AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not only that; they made her feel like she’d failed somehow. Even though she knew she loved what she did, had a sense of purpose in her life, that clearly wasn’t enough for her parents. So, over time, the length between visits back home grew longer until it was just easier not to go. Her mother would write to her regularly with news of the garden or where they were next planning to go in their caravan. And there was always a mention of someone’s daughter or son who’d just had another baby. She’d sign off ‘love, always,’ and Emily knew her mother meant it, but it made Emily feel sad that she couldn’t ever expect them to really understand. She was happy on the island and she certainly didn’t need anyone else to validate her happiness.
Margaret had, at times, tried to get Emily to talk about her life before she came to the castle, but Emily would simply change the subject. And, after a while, Margaret stopped asking. But she didn’t give up on trying to persuade Emily to go back to see her parents more often. Margaret hadn’t been particularly close to her own parents before they’d died (they’d detested Margaret’s husband, as it turned out) and her advancing years gave her the benefit of hindsight. ‘One day they won’t be here any more, and you’ll wish you could see them, even just one last time,’ Margaret would say. Emily would nod, knowing she was right, but nevertheless not quite able to bring herself to book that ferry back over to see them.
Emily shut her cottage door behind her and turned on the light, gently stroking Bertie’s head. ‘Hello, boy. How are you?’ He turned and padded back to his spot in front of the fire, the embers still warm. Settling in front of it, he looked up at her with his brown eyes. ‘I know, long shift.’ She flopped into the armchair next to him, sinking into the cushions. Reaching into her pocket, she took out her phone and tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead.
Heaving herself up again, she walked to the kitchen and turned on the light. The kitchen was small but cosy, with an old wooden table and six chairs around it. In the middle of the table sat a jam jar with a handful of wildflowers in it and, on either side, a wax-covered candle holder with just a thumb-sized candle left in each. The beamed ceiling was low and along the far wall was an old double sink with tall brass taps in front of a double window. Pots with herbs and plants lined the windowsill and open shelves groaned with crockery and glasses. At one end, an old range cooker warmed the room and, at the other, a small door led to a pantry stuffed with various bottles, jars, tins and packets of dried pasta, porcini, anchovies, olives and other ingredients she treasured like precious jewels.
Emily walked over to the wooden kitchen counter and plugged in her phone before switching on the kettle. As she waited for it to boil, she rinsed out her mug from the morning under the tap and popped a teabag in. She put away the clean plates she’d left to drain that morning while leaving her teabag to soak and, a moment later, noticed her phone screen light up. She typed in her pin and her screensaver lit up, a picture of Bertie on the beach taken last summer. Then the notifications came up. Three missed calls and a message from her mother.
Dad’s had a fall. Can you call when you get this? X
Emily’s heart began to pound. She immediately tapped on the screen and went to call her mother. The familiar voice answered on the second ring.
‘Mum?’
‘Oh Emily, I was worried you hadn’t got my message.’
‘I know, I’m sorry… how’s Dad? What’s happened?’
There was a small silence. ‘He’s OK, but it was quite the scare, I can tell you.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In hospital. Fell off the stepladder cleaning the bloody windows. He was lucky he didn’t break anything, but he’s a bit battered and bruised.’
Emily sighed with relief. She’d been expecting far worse. ‘Oh, poor thing, when’s he coming home?’
‘Hopefully tomorrow, they’re keeping him in tonight though.’ Her mother’s voice now sounded a little shaky.
‘Shall I come over tomorrow?’ Emily’s mind whizzed ahead to how best to cover her shift for the next day.
‘Actually, yes please. I’d love that and I know he would, too.’
‘I’ll text you and let you know when I’ll be there, but I’ll get an early ferry over, so assume I’ll be with you by late morning.’
‘OK, see you then.’
‘Bye, Mum.’
Emily put down her phone and closed her eyes, leaning on the counter. She heard Bertie come into the kitchen and sit beside her. She looked down at him. ‘Time to head home.’
21
Just as Emily had suspected, Margaret simply waved her hand the next morning, telling her to go and she’d see her the following day. ‘And don’t worry about cover, I can sort that out.’
‘I’ve already messaged Lou; I spoke to her last night. It should be fine given it’s one of our quieter nights, but I am sorry to leave you in the lurch, Margaret.’
‘Please, dear girl, not another word. Leave Bertie with me, he can hang out with mine for the night. I’ll send someone down to get him from the cottage later, leave it open. And if I need to ask you anything, I’ll message you. Now, off you go.’ She shooed Emily away with her long red nails.
‘Thank you, I’ll be back in time for service tomorrow, but I just need to go and see they’re both all right.’
‘I said not another word. Go!’ Margaret scowled, then winked at her. ‘We’ll be fine.’
Emily went back to the cottage, gave Bertie a hug and told him to be good, then grabbed her bag and set off down the track to the ferry terminal at Craignure, the fastest sea route back to Oban. She’d booked a ticket online and, looking out at the relatively calm sea as she drove away from the castle, knew it would be a quick crossing. With luck, she’d be at her parents’ house by lunchtime.
As the ferry moved away from the island, Emily looked back at the shore, the familiar sight of the pier and the pub sitting at the bottom of the tree-covered slope getting smaller and smaller as the boat made its way towards the mainland. She watched the sea below moving in circles behind the ferry, leaving an oddly flat stretch in its wake, with waves on either side. The water was dark and deep, holding secrets beneath.
Emily took in a long breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air. She felt safe on the island, free even. There was a time she’d loved the mainland too, but it held too many memories, painful ones, for her to ever feel free there now. Instead, the familiar knot in her stomach started to form and tighten as the island moved further away behind her.
