‘But is your case the same as hers?’ asks Kerstin. ‘I mean, what do the doctors say?’
‘The doctors are strongly advising chemotherapy. They seem to think it would have a good chance of being successful. But I just can’t bear it. And we’d have to move to the mainland, at least for a while anyway. This is my home. I don’t want to leave.’
‘Aye, that I can understand,’ says Morag. Her children still try every few months to persuade Morag to move back to the mainland, ideally into a residential care facility. But every time she refuses.
‘You know we’d help you however we could,’ says Sarah. ‘We’d come with you to appointments. You and Christopher wouldn’t have to do it all alone.’
‘Yes,’ chips in Emma. ‘We could take it in turns to come over to the mainland and stay with you.’
‘And we’d water your plants while you were away,’ says Joy, Tess nodding beside her. ‘Make sure everything was nice for you here when you came back.’
‘Alice,’ Jean says, looking at me now. ‘What are you going to say to try to make me change my mind?’
I realise I’m the only one who hasn’t said anything. I look at my old friend, noticing how drawn her face has become, how tired she looks. I think back over our friendship – the yoga classes she’s attended alongside my other friends and all the other times when we haven’t done much yoga but instead have chatted together in the community hall or on the beach, our yoga mats abandoned. I think of how kind she was to me when I was nervous about Molly leaving for secondary school. The bottle of wine she, Sarah and I shared on that school trip to Glasgow. I can’t imagine life without her. She’s as much a part of this island as the mountain, the hills, the sea. She’s helped raise generations of island children and she’s one of my closest friends. The thought of losing her is unbearable.
‘Nothing,’ I say eventually.
The others stare at me.
‘What?’ says Brenda.
I close my eyes for a second, not wanting to say the next words but knowing I have to. Eventually I force myself to open my eyes and continue.
‘Jean, we all love you, and I’ll admit, it’s hard to see you make this choice. But as you said, it’s your choice. If this is what you really want, then we have to respect that.’
Her shoulders sink slightly, her body relaxing into the sofa.
‘Thank you, Alice,’ she says, relief softening her face now. ‘Thisiswhat I want.’
Beside me, Sarah sighs.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry, Jean, of course whatever you want to do, we’ll support you.’
‘Of course we will,’ say Tess and Joy in unison.
‘Always,’ adds Brenda, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Before we know it we’re all sniffing and wiping at our eyes too.
‘Oh don’t, you’ll start me off too,’ says Jean, rubbing her face. I reach across and take her hand, squeezing it in mine, trying my best to control the tears that roll down my cheeks. I glance around the room at my friends, these women who have helped to make this island my home. It feels so unfair, so unjust, so desperately sad. If we lose Jean, there will always be a hole in our group, an emptiness that nothing will ever be able to fill.
‘How about we see if that husband of yours can rustle up something a little stronger than tea?’ suggests Morag after a while. And perhaps to everyone’s surprise, Jean laughs.
‘An excellent idea,’ she says, wiping her eyes and smiling. And we all smile back too, not because our hearts aren’t breaking but because she’s our friend, and right now, that’s what she needs.
Chapter 31
Lorna
By the time Ella and I have walked slowly across the beach and nearly made it back to the farmhouse, it seems that something has shifted between us. We walk up the dusty farm track side by side. I sneak a glance across at her. For once, I see not a little girl but my daughter who is becoming a young woman.
As we near the house I spot my brother in the sheep field. He looks up and to my surprise he catches my eye and starts walking towards us. Ella spots him too and gently removes her arm from mine.
‘Good luck, Mum. I’ll be inside if you need me.’
She turns away and into the house. I take a deep breath and set off across the field towards Jack, watching his determined strides as he draws closer. Ella was right, Jack and I need to talk. I think again of our argument at our parents’ house. I don’t know how this conversation will go, but I need to try.
We meet in the middle at the drystone wall that cuts through the fields. For a second, we pause in front of one another, his hands in his pockets, mine hanging at my sides. The sun feels warm against my shoulders. Jack turns and leans back against the wall and after a moment I sit beside him, both of us facing out across the farm. I can hear his steady breathing beside me, as well as the bleat of a sheep a little further away in the field. There’s something about all this air around us that feels right for this moment. When he confronted me in the house I felt trapped, hemmed in by boxes and memories. Here I feel freer, the sea breeze on my cheeks and the smell of salt water, heather and the musk of sheep’s wool in the air. I wonder if Jack feels the same; he certainly seems less stiff as he sits beside me, his body still.
From here we can see the back of the house, bright white in the morning sunshine, curtains flapping at the open windows. I can make out the figures of Molly and Ella in the kitchen and notice that the Land Rover is gone and wonder for a moment where Alice is. I think she might like to see Jack and me sitting here side by side in the field.
