Once Ella and Jack have parted, Ella turns to Lorna.
‘I guess I should go and pack now then?’
She sounds hesitant, perhaps hoping her mother will have changed her mind. I look across at Jack and notice he’s turned away, busying himself with some dishes in the sink.
‘Good idea, darling,’ Lorna replies. Ella’s face falls but she nods. Unlike the last time, it seems that Ella has accepted that it’s time to leave. She and Molly disappear upstairs.
‘You should get started too,’ I say to Lorna. ‘It’s already late. We can finish up down here.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, there’s not too much to do anyway.’
‘OK, thanks.’
Lorna throws a look across at Jack but he’s still turned away and doesn’t move as she leaves the room. It’s only when she’s gone that his shoulders sink, his head lowered. He turns slowly around, slumping back against the kitchen units. I want to ask him how he feels about Lorna leaving and to tell him about Jean and the terrible secret I learned today. I want to reminisce about the almost perfect day of sunshine and laughter and weep against his chest with fears for the future. But more than anything, I want to tell him about the thought that I can’t shake from my mind, the one thing I daren’t quite believe might be true but can’t hold in any longer.
‘Jack, I think I might be pregnant.’
He looks up now, his eyes meeting mine. And as his tears start to fall, mine do too.
Chapter 43
Lorna
The island is dark and silent but I can’t sleep. I lie in bed, the covers hot and heavy against my prickling skin, my packed suitcase just visible as a dark silhouette by the door. I can’t stop thinking about everything that’s happened today. Our trip on Mallachy’s boat and Ella catching us mid-embrace, but her happiness too as she watched the puffins and we swam in the sea. The party, with a whole island gathered on the sand for my daughter. And that argument with Jean as the stars started to blossom in the sky and the celebrations continued below us. I think about Alice’s revelation too. My old school is clear in my mind, its one classroom covered in displays, the smell of hot lunches and pencils hanging in the air. If they don’t find a new teacher soon, the school will close down. And so too, will the island. It’s all too familiar, too like the story of Caora which was island legend when I was growing up, a warning to us all about the need to cling on to our community. Alice might have hidden this from me but when she told me the truth I could see the fear and stress on her face and wondered how I’d missed it before. I might have been here visiting what was once my home, but all this time she’s been desperately trying to cling onto the place that has become hers.
The island needs a teacher. Could I? For a moment I feel as though maybe I could. It would be a change of pace, a chance to rediscover my love of teaching and to have control over a whole school instead of being someone’s deputy. The thought gives me a brief thrill. But then I remember how much I gave up to escape this island. I fought so hard for my freedom and it cost me so much. Could I really come back here after all this time and with all the memories this place holds? This trip has been strange and painful and full of surprising bursts of sweetness. It’s been nothing like I expected when I arrived on the mist-veiled shores. Part of me aches to think about leaving my brother, Alice, Sarah, Mallachy and the other friends I’ve made here. But my life is back in London, not here. Surely, it’s a fantasy to imagine otherwise? It’s time to get back to reality. However hard it may feel, it’s time to say goodbye.
I slip out of bed and dress quietly, taking the car keys from the hook by the door. I know where my brother keeps his keys now and where the wine glasses live in the kitchen. I know which floorboard creaks on the stairs and who in the family snores (Molly, just like Ella).
When I reach Mallachy’s house his windows glow like lanterns, the cottage a flickering light against the backdrop of black sea and dark sky. When I let myself in he is sitting on the sofa. He looks up from his book as though he has been waiting for me and as though he knows why I am here. We don’t speak this time, or laugh or whisper in each other’s ears. Instead we are silent, moving together to his room where the curtains are still open and the stars watch us, blinking, from thousands of years in the future.
It’s only later, when we are lying side by side with the sheets tangled around us like a cocoon and my hand resting on his chest, that he speaks.
‘So, you’re leaving.’
I nod slowly, looking up at the ceiling.
‘Yes. My life is back in London. It’s time to get back to it.’
‘Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?’
Unsaid words hover above us in the air. If I reached out and grabbed at them, could any of them change things?
‘Because I would say it, you know,’ he says quietly.
Part of me wishes that he would say those words, but perhaps it is better that he doesn’t.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Do you wish I’d never come here?’
He pauses.
‘Maybe it would make it easier. But no, I’m still glad I met you.’
‘I’m glad I met you too.’
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. When I open them he is there, his face close to mine. He kisses me gently.
