The farm was bulging at the seams, however the close quarters were not an inconvenience but a comfort to them all. There ought to have been a veil of sadness draped over the place in the coming days, but there was not; rather, there was an overwhelming sense of rightness in them all being here together, and a choice to dwell on birth rather than death. The absence of Lena was tangible, and her favourite armchair by the kitchen fire lay empty as Bracken paced, searching for her.
Abby was ensconced in another armchair, with the baby cradled and swaddled against her, and people flocking round her, like the tides responding to the pull of the moon; the baby was the centre of everything: a pinkly wrinkled, brand- new little life, yawning and sighing and blowing spit bubbles from amongst the folds of her mint green blankets, blissfully unaware of the trauma that accompanied her advent into their lives.
Emily sat at the table with the memory book open in front of her, a teapot covered in a knitted cosy by her elbow. She was writing the last chapter, from memory of her last conversation with Lena and glancing occasionally at Abby and the baby. She had been almost afraid to look inside those folds of blankets to the child beneath when Abby and Dan first brought her home; scared of a resurgence of those old feelings of want and loss and self-hate. But she had felt nothing of the kind looking down at her baby niece – those feelings had blown away on a Solway beach, or dissipated in the warmth and love of a dark car, floating down the river with the tide.
Noah, seated opposite, glanced up from his phone from time to time, and each time Emily felt the jolt of his guilt, stark in his eyes; of them all, Noah felt it most acutely: the sense that he ought to have been there and that he could have prevented it.
Emily caught his eye and the depths of his pain made her flinch. Becca had been here earlier and the two of them had shot off together; Noah had been smiling when he returned. Emily didn’t care what tactics Becca had had to employ to cheer Noah up; if she could make her brother smile again it was all right by her.
Emily turned in her seat and looked at Dan, who was leaning over Abby to marvel again at the tiny creation lying in her lap. ‘Have you guys come up with a name yet?’
Melanie turned from the sink with interest, shaking her hands free of suds. Jonathon was pacing the kitchen, the cordless phone in one hand and a bundle of papers in the other, beginning the interminable paperwork that was the accompaniment of death. Melanie touched his shoulder as she passed and they exchanged a small glance. He sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Voices could be heard in the utility room and, a moment later, Ally came into the kitchen, his boyfriend Phillip behind him. That had been a turn-up yesterday: Ally arriving with Phillip in tow. Emily caught Ally’s eye and smiled as he came in, bringing a flurry of dogs and the woodsy scent of outdoors. They were looking after Luke’s dogs and the farm collies as well as Bracken, who had made a complete recovery.
The dogs made a quick tour of the room before settling on their respective blankets. Phillip padded into the kitchen in his socks. ‘Can I make anyone a cup of tea?’ he asked, reaching for the teapot again. There had been a plentiful supply of tea and food over the past twenty-four hours; it was all anyone could do to be useful and so it kept on coming.
‘Thank you, Phillip, that would be lovely.’ Melanie was on her best behaviour with him, playing the perfect mother-in-law. Being a grandmother suited her – Emily could see the pride radiating from her.
Kate rose from her floor cushion in front of the fire where she had been sketching ideas for a flyer for the Book Nook. ‘We were just talking about baby names,’ Melanie added, as Phillip and Ally began setting out another round of tea things.
There was consolation in the togetherness the ordeal had forced upon them, the suspension of normal life in some ways disquieting, and yet providing refuge in their new routines: meals and dog walks and nappy changes, phone calls and paperwork and reminiscing, and laughing when they could. Noah had thrown himself full force into the work of the farm and everyone was chipping in to help out.
Noah and Dan had had a long chat. Emily had been about to go and prise him out of the milking sheds for dinner last night, but Dan had stopped her and said it should be him. Neither of them had made it to dinner and neither divulged what passed between them, but they returned looking as if something important had been settled.
‘So,’ Melanie said, when she was ensconced at the head of the table. ‘Let’s debate names.’
‘There will be no debate,’ Abby said firmly, looking up in alarm. ‘This is not a family decision.’
‘Of course not,’ Melanie soothed, stretching out her arms for the bundle. Abby relinquished her reluctantly.
‘Actually, we do need your advice,’ Dan said, exchanging a reassuring smile with his wife. ‘We’ve reached a bit of an impasse.’
Jonathon collapsed into a chair, a puppet with the strings cut suddenly: it kept catching him unawares like that, the peculiar and shocking sense of loss. ‘Go on,’ he said, glad of the distraction. The business of death was snarled up with so many decisions and paperwork and red tape it didn’t seem like there was time simply to grieve: to miss Lena, to come to terms with the nature of her passing.
Dan sat on the arm of Abby’s chair and cradled his mug carefully. ‘We were thinking …’ he began. ‘And not just because of what’s happened. But we want to honour Lena is some way. She gave us everything: if not for her I wouldn’t have this farm and I’d never have met Abs. We’ve been toying with ideas, like Selena and Helena, but we can’t make up our minds. Does anyone have any thoughts?’
Melanie cooed at the nameless little bundle. ‘Poor little thing, she needs a name and quickly. Whatever you decide, you need to decide now.’
‘I think it’s a lovely idea to honour my mother,’ Jonathon says, his voice a bit unsteady. ‘But if you can’t agree on something, please don’t feel you have to stick to it. Lena wouldn’t have wanted you to, if it doesn’t feel right.’
Dan nodded. ‘I know. It does feel right, just …’ He shrugged and Abby covered his hand with her own, peering past him to check on the baby in Melanie’s arms, feeling the magnetic pull of her child.
‘Can anyone think of an alternative. I mean, did Lena have a middle name or something?’
‘I have an idea,’ Emily said, putting her pen down. ‘What about Annabelle?’
The faces around the room wore matching expressions of mystification; even her father looked blank. Emily zeroed in on him. ‘You know,’ she prompted, ‘Lena’s little sister.’
Jonathon frowned. ‘There was a brother, Austin, he was badly hurt in the war and died later from his injuries. His eyes were weary again and he rubbed at them. Emily held his gaze.
‘Yes,’ she said, flipping through the pages of the memory book until she found what she was looking for. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and read in a steady voice. The others gathered round to listen.
‘A beautiful child, with bright green eyes and golden brown hair and a voice soft and clear as a bell. She adored me and I her. How I wish she had idolised me a little less, not desired to do the things I did with such determination. I taught her to climb because she would have climbed anyway. Father understood that, though Mother did not: not at first and perhaps not at all, for the damage to her baby was a bitter blow.
‘For so long I tormented myself with maybes and whys and wherefores, and I bargained with God to bring back the use of her legs. For once I began to listen to the sermons in church, to pray with heartfelt fervour: so that James could not understand what had happened to change me so. Everyone knew about the poor little girl who had fallen out of a tree and would never walk again, but no one knew how the darkness had permeated my soul, how the guilt chewed me up until I was but a shadow of my former self.
‘And then she caught a fever and died. A freak thing, the doctor said, nothing to do with her accident, but I didn’t believe it. After she died, I stopped eating. Stopped doing anything. No one could bring me out of it. Weeks passed. Then Mother realised she was losing another of her babies; and she was the only one with the power to bring me back. She told me it hadn’t been my fault and I could see for the first time that she meant it. She saved me, with her forgiveness.
‘I was the only one left.
‘And I realised – not then, but later – that it is possible for something to be your fault (a technicality, as in you were there, or not there; as in there was something that you could have done, or not done, to change the outcome) and yet also not your fault; and that that is a contradiction one simply has to learn to live with.’
Emily looked up and caught her Noah’s eye and she wanted to say more, but did not. All were still and silent around the table. Tears flowed in silent rhythms, as the loss of a child they hadn’t even known gave them permission to cry for the woman they had.
Abby sobbed and covered her face, then reached for her own bundle, prising her from Melanie’s arms with a new mother’s iron will.
‘Sorry,’ Emily said. ‘That wasn’t exactly a cheerful story. I guess you might not want to name the baby after someone who died like that … I just thought that Annabelle was someone who mattered to Lena. But maybe you think the name is unlucky or something.’
‘I never knew that,’ Jonathon whispered in wonder. ‘I can’t believe I never knew that.’ He fixed his eyes on Emily and his voice grew stronger. ‘A name is never unlucky. A name is what you make it. How you live up to it and the way it evolves with you.’
Dan went to stand beside his father, clasping his shoulder briefly. ‘Well said.’ He looked at Abby. ‘What do you think? Annabelle? She could be Anna or Bella when she’s older.’
Abby nodded. ‘I love it. It’s exactly right. Thanks, Em.’
‘Have you got any more stories in there I should know about?’ Jonathon said, gesturing towards Emily’s book.
Emily closed it, stroked the cover with reverent fingertips, smiled. ‘You’re welcome to read it and find out. Or, you may wait for publication and finally read an original Emily Cotton.’
*
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ Noah said, at dinner. ‘While everyone’s here.’ He looked at all the faces around the table.
Melanie’s head flew up, her eyes snapping fire. ‘What now?’ She had coped with all the revelations she could handle these past days.
‘Kate and I …’ Noah began, looking to her for support. She nodded encouragingly. ‘We Skyped Fergus earlier. When everyone went out for a walk.’
‘Why the big secret?’ Dan said, ‘I mean, I guess it would have been nice for everyone to speak to him, but—’
‘It was my idea,’ Kate said, no longer wary of Dan. ‘I thought he should be here with you all, so I wanted to persuade him to come back for the funeral. I offered to pay for his ticket—’
Noah interrupted. ‘And Fergus laughed and asked if she had any idea how much money he makes in a single season sheep shearing: a lot, by the way, if anyone wants to know. He said he had been thinking the exact same thing and already looked at tickets. He’s flying on Sunday. I guess we can hold the funeral until he gets here?’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Melanie exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, crying again, tears always so close to the surface. ‘Fergus. It’s been so long since we’ve seen him.’
‘That’s not all,’ Noah said, as Kate jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Fergus was thinking maybe I could go back with him after the funeral. To Australia. Just for a while.’
Silence. Noah looked at his parents, his siblings, at Kate still smiling her encouragement. It had been her idea, and simultaneously Fergus’s; but as soon as they’d suggested it, it had seemed so obvious to Noah. The chance to travel, to spend time with his brother. To make some money too, if Fergus could get him a job and he proved half decent at it. Tough work, Fergus had warned. The toughest.
Noah would handle it; it was time he got his head down and did something worthwhile.
‘What about school?’ Melanie exclaimed ‘You’re too young to make a decision like this. You need to finish your education.’ She appealed to her husband for support but he seemed mired in uncertainty. Melanie huffed an impatient breath and looked at Noah’s siblings instead. ‘Tell him he needs to finish school.’
Noah looked worried. Emily cast him an appraising look. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think he’ll get plenty of education where he’s going.’
Ally agreed. ‘He’ll be eighteen in a few months. Maybe going halfway around the world will help him to grow up more than going back to school would.’
‘Dan, surely I can rely on you to see sense?’ Melanie begged, and Noah sighed, still expecting Dan’s condemnation.
Dan shrugged. ‘He’s got a good head on his shoulders. He won’t do anything stupid.’ Noah stared at him, incredulous. Dan smiled. ‘He’ll have to really work where he’s going. It’ll be good for him.’
‘Oh for goodness sake, am I the only one who can see things straight?’ Melanie looked around the room and her eyes fell on Kate. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you? Or Abby. I know you’ll be on Noah’s side. ‘Jonathon, I really think I should put my foot down about this.’
Jonathon, having listened to what everyone had to say, looked at Noah speculatively and saw the gleam in his eyes: the first spark he’d seen in his boy for so long. He had listened while Melanie fretted about what they would do with the boy, talking about counselling and trying to repair him; forcing him back to school against his will seemed pointless. ‘You know what? I think it’s a good plan.’
‘The thing is,’ Noah added, looking down and his plate, ‘I could use the money I make for college when I get back. I was talking to Becca and she’s planning to go to Dundee once she finishes school next year. She … she knows all about what happened at school and she understands.’ His face brightened; love had given him acceptance, permission to move on. ‘I thought perhaps I could take my exams and maybe go with her.’ He stopped and shrugged, embarrassed. ‘It was just an idea.’
Emily, who was sitting closest to him, covered Noah’s hand with hers and said, ‘I knew I liked Becca. Can’t go wrong with a girl who likes books.’ She glanced slyly at Kate, who made a face. ‘Sorry.’
Kate pretended to be offended and everyone laughed.