Had Matthew known his brother had shot the bird out of the sky, or did he genuinely want to end its suffering? Susannah had never forgotten the way Matthew and Silas had taunted her and Kate when they’d gone swimming down at the cove. But no matter how many times she reminded her sister how mean they were, Kate never minded it any more, saying they were just boys being boys. Susannah knew that was just one big fat lie. She didn’t understand any of the boys in their school. She really hoped one day she’d meet a boy she liked. All she had to do was get off the island.
Emer
15th October 2011
Emer woke as the sun rose. She hadn’t drawn the curtains in her room. From her bed, she could see rosy light seeping into the sky. She got out of bed and watched the sun rising above the pine trees on an islet in the bay. The view from her bedroom looked out over Vinalhaven harbour and all the moored boats used over the summer months. The water was deep blue, with smooth, slow ripples rocking against the sides of the pleasure vessels. The fishing boats had already taken off in the morning dark. Susannah had told her last night the fishermen went out at four in the morning, returning at one every afternoon.
‘From the lobster pots straight to The Sand Bar every darn day,’ Susannah had said, her tone critical. ‘But always going home to bed at four in the afternoon.’
Emer took in the fragile beauty of the day. She was used to being up this early from working in the hospital. It was a time she’d always loved. The untouched quality of early morning, like new snow. But ever since that dreadful day she’d woken up next to Lars, rolled over and turned on her phone, dawn’s magic had been ruined. It had become the time when she’d found out her sister had died. And she hadn’t been there, all because of Lars. No – she couldn’t blame him. It had been she who had run away from the hospital – Ethan, her dad and Sharon all sat around Orla in the bed. She’d banged on Lars’ door in the middle of the night. Orla had held on for so many weeks. Why had she chosen those exact hours, when her sister was absent, to let go?
Emer wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. She had to get it together. Her job was to be a support to Susannah. She couldn’t be wallowing in her own grief. She had to stay upbeat for her new patient. She put on her best comfort sweater – an old one of her mam’s, deep green and soft – over her pyjamas and pulled on a pair of thick woolly socks. She was going to see if she could put together a breakfast Susannah might feel like trying, despite her dwindling appetite.
A short while later, balancing coffee and scrambled eggs with toast on a tray she’d found in the back of the big blue dresser in the kitchen, Emer climbed the stairs to Susannah’s bedroom. She tentatively knocked on the door. No answer, but she could hear Susannah coughing. She knocked again and walked in.
Susannah hadn’t closed her curtains either. Her bedroom was bathed in gold, illuminating dust and cobwebs but also displaying the beautiful quilt on her bed. Every time Emer looked at it, she saw another detail she hadn’t noticed before. This morning it was a series of tiny apple-green hearts with white sprigs in the print at the four corners of the quilt.
‘Good morning,’ Emer said, in her most cheerful nurse’s voice. ‘That really is such a lovely quilt. Did you make it?’
No answer from Susannah’s bed, although the old lady was awake, giving her a look half-way between surprise and outrage.
‘I made you some breakfast.’ Emer placed the tray down on the table by the bed and turned to help Susannah sit up, but she was already getting out of bed. ‘Oh, don’t you want the food I made?’
‘Sure, sure,’ said Susannah, looking cross. ‘But I ain’t bedbound yet.’
‘I know, but I thought it might be nice for you to be treated to breakfast in bed.’
‘Well, we eat downstairs in this house.’
Emer picked up the tray again. ‘Okay, sorry,’ she said, trying not to sound as wounded as she felt.
‘I don’t need help dressing, either,’ Susannah snapped, making sure Emer got the hint.
Half an hour later, by the time both the coffee and toast were stone cold, Susannah came downstairs, dressed in a sky blue sweater and denims. Her silver hair was brushed and she was even wearing a little make-up. Emer was mortified to still be in her pyjamas. She could feel Susannah’s disapproval as they sat at the kitchen table in silence. But Susannah said nothing, perusing the very thin local paper, and picking at her breakfast while Emer forced down toast and fried tomatoes.
‘You not eating eggs?’ Susannah said, surveying Emer’s breakfast plate.
‘No. I’m vegan.’
‘So, you don’t eat meat? No fish, dairy?’
‘Not since I was fifteen.’
Susannah grunted. ‘Shame you won’t eat the lobster. It sure is good here.’ She pushed away her plate of eggs.
‘Are they no good?’ Emer ventured.
‘They’re fine.’ Susannah’s tone softened. ‘It’s just hard to eat.’
‘I’ll do some experimenting,’ Emer offered. ‘We’ll find something you can eat.’
‘What’s the point?’ Susannah said, pushing her chair back and standing up. Emer was about to go back into cheerful nurse mode and dish out some positive platitudes when Susannah’s phone began to ring.
Susannah began hunting for her phone. ‘That’ll be my
