As I reach the door Sarah steps to one side, not meeting my eye. My throat grows tight as I slip past her. Outside, I lean against the pub wall for a moment. To my surprise, it has been a good day. I’ve enjoyed getting to know Alice a little and meeting her friends. But there’s a comfort in being alone again too, taking deep breaths of cool sea air. Out here by myself I can’t say the wrong thing or upset myself by seeing Sarah and remembering how close we once were. I know I should face up to things with her, just like I need to find a way to reach out to my brother and confront what happened in the past. But right now, it all feels too much. I turn away from the pub and begin walking quickly along the road, the sound of over-spilling laughter and conversation from the pub behind me filling my ears. Gradually the sounds grow quieter and then disappear altogether as I continue walking down the road alone.
Chapter 12
Alice
It doesn’t take long to find Lorna. She walks along the side of the road, head bent and taking long strides. I pull up beside her.
‘Come on, get in!’
She looks up, surprise then worry on her face.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you leave, I’m honestly fine walking.’
‘It’s OK, I needed to get back anyway. Things to do at the farm, as always!’
She hesitates and then opens the door.
‘Thank you, Alice.’
The village recedes behind us, my friends left behind in the pub chatting to Sarah about her trip. Lorna and I sit in silence for a while. Outside the sea glitters with early afternoon light and the ferry pulls away from the harbour, churning waves in its wake. Lorna stares out the window, her hands moving rapidly in her lap. Perhaps I should turn the radio on or make some comment about the weather. I can’t bear the silence. But she is the first to break it.
‘Why are you being so kind to me, Alice?’
The question is blurted out suddenly, Lorna catching my eye and then looking straight ahead again, her cheeks bright red. The question catches me off guard.AmI being especially kind? I suppose I am choosing to welcome her more than others might in a similar situation, but it’s also no more than the many kindnesses I’ve received myself from the islanders over the years.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,’ she adds, obviously noting my pause. ‘It’s just I’ve been thinking about it since I arrived. I can understand Jack not wanting to talk to me. But you’ve made me feel so welcome.’
I take another moment to reply, this time wanting to choose my words carefully rather than filling the spaces with my chatter.
‘I’ve always said to Jack that you must have had your reasons for leaving and cutting contact,’ I say eventually. ‘That’s a hard thing to do – no one would choose to do it if they didn’t feel they had to.’
I hear her let out a breath and see her shoulders sinking slightly as though some tension has just been released.
‘It’s true,’ she says quietly. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But people don’t always see it that way. I suppose it’s why I never really tell anyone about my situation.’
Suddenly it starts to make sense to me why she seemed so torn earlier with my friends, laughing and joining in with us one moment but tensing and withdrawing slightly the next. She appears to me now like someone who is not used to letting people close. I wonder how many people know the truth of what she’s been through.
‘To so many people the thought of being cut apart from your family seems totally inconceivable,’ she adds.
I suppose to me it is too. I can’t imagine ever losing touch with my sisters or my parents. I think it would feel like losing a limb. But Lorna isn’t me.
‘I guess people who think that are people who are lucky enough to have wholly happy families,’ I reply. She looks at me closely, a question in her eyes, and I quickly continue. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of the lucky ones. I have great sisters, great parents. But I’ve had friends who haven’t been so lucky. I guess that’s why I could always understand why you did what you did.’
I focus on driving but can’t help but notice her beside me, wiping her palms on her jeans.
‘And besides, you’re forgetting that your parents were my in-laws. I know what they were like.’
I think back to the comments my father-in-law would make when he watched the news about the people he didn’t approve of, people who simply weren’t like him. How my in-laws managed to influence all of my husband’s major decisions, like where we got married and who came and where we spent our holidays. Since marrying Jack, I have never once spent Christmas away from the island. Whenever I argued for us to take up offers from my sisters to stay with them he always feigned needing to stay and keep up the farm, but I knew that really, he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of going against his parents. Because they had stressed to him countless times how heartbroken they would be if he did, how we would ruin their Christmas. They were excellent manipulators. It still breaks my heart that my sisters eventually stopped inviting us.
That’s why the preparations for the upcoming service have been so hard for me. How do you plan a funeral for people you never liked?
‘Jack couldn’t really see it,’ I say, gripping the wheel tightly. ‘He might not seem like it to you now, but most of the time he’s so laid back he could fall over. He never stood up to them, he always did whatever they wanted but managed to convince himself he didn’tmindfollowing their wishes. But I saw it. I saw how controlling they could be. I could see how if you weren’t as … well asmalleableas him growing up it would have been hard. Impossible even.’
I think back to those Christmases and the church wedding I don’t think Jack really wanted either. What would have happened if he’d pushed back on them? Lorna lets out another sigh.
‘When we were growing up, I tried to make him see that our family life wasn’t …’ she pauses, clearly choosing her words carefully, ‘... normal. But I don’t think Jack ever really recognised that. He managed to deal with things with a quiet sort of acceptance. I never could. I never blamed him for not wanting to stand up to them though. He was younger and was a shy, quiet child. And our parents encouraged him to stay that way. But it made things … hard.’
‘I can imagine,’ I reply. ‘His gentleness is one of the things I love the most about him. But honestly, it can be maddening sometimes. Let’s just say he isn’t a fan of conflict.’
