Tess and Joy’s house is on the other side of the island, one of the newer buildings in the village which is not really a village but instead a few houses gathered near the shop, the pub, the school and the community hall. It is painted bright white with large square windows. They have a big garden at the back that overlooks the sea with a modern bothy-style building set back from the house and two large canvas yurts on the grass – all of which they rent out to holidaymakers.
I park up and open their low wooden gate, making my way down the garden path which cuts through flowerbeds planted with thistles, shrubs and bright yellow broom. There’s a wooden bench outside the green front door, two pairs of wellies lined up beneath it. A washing line is strung with babygrows, muslins and sheets that flutter back and forth.
There’s a brief pause after I knock before Joy opens the door wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, her feet bare. She looks extremely flustered and from inside the house I hear the sound of Harry crying and Tess’s soothing voice as she tries to comfort him. Poor Joy looks even more exhausted than Tess did when I saw her yesterday.
‘Morning, Alice, are you OK? I’d offer you a cup of tea but I think we’re out of milk …’ she trails off, turning to look inside as Harry lets out a particularly loud shriek.
‘Don’t worry about that. I just thought I might pop over and offer my babysitting services – I’ve got a free couple of hours and thought you two might like a break.’
Joy turns back to me, relief and uncertainty on her face. Tess is in the hallway now too, jiggling baby Harry on her hip. His chubby coffee-coloured cheeks are flushed and his brown eyes are damp with tears. But he’s quietened slightly, the wee thing, sniffling and chewing his fist.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Joy says. ‘But he’s going through quite a fussy stage.’
I wave my hand.
‘That’s no bother. Molly was just the same.’
Joy glances at Tess.
‘I could certainly do with a shower,’ she says hesitantly.
‘And I would kill for a nap,’ adds Tess. ‘I didn’t sleep at all last night.’
‘Well that’s decided then. Do you have his carrier? I’ll take him out for a walk, it’s a nice morning.’
‘Thank you, Alice, we appreciate this so much.’
It’s the least I can do though, nothing more than what so many of the other islanders did for me when Molly was small. I strap Harry to my chest and his parents lean down to kiss the top of his head.
‘You be good for Auntie Alice.’
Harry gurgles in reply. I wave goodbye to Tess and Joy who lean wearily in the doorframe, arms around one another, and set off down the garden path, joining the road that heads through the village and down towards the beach.
‘Let’s go on a lovely walk,’ I say softly to Harry, who has thankfully quietened now. Every now and then he starts togrizzle and I hand him a finger to suck and chew which seems to do the job of holding back his tears. It always did with Molly. I try to distract him too, pointing out things as I walk.
‘Look at that big seagull! And can you see that seal out in the bay?’
His chubby legs swing at my sides. Every now and then I reach down for his socked feet, squeezing them gently, or place a hand on his soft, tightly curled hair. I might have been worried about Tess and Joy but I have to admit this wasn’t a totally selfless visit. There is nothing quite like the warmth and weight of a baby on your chest. I remember that feeling when I carried Molly, of feeling like she was part of me and that just by holding her I had a huge, important purpose.
I take us along the beach, stepping over strands of seaweed and avoiding the larger rocks and shards of driftwood. We pass a few people out walking their dogs and although everyone here is always friendly I can tell their smiles are wider than normal as they greet me. That’s just the effect of babies.
I always imagined I’d have a bigger family. I wanted four children. I imagined the farmhouse filled with noise, mess and laughter, muddy shoes in a towering pile by the door, a washing line constantly strung with pyjamas and socks and school uniforms. But it never happened. I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud, but the biggest failure in my life has been the failure of my body. I know I’m not supposed to think of it as a failure. That’s what all the doctors on the mainland said anyway.These things happen. It’s not your fault.It’s what my sisters and my friends tried to tell me too. But deep down, I still don’t truly believe them. The failure sits with me in the pit of my stomach. I guess I’ve just learnt how to live with it.
I pause for a moment on the beach, lowering myself and Harry down onto a long, wide tree trunk half-buried in the sand.
‘Let’s just have a little sit down,’ I say to him. ‘And look at this beautiful view.’
Some of the fishing boats are tied up in the harbour, bobbing up and down on the water. I spot others as tiny black dots out to sea. Harry gurgles, his small hand clasping mine.
At least I have Molly. That’s what I’ve always tried to tell myself. It feels greedy to want more when I have her. She has been the biggest joy in my life. And I guess when I started to realise that the big family I’d imagined might never exist I just tried to love her as much as four children.
Looking out to sea, the worries I’ve been trying to push away over these past few days sweep in like the waves rolling in against the sand. When I’m at home I try my best to stay busy and focused on keeping the house in order and looking after Jack and Molly. But out here I let my shoulders sink. I run through my list of worries like a checklist in my head. Jack and how he’s coping. Molly and what the next few days will be like for her. Jean and how she’s feeling and what comes next for my friend. The school and all the problems that have been happening there and what it means for the future of our community. Because the fact is I may have worked hard to build this life here but none of it is certain. It could all be taken away.
I tilt my head down and breathe in Harry’s perfect baby smell.
‘Come on,’ I say softly, easing myself to my feet once more. ‘Let’s carry on our walk.’
Chapter 5
