I may not have my sisters close by, but this somewhat motley group of island women makes up for it. We fetch the yoga mats from the hall and carry them under our arms down to the beach, chatting as we walk. We unroll the mats on the sand and I keep the class gentle and slow-moving, not feeling that energetic after all the cleaning. That is one of the great advantages of being the teacher.
I run classes for tourists too and longer retreats if I get enough interest, but my friends are my most loyal attendees and these are the classes I enjoy teaching the most.
After the session we sit side by side on our mats, facing the sea. Gulls swoop low over the water, the distant ridgeline of the mainland just visible on the horizon. The sun is warm on my bare arms but there’s a cool sea breeze. Morag reaches into the waistband of her leggings and pulls out a tiny hip flask, taking a quick swig before stowing it safely out of sight. Tess leans back on her hands, closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun. I glance at the bags beneath her eyes but also the contented glow that radiates from her and feel a pang as I remember Molly as a baby.
‘So, they arrive tomorrow then?’ asks Kerstin.
The other women turn to look at me expectantly. I stretch out my legs, pushing my bare feet into the damp sand.
‘Yes, they should be here on tomorrow’s ferry.’
My friends nod.
‘And tell us again,’ asks Emma. ‘The girls had been in touch on Facebook? For how long?’
‘A year.’
‘And you had no idea?’
‘None.’
I remember the moment Molly first told us she’d found her cousin online and that they’d been messaging. I couldn’t believe she’d kept it so well hidden from us. But part of me was impressed too by her resourcefulness, by the sense of family which has always been so important to me but that I’ve worried she might not have inherited, what with our smaller, more isolated life. Jack was furious though. I wonder if Lorna felt the same way. It feels strange to think of my sister-in-law, having never met her. Over the years I’ve thought about her many times. Would she have approved of me as a choice for her brother? What would she make of Molly, my proudest achievement? And why did she leave all those years ago and never come back? I’ve tried to get Jack to open up about her and about their past so many times but have never made much progress. He just closes up every time I ask him and the harder I try the tighter he seems to curl in on himself.
We gaze out to sea for a moment, all the complexities of the situation sitting heavy in the air around us. I still can’t quite believe that tomorrow they will both be here on this island: the sister-in-law and niece I’ve never met.
‘How’s Jack doing?’ asks Kerstin.
I think back to our earlier conversation and his hard expression.
‘Not great. It’s all so difficult. I think deep down he wants to see her again, and to meet Ella of course, but I think he’s scared too.’
‘That’s not surprising,’ says Emma. ‘It’s been such a long time. I still remember when she left. She was what, eighteen?’
I nod silently. She was the same age when she left as I was when I arrived. I’ve tried many times to picture her making that journey to London on her own. How did it feel to ride the train through the night, taking her away from everything she knew, and then to step out into the huge city after a childhood lived among sea and sand?
‘And how do you feel?’ Tess asks.
I take a long breath.
‘I want to make them feel welcome. Whatever else happens I guess I just want to feel like I tried my best to make things work. Made the best of a bad situation, you know?’
Emma leans towards me, draping an arm around my shoulder.
‘We’ll help you however we can,’ she says, giving me a little squeeze. And I smile at her, remembering how kind she was to me when I first moved to the island – how kind everyone was. The other women shuffle slightly closer to me. Morag reaches out her hip flask and I give in and take a brief swig before passing it back with a nod of thanks. However much I may love my husband, would I really have stayed and made my life here if it wasn’t for these women?
‘I know you will,’ I say with a smile. ‘Right, I’d better get back and finish getting everything ready.’
We return the mats to the hall and I say goodbye to my friends, hugging them in turn.
When I arrive back at the farmhouse the kitchen is warm and filled with steam and the smell of garlic and lemon. Jack is leaning over the large Rayburn, one of my aprons tied around his waist and a wooden spoon in his hand. Molly is laying the table, setting out plates and cutlery neatly.
‘How was the class?’ Jack asks, pulling me gently towards him. I can feel his softness again as though the warmth of the kitchen has thawed his earlier frostiness. I breathe out with relief, placing a hand briefly on his chest. He lifts it to his mouth and kisses my palm and in his eyes I see all the apology I need. I see him.
‘It was good,’ I say. ‘We took the mats to the beach. Morag managed a surprisingly good tree pose despite the whisky I caught her drinking after.’
Jack laughs, the sound bright and sweet.
‘That woman certainly knows how to hold her liquor.’
