‘But what if I went to college?’ Susannah ventured. ‘Get a good job after I graduate. I could take care of us!’
‘College!’ Their mother stopped sewing, looking at Susannah as if she’d suggested she wanted to fly to the moon.
‘Mr Samuels says my grades are the best he’s ever had,’ Susannah said proudly. ‘He thinks I’ve potential. I could become a teacher, or work in a library like Mrs Matlock.’
‘Mom, Susannah really is the best at school, everyone knows it!’ Kate said, and Susannah felt a flood of gratitude towards her sister.
‘Wake up, girl!’ their mother snapped. ‘We’ve discussed this before. I don’t have money to send you to college.’
Their mother put Mary Carver’s dress down and walked over to the lacing stand. Stood over Kate, so she was facing Susannah. She seemed even taller than ever, standing against the white frame of snow outside, her fair hair gleaming in the light from the window, her blue eyes glacial.
‘Even if we could afford it, why would you want to leave your sister and I?’ she said, sounding injured. ‘College isn’t for the likes of us. We belong here, on Vinalhaven.’
‘No, I don’t, I don’t!’ Susannah stopped lacing and yelled at her mother in frustration. ‘I hate this island and I hate our life. Everything is slow and old-fashioned.’
Their mother picked up one of the shuttles and slammed it onto the top of the stand, so that both girls jumped in fright. ‘Don’t you dare raise your voice to me,’ she bellowed at Susannah, as tears started in Kate’s eyes. ‘You’re a disgrace. Why can’t you be more like your sister?’
Susannah jumped up from the lacing stand, faced her mother. ‘I’m getting out of here one day. I will, you know,’ she spat.
‘Go to your room this instant!’ their mother shouted, her voice shaking with anger. ‘I can’t abide to look at you!’
Susannah ran out of the room and up the stairs, her heart thumping with the drama of the argument. She would not cry. She was sorry for making Kate cry. Her sister always wept when she argued with her mother. But she refused to submit.
It was only hours later that their mom came up the stairs. She sat on the end of the bed and put her hand on Susannah’s shoulders as she turned away from her.
‘I only want what’s best for you, Susannah,’ her mother said. ‘I don’t want you to be disappointed.’
Susannah said nothing, buried her face further into the pillow.
‘You’ll understand one day,’ her mother said to her. ‘When you have children of your own.’ She stood up, sighing.
Susannah wanted to shout at her in frustration. She didn’t want children, so she never would understand! But she knew there was no point. From now on, she’d keep her dream secret – but she would never give up on it.
Emer
11th October 2011
When Emer had woken up this morning, Susannah had already been at her desk, typing away on an ancient typewriter. Emer loved the sound of her fingers tapping the keys, and the zip of the return.
‘Can I get you anything?’ she’d asked Susannah. ‘Have you had any breakfast?’
But Susannah had waved her away.
‘Not hungry,’ she had said gruffly.
‘Tea, then?’ Emer pushed. She knew Susannah must be in pain if she didn’t want to eat, but she should have something.
‘I suppose.’ Susannah sniffed. ‘Black, no milk. It doesn’t agree with me.’
When she’d brought back the tea, Emer had been careful to place it on a little side table by Susannah’s desk. ‘What would you like me to do?’ she asked Susannah. ‘I can do some cleaning or laundry for you?’
Susannah stopped typing, looking up at Emer in surprise. ‘Oh, is that what Lynsey said you should do?’
‘I’m here to help,’ Emer said, feeling useless. She was used to the urgency of the hospital, but here in Susannah’s house she felt like she was moving in slow motion.
‘Well now,’ Susannah said, her tone a little kinder. ‘It’s a beautiful fall day. You should take yourself for a walk around town.’
‘Where would you recommend?’
‘Amherst Hill is just down the road. You can take the short trail past the stone quarries where we used to swim as kids in summer, and go up onto the granite slabs. There’s a great view from the top.’ Susannah took a sip of her black tea and curled her nose in distaste, clearly missing the milk. She put the cup down again. ‘On your way back, pick up some groceries. How’s that sound?’
‘What should I buy? Do you want to give me a list?’
‘I really don’t care,’ Susannah said, a distracted tone to her voice as she opened the drawer in her desk, and took out a bank card. Waved it at Emer. ‘Use this.’
Emer took the card, trying to take a peek over Susannah’s shoulder at the sheet in the typewriter, but the words were obscured by a big pile of books.
‘What are you writing?’ she asked her.
Susannah looked up at her, pushing her glasses down the end of her nose. ‘Private correspondence,’ she said, emphasising the word private.
Emer felt chastised. She had to remember her place was as a nurse, nothing more.
‘Can I get you anything before I leave? Are you in pain?’
‘Of course I’m in pain,’ Susannah snapped, ‘but the morphine messes with my head. I can’t think straight, so I’ll take the pain and clarity.’
‘Okay.’ Emer paused, remembering how hard Orla had resisted taking painkillers too. Though sometimes, Emer could see the defeat in her sister’s eyes as she’d ask for relief. It had broken Emer’s heart.
‘You take what you need, darling,’ she’d said to Orla.
‘It makes my dreams so crazy,’ Orla had whispered to her. ‘I don’t like it.’
But when she’d taken the morphine, the tension in Orla’s face would soften, and at least she would be able to sleep.
‘I’m here to help you in any way I can,’ Emer said, returning to the present, and the pained hunch of Susannah at her typewriter. ‘You need to take it easy.’
‘Seeing as I’ve been in this body for the past seventy-two years, I think I know what it needs better than anyone, don’t you?’
Emer backed away, out of the room. Lynsey had warned her Susannah might be difficult, but she hadn’t expected such open hostility. Susannah didn’t want her there, clearly. Her resentment was palpable. It occurred to Emer that she didn’t belong anywhere any more. Not back home in Ireland, nor in Boston now Ethan was gone to his family in New York. As for Lars, anything that might have happened there was ruined for good. This island and Susannah Olsen were all she had right now.
It was a dull morning on Vinalhaven, but against the backdrop of the grey skies, the fall foliage appeared even more intense. Emer was sure there were colours in those trees she’d never seen. Every possible nuance of red, orange, brown and green. She couldn’t stop herself from picking up fallen leaves, holding them in her palms, and studying each one for the secrets of their colours.
Emer remembered the night she’d arrived in Boston for the first time. She’d still been raw from her father getting together with one of their neighbours, Sharon Madigan. It had seemed outrageous to Emer at the time that her father would want another woman to move into the house. Especially since Emer had been convinced Sharon had had designs on their father even before their mother had passed away. A widow herself, she had called over nearly daily with a cooked dinner for their dad.
‘How can he be so naïve?’ Emer had given out to Orla. ‘He and Mam used to take the mickey out of Sharon Madigan looking like mutton dressed as lamb, and now he’s only moving in with her!’
Orla had talked her down. ‘He doesn’t do well on his own, you know it’s so, Emer.’
What her sister had said next made Emer shiver with the memory of it.
‘If anything ever happened to me, I’d want Ethan to find someone else.’
‘Stop,’ Emer had said. ‘You’d only be devastated, w
ouldn’t you, Ethan?’
‘No one could compete with you, babe,’ Ethan said to Orla. ‘Well, maybe Mila Kunis.’ He’d winked at Emer.
Orla had laughed as Ethan put his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. ‘I guess not even Mila can match you, honey.’
Ethan. The ghost brother-in-law. All joy had now been washed out of him by the loss of his young wife. Emer couldn’t face talking to him just yet, after the emotion of helping him pack up. She should have been on the phone every day. Checking he was doing okay. She justified her silence by the fact he was back home in New York, surrounded by his family. But still, she and Ethan had loved Orla the best. This united them.
As for her father, he and Sharon had flown back to Ireland the day after the funeral. To be fair to him, he’d tried to persuade Emer to come home with them, but the idea of returning to the place she and Orla had shared so many childhood memories horrified her.
‘We can set up your old room, nice and cosy for you,’ Sharon had tried.
‘Don’t bother,’ Emer had told her. ‘It’s not my home any more.’
She had seen the hurt in Sharon’s eyes, but what did she expect? How could she come close to replacing her mother and sister?
‘Ah, Emer, now, don’t be like that,’ her dad had said, giving her big hug. ‘There’s always a place for you at our table.’
She choked back the tears. She knew they meant well, but she felt as if she’d lost her dad too.
‘I need to stay in Boston for a while,’ she’d lied. ‘My job.’
Emer kept walking until she crossed a tiny bridge. Behind her lay the curve of the harbour, pleasure boats and lobster boats bobbing side by side in the afternoon calm. On her left, the land had become marshy, reminding her of the bogs back in Ireland. Everything in America was on a bigger scale – the sky, the sea, the woods. A pick-up passed her, a white husky pushing its face out of the open window, and the driver, a guy with black hair and a baseball cap, waved to her. Everyone appeared so friendly here, in contrast to Susannah. Although the other side to this attentiveness was feeling watched the whole time. Emer had always been shy. Hated to be the centre of attention. Her place had been in the shadow of her sister. And she had liked that position. It had felt safe and protected. But Orla was gone now, and Emer was exposed. Blinded by grief. Struggling to make sense of it.
Tears stung her eyes. She turned around, head down, terrified someone would see her distress. There was an opening to the woods on her right and she crossed the road and followed a path between the trees. Huge boulders of granite emerged from the undergrowth, and as she came into an opening, she realised she was at one of the old granite quarries on the island, where Susannah had told her locals went swimming in the summer. The pool was small but the water still and dark with deepness, slabs of granite around its circumference. She kept going, into the trees on the other side of the quarry pool, following the trail uphill, and reaching out to touch the golden leaves. Although it was past midday, cobwebs were still strung with dew where they laced patches of blueberry bushes. The only berries left were white with age. She saw plenty of other berries – black, pink and bright red – but wasn’t sure if they were edible so steered clear.
On top of the hill was a plateau of granite and a view across the island all the way to the distant sea. Emer read a plaque about it having been a lookout point for U-boats during the Second World War. Spreading her coat on the granite plateau, Emer sat down, and drew her knees to her chest, trying to contain the sorrow. The tears came all the same. She had never got to say goodbye to Orla. She would give up every moment of happiness in her future if she could share one more hour with her sister. But Orla was gone, just like their mam. Daddy now had Sharon. Emer was sisterless, motherless, all alone. And despite the fact Lars kept trying to contact her, she couldn’t have him, could she? It was because of Lars she’d let Orla down, when her sister had needed her the most. How could it ever work out with him now?
Emer dawdled as she continued on her way to the grocery store. She took a look at the old netting factory, now a garage, before continuing up to the old church and the library. She didn’t think she’d been in a library since she was at nursing college in Dublin, five years ago now. As she walked up the steps, she noticed the pick-up which had passed her earlier with the white husky still sitting in the front, gazing at her as she pushed the door open and walked inside.
The hush of the library felt sacred. She wandered through the stacks, not really knowing what she was looking for. Orla had read a lot. Said words inspired her art. But Emer wasn’t like her sister. All she wanted from books, and films too, was to escape. A few hours away from work and all the drama she saw every day in the hospital. The only title she recognised on the shelves was Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. A girl in love with a vampire. That would do. A story to take her away from her own reality. She took the book off the shelf and made her way to the counter. ‘I’d like to join the library,’ she said.
‘Sure,’ the librarian said. She was quite young, not much older than Emer, with John Lennon glasses and long brown hair. ‘Are you living on the island?’ The librarian took her glasses off, had a good look at her. Emer felt herself blushing. ‘Oh, I bet you’re the nurse who’s minding Susannah Olsen, aren’t you?’
Emer nodded.
‘How’s she getting on? I’ve been meaning to call over but she’s not the most social of ladies. Still, Susannah’s an important part of our community.’
‘She’s doing fine,’ Emer said. What could she say? She’s dying, slowly?
As the librarian introduced herself – ‘Peggy Steel, pleased to meet you’ – Emer recognised the owner of the pick-up with the white husky as he came up to the counter with a big stack of books. She sensed him listening to Peggy’s continued interrogation – where was Emer from? How long had she been in the States? Where had she lived before she came to Vinalhaven? Emer tried to keep it short, but Peggy the librarian clearly craved a chat.
‘Hey, Henry, you met Susannah’s Olsen’s nurse? Your name is Emma, right?
‘No, Emer.’
‘So Emma here is from Ireland, Henry.’
‘That so? Beautiful, Ireland,’ said Henry, giving her an appreciative look. ‘Well, good for you; Susannah Olsen is something else.’
‘Susannah used to be Vinalhaven’s librarian,’ Peggy said. ‘Going on thirty-odd years. She trained me in!’
‘I remember going to her reading circle for kids,’ Henry told them. ‘She got me reading all the greats, but I was only interested in the cooking books.’
‘Henry here runs one of the restaurants on Vinalhaven,’ Peggy enthused. ‘It’s called The Haven. You might have seen it on the way through town.’
‘It’s closed for the season now,’ Henry said. ‘Got good intentions to read all these books over the winter.’
‘You still doing your sculptures, Henry?’ Peggy asked him. The librarian was all fluttering eyelashes.
‘Sure am,’ Henry replied, flashing a big smile at Peggy.
‘Henry is one of Vinalhaven’s artists,’ she told Emer. ‘We’ve a few living here, as well as writers.’
‘We love the seclusion,’ Henry told her. ‘Very peaceful for creating.’
‘But of course Henry is also a born islander, unlike me,’ Peggy tittered. ‘Though I feel like this is where I belong, for sure.’
‘Vinalhaven worked its magic on you, right, Peggy?’ Henry winked at Emer. She felt a little awkward with this familiarity.
‘Well, isn’t it just so beautiful here?’ Peggy turned to Emer.
‘Yes, it is, really the prettiest place I’ve been,’ Emer said honestly. ‘All the wooden houses, with pumpkins lined up outside, and the leaves on the trees are just stunning.’
‘Yeah, we take Halloween very seriously here on Vinalhaven.’ Henry grinned at her. ‘Fall has to be the time of year when the island looks its best.’
‘All the fall foliage,’ Peggy agreed. ‘Isn’t i
t gorgeous? Is this time of year as pretty in Ireland?’
‘It can be,’ Emer said, wishing she could get away without being rude. She craved to be walking on her own again. ‘But mostly it rains a lot in Ireland. We get very grey days.’
‘Oh, I don’t like the rain,’ Peggy prattled on. ‘Prefer the snow to the rain.’
‘Have to agree, nothing beats the purity of first snow,’ Henry said.
‘So you here on your own?’ Peggy grilled Emer. ‘Got a husband with you? Kids?’
‘Oh no, no,’ Emer said, edging away.
‘My husband’s an island man,’ Peggy chatted on, oblivious to Emer’s discomfort. ‘Three kids. Bobby is five, Ellie seven, and Tammy nine.’
‘Hard to believe,’ Henry said. ‘You look so young, Peggy.’
Peggy giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘Must be island life,’ she said. ‘And we all go to bed not long after Teddy because he has to be up so early for the fishing. You know, all those early nights must count for something.’
‘I’m a bit of a night owl,’ Henry said. ‘How about you, Emer?’
‘Oh well, it depends,’ she said. ‘I used to have to work night shifts.’
‘That so?’ Peggy asked. ‘What hospital did you work in? Was it here or in Ireland?’
‘Boston,’ Emer said quickly, and then made a pretence at looking at the time on her phone. ‘Oh, I’d best be going. Sorry, Susannah’s expecting me.’
Henry gave her a knowing look as Peggy waved goodbye.
‘Do come back soon!’ she said. ‘I love a good chat.’
Emer slipped out of the library and down the steps. She hadn’t considered what it might be like to live in an island community. All she’d been thinking about when she took the job was getting out of Boston, and going somewhere new. A place Orla had never been. A place with no memories. But she should have known. Growing up in rural Ireland meant everyone knew everybody’s business. There were no secrets in their townland in Meath. This could be supportive, but also unbearably claustrophobic. It had been the reason why Orla had gone off travelling when she was barely eighteen, not even bothering to go to college. Once Mammy was gone, Orla couldn’t bear to stay in Ireland. Emer had been more of a homebody: still training as a nurse in Dublin and coming home every weekend to see Daddy. It wasn’t fair. Why had she had to witness both her mother and her sister struck down with cancer? And now here she was, putting herself through it all over again for a stranger. It wasn’t the same as being a nurse in a hospital. Caring for Susannah Olsen would be more personal, no matter how much professional distance she tried to maintain.
The Island Girls: A heartbreaking historical novel Page 4