His voice is a cry and it hits me deep in the chest. I grip the rail, my knuckles turning white.
‘Lorna!’
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I don’t look away though, not until I can no longer see him and the harbour and the village have disappeared, the island just a dark black ridgeline on the horizon. Ella and I are going home, back to the life I have put so much into building for us both. It’s the right thing to do. So why do I feel like I’ve just made a huge mistake?
Chapter 44
Alice
It feels strange to step into the guest bedroom and find it empty. I know they were only here for a few weeks, but it still feels like Lorna’s room, somehow. I perch on the end of the bed for a moment looking out the window at the sea, today a dark turquoise. The ferry should have long since reached the mainland by now. They are probably on the train, heading back to Fort William to catch the sleeper. I wonder when we’ll see them again. Next summer feels a long way away, especially when I picture my daughter’s stricken face as she waved goodbye to her cousin on the jetty and if I think of all the ways our lives may have changed by this time next year.
On the way home from the harbour I stopped in at the village shop, leaving Molly and Jack waiting in the car. There was a single pregnancy test semi-hidden among the shelves of pharmacy products in the shop. As I handed it over to Pat her eyebrows rose, her lips parting in surprise.
‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ I said quickly, looking around to see if anyone was watching us.
‘Of course not, love,’ she replied, but she reached across the counter for my hand and squeezed it.
I still can’t believe those two red lines that appeared once I was home and shut in the bathroom with Jack, Molly outside in the garden. They’re so small and so simple but mean so much. We both cried again then, holding each other. Jack quickly took charge, calling the hospital on the mainland to make an appointment for me and organising for Sarah to look after Molly for the night when we go. With the ferry only running once a day we’ll have to stay overnight and come back the following morning. He’s sorted it all. I don’t feel ready for action yet though. Given everything that’s happened in the past, I won’t feel calm until I see a doctor, and perhaps not even then. I think maybe this pregnancy is just bound to be filled with anxiety. Will everything go smoothly? And if it does, will I even remember how to care for a newborn after such a long time? How will Molly react to an unexpected and much younger sibling? And is now the best time to have another child, when the future of our home is so uncertain? But despite my worries I can’t seem to press down the joy that bubbles inside me, making me feel as though I may lift off the ground any moment. The worries are real but I choose to be hopeful, too. Because without hope, what do we really have?
I glance around the room, imagining it as a nursery instead of a spare room. I think I’d keep it yellow, but picture a mobile hanging above a wooden cot, a rocking chair in the corner. Tears spring to my eyes again, picturing this thing I have dreamed of for years.
As my eyes fall on the bed I realise that the room is not entirely empty after all. There are some packages resting on the pillow. As I reach for them I notice our names written on the brown paper: Alice, Molly, Jack.
I lift mine towards me and peel back the paper. Inside is one of the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen. I recognise the view instantly because it’s the same view I see every day and have come to love. It’s the beach below the farm, our beach. There are two figures running into the water and my mouth spreads into a smile as I recognise them. It’s me and Lorna. The version of me she’s captured looks different to the person I see in the mirror, though. This woman looks defiant, purposeful and strong. As I look at the painting version of me, my confidence grows. Whatever lies ahead for my family and for this island, I will cope with it. For years I’ve felt a failure for not leading the kind of lives my sisters have, for being a yoga teacher and a farmer’s wife instead of a doctor or a lecturer. But looking at this picture, I feel suddenly sure that I made the right choice. I may not have had a big life full of travel, adventure and a high-flying career. But that doesn’t mean that my life is small. I have had my family, my community, my home and a job that I love. Later, I will phone my sisters and invite them to visit and join me for one of my retreats like Lorna suggested. I will tell them my news in person. And maybe I will tell them how I feel about our relationship, but maybe I won’t. Perhaps when it comes down to it, it doesn’t really matter that they will always think of me as Squirt, their little sister. Because looking at the strong, confident woman in Lorna’s painting, I know that I am more than that.
I prop the painting next to the bed and carefully lift the two other parcels.
‘Molly, honey?’ I say, pushing open her bedroom door. She is busily typing away on her phone, to Ella I assume. The spare bed in here looks strange in its emptiness too. Looking at my daughter, it’s hard not to tell her the secret I’m carrying inside. But I want to be certain that everything is OK before I turn her life upside down. I can’t help but think she’ll take being an older sister in her stride though.
‘Your aunt left this for you.’
I hand her the parcel and we sit together on her bed as she opens it.
‘Oh, I love it,’ she exclaims, holding up a canvas with ‘Save the sea’ written in bold, colourful letters. ‘I think I want to put it here.’
‘I’ll help you hang it later, sweetie,’ I say, kissing her on the forehead. ‘I just need to give this to your dad.’
His parcel is the heaviest of the three and rattles slightly as I carry it downstairs. He is in the living room, sitting on the sofa reading a book. It’s the same Moomintroll book I caught him reading two weeks ago, the photo of him and Lorna slipped inside its pages.
He looks up, his face tired-looking but stretching into a smile as he spots me.
‘I can’t wait to read this to the little one,’ he says softly. ‘I miss reading to Molly, don’t you?’
I sit down beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me. I say nothing, but turn my head to kiss him on the cheek. We smile at one another. After a moment’s contented silence, I remember the package on my lap.
‘Lorna left us some gifts. Molly and I have already opened ours; this one is for you.’
For a moment he just stares at it, the rectangular-shaped parcel on his lap.
‘Go on,’ I say gently, and he withdraws his arm from around me and starts peeling back the paper. Inside is a wooden box. It looks like it’s made from driftwood. He opens the lid and it’s filled with pebbles. No wonder it felt so much heavier than ours. There’s a note too and he reads it quietly. I turn my head away slightly, resisting the urge to read over his shoulder. When he has finished reading he folds the note and then reaches his hand into the box, running his fingers over each stone. There are shells in there too and fragments of sea glass.
‘Some people might find a box of pebbles a strange gift,’ I say, laughing lightly.
‘But it’s perfect,’ he replies. His eyes grow misty and I reach out for his hand.
‘You miss her, don’t you?’
He nods silently.
