Free The Missing Person's Guide to Love by Susanna Jones

concluded that it was easier to be romantic in Hounslow than on the Yorkshire moors.
    ‘Who is she?’
    ‘A writer. Her books are set round here. There’s one called Goose Island. I haven’t read it but, look, see that little island? Over there.’
    There was a small island with a couple of trees on it, and next to it a couple of tiny ones that were just bumps in the water.
    ‘Is that where it’s set?’
    ‘I’ve never read it so I don’t know for certain, but that’s called Goose Island. It’s sweet. There’s not much room for anything to happen there. You could just about have sex.’
    ‘Oh. Right.’ He ran his hand over the top of his head.
    I smiled. I had embarrassed him. ‘No, no. Sorry. I only say it because that’s what’s most likely to happen in an Eva Carter book. Somebody will row or swim out there at some point, probably a dark, rugged man to rescue a beautiful woman, and they’ll make love on the island.’
    ‘Traditional stuff?’
    ‘No. In Maggie’s stories the woman always does everything she wants. She sometimes even murders a man or two along the way, but she still gets the glittering prize at the end. Usually a different man.’
    ‘Cool.’ We both looked out at Goose Island. Or was it Swan Island? Perhaps it was and Maggie’s book had confused me. I couldn’t remember. ‘You could do it under the shelter of the trees,’ John said. ‘But there’s something sad about it. It’s melancholic.’
    ‘Maybe it is. They had to search the whole reservoir area,with divers and everything, so to me it’s just bleak. Julia pervades the place but it must have been sad before then, if you noticed it too.’
    ‘I’d like to buy you a drink after the funeral. We’re both outsiders here, Isabel, and we need to stick together. When the locals see us coming along the main street, they might try to chase us out of town.’
    I laughed. ‘Why should they do that?’
    ‘A pair of ex-cons showing up together, all dressed in black. Could be scary to some people.’
    ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way.’
    ‘So, a quickie, then? A quick drink somewhere, I mean.’
    ‘Thanks, but I’m on a pretty tight schedule. I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow. I don’t live round here, you see. I’m in Istanbul now. In the meantime I need to talk to some people who do live here still. I want to learn more about Owen before I go home.’
    ‘Who are you planning to talk to?’
    ‘I’m not really sure. I thought I’d see who’s at the funeral.’ ‘How will you broach the subject?’
    ‘I’ll just see how it goes.’
    ‘So you’re leaving tonight?’
    ‘Tomorrow morning. Tonight I need to pack, need to make phone calls. This and that.’
    ‘Busy-busy. Why do you live in Istanbul?’
    ‘Because that’s where my job is and it’s where my husband and child are.’
    ‘What’s your job?’
    ‘I write articles for a monthly journal, and sometimes newspapers. Mete and I also manage a shop together, with his relatives.’
    ‘What kind of shop?’
    ‘Food, everyday stuff.’
    ‘And you run it together? How romantic.’
    ‘Yes, it is. It’s very romantic, as it happens, but we don’t get much free time to spend with each other and Elif.’
    ‘How old is she?’
    ‘Nearly two.’
    ‘You don’t seem like a mother.’
    A white duck pushed its bill through the reeds and waddled alongside us for a while. I walked between John and the duck as we progressed around the reservoir. No, I thought. I don’t seem like a mother. This morning I did, but now I do not. I wiped my foot on the grass to remove a lump of mud. ‘I’m going to the church,’ I told him.
    A smile lurked around his face somewhere, almost in his eyes, almost his mouth, not quite in either. He thought that in making me indignant he had somehow wielded power.
    ‘You’re much too early. We’ve got plenty of time yet. Shame we can’t go for a quick row. The water’s so tempting. I don’t know why I’m saying that because I