Over the next few days, things settle into a quiet sort of rhythm at Hilly Farm. Lorna starts helping Jack out in the mornings, the two of them watering the plants together in the polytunnel. I’m not sure whether they talk as they work, or if just being together is enough for them. Either way, Jack seems calmer and more open. We hold each other tight at night, sometimes talking, sometimes just being together, experiencing a closeness that makes my heart feel full with happiness.
The sun shines unbroken for days. Ella, Molly and Olive spend nearly all their time at the beach with the other children, reading on the sand or thinking up new plans for their beach cleaning mission. Lorna joins me for another swim, this time in our costumes and with our daughters at our sides. Ella and Lorna are less accustomed to the cold so shriek as the waves hit their stomachs. But all four of us emerge from the sea with tingling pink skin and broad smiles.
While the girls are on the beach, Lorna and I work on preparations for Ella’s birthday party. I’ve invited the whole island and want the day to be perfect. We place an order for food with Pat at the village shop, rope Brenda in to sort flowers and organise with my other friends to have tables and chairs brought down to the beach from the village hall and people’s homes.
Lorna and I make bunting together on my old sewing machine, chatting as we work. So many times, I nearly let slip everything that’s on my mind – Jean and the fate of the school and the island – but I remember the insistence of both Jean and Jack to remain quiet so force the words to stay inside. We have assembled a motley crew to help run the school in the short term when it opens again in September, along with the help of a supply teacher who is due to start but who we all know to be only a short-term solution. Just this week we received a message from our local council. They’re coming to visit in a little over a week to discuss next steps, but in their email, they made it clear that if a replacement for Jean isn’t found soon, they will have no choice but to begin the process of closing down the school. After reading the email I rushed to the bathroom, a sudden wave of nausea rocking me like it has done regularly over the past week. I guess I understand the phrase ‘sick with worry’ now. Sarah and the other parents with primary-school age children are starting to panic too, and last night Jack told me there’d been interest in his parents’ house, which he put on the market just after their deaths, but that the young family from the mainland are reluctant to move things forward. They found out about the vacancy at the school and understandably don’t want to complete on the house until they know what’s happening.
I channel all my worries into preparing for the party. I know that perhaps I’m burying my head in the sand, but it feels hard to know what else to do. I want to throw Ella, and the whole island, a party they’ll never forget. Whatever lies ahead, I want us to have one joyful day of food, laughter and sunshine.
In the afternoons, Lorna heads out alone. Only I know that she goes to Mallachy’s house. She tells me they’ve been spending time in his studio – that he’s persuaded her to draw and paint again for the first time in years. When she returns home in the evenings she seems like a different person to the anxious, hesitant woman who first arrived on the island only two weeks ago. While Lorna visits Mallachy, I visit Jean. Some days we take gentle walks together on the beach, others we sit outside her cottage and watch the butterflies. For now, she seems OK, if a little weak, but I’m painfully aware as we sit together that these moments might be numbered. I try my best to shut the thought out though and instead just enjoy the time we spend together, drinking lemonade and counting the cabbage whites.
And somehow, it’s now the day before Ella’s party. I’m in the kitchen with Lorna, going over the long list on my clipboard.
‘I don’t want to jinx it, but Ithinkwe might have everything ready. But maybe I’ve forgotten something …’
A light-headedness comes over me and I start to worry again. Maybe I’ve missed something? Maybe tomorrow won’t live up to the image I’ve created of it all in my mind? But Lorna takes the clipboard gently from my hand.
‘It’s going to be amazing. You’ve done so much, you’ve thought of everything. Ella is a very lucky girl. Now it’s time to stop. I called Sarah earlier and she’s meeting us in The Lookout for a drink. Come on, let’s go.’
I glance at the clipboard on the table.
‘I don’t know, maybe I should go over it all one more time …’
But she grabs me by the shoulders and marches me towards the door.
‘No, come on, we’re going out!’
At the front door we meet Jack, just coming in from outside.
‘Jack, I’m kidnapping your wife and taking her to the pub,’ says Lorna playfully. He smiles, his eyes sparkling.
‘An excellent plan. Have fun.’
When we reach the pub it’s busy, and I wave at Morag who’s perched on a stool by the bar, chatting to the landlord, and greet several other islanders. Sarah has got us a table in the corner and waves at us enthusiastically. I spot Mallachy and Ben at the bar and notice Lorna and Mallachy locking eyes and smiling.
As we sit down Sarah gestures towards the bar.
‘Sorry, when I told Ben I was going to the pub he was jealous! But don’t worry, he won’t bother us.’
‘He could never bother us!’ I say, but I know what she means. It’s nice to be just the three of us.
Sarah turns and blows a kiss at Ben, and both he and Mallachy raise their glasses at us.
‘Right, what can I get you both?’ says Lorna, standing up.
‘I can get this,’ I reply.
‘No please, it’s on me. What would you like?’
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic thanks,’ says Sarah.
At the thought of gin my stomach gives a lurch. I picture a nice big glass of wine but have the same reaction. Maybe I’m overtired and should just stick to soft drinks for now. I ask for a sparkling water and Lorna raises an eyebrow but then nods and heads to the bar. As she orders, Sarah and I watch her chatting with Ben and Mallachy. She laughs suddenly, her head thrown back. When she arrives with our drinks her face is flushed.
‘So, how are things going there?’ Sarah asks, nodding towards the bar. Lorna bites her lip.
‘Sorry,’ adds Sarah. ‘But Ben says Mallachy hasn’t stopped talking about you. He says it’s actually getting a bit annoying.’
The three of us laugh and Lorna glances at me before speaking.
