‘You’re one to talk! You’re the one who’s out of control. You’re always drunk, you’re probably drunk right now.’
My mother drew in her breath sharply then, covering her mouth with her hand. Jack looked up, his eyes wide. I could see my father tensing, the rage turning his face bright red. But I didn’t stop.
‘But I don’t care. Soon I’ll be leaving for university and when I’m gone I won’t have to listen to what you say. I’ll do whatever I like. And I’m going to make something of my life, whatever you think of me. I’m going to have a better life than yours. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’
In that moment it felt good to shout, to watch the shocked faces of my family. I felt, just for a second, invincible. I paid for those words in the end though.
I try to shake off the memory as Emma tells me about how she left the island for some time too but returned ten years ago and ended up marrying Duncan, one of the Macleod brothers who was a few years above us at school. They have two children together, she tells me, Flo and Clover, five and seven.
‘Oh, you married a Macleod!’ I say with a smile. It was always a running joke about who would end up with Duncan or his brother George, the brothers being two of the only older boys on the island.
‘And you already know Jean,’ Alice says, turning to the woman who had been leaning over the bookshelf but is now facing us, looking at me intently. ‘Jean Brown.’
Alice places a hand affectionately on the older woman’s arm. And I am suddenly looking into the softly wrinkled face of a woman I once knew well. The woman’s features broaden into a wide smile.
‘Lorna Irvine. I never forget a former student. Especially such a good student!’
When I was a child here Jean Brown must have been in her mid-thirties. She was the school’s headteacher, a gentle, curious woman who took us on nature walks around the island, who made paper decorations for the classrooms at Christmas and who always smelt like lavender. Once, she confessed that her cottage was full of moths and so she hung lavender sachets in every room to ward them away, a natural remedy that she preferred to harsher chemicals. I’ve always remembered that and use lavender in my own flat now for the same reason. Now, her eyes are traced with lines and faint dark circles and her face is thinner. But her smile is the same.
‘Mrs Brown! Sorry, I mean Jean. It’s so good to see you.’
She pulls me into a hug too, but one that is much gentler than Brenda’s. I blink quickly. I never thought that I would see my old teacher again. After we’ve stepped apart Alice gives Jean a strong hug too. Once they’ve released one another I glance at Alice and can’t help but notice that her smile from earlier has slipped, her eyes slightly red. But then a loud cough comes from the corner of the room and she turns towards the sound, her smile returning.
‘And not forgetting, of course, the island’s assistant harbour master, our resident handyman extraordinaire, and Jack’s good friend, Mr Mallachy Moore.’
‘We’ve actually met already,’ I say.
‘Well, nearly,’ he replies with a wry smile. He reaches a hand down from the ladder. ‘I’m Mallachy.’
‘Lorna,’ I say as I shake his hand.
‘And I’m sorry about yesterday,’ I add, quietly this time. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
I can tell the other women are watching us, but they say nothing.
Mallachy shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He turns back and resumes hammering.
‘Right, let’s get to work,’ Alice says after a brief pause.
As we work, the women chat. They are cheerful and warm and have an ease with one another that I can’t help but envy. Because although they draw me into conversation, asking me about the journey here and my home back in London, I still feel uncomfortable. They’re being kind and making an effort to include me, explaining old jokes every now and then or asking my opinion on a certain display. But I know I’m not part of this group. They have the familiarity of people who have known one another a long time. I sometimes forget that this is normal: having a group of friends. I tell myself that I’m fine with just Cheryl and Ella. I’ve neglected seeking other connections because I’ve been busy with my job and with raising my daughter and because of all the complications getting close to other people can bring. But in moments like this I see a glimpse of another kind of life.
In spite of my awkwardness I find myself joining in with their laughter at a particularly terrifying but very sweet child’s drawing of a human with a head the size of a planet, very pointed teeth and tiny legs. Smiling with them as Harry is let loose to crawl on the floor and pulls down some books Jean has just organised and she tries but fails to look cross.
I take in a few more details of the classroom around me as we tidy. One of my jobs is to replace an old display, swapping children’s posters about the environment with photos taken on a school trip at the end of term – the whole school having a picnic halfway up the mountain. Even the youngest have made it up and beam into the camera, their cheeks pink with the fresh air. This place really couldn’t be more different from my school back in London. Here, a photograph of every student is hung in a frame on the wall, making it look like a huge family portrait. The displays are all so creative and colourful. I sense the extra freedom Mrs Brown must have here and remember my own experiences of attending this school. We learnt the core subjects, of course, but a lot of our learning was centred around the island itself. The water cycle taught with the help of the mountain lochs and the rainy weather, art lessons where we would gather materials from the beach to draw, cooking lessons where an islander would come in and teach us a local speciality in the school’s small kitchen.
After two hours of tidying and sorting, Jean tells us all we’ve done enough for the day and that it’s time for lunch.
‘Are you joining us at the pub, Mallachy?’ Alice asks.
He starts packing up his tools.
‘No, I’d better get back and give Rex his walk.’
I smile at him, glad the embarrassment of yesterday is behind us. If I’m to repair my relationship with Jack during this trip it’s probably not a good start to ignore and potentially offend one of his friends. And besides, he seems nice and itwasrude to ignore him like I did.
I join the group of island women as they walk towards the old pub. But as we reach the door I hesitate.
‘Scared?’ comes Morag’s voice beside me.
