As always, he was impeccable in a dark suit, carrying his briefcase. She felt a pang of sorrow and pity when his face lit up at the sight of her. His expression changed to one of concern and, she saw, fear.
He walked slowly towards her.
‘Ash, I’m sorry,’ she started.
He shook his head and put an arm around her, awkwardly holding onto his briefcase.
‘I’ve been hoping that you wouldn’t decide this,’ he said quietly before drawing away.
‘I wasn’t thinking about it before this morning,’ she said.
‘You were. You just haven’t realised it. I was hoping that you would choose me, not him. Not Will.’
She was about to defend herself but she clamped her teeth together. He was right. She was choosing to love her dead husband over him. Maybe that would change with someone else in the future but, for now, he was right. She couldn’t love him, be with him, when she was still in love with her troublesome husband.
Something had shaken her awake last night. It hadn’t been a supernatural presence. It had been her own self, trying to shake sense into her. She still needed time to think things through, but she had blundered onto the truth through whatever dream she had been having.
‘I’m sorry, Ash,’ she said.
‘It’s OK. Well, it’s not, but I understand. Maybe we’ll meet again when you’re ready.’
There was the tiniest hint of a question in his tone but she couldn’t leave him dangling by that string when she had no idea what her future looked like. She shook her head, kissed his cheek and turned towards home.
‘You look good without the make-up, Jazz,’ he said. ‘A little tired, but beautiful.’
She almost stopped. He was there offering love and comfort, just waiting to take her into his arms and worship her. But it wasn’t fair to him. She would still always want her lanky, red-haired, complicated husband who had never worshipped her, but always loved her.
Fifteen
There are horrors beyond life’s edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man’s evil prying calls them
just within our range.
H.P. Lovecraft, ‘The Thing on the Doorstep’, 1937
Lia felt a sizzle of resentment rising in her like sap, all the way from her feet. Ed was brilliant and hot, though it made her blush again to think of it, but now he was gazing out to sea with a miserable, resigned look on his face. Words sputtered through her mind, but the sense of outrage that was bubbling closer to the surface was so big that it wouldn’t let the words out. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Her father had preferred to throw himself onto the Devil’s Teeth, leaving her and Jasmine behind, although she knew that he couldn’t help what he had done. Now Ed was mildly accepting whatever fate he thought belonging to the island was thrusting on him. Normally she had plenty of words for an argument, especially with her mother, but this feeling was weird. Outside herself, she watched her hand come up and slap his arm as though she were slapping away a wasp. He looked at her in surprise and she turned away before he could see tears of annoyance in her eyes. She wasn’t upset and she didn’t want him to think that she was, or that these were weak tears. She felt like stamping her foot.
‘Lia?’
She took a deep breath and turned around. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth.
‘We just found each other and maybe it’s something good. We have both been through some bad crap and maybe we’re starting to survive it. What is this wishy-washy I-must-stay-here noble garbage?’
Her voice had risen and, with it, his eyebrows. His honest, surprised face was suddenly funny to her and she laughed. He smiled uncertainly but, when she laughed harder, he joined her until they were leaning against each other trying to catch their breath.
‘Ed,’ Lia gasped, ‘I might be hys-hysterical.’ The word set her off again and the gales of their laughter joined the wind from the sea and swept away, carrying a touch of iridescence across the cold island.
After a while, they quietened and started to walk, slowly this time, holding hands.
Lia hiccupped. ‘Maybe I’ll try that again,’ she said.
Ed waited, his eyes clear.
‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ she said, ‘since Dad, you know, left, and even more since I got here. Everyone just ... reacts. My friends at school are all in college now, because it was the next thing to do. Dad …’ Lia swallowed before continuing, ‘Dad came here and killed himself because it was the only thing he could think of to do. Jasmine went partying because that’s what she knew how to do. Something happens and everyone reacts. I just want to ... I don’t know, sit awhile, and think what I want to do. I’m all over the place at the minute, and now this!’ She swung their hands. ‘I want this,’ she said when she saw his face. ‘It’s just so hard to describe. I don’t just want to do the next thing that I have to do. I don’t think you should either. Shouldn’t we do the thing that makes us happy?’
‘What is the thing?’ he said.
She stopped dead and looked at him. ‘I don’t know yet. But I think maybe you do.’
‘I know what I want to do. I always have. But it’s not that easy.’
‘Why? Why isn’t it?’
He didn’t have an answer. Instead, he dropped to his hunkers and gripped a sod of grass and ripped it from the ground, bringing a clod of dirt with it. He stood holding the cold earth.
‘It’s as if this has been holding me, forever. Holding Mam and Dad, and everyone on the island. It’s horrible, but it’s home. I have a responsibility.’
‘To do what?’ Lia asked.
But Ed just shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He flung the clod of grass and soil towards the cliff and they watched it disappear into the cold silver air beyond the land’s edge.
As though the clod had disturbed them, two seagulls swept over the cliff towards them, lifted by the updraft. They came close enough for Lia to be able to see their yellow eyes. One screamed as it passed, making her clap her hands over her ears.
Ed put his arms around her and tucked her into the warmth of his chest. Then he suddenly stumbled forward, almost falling over her.
‘Ed?’ Lia said.
‘What the hell?’ He put a hand to the back of his head and checked his palm. There was blood. ‘A blasted seagull hit me.’
Before Lia could say anything, another gull flew over their heads, way too close. She grabbed Ed’s hand and they turned towards the sea. Birds were climbing the updraft from the cliff in a stream of white and yellow. As Lia stared wide-eyed, they began to make their raucous calls. They were answered and overlapped by the sound of crows. Lia looked up and saw the dark birds circling above. It looked like they were waiting for the gulls to join them in their circle.
‘Lia, that’s not normal behaviour. I think we should get out of here.’ Ed started to walk quickly back the way they had come, tugging Lia with him.
She threw a glance over her shoulder and pulled Ed to a stop.
‘There’s no time. We have to find cover.’ She could barely hear her own voice, but it didn’t matter. She saw the realisation in his face as he followed her gaze. A living cloud, like a storm, black edged with yellow, was roiling above them, filled with the screams and harsh cries of several species of bird.
‘Over here!’ Ed shouted. ‘Run!’
Still clinging to his hand, Lia ran. They crossed rough common pasture, making for a small hut. She couldn’t look back, but she heard the sound of their wings, and as the first of them swept close over their heads she smelled the musty scent of their feathers. Ed let go of her hand to wrench the door of the hut open. He pushed her inside and struck a gull away, his blood scarlet on its white feathers.
Lia shoved herself as far back in the tiny hut as she could, rattling a shovel onto the ground and stumbling on an old bag of animal feed, which raised a cloud of mouldy dust. She coughed and buried her nose in her jacket, trying to take shallow breaths. Ed yanked her towards him and she found cold air
streaming through gaps in the old timbers. There were thumps as the birds struck the sloping roof of the hut and the whole structure shook. Far from feeling safe, Lia was sure that the birds would crash through the rotting timber. Always a little claustrophobic, she began to feel sour panic rising to her throat. Ed said something, but she couldn’t hear the words over the screams of the birds.
But she realised that a sound had joined the screams of the seagulls and crows. A woman was out there, roaring against the terrible cacophony. She was getting closer and Ed turned to open the door, ready to pull her inside to relative safety. Instead, the woman slammed the door, shutting Lia and Ed back in the light-split darkness. Lia thought she heard words here and there, but mostly it was an inarticulate shriek of anger.
‘Lia!’ Ed shouted. ‘Stay here, I’m going to get her! Close the door behind me!’
He flung the door open again and ran out but stopped dead.
The woman had moved away from the hut and the birds had followed. Now, instead of attacking her, they were circling again, around and above her, black, white, touches of yellow and grey. One or two dived towards her and she swatted them away.
Suddenly the constantly moving circle of birds rose and, as though repelled from each other, split into species and groups, pairs and individuals. The crows flew, all together, inland. The gulls swept over the cliff’s edge and out to sea.
Lia went to Ed and slipped her hand through his arm.
‘It’s Rose,’ he said, his voice low.
‘Why did the birds stop? So suddenly. Did you hear anything? Like a signal?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t, no. But, you’re right, it was as if they were obeying a signal.’
When they were all gone, Rose seemed to sag. She was cut in several places, including a deep wound over her eyebrow. She swiped her sleeve over it and walked towards them.
‘Rose?’ Lia said. ‘What was that?’
Rose shuddered. Ed reached out and took her arm. The woman looked about to collapse. Her face, soft and friendly a few days ago, was drawn and old. Her hair was tangled and there were chalky streaks of bird shit on her coat.
‘I was going to the Hall when I saw the birds flock. I just wanted to lead them away from you, but something changed. It’s like something called them off.’
Lia looked along the edge of the coast. The Hall loomed there as always. The morning had darkened.
‘Why were you going to the Hall, Rose?’ Ed asked, frowning.
‘There’s something … something going on … I don’t know … something secret ... but I think it’s something to do with the Hall.’
‘So you were going there … alone ... to do what?’ Ed shot an alarmed look at Lia.
‘To find out …’
‘I don’t think going there is such a good idea, Rose,’ Lia said gently.
Rose hesitated but then looked from one to the other of them. Her face softened when she looked at Lia and she nodded.
‘You’re right. It’s not the time. Let’s go back.’
Staying close together, they formed a threesome on the path back towards the pub. At some point, Lia tucked her arm into Rose’s as well as Ed’s and they walked to the Robin’s Rest that way, linked and careful not to look behind them.
The sound of the door clicking firmly shut behind them was the nicest sound Lia had ever heard.
Harry came in, carrying a basket of logs for the fire he was making. He looked at Lia and dropped the basket onto the big hearth.
‘What’s happened?’
Even though they had only known each other a few days, Lia ran to her uncle and felt his strong arms go around her. Again, it was as if her father was there, holding her. She clung to him and his arms tightened around her.
‘Rose, you’re bleeding,’ he said. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘The birds gathered and attacked first Ed and Lia, then me. It’s the island. Something about the island. You men know, you always have. I’m not blind. Not anymore!’
Lia felt the tension in Harry’s body. He patted her back and moved away.
Rose flinched when he came close but allowed him to put an arm around her.
‘Frank will be home soon, Rose. How about we get cleaned up and give him a good welcome, eh?’
At the sound of her husband’s name, Rose’s face turned even whiter, the streak of smeared red above her eyebrow in stark contrast to her pallor. She didn’t cry, but let Harry lead her away into the kitchen.
‘Ed,’ Lia said, ‘what’s going on? What was that?’
Ed shook his head. ‘The birds were acting crazy. Maybe there’s a storm coming or something. They usually act funny and fly inland when the weather is going to change but I never saw them behave like that before.’
Lia blew out a breath. ‘A storm? And the funeral is this afternoon?’
Ed nodded. ‘Yeah, even in a storm. If people can stand up, it’ll go ahead. Besides, it doesn’t look ready to storm. Not yet.’
Together, they looked out at the white sky, dotted with flashes of white and dark, as the birds circled on the updrafts from the cliffs.
Lia stood at the dock wall and watched the ferry coming in. Harry and Ed were waiting at the tiny graveyard. Rose had gone back to her own house to shower and change clothes. A young priest in a long black soutane, with a square black biretta on his head, was first off the ferry, followed by the hearse, driven carefully by the undertaker’s assistant. The undertaker sat in the passenger seat, face expressionless, top hat shining. A large black car, chauffeur-driven, followed. As it passed, Lia saw a big man in the back with Becky beside him. Becky looked out at Lia and frowned before recognition dawned. She nodded and Lia nodded back. She wondered if the baby was with them but couldn’t see it.
There were no other cars, but plenty of people, falling in behind the slow procession. The cortege stopped outside Frank’s house and Matt got out to take his mother-in-law’s elbow and help her into the car beside Becky.
Lia was too far back to see any more. She trudged along slowly behind the other mourners. It felt like it was her father in the coffin waiting to go into the ground.
By the time she reached the graveyard, most of the mourners were inside among the gravestones. A small group waited by gate. She saw Harry and Ed standing by the hearse with some other men. Andrew, who had bought Ed’s farm, and his friend Brendan were there, with another two she thought were called Evan and Jim. She joined the group of people by the gate.
Following the quiet instructions of the undertaker, the men slid the coffin out of the hearse and hoisted it to their shoulders. They moved slowly forward into the graveyard. The path from the road to the graveside was narrow and Lia’s heart was in her mouth as she watched them manoeuvre around lichen-encrusted High Crosses.
The men lowered the coffin to the ground at the edge of the grave, positioning it on top of the two bands of yellow tape with which the coffin would be lowered into the grave.
Lia began to sense that the atmosphere was unusual. Grief she would have expected – or pity – or horror at the nature of Frank’s death. This was more like tension. Rose stood staring at the coffin and her expression was unreadable and strange. It was almost as if she was waiting for something horrendous to happen.
Ed met Lia’s eyes and she relaxed a little. She got as close to him as she could, and Harry gave her a little nod before looking back at the coffin.
Lia watched Harry’s three-quarter profile from where she stood. He was more muscular than she had noticed when he was dressed casually. He was wearing an old-fashioned dark suit and Lia could see that his shoulders and chest were a lot bigger than her father’s had been. It was easy to overlook because he was tall and long-limbed.
Suddenly Rose stepped forward. Lia gasped, having a vision of the woman throwing herself on her husband’s coffin. Instead Rose confronted Harry, looking at him challengingly, her chin raised.
He returned her gaze calmly. Now the whole crowd was watching him
, waiting for his reaction, but instead of looking exposed or embarrassed he appeared to be completely self-contained.
The graveyard was silent. Even the birds were still. The only sound was the constant shush and hiss of the waves against the bottom of the cliff beyond the graveyard wall.
Then Rose dropped her gaze and stepped back.
Sounding hesitant and uncomfortable, the priest began the ceremony. It was brief and the men lowered the coffin into the grave.
Lia looked at the islanders. It was the first time she had seen so many of them together. There were no children. She and Ed were the youngest there apart from Becky and her baby who was held in a chest-carrier by Matt. Becky stood in silence near her mother. She looked pale and ill. She hadn’t made a sound or a move throughout the funeral, not even when her mother had confronted Harry.
Almost as soon as Lia thought about her, Becky looked up and met her eyes. It was the same look Lia had seen when the coastguard had taken her from the island. Stricken. Haunted. Lia searched for the right word. Dad, she had said, over and over. Dad.
There was something hidden and secret here. Something fearful. Lia was suddenly convinced of it.
Lia glanced at Matt. The big man was watching Becky, Rose, the grave, the baby, trying to keep everyone in sight, protective and confused. Whatever was being hidden, he didn’t know about it – but Becky did.
Dad. Dad. Dad.
Sixteen
You must not be alone, for to be alone is
to be full of fears and alarms.
Bram Stoker, Dracula, 1897
Father Benjamin O’Gorman had tea and talked to the islanders who had gathered in the Robin’s Rest, while he waited for the undertaker to be ready to go. The undertaker, however, then informed him that he was ‘obliged to have a few drinks’ with the mourners before he left.
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