‘And now, Maurice and Catherine’s son Jack would like to say a few words.’
Slowly, Jack makes his way to the front of the church, between the two coffins.
Someone near the back coughs. Harry snuffles against Tess’s chest and she makes a quiet ‘shhh’ noise and he falls silent again. From the pocket of his suit Jack pulls out a sheet of paper, folded several times. He unfolds it, the crease lines criss-crossing the paper. He looks down then folds his sheet of paper again and slips it back in his pocket.
‘I had a whole speech prepared,’ he says, his voice echoing slightly around the walls of the church. He gestures at his suit pocket, where the sheet of paper sits against his chest.
‘You know, the standard eulogy stuff.’
Jack shakes his head slightly.
‘But last week my sister Lorna came back to the island. Because, Reverend Stewart, you’re right, I am Maurice and Catherine’s son. But they also have a daughter. Lorna Irvine. My older sister.’
Around the church, people shuffle in their seats. Ella, Alice and Molly look from Jack to me and back again. But all my focus is on my brother. He looks out at the whole congregation. But I know he is talking to me.
‘Since Lorna came back, I’ve been challenged to look back at my past. I’ve gone over old memories, questioning what I thought I knew. And the more I try to remember, the more those memories reveal themselves as what they were: lies.’
A quiet mutter of voices spreads throughout the church but is hushed again as Jack continues.
‘Lies my parents told about my sister and about our life in general. Things that went on behind closed doors that they worked hard to cover up. Over time, lies can become almost like the truth if they’re told often enough.’
My mind fills with all the lies that really did feel like the truth to me at certain points in my life. Maybe Ididfall. Maybe Iwastrouble. Maybe Ididdeserve everything that happened. It’s taken my whole life to believe my own memories.
‘The people in there,’ Jack gestures at the coffins behind him, ‘were my parents, and Molly and Ella’s grandparents. But they were not good parents. Maybe they wanted to be once, maybe life just didn’t turn out the way they’d hoped it would. Maybe there was a point at which they could have turned things around and become better, kinder, stronger people. I guess we’ll never really know. But I can’t stand here and pretend they were perfect and say some generic, glowing words. It just wouldn’t be right. But I can say what I’m thankful to them for. My parents gave me this island. It’s because of them that I’m here and that I have my Molly, and my wife. I’ll always be thankful to them for that. And they gave me my sister too.’
He looks directly at me now, although it’s hard to see him clearly through my tears. Behind me, I hear someone drawing in a sharp breath and am sure it must be Mrs Anderson. But as murmured conversation spreads through the church, I catch snippets of other muffled exchanges from those sitting around us too.
‘I always thought there was something not quite right in that family.’
‘You just never know what’s going on behind closed doors, do you?’
‘I never liked them myself.’
I turn to Alice.
‘But the church is packed,’ I whisper to her through my tears. An expression of surprise flits across her face.
‘They’re not here for them. They’re here for him,’ she says.
And I suddenly see what she means. Jack is no longer on his own. Ben and Mallachy have joined him, each hugging him in turn, patting him on the back as Jack wipes roughly at his eyes. Brenda is on her feet too, and Sarah and Sarah’s parents …
‘And they’re here for you too.’ As Alice says it, I feel arms wrapping around me and Ella from all directions. My daughter is pressed against me as the islanders surround us. Opposite, a similar huddle has formed around Alice and Molly. We’re crowded by people I grew up with and people I’ve met since, people who have welcomed me back in a way I never imagined was possible. I close my eyes, my whole body suddenly glowing. Because I have my daughter in my arms and the strength and warmth of a whole island surrounding me.
Chapter 36
Alice
The house buzzes as more and more islanders arrive from the church, some congregating in the living room, others spilling out into the garden. Out the window I can see Ella, Molly and Olive sitting on the grass facing out to sea. Young children in smart clothes run between the adults, oblivious to the supposedly sombre occasion. As I carry another tray of drinks into the living room I spot Tess and Joy chatting with Natalia and Kamil, babies Harry and Lena staring wide-eyed at one another on the floor. Natalia might not have known Jack’s parents but I invited her to the wake anyway. Natalia seemed a little surprised when I made the invitation, but as I watch her talking animatedly with Joy I smile, glad to see them getting on. I didn’t want to leave her out, knowing that the whole island would be here. Well, the whole island apart from Mr and Mrs Anderson and their friends who left promptly after the funeral. No one seems to miss them, though, even their daughter Sophie who is currently talking with Emma on the other side of the room.
‘Where shall I put these?’ asks Lorna behind me, balancing two plates of sandwiches in her hands.
‘Just over there thanks, Lorna,’ I reply, pointing to the table I’ve set up in the corner, pushing the sofas back against the walls to make more room. As well as the sandwiches the table is covered in homemade cakes supplied by various islanders. I’m not sure if it’s totally appropriate to have quite so much cake at a wake, but people seem to be helping themselves and besides, who cares really what is normal. The funeral was certainly not normal, what with Jack’s unorthodox eulogy, but I for one was proud and more than a little tearful to hear him say those words aloud. Finally, it felt like the hold his parents had on him his whole life had been lifted. It was sad too, of course, thinking about what Jack and Lorna went through as children and how his parents ended up driving them apart, but I also thought about Maurice and Catherine and whether they really had wished to be better people. If Maurice hadn’t had his injury, would things have been different? I couldn’t help but feel a particular pang of sadness for his mother, who was clearly a victim in their family too, even if I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive her for not better protecting Jack and Lorna. The minister had seemed startled when nearly the whole congregation rose to their feet to comfort Jack and Lorna, but he judged the mood of the room and finished up shortly after Jack’s speech. We all congregated outside to watch the coffins lowered into the earth, and Jack and Lorna stood beside each of their parents’ graves and threw a handful of soil down too. But we didn’t linger long in the graveyard, the five of us soon walking back to the car side by side, the other island families doing the same. Jack and Lorna shared a quiet embrace then, each holding the other firmly, and as I watched them I struggled again to hold back my tears.
Now, I anxiously search out Jack and am relieved to find him talking with Ben, Mallachy and Duncan. He looks at ease, perhaps more relaxed than he’s appeared in weeks. I know it isn’t that he’s not hurting – this morning he took a long time getting dressed, staring vacantly into space for stretches at a time – but perhaps now that the funeral is over there’s a sense of relief too, of letting go.
I glance from Jack to Jean, sitting on one of the sofas beside Christopher, Brenda leaning against one of the arms of the sofa and Kerstin sitting on a cushion on the floor opposite them. Poor Christopher looks exhausted, his suit slightly crumpled and his back stooped. I watch as Jean reaches across for his hand, continuing chatting with the others as she does so. I turn away and retreat into the kitchen.
It’s a mess of glasses, beer bottles and plates of food in here and I set to work tidying up a little, preparing another tray to carry through to the other room.
