on an island where everyone knows everyone else and nothing really interesting ever happens. Gossip is all we have."

"Well, you can stop gossiping about me because I'm not dead. I just happen to look like the woman they found on the coast," Clara remarked grumpily. The last thing she needed was people bothering her and sticking their noses into her personal business. All she wanted was to be left alone. That was the reason she had come here.

Yet Amy didn't seem like she was going to go away anytime soon. Instead, she leaned just a little bit closer. "Are you sure you're okay though?" she asked sincerely. "I've been worried about you."

Clara smiled in return. "Like I said, there's nothing to worry about. I'm alive, I haven't fallen off a cliff, everything's fine."

"It's not about that," her friend said and then hesitated for a moment as if she wasn't quite sure how to continue, how to express what she wanted to say. Clara was starting to get a vague idea where this conversation was headed and she really didn't like it. In fact, she wanted to avoid it at all cost. "You've been weird these last few days. I, well, I wasn't sure-"

"Whether I've jumped off a cliff?" Clara asked in disbelief.

Amy shrugged.

"Seriously, I'm fine," she repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time today, but the look she received in response told her that her friend wasn't entirely sure she could believe it. "Okay, if you must know, I've been feeling a bit down because of, well, you-know-what, but that's seriously nothing to worry about. I'm certainly not going to jump off a cliff," she clarified and realised that she sounded angrier than she had intended to. Quickly, Clara lowered her voice. "It's just that occasionally, I need a bit of quiet time."

Finally, Amy seemed to understand because she nodded and smiled at her, that sincere and sweet Amy-smile that Clara had come to appreciate so much. Amy was the only person Clara had confided in so far and she had asked her to keep the story to herself at least for the time being. At some point, Clara would be ready to open up about it to more than just her, talk about it freely, but not just yet.