And she bought the island. It's her island, her house, her farm. Everything belongs to her.''How strange. But why does Mr Ross always look sad? And why does he never leave the island? I asked. 'I don't know,' said my mother. 'He says he likes it here and likes working on his farm. It's strange, I know.' Sometimes, when I finished work, I walked along the beaches or thecliffs. Or I went swimming in the sea. I liked swimming. Greta Ross often came to the beach to swim, but Mr Ross never came.'Stay away from the rocks, Carol,' Greta Ross told me. 'They're very dangerous.'
'1 will,' I said. Sometimes I took my camera to the beach and took photographs of some of the boats that went by. I took photographs of the birds on the cliffs. There were other small islands near our island, and boats with tourists stopped at them. But no boats stopped at our island. They kept away from the dangerous rocks. Tony was right. The island did not have visitors. One day, I was walking back to the house, and had my camera with me. 1 stopped and looked at the big house. Mr Duncan was working in the garden in front of it. At first, he didn't see me. 'I'm going to take a photograph of the house,' I thought. 'The sun isin just the right place, and it will make a good picture.' I looked at the building through my camera, and took the photograph. Mr Ross was coming out of a door. He was in my picture, too, and he looked angry. 'That's all right,' I thought. 'It's still a good photograph.' But Mr Duncan was running across the grass. He came quickly up to me and said, 'Give me your camera.' He looked very worried. 'What's wrong?' I asked in surprise. I gave him the camera. 'Never take photographs of Mr Ross,' he said.
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