Agnes’s eyes narrow behind her wire-rimmed glasses. ‘T’was the fairies. They took the child and kept it alive. It couldn’t happen any other way.’
***
Ellie turns over in the bed and pulls the covers up to her neck.
‘Aren’t you getting into bed, Thomas?’
Thomas sits on the edge of the bed in his undershirt and his long johns, contemplating the dark room. ‘You didn’t believe the fairy story, did you, Ellie Mae?’
‘Of course not. It’s silly superstition.’
He looks at her over his shoulder. ‘The Rock’s a funny place sometimes. The fog rolls in, and the whale song drifts in on the breeze. It’s an odd sound, that. Clicks and groans. They say you can only hear it properly under the water, but I swears I’ve heard it out on the boat. Clear as a baby’s cry. Sometimes, something shifts out on the water. I can’t explain it. Then you hears it. The clickin’ and the groanin’. It’s like you drop through time into a different place.’
‘But you know that can’t happen. You’re just hearing sounds.’
‘It can happen, Ellie Mae. It happened to me once. I was out on the boat by myself. It’s before I signed up for the infantry. I had to tell Mam and Dad, but I didn’t know how to do it. I took the boat out and floated around the coast for a bit. It was September, just like now. There was a full moon and the stars shone like diamonds in the black sky.’ He leans back onto his pillow and looks over at Ellie. ‘Not that I knows what diamonds looks like, mind you. But you can imagine.’
‘Of course you know what diamonds look like.’ Ellie wiggles her finger with her engagement ring.
‘Oh, maid. That’s not a real diamond. Where would I gets the money for that? Think they called it … what was it? A zircon, that’s it.’
Ellie looks at the large square-cut zircon. ‘Oh.’
‘Pretty like a diamond, though, don’t you think? I promised you a beautiful ring, didn’t I? It’s the best I could find with the money I had.’
‘It’s lovely, Thomas. Really.’
‘So, anyways, I was bobbin’ along on the water – I could see the lighthouse up by the cape. It was a clear night and the light reached far out over the sea as it spun around in the lighthouse. Suddenly a fog rose up off the water like steam. Like someone put on the kettle to boil. And the sea went flat as glass and the light disappeared. Then this sound filled the air like somethin’ from another world. Like singin’ and cryin’ at the same time. If fairies sang that would be the sound they’d make, Ellie Mae.
‘I’m sittin’ in the boat and don’t know what to think about what’s goin’ on. Then I feels like I’m not alone. And I sees him. The great head risin’ up beside my boat. And the eye lookin’ at me. And he just rose out of that water higher and higher until he fell back through the fog and it was the most thunderous crash. And just likes that the fog rolled away and the boat started bobbin’ along, and the lighthouse light appeared again. Just like nothin’ had happened. But somethin’ happened out there. It’s like we’re sittin’ on the edge of the world here. And sometimes, when somethin’ shifts, we see things that are normally hidden from us. There’s a kind of magic here on The Rock, but I’m not always sure it’s a good thing.’
‘You’d probably just fallen asleep and had a dream.’
Thomas’s eyes sweep over Ellie’s face. ‘How’d you suppose Emmy really got his brown eye?’
Ellie sits up against her pillow. ‘What?’
‘I was away a long time, Ellie Mae.’
‘Thomas, what are you saying?’
‘Emmy’s birthday’s in August. He should have been born in September.’
‘That’s not so unusual. He was early. I hadn’t heard from you in months, and the war was going on and on. I started to think something had happened to you. That you were missing, or wounded, or—’
‘I wrote you, Ellie Mae. I swears it. But the mail boats got hit a lot on the run up to England. Maybe that’s why you didn’t get my letters. I didn’t get many of yours, and you said you wrote every week.’
‘You have no idea what it was like, Thomas. The pressure, the worry … It’s no surprise the baby came early.’ Ellie reaches for Thomas’s face and brushes her hand along his cheek, tracing the thin scar with her thumb. ‘Don’t ever doubt that, Thomas. Emmy’s our son. Our lovely son. And, God willing, we’ll have more children. A little girl next time, maybe.’
‘It’s been over six years, Ellie Mae. Maybe there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Maybe I can’t father a child.’
‘But it was only your leg that was injured.’
Thomas takes hold of Ellie’s hand and looks at her intensely. ‘Maybe I’ve never been able to father a child.’
Ellie looks deep into Thomas’s agitated grey eyes. ‘You have a son, Thomas. A fine son. And one day he’ll grow up into a fine man, just like his father.’
Chapter 61
Tippy’s Tickle – 13 September 2011
Sophie leans over the white porcelain pedestal sink and blinks into the mirror. She wipes at the sweat beading on her forehead and pulls at the skin on her cheeks, tugging it towards her ears. Releasing her fingers, she watches her skin settle back into its softening contours.
When did that happen? Forty-eight. She was still thirty-five in her head. The mirror was a liar. Or maybe she just hadn’t looked at herself closely for a long time. And the sweating. She wasn’t even fifty yet.
She opens the door into Sam’s living room and spies Sam in the kitchen.
‘Sam! I didn’t hear you come in.’ She glances at the laptop, the email to Richard open on the screen.
Sam smiles at her as he unloads two Foodland bags. Bear sits on the floor beside him, his black head poised in expectation. ‘Hope you like eggplant. I do a great eggplant pasta.’
‘Sure, I like eggplant.’ She quickly saves the emails and shuts off the laptop. ‘It sounds a lot nicer when you call it aubergine pasta, though. Eggplant makes it sound like it’s made of eggs.’
He begins singing ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’ and Sophie joins in, singing the other part.
‘Well, you can carry a tune, Sam. Another one of your hidden talents.’
‘Newfoundlander, you see. We’re a musical bunch.’ He unscrews the top of a bottle of red wine and pours out two glasses. ‘I hope you like Valpolicella. It’s the best Italian Wesleyville can offer.’
‘Valpolicella’s perfect.’ She accepts the glass from Sam, relieved that the awkwardness before he left appears to have been forgotten. ‘I designed a winery in Verona a few years ago.’
‘Well, I can’t trump that.’ He clinks her class. ‘Chin-chin.’
‘Chin-chin.’
He sets down his glass and hands Sophie a fat purple eggplant. ‘Right, so, Princess Grace. Slice this up, will you? I’ll get the pasta on.’
‘Is Becca joining us for supper?’
‘No, she’s out with Toby again. Just bumped into them in Florie’s store. Said they were going to a time over in Badger’s Quay.’ He frowns as he pours water into a cooking pot. ‘That boy’s a real distraction. Becca needs to study for her exams. She promised me she’d get down to it next week if I let her go.’
‘A time?’
‘A party. I think I need to get you a Newfoundland dictionary.’
***
Sophie dabs the napkin against her lips. ‘That was delicious, Sam.’
He picks up the wine bottle. ‘More wine?’
‘Sure. I’m not driving.’
Sam takes a sip of wine. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘Becca told me about your phone call yesterday.’
‘What phone call?’
‘You got a phone call at the picnic. She reads lips, remember?’
Sophie stares at Sam. ‘Oh, Sam.’
He sets down his wine glass and shakes his head. ‘I didn’t want to believe her. I mean, she doesn’t always get it right. You’ve got an accent. It makes it harder
for her.’
‘Sam, I—’
‘Then, I read your email, and I knew she hadn’t misunderstood anything. Let me see if I remember the subject line right. Luxury Eco Golf Hotel in Tippy’s Tickle. Is that right?’
Sophie folds her napkin and sets it on the table. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘A golf course? Seriously? The wind will hurl their golf balls all the way to Greenland!’
‘I’ve told them the golf course is a bad idea—’
‘It’s Ellie’s home.’ He thumps his chest. ‘My home.’
Sophie presses her fingers against her eyes. ‘I know. I know.’ She reaches for her glass and takes a large gulp of wine, willing the alcohol to steady her nerves. ‘Look, Sam, the biggest thing Tippy’s Tickle has going for it right now is the dole. This is a great opportunity for the town. The hotel will bring in employment. The economy here will boom. You can get involved on the build, make the built-in units, the furniture. You said yourself all the kids are moving to the cities because there’s no work.’
‘These kinds of places aren’t interested in spreading the wealth. The investors want a good return on their investment. It’s all about money. Their money.’
‘That’s not it at all, Sam. They want to make this an eco-friendly hotel.’
Sam’s huffs. ‘With a golf course? Where are the superyachts going to berth? Have you seen how narrow the tickle is? Or are they going to dredge that and blast away the rocks to make room?’ He points out towards the ocean. ‘We have harp seals just off shore. Whales. Puffins just down the coast. What’s going to happen to them? Where’s the helicopter going to land, because they’ll want that for all their VIPs flying into St John’s. They’ll have to blast rock away for that too. So much for our ecosystem. Open your eyes, Sophie. They’re taking you for a ride.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating. They want to build here because of the ecology. They don’t want to destroy it. They’re offering good packages. You’ll have all the money you need to expand your business.’
‘I won’t take a cent from them, and I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you tell Florie. That’ll be colourful.’
‘They’ll play dirty, Sam. These kinds of people always get what they want.’
‘Nice company you keep, Princess Grace.’
‘You’ve heard of requisitioned property?’
‘They’d just take the land away from me? Only the government can do that.’
‘They have friends everywhere, Sam.’
‘Is that a threat?’
A clatter of shells, stones and tin echoes around the room as the fishing net hurtles to the floor. Becca stands under the ragged pieces of net, her face pale with rage.
‘Becca?’
Running at Sophie, Becca flails at her as strangled sobs tear from her body. Sophie throws up her arms. ‘Becca, stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
Sam grabs hold of his daughter, hugging her against him. The girl’s body shakes, and her wails infiltrate the core of Sophie’s being.
Sophie picks up her laptop and walks past Sam and Becca and out to the porch. Outside the cottage, the first drops of a night shower splatter against her body. Tucking her laptop against her body, she raises her face to the rain and lets it run over her. Willing it to purify her. Willing it to make everything better.
Chapter 62
Norwich, England – 21 November 1952
‘George!’ Dottie smiles at George in the dressing room mirror and waves for him to enter the cluttered room. Bouquets of roses and lilies spill over every surface, their fragrance sitting on the stale air like perfume on sweaty clothes. ‘Come in! I had no idea you were coming to the performance tonight. My goodness, don’t you look dashing.’
George edges past discarded dresses towards the glamorous woman seated in front of the mirror, ashamed now of his meagre bouquet.
‘I brought you some flowers, Dottie. It’s lovely to see you again. You look … you look smashing.’
Setting down her lipstick, Dottie reaches out for the bouquet of carnations. ‘They’re lovely, George. That’s very sweet of you.’
George pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘You were marvellous tonight, Dottie. I was watching you and kept thinking to myself, There’s little Dottie! Up on stage at the Norwich Philharmonic! I knew her when!’
‘You certainly did. I’ll defy anyone to say you didn’t.’
George straightens the bow tie on his rented dinner suit. ‘It’s been ages, Dottie. I wouldn’t have recognised you if I’d seen you in the street.’
‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing, George?’
‘Oh, a good thing. No, I mean, it was always lovely to see you when you were younger, too.’
Smiling at George in the mirror, Dottie picks up a bottle of Shalimar and dabs behind her ears. ‘I was just a silly girl back then. You only had eyes for Ellie, anybody could see that.’
‘That was a long time ago.’
Dottie glances over at George from the corner of her eye. ‘Have you been in touch with her?’
‘I’ve had some Christmas cards from her. I … I always send her one, too.’
‘Oh, isn’t that nice.’
‘Well, we’ve known each other since we were children.’
‘Just like me.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I’ve known you since you were a baby.’
Dottie, pushes out of the chair and tugs at the décolleté of her blue satin dress. ‘Well, I’m not a baby, now.’ She takes hold of George’s arm. ‘Where was it you were taking me to dinner?
‘Oh, uh. I haven’t … I haven’t—’
She collects her fur stole from the back of a chair and picks up her clutch purse. ‘Don’t worry, George. I have a table booked at the Royal Hotel. Their dover sole is to die for.’
***
Dottie watches George exit the hotel as she waits for the lift up to her floor. He was miles older than she, of course, but what did that matter? Elizabeth Taylor had just married her second husband and he was thirty-six to her twenty. George was only nine years older. It was nothing.
The lift bell rings and the doors open. A young attendant in grey uniform and white gloves pulls aside the polished brass grill doors. ‘Which floor, please?’
‘Fifth.’
He pulls the doors shut and the lift jerks to life. George had looked quite handsome tonight in the dinner suit, with his hair slicked down, just like the men in London. The suit was a little too large for him – rented, obviously – but, still, he’d been a worthy dinner companion. So very polite. Not fawning like the London men. It was all too easy with them. She’d had to pull out her full flirtatious arsenal for George. Well, perhaps not the full arsenal. That would come later.
If only Ellie could see them now. She shivers with the thrill of it. Her little sister, Dottie, on her ex-fiancé’s arm at the best restaurant in Norwich. She’d felt the eyes of the other diners on them all night. This was what it was like to fly. Soon Norwich would be nothing but a long-forgotten memory. She was off on a tour of the great cities of Europe with the London Philharmonic Orchestra next year. Featured soloist. Look at me now, Ellie. Look at me now.
First, though, she had some unfinished business here in Norwich.
George.
Chapter 63
Tippy’s Tickle – 14 September 2011
Sophie hurries down the wooden steps from Kittiwake and heads across the road and past a row of the colourful houses towards the shop. She takes the note out of the pocket of her jeans and scans the scrawling blue ink. Frowning, she refolds it twice and slips it back into her pocket.
She mounts the steps to the store. A hum of loud chatter wafts through the screen door. Pulling it open, she walks past the white counters and into the large room with the bay window. Instead of finding Ellie bending over her printing press, or hosting an art class at the wooden table while Florie packages up purchases, she’s met with a bank of angry faces as the room falls into a tense silence.
<
br /> Ellie rises. Crescents the colour of prunes sit under her eyes and she takes an additional step to steady herself as she waves away Florie’s extended hand. ‘Come in, Sophie.’ She gestures to a chair that has been centred in the bay window. ‘Please, sit.’
Sophie scans the faces – her aunt, Florie, Sam leaning against the back wall, Becca and a good-looking boy she can only imagine is Becca’s boyfriend Toby Molloy, Emmett, Wince – and other faces, some of whom she’s seen on her walks around the village, and others she doesn’t recognise. About forty people. All of them looking at her like cats about to pounce on a mouse.
Sophie sits on the chair. ‘What’s going on?
‘Oh, I thinks you have a good idea about that, my girl,’ Florie says. ‘Nice to have a spy livin’ under our roof.’ She glances at Ellie. ‘Told you it was odd, her visitin’ at the last minute, didn’t I, Ellie?’
‘I’m not a spy, Florie. I don’t know what Sam’s told you, but … but, really, it’s not … it’s not …’ She closes her mouth. She feels sweat bead on her forehead as her cheeks flush.
There’s a scrape of the wooden chair legs against the floorboards as Emmett stands. ‘What is it then? Where do you wants me to live when they builds the hotel?’
Sophie’s mouth drops open. ‘You can live anywhere, Emmett. The investors are offering an excellent package—’
‘I don’t owns anything to sell but for the stage on the tickle. I lives with me mam in my Da’s house. If Mam sells the house, where do you expects me to live?’
Sophie glances at Ellie. ‘Well, I’m sure that can be worked out. I … I wouldn’t worry about it, Emmett.’
Emmett frowns, hooding his strange eyes into a squint. ‘I’s worried about it. I’s worried about it a lot.’
A murmur rumbles through the room. Another man stands. ‘I’m worried too, b’y! I heard they’re gonna chase out all our boats to makes way for them superyachts.’
Sophie shakes her head. ‘No. No. Where did you hear that?’
Florie jumps to her feet and waggles a sturdy finger at Sophie. ‘The nerve of you, girl. We opens up our arms to you, and look what you does to us. Boots us out of our homes. I don’t know how you looks in the mirror.’
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