‘There’s plenty of time for all of that,’ Kate had backed Susannah up. ‘Mom, this is going to be a wonderful adventure for Susie. And she’s so clever, she got the scholarship too!’
Tears began to well in their mother’s eyes. ‘Why are you doing this to me? Leaving us all alone.’
‘We’ll cope, come on now, Mom,’ Kate said as their mother pushed her plate of food away. ‘Matthew can come over any time we need. There’s Gramps Olsen, Aunty Marjorie and Uncle Karl. We’re not alone.’
Their mother got up from the table, leaving her dinner unfinished. She picked up the letter again, waving it at Susannah. ‘You should have asked my permission first,’ she said to Susannah. ‘What daughter does this behind her mother’s back?’
‘I knew you wouldn’t let me if I asked you,’ Susannah said.
‘Absolutely I wouldn’t,’ her mother said. ‘What kind of future will you have if you go off on your own to a big city like Boston? No man on this island will want you when you come back full of notions.’
‘I don’t care.’ Susannah could feel herself getting angry. ‘I don’t want any of the men on this island. They’re all thick and ignorant.’
‘Oh, Susie, that’s not a nice thing to say.’ Kate spoke up. ‘What about Matthew? He’s not thick and ignorant.’
Susannah bit her lip despite wanting to tell Kate exactly how little she thought of Matthew.
‘Why can’t you be normal, like Katie?’ their mother asked her. ‘What’s wrong with you? Every girl wants to get married and have babies.’
‘But I don’t, Mom!’ Susannah took a breath. ‘I am going to Harvard no matter what you say.’
‘It’s Susie’s dream,’ Kate tried persuade their mother. ‘She’s worked so hard for it.’
But their mother was shaking her head, fury blazing in her eyes as she slammed Susannah’s letter down onto the kitchen table.
‘You’re just like your father. Selfish! I begged him not to leave and he did it anyway,’ their mother complained. ‘He didn’t have to volunteer!’
The two sisters locked eyes in shock. Their mother hadn’t spoken about their father in years, and before that it had always been in glowing words. They had grown up thinking he was a hero.
‘What do you mean, Mom?’ Kate asked in a small voice.
‘He didn’t need to leave Vinalhaven,’ their mother ranted. ‘He had a family to look after. There were plenty of young single men who were willing to fight. But Ronald was a show-off, just like you, Susannah. Had to go and prove himself to the world.’
The bitterness in their mother’s tone was something they’d never heard before.
‘So I guess you’re going anyway,’ her mom said, her face tight with fury. ‘But you don’t have my blessing.’
‘I don’t need it!’ Susannah shouted back, feeling protective of her father’s memory.
Her mother gave her a hard slap across the cheek. Susannah felt the wedding ring dig into her flesh, a stinging burn to her face. Kate gave a small scream in surprise.
‘Don’t ever raise your voice to me again,’ their mother said, her voice flinty with anger. ‘You’re no better than me and don’t you forget it.’
‘I don’t think I’m better than you,’ Susannah retorted, but their mom had stormed out of the room. The sisters heard her stomping all the way up the stairs and banging her bedroom door.
Kate gave a long whistle. ‘I’ve never seen Mom so mad! Are you okay?’
Susannah nodded, pressing her hand to her hot cheek. Now her initial flash of anger had died down, doubt had begun to creep in. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go? It’s upsetting her so much.’
‘But you’ve worked so hard,’ Kate said. ‘All those afternoons in the library with old Mrs Matlock. I would have died of boredom!’
‘But what about you, Kate?’ Susannah was nervous about leaving her sister. Kate was completely besotted with Matthew Young and Susannah was worried things would get too serious while she was away.
Kate took both Susannah’s shoulders in her hands and looked right into her eyes.
‘You are going to Harvard, young lady, if I have to put you on the boat myself!’
Since that day, there had been an uneasy truce between Susannah and her mother. A cold politeness, which was almost worse than the anger. Several times, she’d nearly relented and told her mom she’d stay after all. But Kate wouldn’t let her. Whenever Kate wasn’t on a date with Matthew, she was at the sewing machine making herself new clothes. Susannah had never worried about her own wardrobe before but now she couldn’t help thinking she might look shabby at Harvard. Telling herself it didn’t matter one bit how she looked, Susannah spent most of her final two weeks in the library, trying to prepare for college by reading every single history book on the shelves, and avoiding her mother. One afternoon just before closing, Mrs Matlock sat down next to Susannah.
‘Have you found somewhere to live yet?’ she had asked her.
Susannah shook her head. ‘I’ve enough saved up for a room the first week but I need to find a job and lodgings pretty quick. My scholarship doesn’t cover everything.’
‘There’s a family I know,’ Mrs Matlock said. ‘My sister-in-law’s niece is married to a professor at Harvard. They’ve two boisterous young boys and I think they’re looking for help with them in exchange for lodging. Would you like me to write to them?’
‘Oh yes, that would be fabulous!’ Susannah said, relief sweeping through her. She had been so worried about where she was going to live. Frightened she’d have to give up her dream because of it. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Matlock,’ she said, flinging her arms around the librarian, much to the older woman’s surprise.
‘Well now, dear, don’t you worry, we’ll get it all sorted for you,’ Mrs Matlock said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘I don’t mind telling you I shall miss you a great deal, Susannah.’
‘You’ve been so kind and helpful, Mrs Matlock; I owe you so much.’
‘Not at all,’ the librarian said, her eyes shining with emotion. ‘Do call me Ivy, though, won’t you? You’re an adult now!’
The night before her departure, Kate had dragged Susannah upstairs to their bedroom after dinner. She was all giddy and excited.
‘We’re going to pack your things together,’ she declared, dragging their father’s old suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe.
‘That’s not going to take too long, then,’ Susannah said gloomily, aware of how sparse and boring her wardrobe was.
She was beginning to feel anxious. It was stupid. Everything was organised. She’d timed the ferry to meet a morning bus which would take her all the way to Boston South Station. From there, Mrs Matlock had told her to take the subway Red Line T. On a piece of paper, she had written down directions to the Whittards’ house in Cambridge. If Susannah left on the seven o’clock ferry tomorrow morning, she should arrive at her destination by late afternoon. But it wasn’t the journey which was worrying her. Although she was still cross with her mother, she didn’t want to leave with the way things were between them. Ever since the slap, her mother had behaved as if she hardly existed any more, as if she’d already left.
Kate began pulling things out of their wardrobe.
‘Now, I really don’t know what a girl should be wearing at Harvard this season,’ she mused, giving her sister a cheeky grin and making Susannah laugh despite all her anxiety.
‘What’s all this?’ Susannah asked as her sister revealed her new hoard of clothing.
‘Well, what do you think I’ve been doing at the sewing machine these past two weeks?’ Kate declared. ‘Only making sure you look swell in the big city!’
‘Oh, Katie.’ Susannah felt emotion rise up inside her. ‘I thought you were making them for yourself.’
‘First up though is the black dress Mom made you,’ Kate said, pulling it out of the wardrobe. ‘It’s perfect for any cocktail parties you might be attending.’
‘I’m a freshman at Har
vard, not a faculty wife!’ Susannah pointed out.
‘Yes but one day you might well be the wife of an academic, just like Jo in Little Women,’ Kate said, carefully folding up the black dress and placing it in the case. ‘There are going to be so many potential suitors. Mind you don’t be falling for any foreign boys and get whisked away to England or Australia!’
‘No fear of that ever happening.’
‘I hear those Boston winters are as harsh as here on the island, so I’ve made some adjustments to Granny Olsen’s wool suit,’ Kate chatted on.
Susannah remembered their mother wearing the suit once during a particularly bad winter. It had looked hideous on her. Dark grey, heavy and shapeless.
‘Oh Katie, I can’t wear that old thing!’
‘Hold on now, try it on, you’ll see.’
Susannah pulled on the skirt and zipped it up. Her sister had taken it up and taken it in. The wool fit snugly around her hips. But Kate had worked even more magic with the jacket, tucking it in at the waist and adding front pockets, a wide collar and a belt with the extra material. The old black buttons had been replaced by big green buttons with a pattern of tiny gold leaves.
‘Katie, how did you do it?’ Susannah marvelled as she spun in her stockings on their bedroom floor. She felt fantastic in the suit. ‘Where did you get the buttons?’
‘Matthew got them for me in Rockland,’ she said, looking proud. ‘His mom also helped with some old bits of material and wool for other things.’
Kate laid out Susannah’s new college wardrobe on her bed.
‘So, I knitted you this twinset in green to go with the suit. And then a black knit sweater to go with the pants.’
All those sewing patterns Kate had received in the post had been for her! Susannah had assumed Kate had been making clothes for herself.
‘You made pants for me!’
‘Sure, I adapted an old pair of Matthew’s.’
Susannah baulked at the idea of wearing Matthew Young’s old slacks, but Kate had done a wonderful job adding feminine details: tapering them at the ankles, and putting in a waistband with a couple of tucks.
Along with the wool suit, pants and sweaters, Kate had also made a couple of blouses, one circle skirt and a lighter-weight teal blue dress. There was a navy blue scarf and matching hat and gloves. She’d also allowed Susannah’s much-loved denims to go in the case, citing they were now all the rage as long as Susannah turned up the ends, wore a white shirt and tied a scarf around her neck.
‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to go in your old coat,’ Kate said. ‘Ran out of luck finding you a better one.’
Susannah surveyed the colourful collection of fashion spread out upon her sister’s patchwork quilt. For a moment she was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak. She gave her sister a big hug.
‘You’ve worked so hard; oh Katie, I’m so touched!’
‘Well, just come back at Thanksgiving, mind you,’ Kate said, tapping her shoulder. ‘It’s only two months away!’
Susannah immediately felt guilty. ‘What should I do about Mom?’ she asked, biting her lip. ‘I feel bad.’
Kate put her hand on her shoulder and looked at her with wisdom beyond her years.
‘Give her time,’ Kate said. ‘She’ll come round. Be as proud of you as I am.’
Kate was getting smaller and smaller, but she was still waving her red scarf. Susannah willed her mom to come running down the road and to the ferry terminal. Show her support. But it was just Kate on her own, no break in her loyal waving until the boat rounded a headland obscuring the harbour. She could see her sister no longer. But she felt the thread of them connected. It was unbreakable.
Vinalhaven was diminishing in the distance as they sailed through the channel alongside its rocky coastline, with slabs of granite, tiny crescents of sandy beach and deep green pine tree forests all the way to the edge of the land. Susannah crossed to the other side of the boat and looked ahead of her. Her heart was sore from her mother’s rejection, but she was determined to make her proud one day. When she was a success, surely her mom would understand she’d made the right decision? What girl could turn down a Harvard scholarship?
The sun had risen now, the horizon deep pink, seeping into the perfectly blue sky. There was a whisper of distant moon fading slowly as they ploughed through the gentle island waters, mist curling off the surface. Further out to the sea the water became choppy with tiny cresting waves. The boat began to roll a little and it was a comforting motion. Susannah sat down on the bench. It was cold but she didn’t want to go and sit inside. It was packed with islanders, all of whom would want to quiz her on her journey. Everybody knew she was going to Harvard but still they all wanted to hear it from her lips. She closed her eyes and listened to the chug of the ferry’s engines and the call of the seagulls above. She thought of the day her father must have left to fight in the war. How he must have been feeling, sitting on the same ferry, maybe watching the sun rise as well, listening to the gulls, and tasting salt on his lips. Surely he would have been even more afraid than she was? Had he an inkling one day he might not return? Probably not. But maybe her mom had. Susannah saw an image in her head of a young mother standing at the ferry terminal, holding the hand of one little girl with red hair, and carrying in her arms a little blonde baby girl. Watching the love of her life sail away. No wonder her mom hadn’t come down to the harbour to say goodbye. For a minute, Susannah understood, and forgave her mother. But just as quickly she became angry again. This was different. She was different. Her mom was always going to try to hold her back, but Susannah wasn’t going to let her. Not ever.
12
Emer
16th October 2011
In her sleep, Lars came to her. Without fail every night, he took her in his arms. Brought her back to their passion, despite all the daytime hours she spent suppressing it. Their love-making had felt as inevitable as the turn of the seasons, as right as nature itself. And yet in the cold clarity of morning regret, she was filled with shame. She had let her sister down because of her desire for Lars. She could never make up for it now.
‘Where were you?’ her father had berated her as she’d run into Orla’s hospital room. His eyes were rimmed red, his nose dripping with his tears.
Those moments she could never forget. Her body still humming with Lars’ touch, so alive and vital, and yet right before her was her sister, pale and unmoving beneath the white sheet. Ethan was still sitting by the bed, holding Orla’s hand. He looked up at Emer, his face ghostly with shock.
‘Her hand’s still warm, Em,’ he whispered. ‘But she’s gone. They said she’s gone.’
Emer had collapsed on the chair next to Ethan, put her arm around him, and tried to take some of the weight of his grief, but her head was spinning with denial. This was some kind of nightmare. It couldn’t be true. None of it. They’d been told the prognosis was terminal weeks ago, but still she’d hoped for a miracle. Despite the fact that she worked with cancer patients every day of her life, she had never given up, because sometimes there were miracles. Patients came back from the brink of death. Could Orla have just slipped into a coma? But when Emer looked at her sister, it was clear Orla was no longer present. Her body just a shell. It possessed likeness, but it was not her sister, not the talented young Irish artist everyone else knew. She had already left.
‘She was asking for you,’ Sharon said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
The words lanced Emer like a blade in the heart. She had promised she’d be with Orla all the way. Hold her hand and be strong for her. Make sure her sister wasn’t scared. But she’d panicked. She’d put her needs before her little sister’s at the most important hour of their lives.
‘We were trying to call all night,’ her father said in a shaky voice. ‘But you never picked up. She went so sudden-like, in the end.’
‘It was very peaceful,’ Sharon tried to console her.
She wanted to jump up and slap her stepmother. How could the pass
ing of a young woman in her prime ever be peaceful? There was no peace in it at all. Orla was supposed to have it all. A long and happy marriage, children to care for her in her old age, paintings and paintings hanging on all her walls. She would never travel the world or be acknowledged as the gifted artist she was or have a baby or take her kids to the seaside for a picnic. What was left in her wake was a devastated family and her husband Ethan, heartbroken and on his knees.
‘She said she’d love me always.’ Ethan turned to her with swimming eyes. ‘Em, how can I live now?’
He fell into her arms, sobbing, and she held him tight. In all the months and weeks of Orla’s illness, Ethan had never shed a tear in front of them. Always staying upbeat, joking with the nurses to make Orla laugh, never speaking about the end. Orla had confided in Emer, she’d felt it a strain sometimes. She wanted to talk to him about her death.
In Emer’s sleep every night since her sister’s funeral, Lars came to her, but so did Orla. She was still alive and Emer had to find a way to save her. She was running the hospital corridors searching for the right cure, hounding specialists. Hope blazed through her dream as she raced to beat cancer for her sister’s sake.
Emer woke shivering, with the sensation of her phone vibrating on her lap. She had no idea where she was, only that she was freezing and sitting on a chair. What she did know was that her sister was dead and she’d only dreamt she was still alive. Despair washed over her. Where was she? She looked down at the flashing screen on the phone. It was Lars calling her. It hurt too much to talk to him. She’d sent him a text message telling him it was over just before she’d left Boston. How could it ever be right between them after what happened?
Her eyes adjusted to the light. She realised she was of course in Susannah’s bedroom in the house on the island. She sat bolt upright, looked over at the bed and could see the hump of a body under the covers. In a panic, she rushed over. How could she have let herself nod off? Light leached in from under the curtains. It was clearly morning again. She must have been asleep for hours. What was wrong with her? She’d never been so lax when she worked on shift in the hospital.
The Island Girls: A heartbreaking historical novel Page 10