Don’t miss group. I expect Delta knew that any phrase that allowed me a choice would fall on deaf ears, whereas I feel less able to ignore such a direct order. Don’t miss group today. I circle my thumb over the crystal face of my father’s watch. I’ve worn it constantly since my birthday, pressing my cheek against the cool glass sometimes for comfort. Midday, it tells me. Get up off the floor, child, he tells me. Brush your hair and walk your bum over that hill. Don’t miss group. I sigh as I pick up my mug and head inside in search of a hairbrush.
Brianne notices me first and fires herself across the room.
‘You came,’ she says. ‘Come in, let’s get you out of that wet coat, I’ll hang it over the radiator to dry.’ Her eyes brim with motherly concern, even though she can’t be more than a few years older than me. She hurries me across to the group, where the women are already shifting seats to make space for me on the sofa beside Delta.
‘Come on, love,’ Delta says, patting the cushion. ‘Sit yourself down and get warm here now.’
I lower myself in between Delta and Erin, who rubs my knee and hands me a cup of coffee. ‘Delta was sure you’d come, we made you one ready. There’s cake too. You can take some back to the lodge if you don’t feel able for it now.’
I only realize my hands are shaking when I grip the blue-and-white-striped mug.
‘Hey.’ Delta puts her arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s okay. You can let it all out.’
And I do. Someone takes the precarious coffee from my hands as my body heaves with sobs, and I tell them how terribly I miss Mack in jerky sentences, and they say all the right things and gather in close around me as I cry it out. They know; I can see it on all of their faces. They know there’s no such thing as micro-love. There’s just love.
‘A man like that’s going to take some getting over,’ Ailsa says, and they all nod in grim agreement.
‘Could I write that line down for a future book?’ Carmen asks after a beat, and I half laugh because I know that’s exactly why Carmen said it.
‘Thank you for the note. I’m glad I came,’ I say when I feel calmer.
Dolores adds a nip of whiskey to my coffee as Delta squeezes my knee. ‘We were coming to you if you didn’t. I’d already asked Cam to barrow me over the hill. He was on for it.’
I don’t for a minute think she’s joking – I can easily imagine Brianne’s huge husband pushing Delta over Wailing Hill in a wheelbarrow. I shudder out a deep sigh, relieved that these women have folded me into their flock like a lost lamb. I’ve many friends in London but there’s an unavoidable transiency, people come and go. Here, people grow and stay. I’ve spent more time with Delta than with most of my colleagues, and I’ve worked at the magazine for almost four years now. And so it was with Mack too. We jumped straight into each other, feet first.
I feel my shoulders slowly slide down from my ears as conversation ebbs around me against the click of knitting needles and the clatter of plates, the sound of the radio low in the background. An orchestra of comfort. The women’s accents rise and fall, musical as they pass me a slice of cake or a ball of wool, a reassuring hand on my shoulder as someone gets up. They instinctively pitch it at just the right level of compassion and comfort, letting me settle down after my initial outpouring.
‘I feel like such a bloody weakling,’ I say when Delta arches back to stretch her shoulders and asks if I’m okay now.
‘Today maybe,’ she says. ‘It’ll make you stronger in the long run, mind.’
‘You think?’ I look at the half-made scarf on my needles.
She nods. ‘For sure.’
Dolores glances up at me. ‘Not too strong, though,’ she warns. ‘Don’t go building your wall so high you can’t climb over it.’
It would probably displease Dolores a great deal to know how much I like her. It’s good advice. Right now, I’d build those walls good and tall from Salvation rock, double thickness for good measure.
‘It takes a tough woman to weather something like this,’ Carmen says.
‘She’s tough enough,’ Erin says. No hesitation.
‘Can I just stay here for ever?’ I sigh.
‘Not at Otter Lodge, I’m afraid.’ Brianne bites her lip, her eyes full of apology. ‘I heard from Barney this morning. He’s coming back to stay in the lodge in a few weeks, told me to hold off any more bookings for a while.’
‘Oh,’ I say, crestfallen. It’s such unwelcome news. I know I have to leave the island sometime, of course, but this feels like yet another ticking clock, as if the decision has been taken out of my hands. Otter Lodge has become my sanctuary. I don’t like to think of anyone else sitting out on the porch, watching the beach or greeting the dolphins in the morning. My temporarily buoyed spirits nosedive, and I find myself ready to head back over the hill. The women fuss, holding out my warmed jacket for me to shrug my arms into, loading my bag with tin-foiled parcels of cake and what’s left in the whiskey bottle. Delta follows me to the door and adds another parcel wrapped in brown paper.