‘Anyways,’ Lynsey said to her. ‘It’s very, very quiet there. I felt like I slept most of my teenage years because there was like, nothing to do, ever. My sister Rebecca loved it. She and Aunt Susannah hiked together, but my aunt’s not able enough for that now. You’ll be okay being so alone?’
‘The quiet life is just fine for me,’ Emer said firmly.
‘Are your parents gonna visit?’ Lynsey asked her. ‘There’s a few places for rental if they’d like to come?’
‘Maybe,’ Emer had said, not elaborating. Lynsey had waited for her to say more, but what could Emer tell her? Her father had no idea she had even applied for the job on Vinalhaven.
She followed the road now as it curved out of town to a small bridge crossing an estuary of the sea. Water rushed beneath it and she paused to listen to the clinking of the fishing boats, and the sounds of seabirds she couldn’t name. There was a pier off the road, with several pick-ups parked and mountains of lobster traps stacked in the yard. She guessed this was one of the places the fishermen set out to get the lobster. The houses thinned out as she kept going, passing a sign to Lane’s Island Preserve. She was walking beside marshland, thick with golden reeds and giant bulrushes. Crows were cawing loudly from the treetops, and she could hear crickets chirruping.
Turning the corner, Emer heard the sound of children, their high-pitched voices flung upon the wind. Two little girls were swinging on a hammock slung up in the front porch of a blue wooden house, a row of orange pumpkins lined up on its steps. The older girl had blonde hair, the younger red. Just like her and Orla. They didn’t even notice her as she walked by, and she was trying not to stare at the children, but it felt like a sign. An image connecting her to the bond with her own sister. The reason why she had committed to this job.
As if on cue, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. All the text messages coming through which she’d been unable to receive while on the boat. Five missed calls from Lars. Without even listening to the messages, she felt heavy with guilt. And then one text from Lynsey:
Hello Emer, here’s the address again. Sorry I can’t be there to greet you but I can’t get away. Fall is my busiest time. My Aunt Susannah is expecting you. Please keep me updated on her condition.
Another text with the address which Emer already had. And then a third message:
Just to warn you. Susannah was insistent that she didn’t need looking after. But she does. I am sure you’ll deal with her great. Thanks again.
Her heart sank. What was she doing looking after a reluctant patient on this remote island? She’d made a terrible mistake, but it was too late now. Certainly, she couldn’t return to Mass General, ever. She was here, so she’d just better make the best of it.
There were fewer houses now as marsh gave way to woods on either side of the road, its foliage glorious and golden, rustling in the breeze as if whispering secrets. She looked behind her at the glint of blue, ever more distant. But the sound of the sea remained as a never-ending echo, as did the cawing of the black crows above. The stillness on the island of Vinalhaven magnified all sound, even the beating of her heart. She clasped her clammy hands and focused on finding her new home.
Susannah Olsen’s house was a lot bigger than Emer had expected. It was constructed of wooden boards, like all the island houses, and painted white. There were patches peeling off the exterior and it looked like it needed a good lick of fresh paint. The roof sagged a little in the middle, but the porch was neat with a large swing-seat, a round table and white wicker chairs with patchwork cushions. The garden was a glory of fall abundance with blooming bushes of hydrangeas and a large horse-chestnut tree, beneath which Emer spied more gleaming conkers. In the middle of the lawn was an ancient apple tree laden with red apples.
She climbed the steps of the porch, opened the porch door and knocked on the inside door but there was no answer. She knocked again. Silence, so she tried the door and it opened.
After the beauty and brightness of the garden, the interior was dark. It needed a thorough airing. Emer itched to pull back the drapes and open the windows. The place was a mess. Piles of books and papers were stacked on old mahogany furniture. There was a small desk at the one window where the drapes were rumpled. Upon it, an old typewriter and a stack of papers.
‘Hello?’ Emer called out, but there was no reply. She kept going, wandering into the back of the house and the kitchen. A big blue dresser was piled with old crockery, but the kitchen was clean, if a little untidy.
‘Hello!’ she called out again. No reply. She unlatched a door to a stairwell and climbed up to a narrow landing. Two doors. Both closed. Maybe Susannah Olsen had already taken to her bed and was in urgent need of pain relief. Emer knocked before opening. One room was a bathroom, and the second clearly Susannah’s bedroom. There was another flight of stairs at the end of the landing, presumably up to another bedroom in the eaves of the house. Emer stepped into Susannah’s bedroom. There was a big double bed covered with the most beautiful quilt Emer had ever seen, its colours in contrast to the deep shades
