Ember Island

by Kimberley Freeman

  I felt a smile curl the corner of my lip. “Maybe you’re right.”

  •

  I called the journalist myself. I wasn’t going to hide behind Marla anymore. Down at the pay phone, with Stacy hovering in the background patting a dog tied up outside the coffee shop. The warm sea breeze and the smell of seaweed that had become familiar to me. Like home.

  “Elizabeth Parrish speaking,” she said.

  “Hello, Elizabeth. It’s Nina Jones. Sorry I’ve been a bit hard to catch. I’m on an island with no Internet and very poor phone reception.”

  I could hear her roughly and quickly gathering papers. “Nina. Thanks for calling me. Do you mind if I record our—”

  “There will be nothing to record.” I launched into the little speech that Stacy had drilled into me. “I’ll be sending you a photocopy of a partial manuscript my great-grandmother wrote about the Widow Wayland. As you will see, it bears no resemblance to any of my books and she never finished it. I took the title character from her and that was all. If you want to write an article about how difficult it was for women to be published in the early twentieth century, I think that would be a fine thing for a journalist like you to do. Aside from that, I have nothing else to say to you.”

  “Wait, I just want to ask—”

  But I hung up the phone, my heart thudding. I bent over and grasped my knees. Stacy was behind me, rubbing my back. “Well, that’s done.”

  “Then why do I feel so unhappy?” I said, straightening up and pushing my hair out of my eyes.

  “I expect it’s because you still have to write the book,” she said.

  But it wasn’t that. I had an extension of my deadline and, now I wasn’t holding out for another of Eleanor’s manuscripts to rewrite, I believed I might stop second-guessing myself and finally get on with it.

  I was unhappy because I was in love with Joe.

  •

  Stacy walked me down there that evening, to Joe’s shed. I could see muted lights on at his parents’ house, behind pale blue curtains. But Joe’s place appeared to be all in darkness.

  “I don’t think he’s home,” I said, hesitating on the road.

  “I can see a flicker of light. Maybe he’s watching television,” she said. She poked me in the ribs. “Go on.”

  “This is a bad idea. He’s going to hate me.”

  “If he hates you, then he wasn’t worth having, dear.” She dragged me to the door and knocked on it hard.

  “Stacy!” I hissed.

  But then Joe opened the door. I could see Julian on the floor with his PlayStation controller, with another controller lying beside him. The sound of explosions came from the television.

  “Hi,” Joe said curiously.

  “I’ve come at a bad time. You’re busy.”

  Joe glanced over his shoulder to Julian, who was completely absorbed in the video game, then back at me. “I’m playing a video game. I’m not busy.”

  Something blew up and Julian rolled over groaning. “Dad, come back. We are getting owned by these aliens.”

  Stacy stepped in. “Will you show me how to play, Julian?” she asked, and even the eight-year-old boy was captivated by her eyelashes.

  He sat up and offered her a controller and started showing her the buttons.

  “Come for a walk?” I said to Joe.

  He turned to Julian. “I’m off for a little while, mate. You okay with Stacy?”

  “Sure.”

  “If he gets worried, my mum and dad are next door,” Joe said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Julian said, getting comfortably cross-legged and mashing the keys on his controller. “I bet Stacy is a better space marine than you.”

  Joe turned back to me. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Down to Seven Yard Beach,” I said. “I need to tell you something.”

  The last blush of dusk was in the east, over the lights of the mainland. The sea breeze cooled off the land, and palm fronds rattled all along the road. We walked down to the beach in silence, then sat on the sand side by side but not too close. I wrapped my arms around my knees and looked out at the waves, breaking softly on the shore.

  “What do you need to tell me?” he said at last. “I don’t mean to hurry you, but I have an inkling Stacy’s not going to be such a great space marine after all.”

  I turned to him, the wind tangling my hair. His eyes were almost black in the evening dark. “I have lied to everybody.”

  He frowned. “About what?”

  So I told him everything, the raw truth without tidying it or polishing it, as quickly and as simply as I could.

  When I finished he said, “And that’s it?”

  “That’s a lot,” I said. “I’ve presented myself to you as some creative genius with a big international career.”

  “No you haven’t,” he said. “We’ve barely talked about your career. And since we met you’ve told me repeatedly how you are anything but a creative genius. Nina, I don’t care about what you do, how many books or babies you can or can’t produce. I care about who you are.”

  I was momentarily speechless.

  “I love you, Nina. The woman sitting here in front of me. The woman with the golden-brown hair and the silky skin and the gentle hands. The woman you are, Nina. The real you.”

  “Wow,” I said at last. “I was sure you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “Then you don’t know me very well,” he said, pulling me against him. “And I’m looking forward to you getting to know me better. A lot better.”

  I turned my face up to kiss him and dissolved against him, warm with happiness. Tomorrow I would sort out the book. Tonight was about the summer breeze, the fresh smell of the sea, and the giddy thrill of new love.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Finding Tilly

  1893

  Sterling stood outside the little schoolhouse, the sun in his hair and a swell of apprehension under his ribs. He told himself he didn’t have to walk up the front path, he didn’t have to knock. But it had taken him many weeks to track her down; he couldn’t possibly walk away now.

  This little house, which had once been a bed-and-breakfast, had been converted into a school for local children in a bequest when its owner had died. Mr. Richard Hamblyn had been a friend of Tilly’s and had charged her with setting up and running the school.

  Sterling knew all this because the man he had paid to find Tilly had told him. He still remembered the prickle of surprise and delight at knowing that, all along, she had been just across the water.

  He straightened his collar, took off his tall hat, and made his way up the path. If Nell knew what he was doing . . . ah, well, she would find out soon enough if things went as he hoped they would. Hardly a day passed when his little girl didn’t talk of Tilly. Little girl? No, she was a young woman now. He often wondered if Nell spoke about Tilly so often because she somehow knew Sterling loved her.

  He loved her. He had never stopped loving her. The business with the escaped prisoner was fading from the institution’s memory. Hettie Maythorpe had never been found and eventually they had stopped looking. And with a change of chief warder and visiting surgeon, the gossip about Tilly’s role in the escape had long stopped spreading.

  And still he loved her. Every morning he woke up expecting himself to be cured of it. Instead, he woke up with the same cold pebble in his heart, the same bruising ache.

  Thus, the only practical course of action became finding Tilly. Sterling had expected it to take much longer.

  He rang the bell and waited, his pulse hard in his throat. The door opened and a matronly woman with gray hair stood there.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “I am here to call on Miss . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence. What did she call herself now? Miss Lejeune? Miss Kirkland? Mrs. Dellafore? “Tilly,” he managed. “Is she in?”

  “Miss Kirkland is taking a class,” the woman said. “But she will be finished in a few minutes if you’d like to
wait here on the verandah.”

  Sterling hesitated. He could go. He could run away from this and never have to face the possibility of her rejection. It had been nearly a year since she left. Was there any chance at all she still loved him? He had treated her so ill. He burned with shame for it. He didn’t deserve her love . . .

  “Sir?”

  Sterling shook himself. The woman had asked him a question. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Would you like tea?” she repeated.

  “No. Thank you,” he said. “I will wait here for her.”

  “Your name?”

  “Sterling Holt.”

  “Very good, sir. She’ll be along shortly. Please take a seat.” The woman went back inside and closed the door behind her.

  Sterling didn’t want to sit; couldn’t sit. He needed to keep moving so he descended the stairs into the front garden. The neat garden beds had him wondering if Tilly had planted and tended them. On reflection, he could trace the moment he’d started falling in love with her to her asking for a chance to work in the garden. A woman as pretty and accomplished as Tilly would ordinarily recoil from soiling her hands. But there had always been something charmingly natural about her.

  The sun filtered through the leaves and made patterns on the grass as the wind moved in the treetops. He paced the garden, certain that hours had passed when his pocket watch told him it had only been minutes.

  Then the sound of the door bursting open. He looked up and she stood there. Her red hair catching the sunlight, her pale eyes frantic, her mouth a little O of surprise.

  He told himself to be courageous.

  “Tilly?” he said, and all of his fears and hopes were compressed into the question he had made of her name.

  “Sterling!” she gasped, and ran down the stairs to his waiting arms.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As I wrote this book in something of a white heat, I can only assume that I will forget to thank somebody. But never before have I been more aware of the fact that writing a book requires the support of so many people.

  My Sisters, who are the best writing group in the world. My agent, Selwa Anthony, who represents both business acumen and love. My dear friend, Mary-Rose, who helps me see the world clearly. My incredible, tireless, intelligent, priceless research assistant, Heather Gammage, without whom this book would be full of holes and errors. (If there are errors, they aren’t her fault. Sometimes I gleefully ignored her good advice for the sake of a good story.) Julie and Karen Hinchliffe: thank you for sharing early memories of sugarcane fields. Thanks too for those who responded on social media with your burning cane memories: the black snow is down to you. I want to acknowledge those who gave invaluable editorial input: Vanessa Radnidge, Jody Lee, Kate Ballard, Heather Lazare, and Paula Ellery. I continue to benefit greatly from the resources and generosity of the University of Queensland, its libraries, staff, and students, but especially my colleagues in the School of English, Media Studies, and Art History.

  This book was researched and written in part on St. Helena Island and Moreton Island, the islands on which Ember Island is based. They are both wonderful places, for different reasons, and Moreton Bay is a fabulous location for a holiday if you feel so inclined.

  My personal life is held together by seven lovely mammals who share my space: Ollie, Luka, Astrid, Petra, Nyxi, Wiglaf, and Sigrun. As always, I want to thank my mother, who still lets me lay my head in her lap so she can stroke my hair. The longer I’m alive, the more I love you, Mum.

  TOUCHSTONE READING GROUP GUIDE

  Ember Island

  Ember Island tells the mesmerizing story of two women, separated by a century, who discover long-buried secrets in an Australian manor house.

  In 1876, Tilly, a recently married young Englishwoman, is reeling with shock and guilt after her tempestuous marriage ends in horrific circumstances on the remote Channel Islands. Determined to get as far from England as she can, she takes on a new identity and gets a job on Ember Island in Moreton Bay, Australia, where she becomes the governess to a prison superintendent’s young daughter, Nell. As Tilly fights her attraction to the superintendent, Sterling Holt, she befriends one of the few female inmates, and a dangerous relationship develops. Meanwhile, her precocious charge, Nell, is watching her every move and writing it all down, hiding tiny journals all over Starwater, her rambling manor home.

  More than a hundred years later, bestselling novelist Nina Jones is struggling with writer’s block and a disappointing personal life. Her poet boyfriend has recently broken up with her, and a reporter is digging into the past of Nina’s great-grandmother, Nell, making Nina realize that there are some secrets she may no longer be able to hide. Retreating to Starwater, she discovers Nell’s diary pages hidden in the old walls and becomes determined to solve the mystery. Though Tilly and Nina are separated by more than a century, Starwater House will change both their lives.

  Deeply affecting and beautifully written, Ember Island is a sweeping novel of secrets, second chances, and learning to trust your heart.

  TOPICS AND QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  1. Nina tells Joe that her great-grandmother, Nell Holt, was “legendary in our family. . . . She was a wild nonconformist. . . . She was fierce.” What were your initial impressions of Nell? Do you think her reputation as “fierce” is justly deserved? Why or why not? What, if any, examples of Nell’s fierceness did you observe?

  2. Nina’s friend Stacy says, “The nineteenth century wasn’t a great time to be a woman.” Do you think she’s right? How does Tilly’s experience bear out this statement? Since Tilly will not inherit her grandfather’s property after his death, what options are available to her?

  3. Why is Starwater House so important to Tilly, Nell, and Nina? Nina gives several explanations for her decision to stay at Starwater House longer than she initially planned. Do you think her explanations differ from why she’s actually staying?

  4. Laura, an acquaintance of Tilly’s, tells Tilly, “Expectations are the enemy of happiness.” What does she mean by this statement, and how does it apply to Tilly’s current situation? Do you think Nina’s expectations have gotten in the way of her happiness, particularly with Joe? How?

  5. At Tilly’s wedding, before her husband “registered that she was regarding him, she saw something that made her stomach prickle with doubt.” How does this foreshadow their life? What were your initial impressions of Jasper? Did your feelings about him change? If so, how? Why did Tilly marry Jasper originally? Why do you think she stays after his true character is revealed?

  6. Tilly’s grandfather leaves her a box of banknotes along with a short message that reads, “This is for you and nobody else. A woman should have at least something in the world.” In what ways does Tilly’s grandfather try to protect her? Do you think that Tilly is right to keep the banknotes after she gives Jasper her other possessions? Why or why not?

  7. Nina says “one thing I hated more than anything was being asked to speak about my historical research.” Why does Nina hate speaking about her writing process? Were you surprised to learn where many of Nina’s ideas came from? How does Stacy react to Nina’s disclosure? Do you agree with Stacy’s viewpoint?

  8. After the accident at Lumière sur la Mer, Tilly feels immense guilt because “[t]he punishment was immeasurably out of equivalence with the crime.” Do you agree? What were Jasper and Chantelle’s crimes? Discuss Laura’s final letter to Chantelle on pages 396-99. Do you think that Chantelle was as guilty as Jasper in the crime against Tilly? If so, explain why.

  9. Nell’s diary is interwoven through the narrative, connecting the past and the present. Discuss the ways it helps give insight into the events at Starwater House during both Tilly’s and Nina’s time. Did reading Nell’s diary help you see her differently? Compare how Nell presents herself in her diary to the way other characters perceive her.

  10. When Joe’s father asks Nina if she is in a relationship, she lies, rationalizing her decision to do so b
y saying, “Joe had to know I was unavailable and it wasn’t as though I could easily tell him why. I wouldn’t be on the island for long; it didn’t matter if I lied.” Why does Nina assume a relationship with Joe wouldn’t work out? Do you agree with her assumption and her decision to lie? How does Stacy react to her decision?

  11. Fire is an important conceit throughout Ember Island and, although the thought of fire “made [Tilly’s] stomach turn to ice”, she is deeply connected to it. How does the author help establish this connection in her descriptions of Tilly? There are two significant fires in the book. Describe the effect that each has on Tilly’s life and the lives of those around her. How did Ember Island get its name? Discuss the ways in which the name of the island alludes to both the events that occur on it and Tilly’s life in Guernsey.

  12. Discuss Tilly’s relationship with Hettie. In what ways are the two women alike? When Tilly decides to help Hettie, she believes that “[s]he could erase her actions of the past with her actions of the present.” Why does Tilly think that helping Hettie will absolve her of her guilt over what happened with Jasper? Do you agree with her logic? Were you surprised when Tilly decided to help Hettie? Why?

  13. In Ember Island, islands are described as “places in between; places neither here nor there, but rather places on the way somewhere.” How does this statement apply to both Tilly and Nina? How does each woman end up at Ember Island? Do you think it’s a temporary stop for them? Explain your reasoning.

  14. After speaking with Sterling about Mr. Burton’s accusations, Tilly mutters, “The truth fixes nothing. . . . The truth is a great burden.” Do you agree with Tilly, or do you think Sterling is correct that “the truth fixes everything”? Does being truthful hurt or hinder Tilly and Nina? After each woman decides to be truthful, what are the results?