Page 2 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘It’s …’ I cleared my throat. ‘My family needs me.’

Now that was a lie. But I knew it was something they would accept easily. Here in this small community where I’d been welcomed so warmly, family was at the heart of everything. Generations lived under one roof, grandparents looked after grandchildren, sisters were each other’s best friends. When someone was taken to hospital, one family would step in to care for another. A life made up of big hearts and small kindnesses. Maybe it wasn’t just Uganda where this happened. Maybe it was common in the UK too. But not in my family. Months would go by without even a phone call between us. A shiver ran down the length of my spine at the thought of what I was going back to, going home to. But I had to go, I had no choice.

‘Someone is ill?’ Dembe asked, eyes wide with worry.

I shook my head. ‘It’s complicated.’

An understatement where my family was concerned.

‘You are a good girl,’ said Aster. ‘You go to your family, but don’t forget about us.’

‘Never,’ I promised easily. ‘As if I could.’

My taxi pulled into the yard, sending a cloud of dust into the air. At the sound of the car, other friends and their families appeared, their faces solemn. Babies in arms, children too young to be in school, aunts, uncles and grandparents. People I’d come to care about; leaving them was so difficult and, for a split second, I wavered, my head doing battle with my heart.

Aster picked up my suitcase while I handed Kemi back to her mum.

‘Where is Jesse?’ Dembe cast her eyes around, worriedly.

‘We said goodbye this morning,’ I replied quietly. ‘Neither of us wanted a fuss.’

Jesse had offered to drive me to the airport, but I couldn’t bear the thought of a journey spent in silence, or perhaps, even worse, being told that I didn’t need to leave, that I was doing the wrong thing. Instead, we’d hugged each other for a long time and promised to take care of ourselves until we saw each other again.

‘Write to us,’ Aster’s husband said, loading my suitcase into the car.

‘I will.’

‘Please bring me a Manchester United shirt when you come back,’ asked Apolo, the school cleaner. Technically he should have been in school now, but I was glad he’d come to see me off.

‘Just come back,’ said Aster, nudging Apolo out of the way so she could put her arms around me.

Half a dozen children formed a circle around us, holding on to the back of my skirt as they always did when they couldn’t catch hold of my hand.

‘God bless your family,’ said Dembe, grabbing my face and kissing my cheeks as I tried to peel myself away from my dear friends.

Finally, I climbed into the taxi and I took one last look at the place I’d called home for five years, drinking in every detail, committing it all to memory.

Just in case I never returned.

Chapter Two

Liz

JULY 2022

From her table on the upper deck of the Kings Arms, Liz gave the wine list a cursory glance before turning her attention to the scene in front of her. Salcombe was beautiful all year round, but now, in mid-July, with the water sparkling in the sunshine, it was paradise. Down on ground level, holidaymakers milled around, eating ice cream, browsing the shops and taking selfies. A flotilla of tiny boats sailed by, little ducklings all in a line hugging the coastline. Kids on paddleboards, the ferry doing its loop from here to East Portlemouth and back and sleek yachts moored at the quay, masts tinkling as they bobbed on the gentle waves. Across the estuary, crescents of golden beaches were dotted with figures. Liz could just make out coloured rectangles of beach towels and children charging into the waves, then running back to the safety of parents’ arms. Life in all its summer glory.

She was fortunate to live here, she knew that, but lonely. Oh so lonely.

‘Liz?’ called a surprised voice from below, jolting her from her thoughts.

She looked down to see Viv waving to her and waved back in trepidation. Viv Carroway was a business contact who Liz had got to know well over the years. She ran a successful holiday lettings agency and was always rushed off her feet managing the expectations of homeowners and holidaymakers. She was brilliant at her job, which meant that her properties were full almost all year round. Viv’s company had put a lot of work Liz’s way at one time. But not anymore.

‘It is you!’ Viv cried and promptly ran up the steps to join her.

Liz stood to greet her and then wished she hadn’t. Her linen tunic dress had creased into pleats, and, oh no, was that a sweat patch under one boob? Some women could wear linen and look effortlessly cool and bohemian. Liz looked like she’d slept in her clothes. Viv, by contrast, was in heeled sandals and a hot-pink tailored shift dress which looked sensational against her tan.

‘How lovely to see you out and about again!’ Viv kissed her cheeks; Liz was assailed by her perfume. Viv didn’t know the meaning of the word subtle. ‘And not before time. How are you?’ She cocked her head to one side waiting for Liz to answer.