‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Ella says, her voice echoing.
‘It is.’
A seal pokes its whiskered nose out between the gentle waves before diving beneath the surface. In the next cave, the water is dotted with the pale mounds of jellyfish. Mallachy and Ella bring the boat out further to sea, away from the jellyfish, and drop anchor.
‘Fancy a swim?’ I ask Ella.
‘Definitely!’
Mallachy turns his back as we change quickly into our swimsuits. Ella climbs carefully down the ladder but I make a quick decision. I stand on the side of the boat, my toes curling over the edge. And then I dive. My arms pierce the water then the rest of my body follows, my ears suddenly full of sea, a strange underwater sound surrounding me, my chest tightening, my hair spreading in front of my face. And then I burst up like a cork and take a delicious, deep breath of air.
‘Great dive, Mum!’
Mallachy watches me too, smiling. I bob in the water next to my daughter who grins across at me, treading water. We swim a few laps of the boat and then clamber, dripping and shivering back on board. Mallachy is waiting with two towels. He hands Ella hers and she moves to the front of the boat to dry off. While Ella’s back is turned Mallachy wraps the towel and his arms around me, holding me tightly. And I can’t help it. I close my eyes for a second, sinking into his body. When I open them, I spot Ella over Mallachy’s shoulder, looking at us both. I step away quickly and Mallachy coughs and busies himself with something on the boat. But to my surprise, Ella just laughs.
‘You guys aresonot subtle.’
I anxiously push my hair back and watch as Mallachy focuses on doing something clearly ‘very important’ with a rope (it looks really like he’s just fiddling with it). But Ella is smiling. She seems, actually, fine. For all these years I’ve tried so hard to protect her by keeping my personal life separate from our life together. But right now, she seems more interested in watching a seal out to sea than in what she just saw. I’m reminded again that she is fourteen. My girl is growing up, and perhaps she is more resilient than I give her credit for.
As I get dressed Ella asks Mallachy more questions about the boat. Together, they draw up the anchor. I sink once more into my seat, feeling the sunshine on my face and trying hard to relax and just enjoy the moment.
‘Time to head back, I think,’ says Mallachy. ‘Don’t want to miss your party.’
Today has already been so full that I’d almost forgotten about the party. The whole island has been preparing for it all week. I want it to be special for Ella, a birthday to remember. Especially as we’ll be leaving tomorrow.
‘Look, Mum!’
We are suddenly not far from the shore and Ella is pointing at a crowd of figures on the beach. It looks as though the whole island is there, spread out along the sand. There’s a long row of tables pushed together, an assortment of kitchen chairs, stools and deckchairs spread out along its length. The tables are covered in several different coloured cloths and jars of wildflowers, bunting strung along the sides and flapping in the breeze. I can smell charcoal on the air and spot a barbecue, attended by Jack, Ben and a few of the other island men who clutch beers and watch on closely as though Jack and Ben are surgeons performing an important operation. Children run around in the dunes, their laughter reaching us on the air. As we draw closer, familiar faces come into view on the beach. Sarah and her family, waving and smiling. Alice and Molly. Kerstin, Brenda and Puff the puppy who leaps around in the sand. Jean and her husband, sitting in deckchairs facing the sea. Tess, Joy and Harry sitting in the sand alongside Natalia and her family. Morag and Mrs Campbell. Emma and Duncan. Even Sophie Anderson and her children. People from my past and people who have quickly become friends, all gathered on the beach for my daughter. I brush my eyes, blinking hard. As Mallachy drops the anchor a little way out from the shore a cheer erupts on the beach.
‘She’s here!’ comes a voice on the breeze. And as we clamber into the rowing boat and Mallachy rows us to the beach the entire island begins to sing.
‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you …’
I turn to Ella and reach my arm around her shoulders. Her eyes are shiny as she stares ahead. I squeeze her tightly.
‘Mum,’ she whispers. ‘Is all of this for me?’
Oh Ella. My darling girl. You deserve all of this and more.
‘Yes, sweetheart. Happy birthday.’
It’s like a vision from a dream. I can’t quite believe I am really here on this island again, that my daughter is fourteen years old and that all these islanders are singing for her. Fourteen years ago, I lay in a hospital bed alone, my new daughter clutched to my chest. I remember those other women in the maternity ward whose bedsides were crowded with visitors. I watched them with fear and loneliness knotted tightly inside my chest. Back then, I didn’t think I could really do it. I didn’t believe I could look after my daughter on my own. But I did. And look at her now. She grins as she watches the scene ahead of us and I could grow wings and soar.
The final line of the song swells in a roaring crescendo of voices.
‘Happy birthday, dear Ella, happy birthday to you!’
The rowing boat grinds against the sand and Mallachy helps us off, the islanders clapping and gathering to hug Ella. I look on, dazed, my eyes damp. There’s a presence at my side and Mallachy is there, slipping his hand into mine. He squeezes it and I squeeze back. We let go again but I can still feel the warmth of his fingers in my palm.
Ella soon darts off with Molly, Olive and the other children. I find Alice and Sarah, giving each of them a big hug.
‘Thank you, Alice, for all this, it’s just wonderful.’
‘I didn’t do it on my own.’
I look around again; nearly the whole island is gathered here on the beach.
‘Lorna, do you want to help with the barbecue?’ calls Jack, smoke curling around him. I share a smile with Alice and then join my brother. Since the funeral, we’ve spent time together in the polytunnel, sometimes talking, but often in silence. It’s a silence that feels completely different to the silence that met me when I first arrived here, though. The heat from the coals warms my whole body as I stand beside my brother, turning things occasionally. There’s still so much we need to talk about and come to terms with about our past, but for now this is enough. Just being together is enough.
