Two weeks had passed since Esther had first woken at Embers, bound and confused, and she found herself surprised by the return of her old energy, the energy she’d had before the exhaustion of motherhood overcame everything. She spent her days largely unbothered by the cloud of dread that had hovered over her in London, her eyes were brighter, and her appetite had recovered itself, with the result that her skirts no longer swung loosely about her hips. It would likely be a couple of weeks more before she heard from John, but she comforted herself with the thought that her letter must surely have found its way to him by now and he must be planning her return at that very moment. She tried not to miss Teddy too much, but still slept with his woolen cap under her cheek. She had nightmares that he was calling to her, but when she went to hold him her hands would not stretch to meet his; he was always out of reach. It was only first thing in the mornings, the moment before her eyes snapped open, that she felt dragged down by loss again, when she remembered why John had brought her to Embers in the first place.
One morning, waking earlier than normal, she had gone outside for some air and in the fog she almost convinced herself that she heard something—a half-strangled, bleating cry. A shadowy form loomed out of the mist and her breath caught in her throat. It looked like the figure of a young boy. Teddy? As she raced closer, a shrub emerged and her heart slowed its thunderous beat. She was seeing him everywhere, her mind playing tricks.
She’d fallen into a routine, breakfasting with the men and then helping Robbie in the kitchen garden when the weather was fine. The repetitive act of weeding and digging and the sheer physical exhaustion was working a subtle magic, keeping her focus in the present and with little opportunity to rake over the past, during daylight hours at least. The grimness of the previous months faded from her memory, as if the dawn was finally breaking after a long, dark night.
She had even come to trust the doctor, disarmed by his charm and steady good humor. She was surprised to find herself laughing, more than once, in their sessions together. She enjoyed sparring with him about the future of the Catholic Church in England, discussing postwar Europe, the Korean War, and public education. She never knew quite where their conversations would take them. He certainly gave her opinions far more weight than John had ever done, was prepared to listen and debate with her at length.
Despite his skills, however, he hadn’t managed to get her to reveal anything about the events that had brought her there, for she knew if she uttered the words out loud that she would have to own up to her part in the tragedy.
* * *
About three weeks after she had arrived, on a Friday at noon, the tide was reaching its zenith. She practically scampered down the narrow path to the jetty, leaving Robbie following some way behind her, dragging the cart. They arrived in plenty of time to meet the boat—they could see the wide-beamed vessel as a speck on the horizon—and settled on the jetty’s end to wait. The sun had come out from behind the clouds and Esther tipped her face to its warmth, swinging her legs and feeling a bubble of expectation well up inside her. Surely there would be a message from John by this boat? It had better come soon, for the bright, glossy pills were almost finished. She’d been rationing them, taking one every other night, but they would be gone within a week and she didn’t know how she would cope after that. She didn’t want the doctor to know she was taking them—she couldn’t really explain why—but if John didn’t send for her soon, she might be forced to ask him for some more. She couldn’t manage without them.
“The place has grown on you, hasn’t it?” said Robbie. He’d left the cart where the jetty met the land and come down to sit beside her, the unblemished side of his face closest to hers.
She looked sideways at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You look almost happy. Quite different from when you first arrived.”
“Perhaps I’m well enough to be leaving soon?”
“Perhaps.” He didn’t sound as if he believed her.
“Anyway, I have to go home soon. My son needs me.”
“How old is he?”
“Two and a half. His name’s Teddy.” Her eyes misted over and she blinked to clear them, staring ahead of her. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
He brushed his fair hair out of his eyes. “Nearly six months I reckon. You should see this place in summer—there’s nowhere I’ve ever been that’s quite like it. Hard to believe it’s still England. Gorgeous for swimming.”
“Well, I shall have to take your word for it, for I do not expect to be here come summer.” Her tone was certain but she could tell from the look on his face that Robbie didn’t believe her.
She cast around for a change of topic. “Tell me about your family. If it’s not going to upset you that is,” she added hurriedly.
“Oh no, not at all. My parents died in the Blitz. Now there’s just my sister, a brother-in-law, and a niece with the sweetest smile you ever saw.” The undamaged corner of his mouth turned upward at the memory.
“No wife? Children?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t expect to survive the war, so it hardly seemed fair to leave someone stuck with mouths to feed and no breadwinner.”
“Indeed. But how about since the war ended?”
He laughed bitterly. “I’m not exactly a pretty boy anymore, am I?”
“Do you know,” she admitted, “I was a bit taken aback by your face when I first met you, but now—well now, I hardly notice it. It’ll be the same for the right girl, I know it will. You’ve the kindest, biggest heart, Robbie.”
“Very sweet of you to say so, old girl, but I’m not much good to anyone at the moment. I doubt there’s anyone alive who wants to lie next to me when the nightmares come.”
“But love would change that; the right woman, and I’m sure there is one, someone who will love you.”
“If only it were that simple,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
“But you’re getting better, aren’t you?”
“I suppose. The doc seems to think so anyway.” He got to his feet and began to wave at the boat, which was fast approaching the shore. Esther’s anticipation grew as the skipper threw the engine into reverse and the boat came alongside the jetty. He tossed a line to each of them and they tied her up securely. “Ahoy there!” the skipper said, passing across a crate stamped with the Hugh Town Stores name and then another of mail.
Esther registered the brown paper parcels with excitement but stepped back out of the way as Robbie took the crate from the skipper and deposited it on the jetty next to them. She leaned forward to peer into it, optimistic that it would contain word from John. It was all she could do to stop herself from riffling through it there and then.
“Expecting something?” asked Robbie, noticing her darting eyes.
“Oh I hope so,” she said. “My husband . . .”
She watched as the skipper handed two more crates and a sack to Robbie and then prepared to leave. “Gotta get a move on,” he said in a thick Cornish accent. “Fearful storm brewing from the north.”
“Time and tide wait for no man,” said Robbie with a salute. “See you next week, Captain.”
“God willing.”
Esther helped untie the lines holding the boat fast to the jetty and they waved the captain off.
“Would you like to check before we set off back to the house?” asked Robbie kindly.
She nodded, barely able to speak, and knelt down, not caring that the damp timbers of the jetty soaked the knees of her lisle stockings. “Oh, a parcel for you, Robbie!” she cried, handing him a large rectangular box. “And one for George . . .” She riffled through the remaining packages, coming to a slim envelope with a North London postmark. Her heart leaped as she recognized the writing and she leaned back on her heels and tore the envelope open. As she slid the paper out a sudden gust of wind ripped one of the sheets from her hand and it sailed away, over the jetty and into the water. “Oh no!” she cried, scrambling to her feet and following where it had landed.
Before she could do anything further, Robbie had stripped off his heavy pullover and leaped into the sea, the splash sending a shower of salty water onto the jetty.
He scooped up the errant page, held it clear of the water, and began stroking the few yards to the shore with his other arm.
“Are you quite mad?” she called as she ran down the jetty to meet him, realizing as she said it that her choice of words might have been better. “It’s freezing in there.” But she couldn’t help but be thankful that he’d saved it for her.
He emerged, spluttering, holding the paper triumphantly. “Your letter, madam,” he said with a bow as water streamed off him, pooling on the sand. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.
Esther laughed at the absurdity of it all, but then covered her mouth with her hands: his teeth were chattering with cold. “Oh, Robbie, you really shouldn’t have. But thank you.” She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on his good cheek then turned to look at the letter. She still held the second, dry page, in her hands and the writing was bold and clear. Unfortunately, despite Robbie’s efforts, the ink had run so as to make the message on the first, sodden page almost indecipherable. She peered at it, trying to make sense of the waterlogged words.
“My darling Esther—” she read. The rest of the page was a washout, and the ink swam before her eyes. She blinked and turned to the page in her other hand. A single paragraph. “I hope you have by now settled in and are feeling better. Richard is a wonderful doctor and I have every confidence that, in time, you will make a full recovery and return to us. Teddy sends a kiss. Your loving husband, John.” Esther let out a low moan, the mention of her son lancing her with fresh agony. Her husband hadn’t paid any heed to her pleas to return home—if indeed he had received her letter at all.
“Bad news, old chum?” Robbie asked.
“I suppose so,” she said, unable to quell the tremor in her voice. “It seems I shall not be returning home as soon as I had hoped.” She screwed the pages into a tight ball and hurled them into the sea. “I’m sorry you had to get wet. It appears that the letter wasn’t worth rescuing after all.”
“Come on now, it can’t be that bad.”
“Can’t it?” she rounded on him. She had to take her anger out on something, someone. “Do you know what it’s like to be away from your child? A small child who needs his mother? What it’s like to lie awake every night wondering if he’s eaten his supper, if he’s warm enough, if he’s sleeping peacefully? To be hundreds of miles away from him, hoping he isn’t missing you, isn’t crying out for you?”
Robbie said nothing but stepped forward and took her in his arms. Caught off guard, Esther submitted to his embrace, not caring that he was soaking wet. He smelled of tobacco, earth, and salt, a comforting mix that enveloped her, made her feel unaccountably safe. She found herself clinging to him, reveling in the strong feel of his shoulders beneath her hands. It had been months since John had touched her, and even longer since she had felt desire for anything or anyone. Its sudden flare, sending heat coursing through her and causing her to turn her lips toward his, took her by surprise. As their lips met, she came to her senses, jerking herself away violently and turning to run back up to the house before her wayward body could betray her any further, before Robbie had a chance to say anything.