The Island Girls
A heartbreaking historical novel
Noelle Harrison
Books by Noelle Harrison
The Island Girls
The Gravity of Love
The Adulteress
The Secret Loves of Julia Caesar
I Remember
A Small Part Of Me
Beatrice
Contents
1. Emer
2. Susannah
3. Emer
4. Susannah
5. Emer
6. Susannah
7. Emer
8. Susannah
9. Susannah
10. Emer
11. Susannah
12. Emer
13. Susannah
14. Emer
15. Susannah
16. Emer
17. Susannah
18. Emer
19. Susannah
20. Emer
21. Susannah
22. Susannah
23. Emer
24. Susannah
25. Emer
26. Susannah
27. Emer
28. Susannah
29. Emer
30. Susannah
31. Emer
32. Susannah
33. Emer
34. Susannah
35. Emer
36. Susannah
37. Emer
38. Susannah
39. Emer
40. Susannah
41. Emer
42. Kate
43. Emer
44. Susannah
45. Emer
Hear More From Noelle
Books by Noelle Harrison
A Letter from Noelle
Acknowledgements
*
For Lydia, for gifting me a story.
And for Becky, for coming to the island with me.
Emer
10th October 2011
Emer was far away now, the last year trailing behind in the jet stream of the small ferry as it ploughed through the sea. It was a perfect day, after all. Lifting her face to the sky, Emer felt the warmth of the sun on her damp cheeks, as her whole body rocked to the rhythm of the boat. She should have been lulled by the gentle motion of the ocean, but she was far from calm.
The boat chugged through island waters glittering azure, her sister’s favourite colour. Orla loved the sea, a natural sailor. That was how she’d met her husband, Ethan, both of them on the ocean every single weekend. But Emer had never developed sea legs, despite her sister’s enthusiasm. She’d gone out with Orla and Ethan several times, and even when the sea had been smooth as glass she’d feel panic building up inside her. Like now. It felt like the longest journey ever, although it was only an hour and fifteen minutes. Her heart beating furiously inside her chest, and her mouth dry with fear. She’d been steadily drifting further and further away from her life before. She would never get it back. She knew that. But maybe her destination was a place where she could forget, and be forgotten? That was all she wanted right now.
Emer sat on the tiny deck, fighting back the urge to be sick, staring into the cold Atlantic Ocean. The water was so clear she could see all the way to the lobster pots settled on its bed.
The Vinalhaven ferry wove between the brightly coloured lobster pot buoys bobbing up and down among the fishermen’s boats. How Orla would have loved the pretty little harbour of this Maine island with its wooden houses all different colours and the wharf sitting high atop wooden stilts. Sunlight was dancing on the dappled water, the scent of the sea everywhere, its salty tang on Emer’s lips. How many times had her sister declared her dream of island life? Well, here Emer was, living her sister’s dream, running away from her own nightmare.
As she walked off the boat, it hit Emer how quiet the island was. All she could hear were the gulls crying, and the water lapping against all the fishermen’s boats. A lone vehicle driving down the road. It was almost unnerving not to hear the sounds of busy traffic. Not only that, she hadn’t considered how isolated this island really was. As she walked down Main Street, it felt as if she were walking back in time. Most of the shops were closed, some with signs saying they wouldn’t be open again until next season. It felt a world away from Boston: the packed subways, the bustle of the crowded streets and the noise and urgency of the hospital. Emer had left behind her previous life as a nurse in Massachusetts General Hospital to become the companion and palliative care nurse for one patient, Susannah Olsen, on the island of Vinalhaven off the mid-Maine coast. Her new employer, Susannah’s niece Lynsey, had told her Vinalhaven was packed in the summer months, but now in October it was clear tourist season was over. There was that same faintly sad feeling Emer got whenever she went to a seaside town in the winter. The fun was over for another year. Time to hibernate.
She checked the address Lynsey had given her, and carried on. Emer’s route took her all the way down Main Street. Past a food store, which was open, and a bar. She heard music inside and the low hum of conversation – so at least some people came out. She took a right down a leafy street with large wooden houses – white, green, grey – all the way down on either side. The gardens were festooned with hydrangeas, the ground littered with horse chestnut shells. She found a perfect conker and slipped it into her pocket, its smooth contours soothing in the palm of her hand.
It was warm for October, and Emer shifted her rucksack on her sticky back. A lone grey cat sauntered past her, and she spied an old lady raking up leaves on her lawn. A truck cruised by, its driver an old man with a shaggy beard, giving her a friendly wave just like back home in Ireland. She remembered Lynsey telling her there weren’t too many permanent residents on the island any more.
‘A lot of the houses are for summer visitors, empty all winter,’ Lynsey had explained. ‘Those staying all year are either boat builders or lobster fishermen. They can make good money from the lobsters, so a lot of young men don’t bother with college.’
‘It costs a lot to go to college in the States, doesn’t it?’
‘You’re telling me,’ Lynsey moaned. ‘My aunt never lets me forget how much it cost her to educate a circus attraction, as she calls me. In any case, Vinalhaven has an interesting history. It used to have a big granite industry, but that all died out. And you know, I’m not sure how much longer it’s going to work out with the lobsters either. What with climate change, they’re moving north to colder waters.’
Emer had never eaten lobster. She didn’t eat meat or
