‘So, you went to school with Mum,’ Ella asks immediately. ‘Was she naughty? Did she do well in her subjects?’
I spot the hungriness on Ella’s face, reminding me of the questions Molly asked Lorna this morning. Sarah smiles and tells a few stories: the two of them riding their bicycles to school and Lorna winning an egg-and-spoon race on sports day.
‘My eggs meanwhile were scrambled on the floor,’ she laughs.
‘Oh, but you were brilliant at so many other things, Sarah,’ chips in Lorna. ‘Remember how you used to help me with equations? I just couldn’t get my head round them but you were so great at explaining it all. How funny that I’m the one who’s ended up a teacher!’
Sarah glances at me but I look away, not quite able to meet her eye.
‘You enjoy your job though?’ asks Sarah.
‘I do. I really enjoy teaching the children, but …’
She pauses then, taking a sip of wine and looking across at Ella. Everyone else at the table is watching Lorna now, apart from Alfie who is building a somewhat unstable-looking structure out of spare glasses and cutlery.
‘Well,’ continues Lorna, ‘the truth is I’ve been getting a bit of grief from my boss recently.’
Ella looks up.
‘What? Mum? You didn’t tell me that. What’s going on?’
‘It’s OK, darling, it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s just a hassle, that’s all. It’s nothing I haven’t had to deal with before, I guess it’s just the first time it’s been in a work environment.’
Ben nods.
‘I know what you mean,’ he says. ‘I work remotely for a web developer and my boss can be a real taskmaster. Setting projects with impossible deadlines, emails on a weekend … He doesn’t really seem to have a concept of boundaries.’
I watch as the faces of the women around the table redden slightly. Because I don’t think Ben does know what Lorna means. I think back to the instructor who taught my yoga teaching qualification. He seemed nice at first, energetic and enthusiastic about his job. But as the course went on he became more and more hands-on, but only with the female members of the group. He’d always be adjusting someone’s stance or getting incredibly close, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. It was a residential course and I remember one evening at the communal dinner table he came up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders, telling me I looked tense. I froze as his hands worked their way along my shoulders and down my back, the others in the group looking in our direction and then glancing quickly away.
I never told Jack about it. I didn’t know how to explain the uneasy fear I felt as the instructor rubbed my shoulders with his hot hands. It was just my shoulders, after all, it could have been so much worse. Some people might have seen it as a friendly gesture. But it didn’t feel like it. It felt like by putting his hands on me without my consent, and in front of everyone else, he was laying some claim to me and my body. Showing that he was in control and could do what he liked. If I’d told him to stop I’m sure he would have made a big fuss, making it seem as though I was the one being unreasonable. So I just sat there and let him touch me, feeling sick to my stomach. And then there were those instances before I moved to the island too, when I was a teenager at school in Edinburgh. A man pushing too close up against me on the bus, groups shouting things from a construction site that might have been meant as flattery but made me feel gross and ashamed, and the time I thought someone was following me and I ducked into a corner shop and hid in there, phoning my dad to come and collect me.
I look across the table at Molly, Ella and Olive. Do they understand what Lorna is talking about? I hope not. But as I look at my daughter I know deep down that it is something she will inevitably face herself one day, even if I try my best to shelter her for as long as possible. One day she will leave the security ofthis small island and the safety of our home. And there will be nothing I can do to protect her. The thought terrifies me.
‘This food is delicious girls,’ says Lorna with a smile.
Conversation resumes, Jack and Ben talking at one end of the table and Sarah, Lorna and I chatting sometimes among ourselves and sometimes with the children too. We eat and drink, opening another bottle when Ben’s runs out. It is the most comfortable meal we have had since our guests arrived. Perhaps having the others here helps; it takes the pressure off Jack and Lorna, off us all. Jack certainly seems more relaxed, topping up everyone’s wine, including Lorna’s, and smiling and laughing with Ben. Eventually I notice the kitchen clock and the empty bottles, and Alfie whose head dips onto his chin. Sarah spots him at the same time.
‘Well this has been lovely but we should really get going, get this one to bed.’
Everyone says goodbye, Jack and Ben shaking hands, the girls hugging as fiercely as if they won’t see each other in weeks instead of tomorrow. Sarah and Lorna exchange a hug too, somewhat awkwardly but still, it’s something.
‘I’ll see you out.’
I follow them down the corridor, leaving the others behind in the kitchen clearing up. Ben carries Alfie out to the car, Olive following behind, but Sarah lingers in the doorway. She rests a hand on my arm.
‘Did you hear what Lorna said?’ she says quietly. ‘She isn’t enjoying her job, maybe we could …’
But I interrupt her.
‘No. We promised, remember? We can’t tell her anything.’
Sarah sighs.
‘I suppose you’re right. It just feels like it could be a sign – like it could maybe be an answer …’
I shake my head.
‘Her life is in London. I know you’ve missed her, and Jack has too even if he doesn’t say it. But we have to solve these problems on our own. It wouldn’t be fair to tell her. She’d only feel guilty, and pressurised. And I know you don’t want that and neither do I.’
