The Island

by Mary Grand

  ‘I didn’t want to scare you and you never know, do you.’

  Juliet sipped her tea. ‘But, Mum, I don’t understand what happened, why Dad even had this accident. I knew he had a problem with drink before you were married, but he’s not drank for years; I’ve never even seen him drink alcohol…’

  Her mother carefully put down her tea. As she did, Juliet could see her hands shaking. ‘There have been a few times; binge sessions up on the Downs. Like when he lost his dad. He was devastated, found it hard to cope. He’d walk up to the Downs then and drink, come back, hours later, but, as I say, it was only a few times.’

  Juliet was shocked. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘I’m glad. It’s my job to protect you.’

  Juliet’s mind started to drift back to her conversation with her father at the hospital. ‘I suppose it can be hard for a parent to know what they should tell their child and what they should keep to themselves.’

  Her mother sat back. ‘Is there something on your mind?’

  Juliet paused. Surely now wasn’t the time, but then her mother added, ‘You can tell me anything. Is it something Dad said?’

  ‘He said some very odd things, Mum, and I don’t think it was just the side effects of the medication.’

  Her mother blinked quickly. ‘I see, and what did he say?’

  ‘He said there were things he’d wanted to tell Rosalind, but he’d realised he couldn’t. He talked about wanting to put things right. It was like there was some secret he’d been keeping all these years. Mum, do you know what that was?’

  She watched her mother, waiting to see how she would react. But, as usual, her mother’s face remained impassive as she spoke.

  ‘Listen to me carefully. Dad was rambling. You need to forget all this, don’t worry your sisters about it. Promise me.’

  Juliet gave a cursory smile and her mother patted her hand.

  ‘Good. Now, we won’t talk about it any more.’ Her mother habitually closed down conversations and sometimes Juliet would fight it, but today was not the time to do that.

  ‘Okay, Mum.’ She glanced over at the birthday cards on the dresser and smiled. ‘I see my card to Dad came. I know the day ended in a nightmare, but did Dad enjoy any of his birthday?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Her mother sniffed, shook her head and then said, ‘Dad went to work as normal at the garage. You know how he is, even with retirement coming up, still working long hours. He was late back. He rushed home and then, in the evening, we had a meal.’

  ‘And he was happy then?’

  ‘He was a bit stressed. We had a few words.’

  ‘A row?’

  ‘Oh, nothing like that. It was lovely to be together. Rosalind stayed in for once. She goes out so much now, usually in Cowes or over to Southampton for the evening with the girls from the beauticians. Cassie came down from London Sunday evening. She’s got the week off from orchestra. They’ll have to extend that now, won’t they? Mira came on her own. Rhys had some church meeting. Having three churches means three times the meetings. Of course, we didn’t have you, but we did have someone to cook for us.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s fancy.’

  ‘We didn’t pay caterers. No, it was Rhys’s sister, Anwen. You know, she moved over here after Rhys and Mira’s wedding. She’s a chef, very good. She did beef wellington, your dad’s favourite. He seemed to enjoy it, but then after the meal he said he was going out.’ Her mother covered her eyes. ‘If only I’d stopped him.’ Her mother unpeeled her hands from her eyes, clasped them together on the table. ‘They found his flask in the car; it contained more vodka than hot chocolate.’ She rubbed the thumbs of her clasped hands together. ‘I can’t believe he won’t be here for Rosalind’s twenty-first birthday and he’d worked so hard on her musical box. It’s beautiful.’

  Juliet interjected, ‘Oh, the musical box. Dad said he didn’t want her to have it—’

  Her mother’s face creased in confusion. ‘I can’t see why not.’

  ‘I don’t understand it either, he didn’t explain why. Maybe he didn’t think it was finished?’

  ‘No, he was happy with it. What an odd thing to say. I still think she should have it.’

  Juliet blinked. ‘I don’t know. He was adamant.’

  ‘You girls all treasure yours so much, don’t you? He might have been confused.’ Juliet saw the desperation in her mother’s eyes and then her mother started to cry. ‘It’s the last thing he will have done for her.’

  Juliet put her arms around her mother, felt the shuddering tears. ‘Let’s not worry about it now.’

  Her mother nodded. ‘I can’t think straight about anything. I don’t know what’s important and what’s not any more. I feel so lost without him.’

  ‘We’ll look after each other.’

  Her mum pulled away.

  ‘How have the others been this week?’ Juliet asked.

  ‘Cassie’s not one to fuss, is she, but she’s been very supportive; she’s not moved from my side. Mira is a natural in hospitals, but, of course, her and Rhys are busy, so she’s been in and out.’

  ‘And Rosalind?’

  Her mother smiled. ‘She’s a butterfly, on her phone, talking about the drama to all her friends. But her grief is real. She’s younger than you all in her ways as well as her age, isn’t, she?’ Her mother sipped her tea.

  ‘Dad talked about her, about them all. He asked me to look after them.’ Juliet paused and then said, ‘He was worried about the things he’d told Rhys, was anxious he didn’t tell anyone. Do you know what they spoke about?’

  ‘I am not too sure, but I’ll have a word with Rhys. He’ll keep it to himself.’

  Juliet saw her mother stroke the handle on her cup. Her fingertips were shaking, and she felt, as she had with her father, the need to comfort and reassure her mother.

  ‘Okay, fair enough. So, something a bit more exciting. In her last email Mira told me she had a surprise to show me. Do you know what it is?’

  Her mother nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. I do, but I mustn’t spoil it.’

  At that moment, Juliet heard a car pull up at the side of the house.

  ‘That must be Rosalind and Cassie,’ said her mother.

  Juliet heard the car door bang and then Rosalind and Cassie walked past the kitchen window. Her mother opened the patio door to let them in.

  Cassie was pale but held herself very upright. And Juliet was struck again by her similarity to their mother, both so reserved, tightly bound.

  Rosalind rushed past her and flew to her mother.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair.’ She started to cry again.

  Her mother cuddled and soothed Rosalind. ‘I know, darling.’

  Cassie stood to one side, her clothing monochrome as always, the only flash of colour the red gemstone on her finger. Juliet wondered if she should go and hug her, but everything in Cassie’s stance shouted to keep away.

  ‘We’re not going to leave him there, are we? Dad hated hospitals,’ said Rosalind.

  ‘It’s all right. I shall arrange for him to be taken by the funeral directors. He will stay there until the funeral.’

  Juliet watched Rosalind. Maybe she was the normal one. The rest of them were keeping everything inside, but not Rosalind.

  Juliet’s mother closed her eyes; she was clinging onto Rosalind as much as Rosalind clung to her.

  It was then Juliet heard barking outside.

  She could see Rhys and Mira through the kitchen window, but it was not until they came into the kitchen that she saw the dog.

  ‘My God! Who is this?’ signed Juliet, kneeling down and stroking the dog’s head.

  ‘This is Lola. We called in at the vicarage to pick her up. Poor thing, she has been left for three hours. We never leave her that long—’

  ‘She’s so sweet.’

  ‘She’s from an organisation called Hearing Dogs for Deaf People, for me she is mainly a companion. She’s wonderful. Dad loved her.’


  ‘I love the little red tabard. She’s a cocker spaniel, isn’t she?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘White and black, and look, it’s like a little moustache, she’s a sweetie.’

  ‘I think she may be my best friend, very easy to chat to.’

  ‘What do the people from church make of her?’

  ‘They love her. It’s the same with the people in the care homes; they want to see her more than me. To be honest, I think most people do these days. It’s got people talking about me being Deaf as well. Some of them are learning to sign. We have a screen now on Sundays. You wouldn’t believe what a big step that was for some of them. Oh, and we have a loop system in each of the churches. So, it has gone well, hasn’t it?’ She looked up at Rhys.

  Rhys looked down on her, blinked, his mouth half open, but he didn’t speak. It had always seemed odd to Juliet that her sister had ended up marrying a vicar. Mira had hardly been to church since she was a child. However, she had always been passionate about looking after other people and had obviously found Rhys had the same caring side when they met. The vacancy for a vicar in the village had come about when Rhys left theological college and he’d come first as a curate and then stayed on as vicar to a group of local churches.

  Juliet watched Lola stroll over to the corner of the kitchen, where, for the first time, she noticed a small dog basket and bowl.

  ‘She’s been made at home here,’ said Juliet.

  ‘It seemed a good idea. Mira can drop her off then whenever she wants,’ said her mother.

  ‘You sound like an indulgent grandmother,’ laughed Juliet.

  ‘It’s the nearest I’ve got to grandchildren. She’s such a wonderful companion. I lost the battle for Mira to be allowed a dog at university, but I’m so glad she has Lola now.’

  Mira went over to her mother, gave her a hug, acknowledging the years her mother had fought for her; from her diagnosis, her right to sign as a child, to have support at school, a note-taker at university. Her mother was always there.

  ‘What will happen to Dad’s things in the hospital?’ Rosalind asked unexpectedly.

  ‘I will have to go there to collect the certificate and Dad’s things tomorrow.’

  ‘When can we hold the funeral?’ asked Juliet.

  ‘The doctor said it will depend on what the coroner says. Of course, there will be an inquest, but that could take some time.’

  ‘There will be a post-mortem?’

  ‘I think so, but the police don’t feel there’s a lot to investigate. The doctor apparently signed the death certificate. I’ll see what he wrote tomorrow. We might not even have to go to the inquest. I don’t think we will have to wait long for a funeral.’

  Juliet walked to the window. ‘I hate to think of him up on the Downs on his own.’ She turned. ‘They are sure he was alone, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t think he even got out of the car,’ said her mother. ‘There were people parked there in a campervan. They saw Dad’s car arrive, and then drive off. Obviously, they weren’t watching him the whole time, but they said they only saw one person in the car.’

  ‘They should have gone and seen he was all right.’

  ‘But why would they? A man sitting in the car drinking from a thermos?’

  Juliet tried to shake the picture of her father alone in the car. ‘I wonder where he got the vodka. We never have anything other than the odd bottle of wine here.’

  Her mother fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘He went into the supermarket at Freshwater before going up to the Downs. The receipt was in the car.’

  ‘Juliet,’ said Cassie, her voice sharp, ‘Mum doesn’t need you picking over that evening. He had his birthday meal, and we were all together and that is a good memory—’

  Juliet glanced over at Rhys, but he stood very still, unspeaking.

  ‘But Dad was upset, something had happened that day—’

  And then she saw it, a look between her mother and Cassie, an invisible thread of understanding. She’d seen that look a thousand times before, but, and maybe it was the effect of being away, for the first time she wondered exactly what it was about.

  ‘Leave it,’ said Cassie, and this time there was something close to panic in her voice. ‘It’s hard enough losing Dad. Don’t make it worse.’

  Juliet flinched at Cassie’s words but, glancing around, saw no one was going to defend her.

  Instead, her mother said, ‘Cassie is right. There’s nothing more to be done,’ and she firmly slammed the book closed on the conversation.

  Cassie walked over to her mother. ‘We’re going to organise a beautiful funeral for Dad.’

  Juliet stood on her own, watching them: Mira stroking Lola, Rosalind cuddled by their mother, Cassie standing to her other side, stern, unsmiling, her arm around protectively her.

  She noticed Rhys had quietly left the kitchen and was outside sitting alone in the garden, so she went out to see him.

  He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing them hard with the edge of his sleeve. Juliet sat next to him.

  ‘What did Dad talk to you about in the hospital?’

  He looked at her sideways. ‘He talked about a lot of things.’

  ‘I found some of the things he said to me rather disturbing.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Your father had a lot on his mind.’

  Juliet felt they were playing a kind of verbal chess. ‘I am sure he told you a lot more than he told me. With me it was hints and warnings. I think he was talking about some family secret. I just asked Mum about it, but she said to leave things alone, you know what Mum is like.’

  ‘I do,’ he said, giving a half smile.

  ‘So, does she know everything Dad told you?’

  He looked away. ‘I don’t think so. Not everything.’

  Juliet touched his arm. ‘Look, I know Dad wanted you to keep it to yourself, but I am curious to know what he said. I’m not just being nosy; it sounds really important.’

  Rhys nodded. ‘It is, and your father has left me in a real dilemma. I am very conflicted. I promised not to tell anyone what he told me, and usually I would feel that was right, but this is different—’

  Juliet grasped his arm. ‘Did Dad say anything to you about someone killing someone?’

  His eyes widened; he took a breath and looked away. ‘I can’t talk to you about this, not now.’

  ‘So, he did?’ she pressed.

  ‘Juliet, I can’t say anything, certainly not yet. I have to take time to think and pray about this. Firstly, I made a solemn promise to your father and I have never knowingly broken my word. And, secondly, I have no idea what the implications of exposing things will be. I have to do the right thing.’

  Juliet felt a wave of fear. She wanted Rhys to reassure her, to make the things her father had said feel less important, and yet he was making her more afraid.

  He turned to her, patted her knee. ‘I’m sorry. I should be offering words of comfort to you now, not be taken up with my own problems. You have just lost your father and I know how close you both were. You must take time to grieve, leave all this other stuff to one side.’ He looked at his watch, stood up. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go and see a couple for a wedding preparation session. Life goes on, doesn’t it? I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

  He walked quickly out of the garden. Rhys clearly knew things she didn’t, and she was torn between wanting to know what they were and the fear of what they might be.

  3

  Juliet went inside and, to avoid the others, she headed for the hallway, picked up the suitcase she’d left in the hallway and took it to her bedroom, the room she used to share with Mira.

  Mira had never found it easy to sleep. Once she took her hearing aids off at night, she didn’t have the comfort of the sounds of family around the house, the grandfather clock, her mother in the kitchen. As far as Mira was concerned, the lights went out, it was silent and she was alone, so she would cry, get out of bed and wander, looking f
or company.

  It was their father who suggested Mira share a room with Juliet, and it had been during those years that a very special bond had formed between them. Like twins, they instinctively developed their own dictionary of simple signs, their own language, even before Mira and the family had learned British Sign Language.

  Juliet looked around the room at the two single beds, the nightlight that had cast a cosy glow over the room still plugged in. Of course, it had been many years since they had used it, but she had never wanted to remove it.

  Juliet went to look out of her window. In front of her lay the expanse of the front garden and her father’s workshop was tucked away to the right and Mira was sat alone on the bench next to it.

  Juliet turned her attention back to her room. Next to her bed was the musical box her father had made her for her twenty-first birthday. The wood was beautifully carved, and on the side were slots for photos: pictures of her as a baby, a child, a teenager, and an adult. Her father bought the musical movements from Germany, a special tune for each of his daughters. Juliet wound the delicate key on the base and lifted the lid. ‘You Are My Sunshine’ played and the music tore her in two. She hugged the box, sat on her bed, and sobbed. For a brief moment, that final conversation was forgotten, and she was consumed with that indescribable pain of loss.

  Exhausted, Juliet wiped her eyes and thought it was time to return downstairs and help out; there would be people calling, a lot of phone calls to make.

  However, when she walked into the kitchen, she found her mother sat quietly, cuddling Rosalind who was scrolling through her phone.

  Cassie sat holding their mother’s mobile to her ear with one hand and with the other, a pen, which she held over a piece of paper.

  ‘Hi, I’m ringing around the family for my mum,’ Cassie was saying, speaking in a quiet but efficient way. ‘I am so sorry to have to tell you my father died today.’ She added a few more polite sentences and rang off, then wrote down the name on the paper and gave it a tick. ‘Shirley next?’ she asked, and her mother nodded. Cassie picked up the phone again, pressed the number.