The Girl from the Sea: A gripping psychological thriller by Shalini Boland Page B

turn on the spray and let the London grime slide down the plughole.
    I’m hoping the cool water will energise me for the night ahead. At least Piers is here for me. I should give him a fair chance and shake off any negative thoughts I might have had about him. I owe him that much. I step out of the shower, pull on a bath robe and towel dry my hair, discarding both on the floor a minute later. My body is still a little damp, but the air is so warm, that I’m guessing my skin will be dry by the time I’m back upstairs. Without too much thought, I pick out some fresh underwear, and another summery dress which I slip over my head. I don’t bother with shoes or makeup.
    I pad up the stairs, back to the living room, looking forward to my glass of wine. I glance around, but Piers doesn’t appear to be up here any longer.
    ‘Out here, babe!’
    I cross the room and step out onto the balcony where he’s sitting sipping a glass of red wine. He’s wearing beige shorts, a pale blue short-sleeved shirt and aviator shades, his legs stretched out on the low coffee table next to a bowl of olives and a half-empty wine bottle. He hands me a glass and I sink into one of the armchairs.
    ‘Cheers,’ Piers says. We clink glasses and I take a healthy swig, relishing the warm alcoholic burn in my throat, and letting my shoulders relax. The sun is sinking, but the air still holds the heat of the day.
    ‘So,’ Piers says. ‘Are you going to tell me where you’ve been all day?’
    ‘I went to London,’ I say. ‘I went to visit my mum.’
    ‘You did what?’ He takes his feet off the table and sits bolt upright.
    ‘She called me last night, worried out of her mind. I had to go and see her and Cara. Let them know I was okay.’
    ‘Cara? You saw Cara?’ Piers’ face has turned a deep shade of red. He puts his glass down and removes his shades, leaning in towards me. ‘Have you gone mad, Mia?’
    ‘What? What’s wrong with that?’
    ‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that. Your sister is a money-grabbing little bitch and you haven’t seen or spoken to her for three years.’
    ‘And you didn’t think to mention this to me before ?’ I hiss. His words set my whole body trembling. My sister – a money-grabber? We haven’t spoken for three years? Is Piers telling the truth? I take another gulp of wine and put my glass on the table with shaking fingers.
    ‘Well . . . I . . .’ he stutters.
    ‘Well?’ I demand.
    ‘I didn’t think you’d go rushing off there without telling me,’ he says throwing his hands up in the air. ‘I’m sorry,’ he adds. ‘I should’v e ― ’
    ‘Three years!’ I interrupt him, still unable to believe what I’m hearing. ‘I haven’t spoken to Cara for three years? And what about my mum?’
    ‘You haven’t spoken to her either. She sided with your sister, so you cut them out of your life. Shit, Mia. I was going to tell you about them, but I didn’t want to overload you with drama. Not after everything you’ve just been through. How the hell did you end up going to see them today?’
    ‘I told you, my mum rang last night. Apparently Cara saw something online about me losing my memory.’
    ‘Yeah, I bet she loved that. You losing your memory is the perfect opportunity to get back in your good books and hit you up for more cash.’
    I suddenly feel cold. Sick. Could they really only have wanted to see me because I have money?
    ‘Piers, there’s something I still don’t understand – how come I have money in the first place? I thought you said I was a teacher, but here I am, living in this house and driving a brand new car. Am I rich?’
    Piers exhales and leans back into the sofa. He runs his hands over the top of his head. ‘Yeah, Mia. You’re rich. You don’t need to work, and from everything you’ve told me, your sister is jealous as fuck.’
    ‘So, how did I get my money? Did I win the lottery or something?’
    ‘I don’t know how much your mum told you, Mia,’ Piers