The Island Girls: A heartbreaking historical novel

in the sky, light stretching on until late in the evening. Susannah opened the window, breathed in the sweet scent of summer, and listened to the crickets chirruping. It was rare she had the house to herself, and the place felt strange and empty. She pulled her library edition of Moby-Dick out of her school bag, and placed it on the lacing stand, opening it up to where she’d left off. She spread the pages with her hands. The stand was just the right height for reading. Now she had her book, she was no longer alone. She dived into Melville’s world, immediately under the spell of his story.

It was the smell of burning blueberries, sticky and sweet, which roused her. She hopped off the chair, and ran into the kitchen. Luckily, the berry mixture had only just seemed to start to stick to the bottom. She glanced at her watch. She’d been reading for nearly an hour and still no Kate. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have left her up on those granite slabs with Matthew Young?

Susannah took out the strainer and tried to remember how they’d made the jelly last year. Cheesecloth. Four layers went in the strainer, which she balanced in a bowl before spooning in the blueberry mixture. Now it had to sit for about thirty minutes. She went back into the front room and sat down at the lacing stand, looking out of the window yet again. But there was still no sign of Kate. Just as she was thinking of going to look for Kate while the jelly mixture thickened, she saw her mother coming up the road. Oh hell, what was she going to tell her about Kate?

Her mother was in a good mood as she came in the door, carrying her sewing bag in one hand like a doctor with his medical kit.

‘What a joy it is to work on Hannah Weaver’s dress,’ her mother said, her eyes gleaming with delight. ‘Her father is sparing no expense. It’s such a pleasure to be able to make bobbin lace for the detail rather than all those darn pool table nets!’

She put down the bag, and sat down at the lacing stand opposite Susannah.

‘Such good people, the Weavers,’ her mother said. ‘They insisted on giving me a little glass of whisky to set me on my way home. And Rachel is growing up to be such a pretty girl, isn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Susannah said, closing her book. Susannah particularly disliked Rachel Weaver, who was always bragging about her father’s big leisure boat and all her rich friends from Connecticut who came to stay in their hotel every summer.

Her mother unpinned her hair, and let its blonde tresses cascade over her shoulders. She looked younger tonight than she had in years.

‘They’re having a dance soon for all the summer visits, and you and Kate are invited!’ she said happily. ‘Isn’t that just swell?’

The idea of going to Rachel Weaver’s summer dance did not appeal to Susannah in the least, but there was no point telling her mother that.

‘So what’s that I can smell?’ Her mother gave Susannah a knowing smile. ‘Is Katie in the kitchen, working her magic?’ She got up and went towards the kitchen.

‘It’s a surprise!’ Susannah exclaimed, trying to stop her mother from going in.

Her mother turned and smiled again. ‘Sure it is,’ she said. ‘So sweet of you girls.’

Susannah followed her mother into the kitchen. She hadn’t noticed what a mess she’d made until now, when she saw all the spoons and bowls placed about the table.

‘I’ll clean up,’ she said. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

‘But where’s Katie?’ her mother asked.

Susannah didn’t even consider telling her mother the truth. If she knew her youngest daughter was on her own with a boy, she would be furious – and most likely blame Susannah for leaving Kate behind on Amherst.

‘She’s taken some blueberries over to Aunt Marjorie,’ Susannah lied. ‘She’ll be back soon.’

‘So did you make this on your own, Susannah?’ Her mother gave her a curious look.

‘Yes,’ Susannah said, pouring the strained mixture back into the iron pot and measuring out sugar.

‘Well, I sure am impressed you remembered the recipe on your own,’ her mother said, taking an apron off the peg and handing it to her. ‘You’d better put this on, darling. Blueberries make the darnedest stains.’ She put the apron on over Susannah’s head and tied it tight around her waist. ‘You’re a good girl, Susannah,’ she said, kissing the top of her head.

Susannah felt terrible. All she did was lie to her mother. Not just about where Kate was, but also about her own life. Her plans for Harvard. All those secret hours in the library with Mrs Matlock. She was almost tempted to tell her right then. Her mother was in such a good mood. But then it was so rare, especially the night before her birthday. Susannah didn’t want to darken her mother’s humour.

‘You carry on there,’ her mother said, returning to the front room. ‘I’ve got some more lacing to do.’

Susannah turned the heat back on the hob and stirred the jelly mixture, watching the sugar dissolve. If Kate didn’t come home soon, their mom would get suspicious. What if she decided to call over to Aunt Marjorie?

It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, the sky seeping rose and the sea splattered pink, that Kate finally came in the back door.

‘Why were you so long? Mom’s been asking where you were,’ Susannah hissed.

‘What did you tell her?’ Kate said. Her eyes were glittering and her dress was all rumpled.

‘Said you brought some berries over to Aunt Marjorie,’ Susannah said, disgruntled. ‘She’d better not ask her about it tomorrow afternoon.’

Kate shrugged, seeming not to care.

‘I had to make all this jelly on my own,’ Susannah continued, ladling the mixture into jars.

‘What a great job you’ve done, Susie!’ Kate said, twirling around the kitchen.

‘That’s not the point,’ Susannah said.