There’s so much more I need to tell her. Apologies I need to make.
‘I don’t know, Lorna,’ she says, rubbing her arms. ‘It’s been a really long time. I guess I just need a bit of time to think.’
‘Yes of course. Well, I’ll be around for a bit anyway.’
‘OK.’
And then I watch as she turns and walks away. Last time, it was her who watched me leave on a windswept jetty as the ferry took me on to my new life. Now, I stare into the space where she sat, thinking about our childhood and all the years that have passed since. The time that has gone by feels suddenly irrelevant. I still miss my old friend just as much as when I first left. Could this visit to the island perhaps be a chance for us to reconnect, for me to get my friend back? Or is it just too late for that?
Chapter 4
Alice
The ferry arrives this afternoon. Jack works in the fields, the morning sun bursting through a patchwork of clouds. I watch him from the kitchen window, smiling at the way he moves with such determination and focus, his eyes trained on the soil.
My laptop is on the table beside me, a new email waiting for me from Shona. I make myself a cup of tea, wanting to sit and savour my sister’s words. We might not see each other often but we email and message every few days. And once every few weeks the three of us have a Skype catch up, usually each with a glass of red wine in hand.
Shona’s email is brief but, as always, funny and interesting. She tells me about students on her course, about some research she is working on with colleagues, and about a theatre production she and her husband Malcolm recently went to see at His Majesty’s Theatre in Aberdeen’s city centre. There are photos attached too – my nephews Finlay and Cam at a football training camp.
I stare at the screen for a while, wondering, as I so often do, how to reply. I want to share the details of my life with her – these messages are a thread that keep me connected to my sisters. But I just don’t want to bore her. I think about the changes in the fields outside, the shoots bursting through soil in the polytunnels. It’s delivery day at the village shop in a few days so I will replenish our cupboards. I have plans for a yoga class next week focusing on a particular breathing technique and want to watch some videos online to help me prepare. I need to bake a new loaf of bread too, and have plans to make a roast chicken salad tonight, using lettuce and herbs from the garden. These are the details of my life. But I don’t always feel that they’re worth mentioning to my busy, intelligent sisters. And then there are my worries about Jean, and about everything that’s been happening at the island school … But I can’t bring myself to truly think about those worries, let alone type them into an email.
In the end I write about one of our sheep that escaped a few days ago and how it was found halfway across the island. Brenda was on her way over for a cup of tea and somehow managed to catch the sheep and bundle it into the back of her car. I tell her about Lorna and Ella’s visit too, how they’re due to arrive later today.
As I press send on the email I hear the front door clicking open and a voice calling inside, ‘Good morning, is anyone home?’
‘In the kitchen!’
It’s Emma, carrying a cardboard box containing a large round tin and six beers bearing the logo of the island brewery. I help her set them down on the table.
‘What’s all this?’
‘Just something from Duncan for you and Jack,’ she replies, indicating the beers. ‘And something from me for you all.’
I lift the lid off the tin. Inside is a moist-looking cake, the icing a golden brown and currently making a bid for freedom from the top of the cake.
‘Ach, it must have shifted in the car,’ Emma says, reaching for a knife on the draining board and smoothing the icing. ‘Hopefully it still tastes OK though. Coffee and walnut.’
She removes the knife and runs her finger over the icing that clings there and eats it.
‘Oh, thank you! It looks delicious. That’s so kind of you.’
She shrugs.
‘It was no bother.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
But she shakes her head.
‘I’d love to but I have other errands to run. Jean’s feeling rough so I’m popping over there now.’
I nod, and turn quickly to the cupboard by the fridge.
‘Take this with you,’ I say, handing Emma a jar of homemade jam. ‘And send her my love, will you?’
‘Of course.’
We hug goodbye and she lets herself out. For a second I pause, worrying about Jean and how she’s feeling, but I already have a plan for this morning, a plan I made after yesterday’s yoga class. I scribble a note to Jack and Molly (although I’m not quite sure where Molly is, possibly still asleep or otherwise out with Olive), and leave it on the kitchen table. Then I head to the Land Rover.
