I hold her hand in mine, thinking about everything she told me last night and how she failed to protect me as a child. But I also think of the island children who greeted her so warmly on the beach at Ella’s party, and my own memories of her as a teacher. Yes, she was weak when I needed her to be strong. And yes, she did a bad thing. But sometimes good people do. I don’t say ‘it’s OK’ because it isn’t. But I squeeze her hand tightly.
‘Thank you for saying that. And I was glad to see you again too.’
Jean lets out a breath and her body relaxes slightly. As she steps away I wonder if I will see her again. Her husband sweeps back to her side, scooping his arm around her waist as though the strength of his grip on her is enough to keep her alive. Whatever might have happened in the past, right now I wish that it could be.
Sarah’s mother hands me a tinfoil parcel of cake for the journey and kisses me on the cheek. When Doug hugs me goodbye his eyes are shiny and damp.
‘Allergies,’ he says with a big sniff. ‘You have a safe journey and come back soon, love.’
I think back to what Linda told me in the church: ‘we always thought of you as ours’. I may have been unlucky with the parents I was given, but that doesn’t mean I had nothing. Coming back here has shown me that, reminding me of all the good I forgot too in my attempt to shut out my more painful childhood memories.
‘Thank you,’ I say, pulling them both towards me for one final hug. ‘For everything.’
Sarah is one of the last to say goodbye.
‘Keep in touch?’ she says as we hold each other.
‘I promise. And again, I’m so sorry I didn’t keep in touch before. I was so lucky to have a friend like you.’
We step back from one another and she bites her lip and pushes her glasses a little higher up her nose.
‘It’s OK.’ And I think that maybe it will be for us. This time I will keep my promise. I’m not going to let my friend go a second time.
Eventually all the other islanders step back, giving us some space. There is only one person missing, but it’s better this way. We had our goodbye last night. By now a couple of cars and passengers have disembarked and others have been loaded onto the boat. The ferry is ready to leave, the harbour master on duty today standing by the ramp, waiting for Ella and me. This is it. For a second time in two and a half weeks I’m about to step onto this ferry, except this time it’s taking me away, back to the mainland where I tell myself I belong. This was always the plan: come here for a couple of weeks at most and then leave again. This is the way things were always meant to go.
‘Well, have a good journey,’ says Alice, squeezing us both tightly, her eyes glistening. ‘It was so lovely to get to know you.’ After she hugs Ella she steps back for a second and places her hands on her cheeks. ‘You are a very wonderful young lady.’
Ella blushes a deep shade of red but she is smiling too.
‘Thank you, Auntie Alice.’
‘I’m so glad we got to meet,’ I tell Alice as I hug her in turn. ‘Thank you for everything.’ During this visit I’ve gained not just a sister-in-law but a friend.
Ella and Molly hug each other so fiercely that I have to look away. When I turn back they are both rubbing their eyes.
‘I’ll message you,’ says Molly.
‘Every day,’ replies Ella, sniffing.
‘Bye, Uncle Jack,’ says Ella, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugs her back, tightly this time.
Ella drags her suitcase slowly towards the ferry. She doesn’t look back and I can tell that she is crying but is trying not to.
‘Well, goodbye then,’ says Jack.
‘Goodbye, Jack.’
I look up at my little brother from whom I was apart for two decades. And I want to tell him the one thing I’ve wanted to say ever since arriving on the island. That I love him, of course. That I always have, ever since he was small and even when we grew apart as older children and then for all the years that followed when our lives played out in separate worlds. Because despite it all, I never stopped loving my brother.
His arms are strong when they reach for me, as he wraps them around my shoulders. Just for a moment the years and space fall away and we are a family again, held together. We are a shared history, a forever-linked pair, two sides to the same coin. I can’t find the words to tell him. But I hold him tightly.
And then it’s time to leave. Ella is already on the top deck, her eyes red but her tears brushed away as she waves vigorously back to the island. I stow my suitcase, trying to shut out the sound of the ramp lifting and the ferry starting to chug away from the shore, and the shouts of ‘goodbye’, reaching me across the water. I chose this. I chose to go home. I want to go home. The stinging in my eyes is just the sea breeze. The shivering in my body is just the cold air.
‘Lorna!’
As I hear the voice I climb the stairs to the top deck two at a time. I run to the back of the boat where Ella is standing and waving with both arms. A figure pushes through the crowd gathered on the jetty. There’s a bark and Rex bursts through, breaking out from the huddle of people and leaping up and down. And then there is Mallachy, running towards the end of the jetty so fast that it looks as though he might not stop, that perhaps he might continue running straight into the sea. But at the very edge he slows to a halt.
‘Lorna!’
