It’s a perfect summer day, one that brings tourists from the mainland to the small island of Pellworm off the German coast. Two women move across the grassy marshland. But they are so far away from Pellworm’s cafés and swimming spots that nobody would mistake them for tourists. Instead of bathing costumes, they wear their formal city clothes — long dark skirts, tight-fitting jackets, heavy shoes — out of place on a holiday island. They carry overnight bags in their hands, yet they are heading for the island’s most remote corner, where neither hotels nor ferries await them. There is something about the way they hold themselves. Something is not quite right.
Apart from a herd of sheep nearby and the seagulls above, they are alone. The sea stretches ahead of them, a calm blue. For the women, this is the perfect place to leave the intrigues, the fights, the accusations and the whispers behind. To forget about those they loved a…
