Chapter 42
Alice
Suddenly yearning for a moment to myself, I gather dirty dishes in a washing-up bowl and walk slowly back up to the house, leaving the noise and the bonfires behind me. I need to be away from everyone, to give myself a chance to think. On the way I spot Jean walking quickly down the track away from the house and the beach.
‘Jean!’ I call after her, but she doesn’t turn around. I watch for a moment as she continues along the track. Perhaps I’m not the only one who needs to be alone right now.
My hands full, I walk through the kitchen in the dark, putting down the washing-up bowl and resting my hands for a moment on the lip of the sink. But a noise jolts me, making me spin around.
‘Lorna! You scared me!’
She’s sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead. As if waking from a dream she turns to me.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
I flick on the light, the room illuminated in a warm glow, the windows dark squares dotted with the stars that are beginning to flicker outside.
‘Thank you again for a lovely party. It was perfect. Ella had a wonderful time.’
‘She’s still having a good time by the looks of things when I left. I think they’re going to sleep well tonight.’
She turns away from me again, staring out the window.
‘Are you OK, Lorna?’
‘Just a headache. I think I’ve had too much to drink.’
‘You and every other adult on the island! I think there are going to be a lot of hangovers tomorrow. Shall I make us some tea?’
I turn to the Rayburn but she reaches across the table and places a hand on my arm, making me stop and turn to face her.
‘Alice, I don’t think Jean should teach at the school anymore.’
‘What do you mean?’
Did Jean finally talk to Lorna? Perhaps she didn’t make it clear that she has already left, but told her about the opening for a new headteacher? Does that mean Lorna has decided to stay? But her reply crushes my spark of hope.
‘She told me tonight that she knew about the abuse when I was a child but never told anyone. She knew I wasn’t just clumsy, but she didn’tdoanything. I know it was a really long time ago, but if I was a parent with children at the school I’d want to know that.’
It takes a moment for me to really register what she’s said. So that’s why Jean was walking away so swiftly just now. But how could she? All my thoughts and memories about my friend feel suddenly confused. I don’t know how to reconcile what Lorna has just told me with the woman I thought I knew, the woman who taught my daughter and who is one of my closest friends. My head spins, my thoughts suddenly blurry. I sit down next to Lorna, abandoning the kettle and the thought of tea.
‘Jeanisn’tteaching at the school anymore,’ I eventually manage.
‘What?’ she asks.
‘She’s dying.’
As I say the words out loud a pain wrenches my gut. My friend is dying, and she is not the woman I thought she was.
I watch as Lorna’s expression changes, the anger softening somewhat, confusion and worry darting across her eyes. When she says nothing, I force myself to tell her the rest.
‘She has breast cancer. When she was on the mainland last week she was there for another hospital appointment. The doctors tell her she has to have chemotherapy. But she’s refusing. She doesn’t want to leave the island.’
I rub my hand across my forehead.
‘I’m not defending her. I mean, what you just said … It’s hard to hear. I’m so sorry, Lorna.’
I try to picture Lorna as a child and grow hot with anger at the Jean who so badly let her down. Would things have been different for Jack and Lorna if she’d intervened? Maybe they would have been spared years of pain and decades of separation. But I can’t help but think too of the Jean who was always so patient and kind with Molly and whom I sat with just this week outside her house watching the butterflies. The Jean who danced with her husband on the beach this afternoon and who was hugged by the class of children who miss her already. They seem like different people, the Jean of the past who made such an awful mistake with Lorna, and the Jean that I know now. Maybe it would be simpler to think that they are different, that over the years Jean has used her guilt at the way she handled things with Lorna to become a better person. Or maybe the truth is that we are all made up of the best and worst things we’ve ever done.
