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Caitlin’s life changes from the moment she sees Lucas walking across the causeway one hot summer’s day. He is the strangest, most beautiful boy she has ever seen – and when she meets him, her world comes alive.

But to others, he quickly becomes an object of jealousy, prejudice and hatred. Caitlin tries to make sense of the injustice that lurks at every unexpected twist and turn, until she realises that she must do what she knows in her heart is right.

A mesmerising evocation of one extraordinary month in a young girl’s life.

Shortlisted for the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award 2003.

Reviews:

'A gripping story that confirms this new writer’s undoubted talent.' FINANCIAL TIMES

'It gets to you. Then when this has passed, you want to tell everyone how good it is.' SUNDAY TIMES

'A particularly moving and unusual love story …' GUARDIAN

'Brooks maintains a terrific suspense, clarity and warmth of writing that makes this novel outstanding.' OBSERVER 

Winner of the North East Book Award 2004. Shortlisted for the Booktrust Teenage Prize 2003.

That was the moment I first saw him – a lone figure at the far end of the Stand, on the left-hand side, with his back to us, walking towards the island. Apart from wishing that Dominic would shut up braying, my first thought was how odd it was to see someone walking on the Stand. You don’t often see people walking around here.

The closest town is Moulton (where we’d just come from), about fifteen kilometres away on the mainland, and between Hale and Moulton there’s nothing but small cottages, farms, heathland, the ranges, and the odd pub or two. So islanders don’t walk, because there’s nowhere nearby to walk to. And if they’re going to Moulton they either drive or take the bus. So the only pedestrians you’re likely to see around here are ramblers, bird-watchers, poachers, or, very occasionally, people (like me) who just like to walk. But even from a distance I could tell that the figure up ahead didn’t fit into any of these categories.

I wasn’t sure how I knew, I just did. Deefer knew, too. His ears had pricked up and he was squinting curiously through the windscreen.

As we drew closer, the figure became clearer. It was a young man, or a boy, dressed loosely in a drab green T-shirt and baggy green trousers. He had a green army jacket tied around his waist and a green canvas bag slung over his shoulder. The only non-green thing about him was the pair of scruffy black walking boots on his feet. Although he was on the small side, he wasn’t as slight as I’d first thought. He wasn’t exactly muscular, but he wasn’t weedy looking either. It’s hard to explain. There was an air of hidden strength about him, a graceful strength that showed in his balance, the way he held himself, the way he walked ...

As I’ve already said, the memory of Lucas’s walk brings a smile to my face. It’s an incredibly vivid memory, and if I close my eyes I can see it now. An easygoing lope. Nice and steady. Not too fast and not too slow. Fast enough to get somewhere, but not too fast to miss anything. Bouncy, alert, resolute, without concern and without vanity. A walk that both belonged to and was remote from everything around it.

You can tell a lot about people from the way they walk. As the car got closer I realised that Dad and Dominic had stopped talking, and I was suddenly aware of a strange, almost ghostly, silence to the air – not just in the car, but outside as well. Birds had stopped calling, the wind had dropped, and in the distance the sky had brightened to the most intense blue I’d ever seen. It was like something out of a film, one of those slow-motion episodes played out in absolute silence when your skin starts tingling and you just know that something stunning is about to happen.