Summer's End Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part One

  Part Two

  Thank you

  About the author

  Other Harper Bliss books

  HARPER BLISS

  SUMMER’S END

  Copyright © Harper Bliss 2013

  Cover picture © Depositphotos / netfalls

  Published by LadyLit Ltd - Hong Kong

  ISBN 978-988-12898-8-9

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorised duplication is prohibited.

  Warning: This title contains graphic language and f/f sex.

  www.harperbliss.com

  www.ladylit.com

  To Caroline, the order in my chaos.

  PART ONE

  EMILY

  The Red Lodge looked much tidier than Emily had envisioned, not that she had high expectations after three months on the road. The house felt a bit out of place, perched in between resorts along the beach, as if someone had forgotten to tear it down while developing the rest of the coast. She’d been scouring the internet on her phone while in Bangkok, looking for a decent place to stay in Samui. Somewhere cheap enough so that she didn’t have to ask her parents for money again, but comfortable enough to meet her not-so-modest standards. She blamed her family for surrounding her with too much luxury because the only hotels she liked were well above her fifteen-quid-a-night budget while the ones that fit into it nicely appeared way too shabby—even the pictures on their website—for a girl brought up in Holland Park.

  She’d asked her parents for extra cash twice. The first time when she had run out of funds one third into her three-month journey. The second—and last, she had sworn—after she’d bought a series of paintings from an extremely talented Vietnamese artist for quite a bargain, but the shipping costs had set her back half a month in lodging. She could hardly drag three forty-eight by sixty inch canvasses with her on the rest of her trip. Determined to make it on her own for one last week—because wasn’t that what this trip was all about?—she’d looked away from her phone and her gaze had landed on a pile of red flyers stacked on the nearby window sill.

  The Red Lodge - Beachside B&B - Koh Samui

  Only 3 rooms available at any time. Not for party people.

  25 USD per night.

  Tired of looking for a decent place to stay, Emily converted the amount in her head and opened the e-mail application on her phone. A few hours later she had written confirmation and a bed—although she had no idea of the state it would be in—for the last five days of her three-month sabbatical in Asia. The next day she boarded a plane to the island.

  “Emily Kane?” A woman with the exact same upper-crust accent as her mother appeared in the doorway.

  “That’s me.” It was hard to pin an age on her, but Emily guessed, based on nothing else but the similarity in tone of voice, that the woman must have been about the same age as her mother.

  “Welcome to The Red Lodge. My name is Marianne.” She extended her hand, which took Emily by surprise as she wasn’t used to being greeted with a firm handshake anymore. “Please, come inside.”

  Emily quite liked the personable approach and figured that, as she was flying back to London soon, she might as well get used to British people again. Not that she hadn’t encountered way too many on her travels, but she’d become rather good at avoiding them.

  “Is it just you?” Marianne asked.

  I’m not hiding a small person in my backpack. Emily just smiled and nodded. “Yep.” Six months ago, when she was still engaged, she and Jasper had considered Thailand a viable honeymoon destination. Surely they would have visited one of the islands, but they would never have picked a low-key place like this for accommodation.

  But Jasper wasn’t here, and that was exactly how she wanted it. Wasn’t it?

  “Absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Marianne flashed her a smile before proceeding to check her in.

  Emily ran her eyes over the faded Ramones t-shirt—so tight around the shoulders—the woman wore and considered it quite age-inappropriate.

  “Things are pretty relaxed around here. There’s no set breakfast time so feel free to sleep as long as you like.” Marianne handed her an old-fashioned key. “The kitchen,” she curled her fingers into air quotes, “closes at ten p.m. and silence is appreciated at night.”

  “Thanks.” Emily took the key into possession and made a mental note to store her valuables in the safe—if her room even had one.

  “Let me show you to your quarters.” Marianne arched her eyebrows up in mock anticipation. “You’re on the ground floor, overlooking the garden.”

  Emily didn’t quite know what to make of Marianne. The ultra-posh accent didn’t seem to fit with her surroundings—nor with the t-shirt. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and followed Marianne from the hallway to the back of the house. Of all the places she’d stayed at, this one appeared the most at odds. The decoration was Asian, but the house felt thoroughly European. As though it had been transported here from Holland Park.

  “Here we are.” The door to the room was open and when Marianne showed her in, Emily couldn’t believe what she saw. It was bright and the water from the pool outside reflected blue onto the wardrobe mirror through a large French window.

  Stumped for words, Emily turned to her hostess.

  “Quite a common reaction.” A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of the woman’s mouth. “But what can I say, I like my surroundings well-finished and pretty.”

  “But… twenty-five dollars?”

  “I’m not in this business for the money,” Marianne said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll see you later. I’ll be outside.”

  Before Emily had a chance to reply, Marianne had turned on her heels and closed the door behind her. Emily couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just had an enormous bout of luck or whether there was a catch to this lush room she had just ventured into.

  MARIANNE

  Another one who’s trying to find herself. In the five years since Marianne had opened the Lodge to the public, she’d seen too many of them pass. She walked up the stairs to her own room on the top floor. The third step creaked, as it had been doing for the past three weeks.

  Emily reminded her of a previous life—the life she had led before her self-chosen exile to Thailand. Marianne had no idea how long the girl had been travelling, but even the dark complexion of her skin and the natural highlights in her hair—both the result of hours of exposure to the hot South-East Asian sun, no doubt—couldn’t hide her airs and graces.

  If she’s lucky, she’ll learn. Marianne drew her t-shirt over her head and scanned the room for her bikini. Emily was the only guest today and a swim in the ocean was long overdue. Before swapping her undies for swimwear, Marianne dropped to the floor in front of the mirror and performed twenty-five pushups. She’d only recently started working out again and they left her puffing on the carpet for a few minutes. Despite the sudden fatigue, which she knew would pass, she felt stronger. A word she hadn’t associated with herself in a long time.

  After slipping into a black bikini and covering the rest of her skin with a t-shirt and pair of shorts, she descended the stairs. The house was too empty today. Even at full capacity, it was never loud or exceptionally cheerful, but at least there was some noise. Some signs of life. A pipe gurgling to life or water spattering in the pool outside. A reminder that she wasn’t alone.

  She trudged through the garden, along the stone path by the pool, until she reached the beach. Outside, the sun beat down mercilessly, but the sky was a blue you couldn’t imagine if
it wasn’t staring you in the face. So deep and pristine, it should grace many a touristic pamphlet, but a picture could never fully capture its essence. The sense of freedom and joy it provoked. The healing quality of a blue sky you could always count on during certain times of year was invaluable.

  The sand was hot beneath her feet, but Marianne was used to that by now. She walked a bit quicker until she reached the moist part of the beach and stood overlooking the ocean, as she did every day. The waves in August were usually lazier than this.

  This was a quiet beach, with only two medium-sized resorts spread out across the strip. Marianne would never have chosen it otherwise. Not a lot of swimmers ventured into the ocean at this time of the day, preferring the shadow provided by their hotel pool gazebos over the unflinching heat of the Thai afternoon sun.

  “Is the water too cold for you?”

  The voice that came from behind Marianne startled her. She spun around and looked into Emily’s grinning face.

  “That was quick.” She returned Emily’s smile. “Room too small and stuffy for you?”

  “Not in the least.” Emily winked and ran past her with the enthusiasm of a child who’s never seen the sea in her life. She wore a skimpy bikini with a flower pattern. Marianne followed her with her eyes as Emily waded into the water. Her skin was nut brown and contrasted heavily with the lightness of her hair that had grown unruly. Marianne checked herself for any signs of sudden arousal—for any inkling that some day this would pass—but as usual, she felt nothing. Hadn’t done so in five years.

  She wondered what Emily’s story was—because they all had one. The ones who turned up alone despite the fact that they looked as if they’d never been anywhere on their own in their life. She looked a bit too old to be on a post-university gap year, but these days, you just never knew.

  Marianne let her shorts drop onto the sand, stripped off her t-shirt and walked into the waves. It struck her again how different it was to cross from land to ocean in different parts of the world. Brighton had its charms—and she’d owned a holiday house there for ten years for a reason—but, when put in perspective, the North Sea really had nothing on the Pacific Ocean. Having it at her disposal whenever she wanted was a big plus, but it wasn’t the main reason she had fled Britain. If only.

  With strong strokes—at least she swam every day and swimming in waves does so much more for the upper body than counting laps in the pool—she quickly made up the distance between Emily and her. If she’d had a romantic bone left in her body, Marianne could have almost considered it a romantic moment—swimming towards another woman in the shimmering ocean. She shook off the thought and engaged in what had become her specialty since opening the Lodge. Small talk. Fleeting moments, people passing through, enough superficial connections to get through the day and feel human but not enough to ever feel deserted again. This was her life now, and it was exactly how she wanted it.

  Facing Emily, Marianne treaded water. Her feet could reach the ocean floor, but she really did want to get stronger.

  “How long have you been travelling?” Marianne always found it interesting to discover how people ended up here. All these people passing by, occupying a room in her house—all momentarily in the same situation, but always a different tale to tell.

  EMILY

  “Three months. This is my last stop. After this, I’m flying home.” After the turmoil of Bangkok, this place felt like paradise. Emily didn’t wait for her words to register with Marianne, who had probably heard a similar story a million times before. She let her head sink back into the water and let it cool her glowing scalp.

  “And where’s that?” Marianne asked as soon as Emily’s ears breached the surface again. Excellent question. Could she just go back after having burned so many bridges? Could London ever be home again? It was a big enough city for a transformation, to change your life and move on. For something different.

  “London, I guess.” She shrugged, her shoulders hidden under water.

  “You guess? That doesn’t sound very convincing.” The expression on Marianne’s face changed from displaying casual interest into something more intense. Oh great, a shrink.

  “Stuff happened before I left.” Before she’d packed her bags in a hurry—in a frenzied daze, a state of emotional distress leading to tunnel vision until all she wanted to do was leave.

  “I can’t do it,” she’d said to Jasper’s flabbergasted face. “I can’t marry you and have your perfect Holland Park children, one boy and one girl. One with your dark hair and one with my blonde curls. I can’t see it, Jasper. It’s not what I want.”

  “But…” Jasper, usually not stumped for words, had no recourse. “The wedding’s next month.”

  By the time she was expected to walk down the aisle, Emily was drinking cheap beer in Hanoi, too busy avoiding the crazy traffic attacking her from all sides to think much about the significance of the day.

  “It usually does.” Marianne shot her a smile and ducked away from her. It didn’t look as if she was going to press Emily on the subject. Emily couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. She’d have to start talking about it some time. First, though, she had a few more lazy days in the sun to enjoy. She scanned the horizon—blue on blue—and understood why Marianne would choose to live here.

  Marianne was making good progress against the waves. Emily watched her body transform into a small dot in the distance. Impressive, she thought, because despite loving the water, and having had the privilege of being taught by the best swimming instructors money could buy, she knew she just didn’t have it in her. She didn’t possess a swimmer’s physique or mindset.

  Emily let her body drift in the water for a while, squinting against the sun. To empty her mind of the looming journey home, she tried to recite all the titles of the books she’d read since she left. It was an ever-growing list that helped her fall asleep in noisy hostels. Not that she stayed in too many of those. It had been the initial plan—low-budget, back-to-basics living—but when push had come to shove, Emily didn’t have it in her and she knew full well that, no matter what happened, her father would, in the end, always pick up her credit card bill. It’s hard to live dangerously with an ever-present safety net.

  After cooling off her body, Emily padded back to shore. When she looked back, she spotted Marianne swimming in her direction with swift freestyle strokes. Perhaps she had guessed wrong when she’d placed her in the same age bracket as her mother, because her mother surely couldn’t do that. She had other qualities though, like looking down her nose at people. And judging by appearances.

  Emily made her way back to the Lodge’s garden. There was just enough room for a small pool and a patio with some lounge and regular chairs. Every single piece of furniture looked expensive, as if belonging in a five-star hotel instead of a modest guesthouse.

  Marianne had been adamant about not being in the hotel service industry for the money, and by the look of things at the Red Lodge, she was hardly strapped for cash.

  Before sitting down in one of the chairs under the beige sun shield, Emily grabbed a towel from a small stack next to the pool and wrapped it around her dripping body. She’d only just sat down when she heard Marianne’s footsteps slap against the flat stones of the garden path. Marianne had put her t-shirt back on and it clung to her sun-bronzed flesh in wet patches. Not for the first time on this three-month trip, Emily felt a glowing heat flare somewhere in an undefinable spot beneath her skin.

  First she had wanted to get away from everything, and she had, the only further place she could have gone was Australia.

  “Would you like a drink?” Marianne asked, and Emily had to consciously lift her gaze from Marianne’s body to her face.

  “I could murder a beer.” She looked up into Marianne’s face. When it was backlit by the sun she could clearly make out the small wrinkles around her sparkling brown eyes.

  “Coming right up.” Marianne shot her a wink and Emily felt it again. It’s not that she couldn’t e
xplain it—she hadn’t lived that sheltered a life—it was more that she was afraid what it might do to her if she gave in.

  She straightened her back and pushed the sensation away—she’d become really good at that.

  MARIANNE

  “If you don’t mind me asking…” Marianne sat opposite Emily on the patio. “How old are you?” She’d brought an ice bucket from the kitchen holding a six-pack of Singha. They each sipped one from the bottle.

  “Still young enough not to mind the question.” Despite them sitting under the sun shield, a shiny glimmer caught Emily’s hair. “I’m twenty-four and, as of recently, officially the black sheep of the Kane family.” Emily opened her palms to the sky as if presenting herself.

  “Plenty of time to turn that around then.” Marianne took a swig from her beer, but kept her eyes on Emily.

  Emily chuckled. “Maybe I don’t want to turn it around. Maybe I’ve just had enough.”

  Marianne arched up her eyebrows in response.

  “How very dramatic of me.” Emily pulled one leg up onto her chair. “But people do say it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

  “We’ve seen each other in bikinis. We’re hardly strangers anymore.” Marianne was taken aback by the words exiting her mouth. She looked away for an instant before facing Emily again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s quite all right.” Emily brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. “If I could look like you when I’m your age—” Emily brought her hand to her mouth. “Gosh, now it’s my turn to apologise, I mean, I don’t even know how old you are,” she stuttered.