Description
Maria thought stowing away on a ship to follow the man she loves was a great idea - but sleeping in the cargo hold and fighting rats for food isn't at all what she bargained for, and that's before she reaches her destination: the desolate colonial outpost of Christmas Island. Now the man who was once her world won't even look at her. Perhaps she'd be better off swimming hundreds of miles home. It's time to lay the ghosts of their past to rest...or are some ghosts not dead at all?
A tiny taste of what's in store: I heard male voices, dropped to a crouch and tried to shrink further behind the crates. "I tell you, I saw a woman walk along the passage and into this cabin," one man insisted. "There aren't any passengers on this side. The cabins are all full of supplies Grumpy McGregor ordered in Fremantle. There's definitely no women aboard," the second man scoffed. The voices sounded like they were just outside the door. The wide open door, I realised, wishing I'd thought to close it behind me. "I know what I saw. They were as big as melons. Not one of them flappers â€" a real woman." "Melons?" the second man echoed. "Next thing you'll tell me she was beautiful, too, and beckoning." His pitch crept impossibly high. "Come to my cabin, Black, and I'll show you my melons." Black laughed. "Didn't need to go into the cabin to see 'em. She was as naked as the day she was born. I could see every jiggle as she walked…" "You're daft. Not three hours out of port and you're imagining naked women with enormous melons. Next thing, you'll be seeing mermaids."
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