The Island Girls: A heartbreaking historical novel

by Noelle Harrison

  ‘Now feel how it is for real.’

  He tore into her and she screamed with horror, her whole being shattering with her head buried in the bedsheets. Matthew kept thrusting and thrusting and all she could think of was a wild beast and how she wanted to kill him, pummel him with stones. At last he called out, ‘Katie!’ in a completely different tone of voice, almost like a mother calling for her child, and collapsed on top of her. She felt his seed leaking down the inside of her leg and she wanted to be sick, but she lay quite still until she heard the steady rhythm of his sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake him, heavy with pain, she slipped out from the bed.

  She fled upstairs to her bedroom, shaking all over, trembling with shock and pain. Took her sheets and wiped down her legs, before throwing all her things in a case. She’d no idea where she was going. There was no ferry until the morning. But she’d sleep outside rather than stay in this house one more minute.

  She went tumbling into the kitchen with her case, and Kate gasped when she saw her cut lip, smarting cheek.

  ‘We’ve got to go now, right now, while he’s sleeping.’

  Kate’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Susie, I’m so sorry he hit you. But we can’t leave; where would we go?’

  ‘Katie, please, he did more than hit me.’

  There was an uneasy silence in the kitchen.

  ‘Well, what do you expect, talking back to him and antagonising him the whole time?’ Their mother spoke up.

  Susannah looked in her horror at her mother.

  ‘He’ll be sorry, I’m sure,’ Kate placated her. ‘It’s my fault. He’ll be better when the baby doesn’t cry so much, when I’m more able—’

  ‘He raped me!’ Susannah screamed at her mother and sister, appalled by their lack of outrage.

  ‘No, I can’t believe it.’ Kate shook her head, unable to meet her gaze. ‘He wouldn’t do that. Don’t say such a lie, Susie.’

  ‘More likely you led him on,’ their mother interjected.

  ‘Oh my god!’ Susannah wailed.

  ‘Sit down, now, come on.’ Kate tried to calm her down. ‘It’ll be all right. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry.’

  But Susannah had never felt such fury at her mother, nor so frustrated at Kate. ‘I’m leaving right now. I’m not spending another moment in this house, ever!’ she shouted at them. ‘Come with me now because I’m never coming back.’

  ‘It’s late, there’s no ferry!’ her mother argued with her. ‘Have you lost your senses, you stupid hysterical girl?’

  But Susannah couldn’t bear the betrayal of her mother and sister any longer. She fled out of the door of the house. It was a chilly summer’s night, but she didn’t care. She ran all the way to the ferry terminal building. Thankfully, the waiting room door was open. She found a corner and cowered in it, half-expecting one of her family to hunt her down. But no one came.

  At first dawn, she got on the ferry to Rockland, swearing she would never return. No matter what.

  31

  Emer

  29th October 2011

  Henry had driven her to the other side of the island to the Perry Creek Conservation Area. Emer had met him at the diner on the wharfside, right after Lynsey arrived to visit Susannah. As soon as Lynsey had seen her aunt, and they’d given each other a cool hello, Lynsey had ushered Emer into the kitchen.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me she’s so bad?’

  ‘But she’s stable,’ Emer protested. ‘Doing well.’

  ‘She’s got so thin.’ Lynsey said, and she looked upset. Emer had seen this so many times. When you were with someone every day you didn’t notice the changes, but the shock for others who had perhaps not seen their loved one for weeks was devastating.

  ‘Thank god Rebecca’s coming on Friday,’ Lynsey said. ‘It won’t be long now.’

  Emer was shocked by her bluntness, but then Lynsey reminded her of Susannah. She’d obviously inherited her direct manner from her aunt. Strange they were so alike and yet didn’t get on.

  ‘Are you okay to stay with her today?’ Emer asked. ‘She’ll not want to take any pain relief until the afternoon. She needs a little help now getting into bed.’

  ‘Sure,’ Lynsey said. ‘You deserve a day off. What you doing?’

  ‘A friend’s taking me for a hike,’ Emer said, careful not to mention Henry’s name as she was not sure how Lynsey would react.

  Fall at its splendid finale. The foliage a breathtaking expression of burning colour – red, umber, gold, green, yellow, brown. As she and Henry walked the many trails of Perry Creek, the essence of the island hit her. This ancient rock with its rugged coastline, surviving the wild Atlantic – so vulnerable, and yet resilient. It clung on to the edge of the coastland, just like all the hundreds of other little islands dotted all the way along Maine’s boundary with the ocean.

  At first, they walked in silence, taking it all in and following Shadow as the husky trotted ahead. At the parking lot, there’d been a sign to keep dogs on a leash, but Henry had ignored it. They had parked at the northern edge of the preserve and were making their way to Perry Creek through glades of hay-scented ferns: amber, gold and yellow. They’d already seen deer running away through the woods, and squirrels busily collecting nuts for winter.

  ‘If we didn’t have Shadow with us we’d see more wildlife,’ Henry said to her. ‘You might catch a glimpse of a hare, or some otter by the creek.’

  They climbed up some rocks, rising above the treeline. The view was staggering. The blue ocean swayed before her, and views of North Haven island across the bay, and Vinalhaven to the east and south.

  ‘My god,’ she said. ‘It almost beats the west of Ireland.’

  ‘Almost?’ Henry questioned her, an amused look on his face.

  ‘Well, nothing is quite like the west,’ she said as they sat down on the rock and shared a bar of chocolate.

  ‘You’ll have to take me one day,’ he said.

  His words hung in the air, unanswered.

  Dusk was beginning to descend as they drove back across the island. Emer’s legs were sore from all the walking, but she felt good. It was soothing to be in nature, to stretch her body and feel space all around her.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Henry asked her. ‘Would you like to come back to mine for food?’

  ‘Well, I should get back to Susannah,’ Emer said, hunting for an excuse.

  ‘But you told me Lynsey’s there overnight,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think you need a proper break?’

  ‘I suppose.’ She was unsure though. Would Lynsey cope on her own if there was a medical emergency?

  ‘I’ve made pumpkin and pecan pie,’ he said. ‘It’s my speciality every fall.’

  Emer did want to go back to Susannah. Check in on her, and talk more with Lynsey. But then, she didn’t know how to say no to Henry.

  ‘Okay, for a little bit.’ She gave in. ‘I’ll just give them a call. Let them know I’ll be back later.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll get network here. Call them from mine.’

  Henry drove along the island road, pulling in by a small cove. He parked the car, but Emer couldn’t see a house anywhere, just a small motorboat moored to a little wooden quay.

  Henry opened his door and let Shadow jump out.

  ‘My house is on its own islet.’ He indicated the boat. ‘We need to take my boat there.’

  Emer immediately felt tense. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a small boat.

  ‘Maybe I should go back; it’s late.’

  ‘It’s not far, literally a few minutes by boat.’

  She didn’t know what to say, embarrassed to admit she was scared of boats.

  He helped her in, and Shadow jumped in next to her. She held on to the fur at the husky’s neck as they took off across the water. Sea sprayed her face and she tasted salt on her lips. Her stomach swelled with the motion of the water as they sped across the bay.

  It was a new moon rising, as the daylight leached from the sky.
The whole bay glittered, and the ocean glinted in the distance as they approached Henry’s tiny little island, all dark pines with a flagpole and the American flag fluttering on it. Would it be safe to return on the dark water? She guessed Henry had done it a hundred times before.

  The house was hidden behind the pines. Shadow ran on ahead, a white ghost dog in the dusk. ‘Careful, it’s a bit slippery on the wet stones,’ Henry said, taking her hand to help her along the rocky trail. They came to a clearing, within which stood a small wooden house.

  ‘It’s so quaint!’ Emer said, glad to be off the boat. And it was: it seemed like a fairy-tale house in the woods. But as she looked at it in the fading light, she couldn’t help thinking of Hansel and Gretel. She shook herself. Henry was hardly a witch.

  ‘Built it myself,’ Henry told her proudly as they climbed the steps to the porch. ‘My father started it, but he died with it unfinished. So I took over.’

  Inside, the house was filled with beautiful things. Emer was quite taken aback. She had been expecting a cluttered, rather messy bachelor’s pad like Lars’ apartment in Boston. But Henry had clearly spent a lot of time and effort creating a little haven. The walls were covered with art. Not just traditional landscapes of the sea and boats, but more contemporary pieces. He pointed out a couple of his own sculptures. They were all soft contours and smooth edges, naked bodies entwined or creatures of the island. A fox, and an otter. He’d used island granite for most of them. She liked them.

  The main room had a large glass porch, facing out onto the pine woods and the sea. Henry turned on the lamps and the room was filled with a warm glow, outside immediately dark. She walked around, looking at the art, and then her heart stopped.

  ‘Oh my god!’

  ‘What is it?’ Henry asked, all concern as she turned to him, her eyes wide with incredulity.

  ‘That’s one of Orla’s paintings.’

  She pointed with shaking finger at a small mixed media piece. She remembered Orla making it, just before one of her last exhibitions. It was of the woods back home in Ireland. Giant moths fluttering around the light emanating from a broad oak tree. Orla had called it The Light House.

  ‘You’re kidding?’ Henry said. ‘I bought that last year. Went to the exhibition with friends in Boston.’

  ‘How insane! I can’t believe the coincidence,’ Emer said, staring at the painting. Had Orla just sent her a sign?

  Henry poured them each a large glass of red wine, before popping his pie in the oven.

  ‘Won’t take long to warm up,’ he told her, putting out a selection of nuts and tortilla chips on the coffee table.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ Emer asked Henry as she sipped her wine. It tasted of blackberries and dark cherry, and she felt herself relax even with the first mouthful.

  ‘In this house, five years,’ he said, sitting next to her on the couch. ‘Before that, on the island, in my family home all my life. I mean, I left to study art in New York, worked in restaurants making my way up the ladder too, but I always knew I was coming back.’

  ‘Do you not find it lonely?’

  ‘A bit, lately,’ Henry said. ‘But my girlfriend, Mandy, lived here with me until six months ago. We broke up.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Emer said, embarrassed she’d put her foot in it.

  ‘Yeah, that was pretty bad,’ he said. ‘She cheated on me and ran off to another man on the mainland.’ He took a big gulp of wine. ‘But I’m over it now.’

  The last thing Emer wanted was to get into a therapy session about a bitchy ex-girlfriend. It had happened to her too many times before. She changed the subject. ‘I still can’t believe you have one of my sister’s paintings on your wall!’

  ‘I know, it feels like more than a coincidence, don’t you think?’ he asked her, putting a hand on her knee.

  ‘I guess,’ she said, wondering whether to shift her knee. Not sure if she wanted him to touch her or not.

  Maybe he sensed her wariness, because he got up. The aroma of pumpkin pie had filled the room, sweet and spicy. Emer’s stomach groaned. She was very hungry.

  ‘That pie should be ready. Don’t worry, it’s all vegan,’ he said. ‘Made sure of that. I’ve got oat cream too. Want some of that with it?’

  Had he planned all along to bring her home for pie? She suppressed the idea: it made him seem a little presumptuous. He was being sweet, that’s what it was. To think ahead like that, just in case.

  The pie was amazing, melting in her mouth. She ate two slices, along with another glass of red wine. She hadn’t enjoyed food in so long, not even all those vegan snacks she’d bought in the store when she first arrived. Since Orla had died, she’d been eating to live, not for any kind of enjoyment. It had felt wrong to have any kind of pleasure. It dawned on her. That was why she and Lars were doomed: because she couldn’t allow herself the intense pleasure that came from being with him. Even though just thinking about him made her feel such longing for his touch.

  ‘So, are you single?’ Henry suddenly asked her.

  ‘Yes,’ Emer said, despite her instincts screaming, No, no, you love Lars!

  ‘Your friend who visited,’ Henry persisted. ‘Isn’t he your boyfriend?’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘We had a thing,’ she said, ‘but it’s over now.’

  Henry nodded, pouring her another glass of wine. ‘Well, that sure makes me glad,’ he said, giving her a wide smile.

  She was beginning to feel a little fuzzy from all the wine and pie.

  ‘Shouldn’t I be getting back?’ she said, looking at her phone. ‘It’s getting late.’

  ‘Don’t think I should take the boat now,’ Henry said. ‘I’ve drunk too much. Wouldn’t be safe. Lynsey’s staying over with Susannah, right?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Emer said, feeling a little ambushed. With a jolt, she realised she hadn’t even telephoned to say she would be late. She’d been so distracted by the house, by Orla’s painting. ‘I’ll give her a call. Let her know.’

  ‘Sure,’ Henry said. ‘But maybe don’t tell her you’re here. You know we have history, right? She could get weird.’

  ‘Okay,’ Emer said, feeling a little uneasy.

  ‘Say, why don’t you tell her you took the ferry to Rockland for the night, and you’ll be back in the morning.’

  Emer didn’t like lying, but Henry was right. She didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Lynsey. Whatever might happen in the future, she needed her job right now. Henry showed her to the phone, and she made the call. Lynsey told her everything was fine. Susannah had gone to bed, and she’d see Emer the next day bright and early. She needed to get back to Salem for Halloween.

  Back in the main room, Henry was opening another of bottle of wine.

  ‘All okay?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, collapsing on the couch. ‘She’s cool.’

  ‘Let’s put on some music,’ he said, handing her a glass of wine. ‘One of the good things about living on your own island is you don’t have to worry about the neighbours.’

  After complaining that his ex, Mandy, had stolen some of his best vinyl, Henry put on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison. It was music that Emer and Orla had used to listen to non-stop as teenagers. Another coincidence.

  ‘Hey,’ said Henry, as he settled back down on the couch next to her. ‘Fancy some grass?’

  It had been years since Emer had smoked any grass, but a part of her craved to let go of everything.

  ‘Why not,’ she replied.

  They talked for hours. She told him all about her childhood in midlands Ireland, and what happened to her mam. Henry told her about his childhood on the island. His father had been a lobster fisherman, and an alcoholic.

  ‘I swore I’d never fish,’ Henry said. ‘It’s tempting, mind you. Buddies of mine make a ton of cash. But I saw what it did to my dad. If he wasn’t fishing, he was in The Sand Bar getting drunk. It’s no life.’

  Henry explained that all of his siblings had long since left
the island, and both his parents were dead. ‘I’m the only one left,’ he said.

  ‘Will you stay?’ she asked him.

  ‘If I find the right girl,’ he said, giving her a look so meaningful that she blushed. ‘I love running the restaurant in the summer – and don’t you think this would be a perfect place for kids? Their own island to roam, safe but free.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Emer enthused, feeling heady from the joint. She could almost see all the little children running through the pine woods. Could hear the laughter. ‘Your island would come alive.’

  She wasn’t sure how they came to be kissing on his bed. Her head was spinning with wine, and she was stoned, too. There was a distant voice in the back of her head telling her not to. She was still in love with Lars. He had her heart. She shouldn’t be with any other man. But a kind of wildness had possessed her. Besides, she’d led Henry on. He was all over her, and she could sense his need for her. It was good to feel needed.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered as he kissed her breasts; his lips pressed softly against her skin, all the way down her body.

  If she had sex with someone else, it would really be over with Lars. She’d have to let him go.

  She put her hands on Henry’s shoulders, and he raised his head, snaked back up her body.

  ‘Condom,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he assured her. ‘I won’t get you pregnant.’

  Again, a distant warning in her head. He’d just been talking about having kids… but he was already stroking her, making her soften, and ache with desire. Her whole being was present in this moment. She wanted him in her.

  32

  Susannah

  November 1961

  Dearest Katie… Dear Kate… Several times, Susannah sat down to write her sister a letter, but she could get no further than her name. For the first time in her life, words failed her. She decided to wait to hear from Kate, so at least she would have something to respond to. But the mailbox remained empty week after week.