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Chapter Four
Edie’s hands clasped the letter a bit tighter as she sat on the edge of her bed and read the contents over for the umpteenth time. It had arrived earlier that day with a pile of bills and leaflets, so she hadn’t immediately noticed it. Instead, she’d popped the mail on the small hallway table and carried on with the hoovering. If she had known what the letter contained, would she have opened it earlier?
When she’d stopped for a coffee, she’d remembered there were bills to attend to. Shuffling through the envelopes as she’d walked back into the kitchen, she’d frowned when she’d clocked the thick white envelope with a printed label. Perhaps an invitation to an exhibition on the mainland? Receiving something that wasn’t a bill or a discount coupon for the supermarket was such a rare pleasure these days. The simple act of sliding a knife along the rim of the envelope had had a magic effect, and she’d smiled when she’d seen a folded piece of paper inside. When had she last received a handwritten letter? She’d placed it on the kitchen table and busied herself making coffee. Then she’d sat down, put on her glasses, unfolded the paper and started to read.
Dear Edie,
Please don’t throw this away. I need you to read what I am about to tell you. I am sorry I am telling you my news in this way. I wish I could speak to you in person. This may be the coward’s approach but as you are well aware by now, that is what I am. There is no simple way to tell you I am dying. Even writing the actual words feels strange. I’m not sure if you ever get used to the idea your life is drawing to a close. Yet I am still here, and I am still me. I’m not dead quite yet.
This is not an easy letter to write. Especially after all these years. What can I say, Edie? Other than I am sorry. I can’t rewrite history. How I wish I could. But I need you to know that I am so truly sorry for what happened and for what I did. I can never forgive myself, but I hope you are able to forgive me before I go.
I’ve got cancer. The doctors won’t tell me how long I have — they’re vague about the prognosis. But they have told me that this Christmas will almost definitely be my last. I think I’ll be lucky if I am still here by the end of the year. I’m at the Beatson in Glasgow having treatment and I’m finding it tough. I know I don’t have to tell you how cruel life is. But this has made me realise that I have to speak to you and hug you one last time. That thought is what’s keeping me going. I’m hanging on for you, my beautiful little sister.
I know I don’t deserve you, but I wondered if you could find it in your heart to come and visit me one last time? Please don’t let’s leave things like this. Give me the chance to say sorry again. And to say goodbye. Please?
With all my love,
Christine x
Edie had blinked as she’d read the words, clasping her hand over her mouth in shock. She’d sat in stunned silence until the light had started to fade, and finally, her legs stiff, had shakily stood and gone straight to the cupboard to pour herself a whisky. She’d swallowed it quickly, enjoying the burning sensation in the back of her throat. All she’d wanted to do was watch some mindless TV to distract her racing thoughts. But that couldn’t happen because she was due to collect Amelia from the ferry terminal. So she’d called Fergus and claimed car trouble and politely asked him to go instead.
Now, as she sat on her bed going over the words again, they were like bullets in her stomach. It still hadn’t sunk in, though she had read the letter several times. She could scarcely believe it. And the onus was on her to decide what to do. Her sister, who she hadn’t spoken to for almost twenty years, was dying. She opened the top drawer of her bedside table and tucked the letter into her diary. In the meantime, she would focus on Amelia and the job she would be tasking her to do. That had to take priority for the moment, regardless of Christine’s news. She could not and would not just go to pieces. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up tightly, Molly grunting in annoyance that her sleeping position was being disturbed.
Edie thought about Amelia for a moment. She always believed things happened for a reason and she believed fate had brought Amelia here. Despite her perfect appearance — groomed hair and French manicure — and her polite ways, she could sense sadness in Amelia. She looked frail and forlorn, and Edie could see the anguish and hurt in her eyes. Something must have happened to make her come here on her own. Yet experience had taught Edie that Amelia wouldn’t welcome any prying questions. She would tell her story when she was ready. In the same way that she would share her story about Christine when she was ready to do so. Except Edie wasn’t quite sure if she ever would be.
She reached out and ruffled Molly’s ears and the dog sighed deeply, as though she’d spent the day racing up and down Goatfell several times rather than the reality of a day lying dreaming by the fire. ‘Oh, Molly,’ she said. ‘What should I do?’ The dog seemed to sense Edie’s anguish and moved even closer to her owner, licking her hand when she settled.
Edie slept restlessly as broken images of her and Christine as children came back into her mind. They’d been inseparable, always finishing each other’s sentences and somehow picking up on what each other thought without needing any words. She thought about the time they’d spent playing in their Wendy house at the bottom of the garden, lying on the grass and making daisy chains and holding tea parties for their dolls with homemade lemonade. She thought of how much of a rock Christine had been to her so many times in her life. Then when Jim died suddenly, they’d supported each other through a hideous time of grief and shock. She couldn’t allow her mind to dwell on what had caused their fall-out. The sad thing was that they’d never been the type of siblings to compete for attention from their parents or hold grudges. They really had always been the best of friends.
The move to Arran had saved Edie when life had almost overwhelmed her. She’d built a new life for herself in this wonderful community and felt safe and supported.
As day dawned, she dragged herself from her bed and rolled out her yoga mat, falling into her daily gentle routine of asanas to stretch, lengthen and balance her system. Christine’s news had shaken her to her core and her mind was a whirl of emotions. She tried her best to focus on her breathing and counted slowly in and out. But this morning it didn’t help her let go of her worry and fear. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. The letter was still there and she had no idea what to do.
Chapter Five
The following morning, Amelia crept out of the cottage, admiring the burnt orange leaves scattered over the grass. She walked down the path towards the gate opening onto the beach. Pink clouds streaked the pale blue sky and she gasped at the stunning view. The sea was as still as a pond and the Holy Isle, a small rocky island across the bay, looked so beautiful. Mainly a nature reserve, it was also home to a community of Buddhist monks.
Clambering over the pebbles, she began walking along the shoreline, taking huge gulps of the clean, fresh air. She couldn’t believe she had the whole beach to herself. What a contrast to her usual London morning walk and Tube journey to work. She wasn’t complaining though, she could easily adjust to this. She pulled her phone from her pocket, snapped some shots and sent them to Suna.
Good morning! Welcome to my world and my new favourite place xx
She looked at the three dots moving and waited for Suna to reply.
Wow. Looks amazing. But is there a Costa? Call me later. Some of us have to go to work! X
She smiled and realised for the first time since losing her job she was actually okay. Redundancy had come completely out of the blue and she had taken it very personally, particularly when their sales had reached an all-time high. She had worked for a trendy boutique drinks company selling vodka and rum, and which, according to Suna, was now expanding its line to include gin and whisky. Over the past five years she’d implemented a successful brand strategy that had over-delivered on all its forecasts and budgets, and its online presence had won loads of awards. She’d thrown herself into the role and worked tirelessly over the years. That was why she had been so gutted to lose it. Apparently, she was dispensable.
As she continued to walk, looking around in awe, the job stuff no longer mattered. She felt completely refreshed this morning after a very comfortable sleep. Last night, Edie had fed her delicious soup and amazing bread from the bakery. Amelia had laughed at Edie’s reaction when she’d told her how much she used to pay for a cup of soup and a piece of baguette from the deli by her office. Afterwards she’d retreated back to the lovely guest room. The bed had a thick, white, puffy duvet and more pillows than she knew what to do with. The en-suite bathroom looked as though it belonged in a boutique hotel with its underfloor heating, huge bathtub and piles of freshly laundered, fluffy white towels. After a relaxing soak she’d climbed into bed, rolled herself up in the quilt and fallen asleep almost immediately. When she’d woken up, a few moments passed before she realised that her first thought wasn’t worry or a sense of heaviness descending on her. For once she hadn’t thought of her broken heart. Instead, she’d focused on the excitement of being somewhere new.
Standing on the beach, she watched the diving gannets swoop in and out of the water and listened to the gentle lap of the waves. What an invigorating way to start the day. She hoped her time on this island would help her untangle the jumble of thoughts in her mind and maybe help her to heal.
She clicked a few more images and sent them to Jack, so he would see them when he woke up. Then, turning, she continued her journey along the beach, smiling as she passed a dog-walker whose puppy strained at the lead. A bolt of grief hit her.They’dalways planned to get a dog. Declan had promised her that when they moved from the city, they would definitely buy a puppy. She could picture him, his face earnest, as he nodded and said it was also his dream to have a cockapoo. Another promise in the pack of cards that had tumbled down in the wake of his departure.
She stared out at the sea and tried to forget. Come on, Amelia, you can’t let a memory like that ruin your day. Not when you woke up feeling optimistic.You have to let it go. She was tired of all the questions and memories that kept bouncing around her head. As she stood there, intent on regaining the sense of peace and composure that she’d started the day with, she realised something was moving in the water. It had a smooth head and she narrowed her gaze. This was all just getting better. It had to be a seal. Loads of them lived in these waters. Wait until she told Suna and Jack! She pulled her phone back out and was about to take another shot when she zoomed in. Since when did seals wave? Or swim directly towards people, smiling? Slipping her phone in her pocket, she waited, bemused, as the bobbing head got closer and the person emerged from the water in a wetsuit, hood and gloves.
‘Good morning,’ said Fergus cheerily, pulling off the hood and raking his fingers through his hair.
‘Oh. Hello,’ she stammered.
