There seemed to be no sound, anywhere in the whole valley. The car door opened and shut silently, her feet fell silent on tarmac stone, there was no sound at all. And no feeling, except cold. The bright yellow colour was a jacket. It was a body by the side of the road. A slight young man, a stranger, with his head among the stones. It is a Saturday morning in April. The road leads to Whalvoe, a tiny place with only nine inhabitants. The stranger’s death, and the events that follow, will involve and affect every one of them. This short novel is Laureen Johnson’s second book: her first was the local history book “Inside the Postcard”. She also writes plays, short stories and poetry.
