The Long Way Home

by Fanny Blake

  ‘Okay! Okay! I’ll try.’ She was laughing as she put her phone in her trusty backpack and took off her shorts. ‘I hate you.’

  ‘My work here is done.’ Isla ran back to the pool and this time plunged in without waiting to be splashed by Janet again. The initial shock of the cold paralysed her for a moment, as icy needles pricked all over her body. Then, after a minute or two, once she realised she could just touch the bottom, that the current wasn’t strong enough to whisk her away, she regained the feeling in her body. Beside her, Janet was floating on her back, so she rolled over to do the same, feeling the sun on her face as she squinted through the branches above her head to the cornflower-coloured sky.

  All at once there was a massive splash. Water cascaded over them both. They both upended, gasping for breath, the perfect moment over. She turned to see Charlie, swimming the few strokes between them, a grin splitting her face.

  ‘Gotcha!’

  29

  Back at Sandgreen, Janet and Charlie took Jock for a walk in the Cally Woods behind the site. Isla decided to return a missed call from Lorna. She quite hoped that her sister might be phoning to cancel their arrangement. If she did, they could stay on longer. And if not at the campsite, Janet would be bound to put them up for a couple of days. Isla wanted to explore more, rediscovering this part of the world that meant so much to her. She hadn’t even been into the Murray Arms in Gatehouse where once upon a time she and her sisters would be left sitting on a bench outside, with packets of crisps and blue paper twists of salt and glasses of pop while their parents drank indoors.

  Sitting just inside the French windows with the whole beach spread before her gave her a deep-seated feeling of contentment. The sound of the waves, shouts from the beach as boats were hauled across the sand or over a game of rounders in progress, and seagulls flying by – this was so timeless, transporting her back to her childhood. The smell of sausages on a barbecue and the sweet smell of new-mown grass floated on the air. With a glass of lemonade at her side, she got out her phone and readied herself.

  ‘Lorna, it’s me, Isla, returning your call.’

  ‘You’ve taken your time.’ Why did she have to be so rude?

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy, and I thought we’d talk when I get to yours.’

  ‘But I’d hoped we’d talk about Braemore before that.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say, is there? You two and Aggie own it. I don’t.’

  ‘I know that of course. But I need you to talk to Aggie for me.’ As had crossed Isla’s mind, this is what Lorna had been building up to.

  ‘What about?’ As if she didn’t know what was coming.

  ‘A developer wants to buy the fields at the back of the house. It’s a fantastic deal and it means Aggie can stay where she is for the time being.’

  ‘Where did the deal come from? Who told him the paddocks might be up for sale?’ Morag must have been right.

  ‘I met him and happened to mention it. He was immediately interested. Keeps on getting in touch with me.’

  ‘I bet he does.’

  ‘Meaning?’ She was on the back foot now.

  ‘You know perfectly well. But Aggie would be living in a building site. I’m sure that’s not what Mum would have wanted.’

  ‘She thinks it might be a good idea but she’s undecided. We’ve talked about it a lot.’

  ‘A good idea for who? You? Anyway, why tell me? It’s got nothing to do with me anymore.’

  ‘I thought you might tip the balance for me. Once she says yes, Morag will have to.’

  ‘What?’ Isla could barely believe what she’d just heard. Her sister had no shame.

  ‘It’s just…’

  ‘I know what it is, but I don’t understand why. Why are you so keen to sell now? Can’t you wait?’

  ‘No. No I can’t.’ She sounded angry and upset. ‘I knew you’d side with—’

  Isla broke in. ‘Before one of us says something we regret, let’s row back a bit. We were all upset last time, perhaps me most of all, and we all said things that would have been better left unsaid.’ She gathered all her powers of diplomacy. ‘We should be patching things up now, not making things worse. So…’ She paused so they could rewind and start again. ‘We’re looking forward to being with you at three-ish tomorrow. Is that okay?’

  ‘You’re right of course.’ That was the closest Lorna would ever come to an apology. ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing you.’ She paused. ‘Really, I am.’

  ‘Can we talk about Mum, too?’ All that childhood hurt from never being the favoured one rolled back towards her. She wrapped her free arm round her middle as if it would protect her.

  ‘I’ll have a think. And I want to hear all about this guy you’ve met.’ She was sounding more like the sister Isla wanted now.

  ‘How do you know about him?’ She was sure she hadn’t mentioned Tony to her.

  ‘Ian told me. He’s still got a soft spot for you, you know.’

  If there was a soft spot anywhere, it was the one Lorna held for Ian.

  ‘Don’t even go there.’ Isla laughed. ‘When did you talk to him?’

  ‘He phoned.’

  Isla’s hackles quivered. ‘Why?’

  ‘To see if he could stay before Aggie’s party, so he’s arriving tomorrow too.’

  ‘Oh God! I asked him not to.’ She heard herself sounding like a spoiled child. ‘What’s wrong with an Airbnb?’

  ‘I suggested it. I thought it might be fun.’

  Fun!

  Isla could hear Lorna was aware she had done something her sister wouldn’t like. ‘I know you’re still friends…’ She had always found it something of a mystery that Ian had kept in touch with Lorna. ‘And that’s great.’ No, it wasn’t. ‘But he and I aren’t part of that.’

  ‘I thought it would be like old times.’ A pleading note entered her voice.

  No, she didn’t. She was simply stirring the pot. Nothing had changed.

  ‘Except we’re not married anymore. So it won’t be.’

  When she ended the call, Isla sat with the phone in her lap, pondering. What was Ian playing at? He may have remained friends with her family – irritating in itself – but he had no right to insinuate himself into her holiday at the last minute. Did he do that to his other wives? On the spur of the moment, she called him.

  ‘Isla… to what do I owe the honour? Are you all right?’

  She could tell he knew he’d done something wrong. She tried to rein in her irritation. ‘Lorna says you’re coming to stay tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, last-minute plan. Morag told me you and Charlie were going to be there and I thought it would be a good place to stay for Aggie’s birthday.’

  ‘But I said, don’t come. I thought you’d stay in an Airbnb and turn up for the party. Full stop.’ Now she sounded peevish. ‘Do you do this with all your ex-wives? Especially when you know Lorna and I have got stuff to work out between us.’

  ‘Of course I don’t. I don’t get on with them. And I have enough of Airbnb’s when I’m on tour. And…’ He took a breath. ‘Maybe I can help bridge the breach for you.’

  ‘Bridge the breach? What are you even talking about?!’

  They started laughing. Their shared sense of the ridiculous had nudged them through the best of times and the worst of times. Maybe it would be a good thing to have him there smoothing the way. At best he might make things easier between her and Lorna and, at worst, she’d have him to lean on, and it would be nice for him and Charlie to hang out too.

  ‘Where are you, anyway?’

  ‘Sandgreen.’

  ‘Ah, beauteous spot of childhood hols. Memory heaven. See – my presence will only make things better.’

  ‘Idiot!’ She dismissed him, giving up the fight. Whatever she said wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

  Before calling Tony, she took a deep breath of sea air and walked outside the cottage, stretching her arms out to the side, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her fa
ce as she looked to the sky. This really was God’s own country – in this weather, nowhere was more beautiful. You could take your French Alps, your Cornish Riviera, your Welsh mountains – but for her, nothing beat this sort of balm to the soul. Returning to her seat, she made her final call. She had no second thoughts about helping Tony and letting him organise the details. In doing so, she may have helped herself. They were in this together.

  When he picked up, she could hear voices in the background and pictured him in her kitchen, Roberts radio on the side, windows open to the garden. At the far end, her vegetable patch was planted out and would soon be coming into its own. She hoped he hadn’t forgotten to mow the grass.

  ‘Where are you?’ He sounded agitated, as if he was too busy to speak for long.

  She described the view to him, at the same time realising that she was glad to be alone here. He wouldn’t have appreciated how much it meant to her. ‘How’re things at home?’

  ‘Nothing much to report.’ Surely he could do better than that. He knew how much her home meant to her.

  There was a bang in the background, and a voice. ‘Where’s the screwdriver?’

  ‘Who’s that? Have you got people there?’

  ‘Just a mate. It’s a different surprise. They’ll be gone soon.’ There was another bang in the background. ‘Keep the noise down,’ he yelled.

  His laugh made her happy, as did the knowledge her support was giving him renewed confidence and the chance to do something that he believed in. And that she believed in too. Although she was uneasy about the sort of surprise he might be preparing that involved noise and a screwdriver. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘Are you missing me?’

  ‘Of course. But we’re managing.’ She told him about their day and how Charlie was coming out of her shell at last. She didn’t add that his departure had made things much easier.

  ‘You don’t think the worse of me?’ The anxiety that her confession might have changed his opinion of her still nagged away at her.

  ‘You poor thing. Of course not.’

  She heard her doorbell in the background.

  ‘I’d better get that.’

  ‘Who is it?’ He hadn’t introduced her to any of his friends since they had been together.

  ‘A friend come to help. Must go.’ And he cut her off.

  Isla held out her phone, staring at it. What the hell? She immediately redialled. But her call went straight through to voicemail.

  ‘What are you up to?’ she said out loud. But what was the point? A gentle ripple of unease ran through her. Surprises made her nervous. Telling herself not to be stupid, she went outside again. Making the most of the short time she had left alone, she reclined the old-fashioned stripy deckchair as far as it would go, lay back and closed her eyes. Why was she so protective of her own home? The answer was not hard to find. She had waited a long time before having somewhere all to herself and, since she had moved to Oxford and begun curating Fernleith Museum, she had entered a new phase of her life that she had come to treasure. She had her dream job, her ideal home. And in Tony, perhaps she had found her perfect partner. But, but, but… Something still stopped her. She wished he had made more effort with Charlie. A prerequisite of loving her had to be loving her granddaughter, however difficult that might be at times.

  That night, she and Charlie sat at the table playing rummy. The night air was balmy and a slice of moon hung above the glittering sea. In the campsite, lights were on in most of the cabins and caravans, or on the tables outside. Someone nearby had a radio on. Cooking smells carried across the park. Shouts and laughter came from a bunch of people having a barbecue on the beach. Isla had lost two games to Charlie and was in danger of losing a third, yet again picking up a card that failed to improve her hand, when Charlie interrupted their concentration.

  ‘Gran.’ She paused as if she was about to say something important.

  ‘Mmm,’ Isla looked up from her hand. The last few days had been enough to change Charlie’s appearance. Gone was the unhappy peaky child Isla had brought from London. In front of her was a lightly tanned, more relaxed teenager who even looked as if she might be enjoying herself.

  ‘I really like it here.’

  ‘Me too. So many memories.’

  ‘You’re lucky you had Morag and Lorna here.’

  ‘Is that the only child speaking?’ she teased.

  Charlie smiled. ‘I was only thinking…’

  ‘It wasn’t always that great, believe you me. Lorna once pushed me off the diving board when the tide was going out, and I broke my ankle. I spent the rest of the holiday in plaster, watching everyone playing on the beach. And once Morag and I climbed that rock.’ She pointed down the beach towards a rock that stuck up out of the crowd. ‘It doesn’t look much now, but at the time it seemed huge. I don’t know how we got to the top but once we were up, we couldn’t get down and the tide was coming in. I told Morag we were going to drown and she believed me. Mum and Dad were furious having to come and rescue us in the middle of a game of cards, and then barred me from the beach for a day because I’d scared Morag so much.’

  Charlie listened entranced as Isla told her more. After a while, she sat back in her chair, cards face down on the table. ‘All the same, I still wish I’d had a brother or sister.’

  Isla had often wondered how Helen and Mike, with such busy schedules, would have managed another child, but nature had made the decision for them. After years of trying for a second, Helen had been distraught, despairing. Isla often wondered if that was why she channelled so much of herself into her work, when she could have given more to Charlie – a constant reminder of what she couldn’t repeat. Grief and resentment made unhappy bedfellows.

  ‘But you’re a very special only one.’

  ‘I’m in the way.’

  Isla was appalled. ‘You must never think that. Your mum and dad adore you.’

  ‘If they did, I wouldn’t be here with you.’ She shrugged, as if she was used to it.

  ‘It’s just unfortunate that their schedules clashed this time, that’s all. But you’ve got me and you’ve got friends.’

  ‘They don’t like me either.’ She pulled out her phone and held it in the air as proof.

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘My streaks have been broken, and my so-called best friend Alice has ghosted me. She’s stopped replying,’ she explained. ‘They don’t mind that I’m not there. They don’t miss me.’

  Even fifty years on, Isla could remember the agonies that went with the highs and lows of friendship, what it was like to be part of a gang one moment, then ostracised the next.

  ‘Often people are too busy living in the present and just don’t think,’ she said. ‘As soon as you go back, you’ll pal up again.’

  ‘I don’t think so. They’re bitches.’

  ‘Charlie!’

  ‘They are. They were only my friends because they thought I could get them stuff.’

  ‘What stuff? I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘You know that party?’ She put her cards face down on the table to pick at a cuticle until a bead of blood appeared at the base of her nail.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Isla said, made aware from the glare she received that she was sounding like Helen again. ‘Which one?’

  ‘I didn’t tell the truth.’

  Isla sat quite still, unsure what to say. She put her cards face down on the table, stared out to sea so she didn’t catch Charlie’s eye and waited to see what would come next.

  ‘I did take some weed to that party. I wasn’t the only one.’ Her sniff alerted Isla to her crying. She found a tissue in her pocket and passed it over. ‘I wanted to impress two girls in the year above. And I did, or I would have if Clara’s mum hadn’t come in. You’re not angry, are you?’ She glanced up and then looked away as she blew her nose.

  Anger didn’t seem the right reaction. ‘Not at all.’ Anger, if there was any, was for Helen
to have, although Isla was shocked and puzzled. ‘But where did you get it?’

  ‘That’s easy. A couple of girls who left last year meet us in the park after school and bring us what we want.’ The scrappy area round the corner from the school that was used by dog walkers, drug-dealers and desperate mothers – Isla remembered Helen once pointing it out to her. Charlie’s face closed up as if she realised she had said too much. ‘You won’t say anything, will you?’

  ‘Why are you telling me now?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to think I’m a liar.’ Her voice was so soft Isla could hardly hear her.

  ‘But I didn’t think you were before.’ Helen would go ballistic if she found out. She had defended Charlie to everyone and anyone who would listen, confident that her daughter would never break the rules, be one of those girls. By telling Isla, Charlie had presented her with a dilemma – should she tell Helen or keep Charlie’s secret? Her loyalties were to both of them. Charlie had opened up to her at last and that was important. Isla wanted to keep her trust, becoming someone she could turn to: the sort of person Aggie had been for her. At the same time, Helen’s trust was so important too. Because Isla had brought her up on her own, with Ian’s interference, their relationship was particularly strong and precious. But perhaps there was a way she could be useful to them both without damaging anything – she just had to find it.

  ‘Yes, you did. About Tony.’ Charlie interrupted her musing.

  ‘Don’t be daft. I asked him about that. You misunderstood. That’s quite different.’ What Charlie was telling her was far more important.

  ‘Maybe.’ But she didn’t sound convinced.

  ‘I’m not going to discuss it again. More important is what I’m going to do about you.’

  ‘You won’t tell?’ She sounded alarmed.

  ‘I don’t know…’ Isla saw Charlie gripping the edge of her seat so the whites of her knuckles showed. ‘So when you get back home, are you going to get into it again?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She shifted in her seat, avoiding Isla’s eye.