‘Well that’s good,’ says Shona, her wine glass nearly empty now. ‘I imagine things with her and Jack will take a while. I mean, you don’t just get past something like that straight away. I’m not sure you ever can.’
With a sinking feeling I realise that Shona is probably right. I’ve been so keen for Jack and Lorna to reconnect and to work through the past because it has always made me sad that Jack doesn’t have what I have with my sisters. And perhaps selfishly I want Lorna and Ella in my life. I want my family to grow. But maybe I’m being naïve. Perhaps a reconciliation is just a fantasy.
‘It’s good that you two are getting on well though,’ adds Caitlin. ‘Although we’ll always be your favourite sisters OK, Squirt?’
I smile, wishing I could reach through the laptop screen and touch my sisters. I wish we were all together in the same room sharing wine rather than connecting like this from our three separate houses, our three separate lives.
‘Of course,’ I reply.
The conversation veers back to the day-to-day: difficult patients at the surgery, a new colleague at the university. We talk about our children and I tell them about Ella and how well she and Molly are getting on. We say our goodbyes and agree to talk again soon after the sound of shouting rises in the background at Shona’s house.
Once my sisters are gone I stare at the screen for a moment. For a second, it feels like I might fall apart. But I can’t let myself do that. I stand up, take a final sip of the dregs in my wine glass and return downstairs.
I prepare a simple dinner for us all: roasted vegetables with buttery couscous and a herb dressing from the garden. As expected Jack and Lorna say very little to one another, although I catch Lorna glancing across at Jack several times throughout the meal. Ella and Molly are windswept from a day spent outside and full of stories of the beach clean-up they started with Olive today and how they are roping in the rest of the island children to help out tomorrow. Throughout the meal I can’t help but notice that Ella’s replies to Lorna’s questions seem somewhat curt. It surprises me; she has seemed so polite so far, but there definitely seems to have been a shift in her mood. It only seems noticeable when she interacts with her mother though: she thanks me effusively after dinner and helps tidy up.
It seems Lorna has noticed something too though because once the table is cleared and Jack is in the living room and the girls have gone upstairs, she turns to me.
‘Is it just me or did Ella seem a little distracted tonight?’
I focus on wiping the work surfaces, careful not to say the wrong thing.
‘They’re teenagers – Molly gets into funny moods sometimes. Usually they pass soon enough.’
She sighs and I recognise in her wrinkled forehead the worried expression of a mother.
‘You’re probably right. I just can’t help but feel like something’s wrong. Like maybe I’ve done something wrong.’
‘I’m sure everything’s fine. She’ll come to you if she needs to. That’s the way with Molly anyway. I can ask her again and again if something’s wrong but it’s only when she’s ready that she’ll open up to me, usually at some totally unexpected moment, like when we’re driving somewhere or doing the washing-up.’
Lorna smiles.
‘Ah, those car journey conversations. What is it about being in a car that makes kids open up?’
I glance towards the door, careful to keep my voice low.
‘Jack’s the same. Except our best conversations have probably happened when we were in the tractor together.’
I think back to that time when, bumping together across our fields, he’d shared for the first time how he really felt about the baby we lost.
‘He’d be three now, wouldn’t he?’ he said out of the blue, the tractor rolling over the ruts and dips in the earth. I didn’t need to ask him who he meant. ‘I often think about what he’d be like, you know. What he’d look like, even what he’d smell like – whether he’d have a different smell to Molly. I think he probably would.’
He’s never mentioned our lost baby again. But that one conversation was enough. At least I knew he hadn’t forgotten.
‘She’ll come to you when she’s ready,’ I say and she smiles tentatively again.
Later, when we’ve said goodnight and Jack and I are undressing in our room, the curtains drawn and the door closed, I can’t help but think about that conversation with Lorna. Jack is turned away from me, his back stooped as he steps out of his trousers and pulls off his socks.
My phone glows next to the bed and I reach for it, seeing a stream of new messages in my ‘yoga girls’ WhatsApp group. There’s an update from Jean: she is heading to the mainland tomorrow with her husband for a hospital appointment. That ache I’ve almost become used to by now returns to my chest. The others have sent messages of luck and love and I type one too. I suggest that we might all meet her at the harbour to wave her off but she replies saying she doesn’t want the fuss.
‘Whatever you want. Sending a big hug xx’I reply.
‘Thank you,’types Jean.‘But let’s talk about something else now. Does anyone have any gossip for me?’
I watch as another flurry of messages comes in. Kerstin’s son is planning a trip to the island with his fiancée and she’s feeling nervous: it will be the first time they’ve met and her son still isn’t thrilled about her choice to leave her job and his father to move here.
‘No gossip here,’writes Joy.‘We’re just hoping for a decent night’s sleep …’Followed by an emoji of a baby and a devil.
There’s an exchange of supportive messages and queries about how Tess, Joy and Harry are getting on, as well as a message from Brenda checking in on me. I write a quickreply, reassuring Kerstin about her son’s visit, sending crossed fingers for a good night’s sleep for Harry, Tess and Joy and telling them I’m feeling a little frazzled, but otherwise OK. Then I turn my phone over and lean back against the pillows.
