Dangerous Waters
by Anne Allen
Plot Summary:
Dangerous Waters is a romantic mystery set in Guernsey, a British island near France, and follows
the loves and losses of Jeanne le Page. She’s a thirty-something who left the island fifteen years
previously after a family tragedy and is now forced to return after her grandmother’s death. The old
lady has left Jeanne her cottage but she doesn’t want to live in it, planning to sell and leave again.
Heartbroken after the recent end of a long-term relationship, she is feeling totally lost.
But then Jeanne starts to unearth secrets held by the cottage, going back to the German Occupation.
She also begins to learn the truth behind the unexplained accident which killed her family. Jeanne
had been the only survivor and had suffered traumatic amnesia, but with the help of hypnosis her
memory returns. This puts her in danger from an unexpected source. The ghosts of the past have to
be faced before Jeanne can learn to live and love again . . . .
Book Excerpt:
Jeanne went out on deck as the spring sun broke through the clouds. A warm glow spread over
green and gold jewel-like Herm and its larger neighbour, grey and white building encrusted
Guernsey.
The salt-laden air enveloped her like an old and trusty coat. Taking a deep breath, she closed her
eyes and was a child again, playing on the beach with her parents. The image was so powerful that
tears formed and she blundered, unseeing, towards the railings.
As her vision cleared she found herself staring at Herm and, without warning, was overwhelmed by
such a strong feeling of fear that she had to hold onto the rail. Jeanne’s heart began to race, blood
pounded in her head and her breathing came in short, painful gasps. Oh my God, what’s happening
to me? After all this time, please, not again! Struggling to breathe she was on the verge of passing
out. Letting go of the rail she stumbled, crashing into a man who was walking past.
‘Hey, steady on! Look where you’re going!’ he said angrily, grabbing hold of her to stop them
falling. ‘Overdid the duty frees, did you?’
Stung by his accusation, she took a deep breath before replying. ‘No . . .no. I. I just lost my balance.’
The man’s hands were gripping her arms so hard that she could already imagine the bruises. ‘Hey,
that hurts!’
He loosened his grip and guided her back to the rail where she clung on, filling her lungs with the sea
air.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you. OK now?’
Jeanne nodded. As the man stepped back she took in, through still blurred eyes; dark brown hair,
deep blue eyes and the muscled arms of a man unlikely to be a pen-pusher. Responding to his
slightly warmer tone, she managed a tight smile before straightening up and walking, unsteadily, to
the starboard side.
What on earth was that? Is this what I can expect now? Perhaps I shouldn’t have come back
though I didn’t have much choice . . . The thoughts whirled around her pounding head. She
shuddered as she leant against the railings and Guernsey came into full view. While the ferry
headed towards St Peter Port harbour, she felt as if she were approaching a strange, unknown
country rather than the land of her birth. The whole of the northern sea front, from Les Banques
into St Peter Port, had been transformed. Towering edifices of granite and glass had replaced the
old, tired mish-mash of warehouses, scruffy hotels and shops. With a gasp, she realised that even
the elegant landmark of the Royal Hotel had been supplanted.
Wow! What’s happened here? It was if a natural disaster had occurred, flattening the old front and
replacing it by buildings more reminiscent of London than of the parochial island she remembered.
She’d never have thought that Guernsey would move into the twenty first century with such a bang.
The dramatic transformation which lay before her seemed to Jeanne to be an echo of all the change
in her own life and she felt a stranger here. She wished that she had stayed in the familiar, dull
Midlands town which had been her home these past fifteen years. For a moment the urge to remain
on the ferry and return to England, without setting foot on the island, was overwhelming. Her face
must have mirrored her inner turmoil as a middle-aged lady standing nearby asked, ‘Are you all
right, dear? Only you’ve gone very white.’
‘I’m fine, thanks. Just not very good on boats.’
The older lady nodded sympathetically. ‘My Tom gets seasick too. Has to fill himself up with beer or
the odd whisky or two before he’ll set foot on a boat. Just as well I can drive or we’d be marooned
on the ferry till he’s sobered up!’ She laughed.
Jeanne grinned weakly.
‘Aren’t these waters supposed to be dangerous?’
‘Yes, they can be, if you don’t know where all the rocks are,’ Jeanne replied. Yet again, her heart
hammered against her chest and her breathing quickened. She fought down the feelings of panic to
add, ‘but these big boats are perfectly safe,’ wondering who she was really trying to reassure.
Jeanne now joined the throng of eager passengers heading towards the car deck, found her car and
sat there feeling sick and trapped in the echoing bowel of the ship. She would just do what had to
be done here and then go back – but where? Her body arched with pain at the memory of her loss.
Going back would be as painful as going on, she realised. The sound of car horns blaring behind her
brought her back to the present. She started the engine and joined the queue towards the gangway
and whatever lay ahead.
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