Orla had adored dragonflies, and damselflies. Emer remembered summer evenings back in Ireland, swimming with Orla in Lough Bane. The two of them hypnotised by the bright blue tiny damselflies flittering above the cold water. Orla had made a painting afterwards. Emer could still picture it on an easel in the good room. A view of the lough with its golden reeds and blue damselflies. But if you looked close enough, each damselfly was a tiny fairy. To her sister, all of nature became an enchanted kingdom. Where was Orla now? Emer wasn’t religious, but she’d been around death enough to believe everyone possessed a soul. This eternal essence was somewhere.
On the afternoon before she died, Orla had told Emer she’d seen their mother in her hospital room. Ethan had gone out for a coffee and it was just the two of them. Emer had been reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban to her sister, when Orla had reached out and gripped her hand tight.
‘Can you feel it?’ Orla had said to her.
Emer would never forget the expression on her face. Orla had glowed, as if all the pain and suffering had washed out of her.
‘Feel what?’
‘All the love,’ Orla whispered. ‘Mammy’s here. And Granny and Grandpa.’
Emer had felt it. A thickness in the room, as if she were surrounded by a great crowd, and yet it was just the two sisters.
In her more positive moments since Orla had died, Emer reminded herself of that last afternoon. Her sister was not alone. She was with Mammy, wherever that might be.
But in her darker moments, she thought about the big box of ashes Ethan had taken with him to New York. He had offered her some of them, and she’d said no. But the day before she’d left, when he was out, she’d taken the lid off the box and looked at the grey ashes. They could be ashes of anything. The horror of their ordinariness made her turn away suddenly, and she’d knocked the box onto the wooden floor of Ethan’s house. Panic consumed her. She tugged at the kitchen drawer, pulling out a big tablespoon, and crouched down scooping the ashes back into the box with the spoon. She wanted to get them back in as quick as possible but the more she rushed, the more spilled over the edges of the spoon back onto the floor. ‘Oh no, oh no,’ she moaned as tears filled her eyes. She tried to stay calm, work methodically, all the while speaking to Kate inside her head. Telling her she loved her. She was sorry.
Ever since, she’d been tortured by the idea she hadn’t managed to scoop all Kate’s ashes up and put them back in the box, or worse – and which was very likely – that mixed up now with her sister’s ashes were bits of dust and grit from between the floorboards in the house in Quincy. Why did she always mess everything up?
‘Hey, you okay?’ Henry said to her, his face creased in concern.
She was crying and hadn’t even noticed, but now the tears had started, Emer couldn’t stop. She hadn’t cried when Orla had died; the shock had knocked the tears right out of her. And now, weeks later, it was all coming out. Of all places, in front of someone she hardly knew.
‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to say, pulling a tissue out of her pocket to dam the flood.
‘Let it out, that’s my advice,’ Henry said.
‘It’s just this place is so beautiful, and it reminds me of my sister, Orla,’ Emer said in a broken voice. ‘I told you about her before. She was a painter. Made a beautiful picture of damselflies back home one time. She would have loved it here.’
‘What happened to your sister?’ Henry asked gently.
‘She died. Five weeks ago.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Henry said, and she could hear the compassion in his voice.
‘She had cancer, too. Different from Susannah’s. It was very aggressive, but it was an infection which killed her in the end. She was so weak from all the chemo; she went downhill very quickly.’ Emer raised her face to the sky, let the tears drip off her chin. ‘She was only twenty-six.’
Henry said nothing. What could he say? There were no words in the whole world which could give her comfort. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face. She felt Henry’s hand on her back, and Shadow pushed his snout between her arms to lick her salty cheeks.
‘Oh no, Shadow, stop.’ She found herself being tickled by the sensation of the dog’s tongue on her skin, but the husky wouldn’t let up.
‘He won’t stop,’ Henry said. ‘You’re part of his pack, and he needs to make sure you’re okay!’
She sniffed, using Henry’s damp tissue to blow her nose. ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t say sorry,’ Henry said. ‘Emer, it’s good to let it out.’
But as they walked back to Henry’s pick-up, Emer felt there was a new awkwardness between them, as if she’d shown too much of herself. As they reached the parking lot, Henry turned to her.
‘Emer. Do you think it’s wise to be looking after Susannah, considering what you’ve just been through?’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said, suddenly defensive.
‘I’m not saying otherwise, but you’ve just been through huge loss, and now you’re here and in a position where you’re going to experience that loss all over again.’
‘I need to do this. For my sister.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Emer looked into Henry’s kind eyes.
‘I let her down. I wasn’t with her when she needed me most.’ Emer’s chest felt heavy with all the guilt. It was hard to get the words out. ‘I ran away, Henry. My sister was calling for me but I wasn’t there. I abandoned her.’
‘But Susannah is not your family. She’s not your responsibility.’
‘She has no one, Henry. I mean, Rebecca calls her every day. But Lynsey doesn’t come to the island. Why don’t they get on?’
‘Lots of reasons,’ Henry said. ‘They clash on so many things. Susannah hates that Lynsey is a tarot reader. And it’s hard for Lynsey to return to Vinalhaven when she feels judged by Susannah all the time.’
They got in Henry’s pick-up, and he took a thermos out of the back, unscrewed the lid and poured the contents into two cups.
‘What happened to Kate and her husband?’ Emer ventured. She was dying to know, but daren’t ask Susannah.
Henry’s whole body stiffened as he spoke, although his face looked quite relaxed. ‘If I tell you this, never – and I mean never – talk about it with Susannah. Lynsey says she goes nuts when it’s brought up. That’s one reason why they’ve fallen out.’
‘I promise, of course not,’ Emer said, taking a sip of the hot black coffee.
‘Well. The story goes Lynsey’s dad killed her mother, and then he killed himself. Ran into the sea and drowned.’
‘Oh my god!’
‘Yeah, like I said earlier, Lynsey was five at the time, and Rebecca was only two.’
Poor Kate. From Susannah’s letters, she had come across as the sweetest girl. She had been so in love with Matthew, and yet he had killed her. And as for those poor girls – how horrendous to not only lose their mother, but to know it was their own father who had taken her from them. Emer’s heart welled with compassion for Lynsey, and for Rebecca, who she was yet to meet.
‘Why did Lynsey’s father murder her mother?’
‘I wasn’t even born when it happened, so all I know is what my parents told me. They thought he killed her by accident, as did most on the island.’ Henry took a sip of his coffee. ‘I promise you, most folk said Lynsey’s dad was a good man. Worked hard for his family every day, out fishing and risking his life. Problem was, he drank too much.’
The way Henry spoke about it was a little odd, Emer thought. Even if it had been an accident, the man had still killed his wife.
‘Also, there’s been gossip,’ Henry said, putting the thermos back together. ‘Some folk here on Vinalhaven don’t believe Matthew Young drowned. I’ve heard whispers.’
‘Do they think he ran away?’ Emer asked.
‘Possibly, but his family never heard from him again. My dad told me he loved those little girls. Said he used
to take them out on the boat on a Sunday sometimes with some of the other kids. My big sister remembers it,’ Henry said. ‘My dad always said he would never have left those girls.’
‘So?’ Emer asked Henry. ‘What do you think happened to Kate’s husband?’
‘Well, now, I just don’t know for sure,’ Henry said hastily, tucking the thermos into the glove compartment. ‘But there has been talk about Susannah. My dad was always saying the neighbours saw something the day Kate’s body was found. My dad said it sure was strange Susannah turned up back from college on the same day both her sister was found dead and her brother-in-law disappeared.’
Emer sat back in shock. The coincidence did seem very uncanny.
Henry stared out of the car window. Reflections of dappled sunlight fell on his face, casting it in and out of shadow. ‘My dad told me she hated Kate’s husband, was very possessive of her sister.’
Emer felt her throat go dry. What was Henry implying?
‘And one of the neighbours told him they saw Susannah in her brother-in-law’s boat, out the day Kate’s body was found. Course, they never told the police that. Felt the family had been through enough, but my dad was raging. Always felt justice hadn’t been done.’
Henry’s revelations stunned Emer. Was he really suggesting Susannah had been responsible for the disappearance of Kate’s husband? Had she somehow done away with him, and tipped the body out into the sea?
Emer felt sick. She thought of Susannah at home, resting in her bed. The frail old lady who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. She might have a sharp tongue, and Emer might have only known her a short while, but she really couldn’t believe Susannah had it in her to kill any soul, no matter how much she hated them.
‘I really don’t think Susannah has it in her to do any such thing,’ Emer said firmly.
‘You never know,’ Henry said, as he started the ignition. ‘I mean, I don’t believe it, Emer. But Susannah is very strange, don’t you think? She takes notions about folk. For instance, she’s had it in for me since she broke things up with me and Lynsey. That’s been years, and still she won’t talk to me if we meet in the street.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that,’ Emer said, feeling a little uncomfortable as she stroked Shadow’s head as he lolled in her lap.
‘Yeah,’ Henry said, as he pulled out of the lot. ‘Like I said first time we went for a hike, best not say we’re meeting, even. She really has it in for men in general.’
Susannah might be cranky, but this was a whole other side to her which Emer found hard to believe. She liked Henry, but felt conflicted about the walk she’d just enjoyed with him, or even the idea of going on another walk after all the things he’d said about Susannah. He had said it wasn’t just him who thought Susannah might be guilty of actually killing Kate’s husband, but most folk on the island. No wonder they had no visitors to the house.
As they drove back to Susannah’s house, Emer remembered how distraught Susannah had been in the graveyard. How could you ever get over the loss of your sister when she had been murdered? But had Susannah’s distress also been guilt due to her part in the tragedy? Although Emer’s instincts were telling her Susannah would never do such a thing, how well did she really know her new patient? Had guilt softened Susannah with time?
As Henry pulled in at the bottom of Susannah’s road, he leaned over and touched Emer’s arm.
‘Remember,’ he said, ‘being here with Susannah might not be the best thing for you right now.’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Emer said, embarrassed again by her upset earlier. ‘I don’t know what came over me in the woods.’
‘You can’t hold grief in,’ Henry said. ‘Otherwise, it consumes you.’
There was an edge to his voice. She realised that even after their hikes together, she still knew very little about him.
‘Why don’t you come by The Sand Bar tonight?’ he suggested. ‘There’s a band playing, from Rockland. I’ll buy you a beer.’
‘I’m not sure, Susannah might need me.’ Emer was beginning to feel it might be better if she didn’t hang out with Henry any more after what he’d told her. He and Susannah clearly had a history because of Lynsey and she didn’t want to get caught up in it.
‘Surely she’ll give you leave for one night?’ Henry persisted. ‘I mean, have you had one night off since you arrived?’
Despite her better instincts, Emer felt it impossible to say no.
Back in Susannah’s house, Emer prepared her patient’s tea, cutting a pear in half, peeling and slicing it. Susannah might only manage half the pear, but it was something at least. She felt a knot of anxiety in her chest. Henry’s invitation to The Sand Bar could be viewed as a proper date. But she’d nothing fancy to wear. Only jeans and jumpers with her. What was she doing going on a date anyway? Henry had been so kind when she’d been upset today over Orla, but then she really didn’t like all the gossip he’d told her about Susannah and her family. It also felt weird that he had once dated Lynsey, who was almost the same age as Emer’s mother would have been if she were alive.
And then there was Lars. Where was he now? She pictured him, his blue eyes flipping her heart every time he looked at her. She hadn’t heard from him since their last phone conversation where she’d hung up on him. Not one text. She’d asked him to leave her alone, but it hurt that he’d given up so easily. What she needed to do was keep away from all men. Stay in and retrieve the rest of the letters from the quilt. Her head was buzzing with all of what Henry had told her. Maybe she’d find out the truth if she read all the letters.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Susannah asked her, as Emer propped her up in bed with a couple of pillows and placed the tray with a cup of tea and the pear on her lap.
‘I went walking.’
‘Well now, it must have been a long way.’
‘I called in and chatted with Peggy Steel, in the library,’ Emer lied, immediately feeling uncomfortable for doing so.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re getting out and about,’ Susannah said. Her humour was so much better since she’d allowed Emer to give her a small amount of pain relief in the afternoon to allow her to rest.
‘There’s a band playing at The Sand Bar tonight. I was thinking of going,’ Emer found herself telling Susannah. ‘But I shan’t if you need me.’
Susannah scrutinised her. ‘Of course you should go!’
‘I don’t even have anything good to wear,’ Emer said now, wishing she’d said nothing. Really, she would rather stay in and read those letters. ‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea. I don’t think I should leave you on your own.’
‘You certainly will!’ Susannah declared. ‘I was always such a loner and it did me no good. You need to meet some people your own age.’
‘I guess,’ Emer said, feeling nervous at the thought of seeing Henry again. But then, she wanted to ask him more about his life on the island.
‘Open up the wardrobe over there.’ Susannah’s order broke through her thoughts. ‘Look right in the back of it,’ she said.
The wardrobe was jammed with old shirts and coats. Emer pushed through them.
‘Can you see any dresses?’
Emer saw a glimmer of white, took hold of the hanger and pulled out a dress.
‘Oh. It’s beautiful.’
It was fifties-style. A neat bodice, and a wide skirt of white organza with gold flocking.
‘That was Kate’s dress,’ Susannah said, her voice heavy. ‘I remember the first time she wore it.’
‘I can’t wear your sister’s dress!’ Emer protested.
‘Yes, of course you can,’ Susannah persisted. ‘You’re the same size as her. Rebecca and Lynsey are both too big for Kate’s clothes.’
‘But it’s your sister’s.’
‘Exactly,’ Susannah said. ‘And that’s why you should wear it.’
The dress fit Emer like a glove. Susannah made her twirl in front of her, and to see Emer in her sister’s dress did seem to make the older woma
n happy. Again, Emer found her thoughts returning to what Henry had told her after their walk. To be in Kate’s dress made her feel even closer to her tragedy. Would the letters from Kate, which she was typing up for Susannah every day, reveal why her marriage had ended so fatally?
‘Well now, you’d think it was made for you,’ Susannah declared.
When she looked in the mirror, Emer was astonished by the transformation in how she looked. She never wore dresses. Her going-out outfit was usually jeans and a silky top. Easy and comfortable. She rarely wore make-up. But the dress required glamour, so she ran down to the store before it shut and bought some red lipstick, mascara and black liquid eyeliner to give herself an authentic fifties makeover.
Back upstairs in her room, Emer checked the time. She had just over an hour to read more of the letters. She slipped her hand inside the quilt and pulled them all out. Neatly piling them on the end of the bed, she put to one side the ones she’d already read. Henry’s talk had ignited her curiosity to know more about the sisters. She lay on her tummy on the bed and picked up the next letter, immediately entering Harvard in the late fifties.
Later, still feeling as if she was in the past, Emer went downstairs to give Susannah a final viewing of the dress. The letters had been so moving. Reading about Susannah’s life and loves had touched her deeply. And in those letters, she could sense what had been going on in Kate’s life. But she was still none the wiser as to what had happened on the fateful day of Kate’s death.
Susannah seemed even more delighted to see Emer in her sister’s old dress, and amused by her whole attire.
‘Well now, you know I love the way you accessorized,’ she laughed, pointing out Emer’s black boots and biker jacket.
‘Does it look stupid? Am I bit over the top for The Sand Bar?’
‘Not at all, who cares what they think.’ Susannah closed her eyes, and leant back on the pillow. ‘Okay, well. Now have a good time, Rebecca. Don’t be too late.’
Emer nearly corrected her, but Susannah looked so wan and exhausted she didn’t bother. So what if she’d called her Rebecca? It was clear to see the cancer was beginning to really eat away at Susannah’s life force and it made Emer feel sad, and guilty. She considered whether now was the right time to tell her about the letters in the quilt. Susannah had been in such a good mood, but now she was falling asleep, so very tired and weak. Emer would tell her tomorrow. In the morning. When they both had more energy.
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