‘I don’t know, how many?’
‘Eleven! Although who knows, I may just have seen the same one eleven times …’
She laughs, the sound as bright as the morning sun.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask her.
‘So, you’re here to ask me boring questions too? I thought you were here to watch the butterflies with me.’
She glances across at me with a grin and I remember when we first became friends. We’d known each other since I arrived on the island, but it was when Molly started at the school that we became closer. Molly loved her. Jean was patient and thoughtful with the children but also didn’t hold back from sharing a laugh with the parents. I remember us visiting the school before Molly was due to start and Jean showing us both around, although really the visit was just for my benefit, Jack knowing the school well.
Jean pointed out artwork drying on the tables.
‘And this one is particularly interesting. Mushrooms in the forest, you see.’ She held up a child’s drawing so phallic-looking that Jack and I burst into laughter. Jean joined in.
‘God bless them, but it is so hard not to laugh sometimes.’
‘How do you manage it?’
‘I have a little office at the back of the building. I put classical music on loud and do my laughing in there.’
Jack found it a little strange at first that I was becoming friends with his old teacher. It took him a while to get used to calling her Jean, not Mrs Brown. And I suppose there is an age difference between us, just like there is between me and my friends Brenda and Morag too. But it doesn’t seem to matter somehow. That’s one of the things that living here has taught me. With so few people here, you learn not to be fussy about the age or background of prospective friends. A friend is a friend.
‘Twelve!’ I cry, pointing ahead of us at a cabbage white that flutters by the garden fence.
We sit together for a while in the sunshine, counting the butterflies.
‘I think I need a little sleep now, do you mind?’
‘Not at all,’ I reply. ‘See you soon.’
We hug goodbye and I try not to think about how thin she has become. Instead, I think about the butterflies.
I head back to the farm, stopping at Brenda’s to leave inside her porch a slice of Emma’s cake and a note welcoming her and her new addition to her household home. She’s due back from the mainland today with her new puppy. Hopefully I’ll see them at the harbour later but I can imagine she might be quite popular – although there are plenty of dogs on the island, it’s been a while since we had a puppy. I imagine she’ll be mobbed. Hopefully it might distract somewhat from our own little reunion. Well, for Jack and Lorna it will be a reunion. For the rest of us it will be hello.
When I pull up back at the farm I spot Molly and Olive on the beach. I scan the fields for Jack but he’s nowhere to be seen. To my surprise I find him in the living room, sitting on the sofa, head bowed over something clutched in his hand. He looks up as I step inside but doesn’t stir. As I sit down next to him I glance at what he’s holding. It’s a photograph. Two children stand on a beach – it looks like the one by the school. They are standing close together and I recognise the little boy as Jack. He has freckles on his nose which have long since disappeared but are visible on our daughter’s cheeks, and a broad smile on his face. His head is tilted, looking up at an older girl I’ve never seen before. Her red hair tangles in the wind and she looks at the camera with a serious expression.
‘She looks like you,’ I say softly.
‘Do you think?’ he asks, looking up for a moment. ‘I never really saw it.’
I nod, bringing my hand carefully towards the photograph.
‘You have the same eyes, and around the mouth too, look.’
He peers again at the photo and I join him, wanting to reach into the past and give that sweet, eager little boy a hug. But despite the pain I know my husband is in now, there’s something about the girl in the photo that makes me want to reach out to her too. She looks so very sad.
‘How are you feeling about later?’ I ask. He sighs and places the photo down on his lap.
‘I don’t know. Part of me can’t wait to see her again. But part of me … God, it’s been so long. And even before she left, we’d drifted apart. We weren’t close like you and your sisters.’
I think of the email from Shona earlier and the catch-up I will have with both her and Caitlin soon. We might be separated by miles and sea and I may miss them even after all this time but we’ve never really been apart, not truly. I’ve always felt connected to them. I can’t imagine what both Jack and Lorna must feel, how they’ve managed all these years being out of touch. So many times, I’ve suggested to Jack that he call or write to her. I know it hurt him when she left like she did. She has reached out a few times over the years, sending the odd Christmas card and a note to let us know that Ella had been born. But Jack has never replied, or at least not as far as I’m aware. It must be painful for him to have been left like that, but in my mind despite it all she is still family. And having had Jack’s parents as my in-laws … Well, I can’t help but think Lorna had her reasons for leaving. I think I may have wanted to get as far away as possible if they’d been my parents.
My mind is drawn back to the plans for the upcoming funeral. Whatever I might have felt about Catherine and Maurice as individuals, they were Jack’s parents, which made them part of my family too. For better or for worse. That’s why organising the funeral matters so much to me.
Watching my husband now, I wonder how I will greet Lorna later today. He has missed her so much, I know. Perhaps I should be angry. But I can’t help but think that she has missed out too. Jack still has this island, the place where he grew up. He has our community, our friends, a network. Did Lorna find that in London? I hope for her and Ella that she did. But it can’t have been easy to leave everything and everyone she knew when she was really just still a girl. I look again at the photo of her as a child. She must have been so unhappy, to run away like that and never look back. But maybe if I do my best to open my arms to her on this visit I will finally find the answers I’ve guessed at over the years, and she will come back to Jack, to us all. And perhaps he will have the chance to have at least something of the relationship I have with my sisters.
‘I’m sure she’s missed you too, you know.’
