I open my eyes. ‘Really?’
Emma gets out a letter. She tells me Janice sent it her a couple of weeks ago: another thing I knew nothing about. If Emma and I were to try to salvage our marriage, this would go on for months. Years, maybe.
She hands me the letter.
Dear Emma,
I know this letter will come as a shock. But I had to write to you. You crop up in my thoughts often.
It’s about that crab we spotted all those years ago. On Alnmouth beach remember. Of course you remember. I have watched your television series and know you’ve never stopped looking for it. Anyway, I think you should look on Coquet Island.
In Shakespeare, islands are like magic, and he knew what he was talking about.
Coquet Island is the only place on that coast that’s completely out of bounds to human beings
& I paid a fisherman to take me out there once to look at the birds and although you’re not allowed to land there I saw many things including, I’m sure of it, one of your crabs . . . I guess you only really get bird lovers going out there so nobody’d notice an unusual crab, they’re all there for the puffins and roseate terns
I’m sorry I’ve kept this information from you for so long. I should have told you years ago. I mean it I am so sorry.
sorry again Emma
Janice
‘She sounds drunk,’ I surmise, tiredly. I’m not sure I have capacity to deal with Janice Rothschild right now.
‘Yes – or on medication.’
‘Maybe. But you think she’s on Coquet Island?’ I ask.
‘No. I think she’s in a shed.’
I rub my eyes. ‘What?’
Emma tucks her hair behind her ear. It doesn’t escape my notice that this is the first time in a year her hair’s been long enough to do that.
‘The day I decided to keep Charlie, I thought I was miscarrying.’
I search back through the memories I’ve had to store today. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I remember.’
‘Janice invited me to stay at their house. We went for a walk on the beach – far too big a walk, but, Christ, it was such a relief to know Charlie was going to be brought up by them, I just . . . Well, I just carried on walking. Eventually I think my body realised I wasn’t going to stop, so it stopped me itself. I started bleeding, my back hurt, felt dizzy. I ended up in hospital.’
I remember her having back pain when she was pregnant with Ruby. She was petrified; she’d gone to the hospital before I’d even picked up her voicemail.
‘But before that, it had started raining and we went and sat in this stone shed in the dunes. We had sandwiches and chocolate, and we watched a storm tear around the bay. It was lovely. Just me and this secret friend nobody knew I had, sitting among piles of sheep poo and cobwebs.’
She pauses, remembering. ‘Janice felt it too. I know she did. When the storm cleared I felt so full of hope and relief and . . . I don’t know. Fellowship, I think.’
‘And . . . You think she’s in that shed?’
Emma frowns, slightly embarrassed. ‘Actually, I do.’
I wait for her to expand, but she doesn’t.
‘Really?’
‘Yes. And here’s why: in her letter, she talks about Coquet Island and she keeps on saying she’s sorry for not telling me. “I should have told you years ago,” she says. It reads as if she’s talking about the crabs, but I think she’s actually apologising for not telling me the truth about the smothering.’