The Shrine on Suicide Hill Page 2

  ***

  Morning drained into the sea and was replaced by the dull afternoon sun. The old men down in the pub began arguing over trifles. The stink of frying sausages slithered up the stairs. Evelyn flopped on her belly and drew the covers close around her skin. Frankie wrapped her speckled body around Evelyn’s legs and exhaled softly on her reddened knees.

  “I never understood why she did it,” Evelyn said. “We didn’t speak after she moved back here. Then I got word of her hanging herself. I went numb. I’m still … still numb. I can’t shake the image from my mind. How that awful noose must have twisted round her neck. I suppose I came to High Church to find answers.” She stroked Frankie’s backside. “And now I’ve found you.”

  “Would you like me to take you to her?” Frankie asked, mouth pressed against Evelyn’s thigh, voice muffled.

  “To Georgia’s grave?”

  “To Georgia.”

  “I should like that very much.”