The brightness of the morning lingered, but it was combined now with the peculiar, metallic intensity of a sky which threatened snow, so rare in this part of the world that she could only remember two or three winters when the familiar landmarks of the Mount had stood strange and silent, transformed by an invisible hand. She shivered, chafing her hands as she walked through the lodge gate and past the island’s tiny graveyard, where the wind rustled through the leaves of the palm trees, hissing like the serpent in the statue above the lych-gate until she could almost believe that it had escaped St Michael’s spear. The museum stood opposite, housing a miscellaneous record of the Mount’s history to entertain the scores of visitors who came over from the mainland in the summer. It was usually closed at this time of year, with its more fragile exhibits shrouded in dust sheets, but Emily Soper – who lived and worked on the premises – had obviously been instructed to put on a good show for the Christmas guests; the lamps were all lit, and Nora could see Emily inside, rearranging one of the displays. She opened the door, glad to be out of the cold, and smiled at her friend. ‘I’m doing the church up for tomorrow,’ she said, ‘and we seem to be short of a wise man.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time, and I doubt it’ll be the last.’ They both laughed, and Nora was grateful for a moment’s easy company. The two women had always been close, growing up together on the island, and she realised now how important the friendship had been to her recently. ‘Have you got time for a cup of tea?’ Emily asked. ‘The kettle’s just boiled.’
Nora shook her head reluctantly. ‘I’d love one, but I’d better not. It’s pandemonium up there today.’
‘Well, if you will mix with the stars …’
‘It wouldn’t be my choice.’
‘Ah, get away with you. I won’t be moving far from this window until I’ve seen her arrive, and you’re not telling me you won’t find an excuse to pop up to her room later.’
Nora smiled. ‘I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure she was comfortable. Is the figure ready?’
‘Good as new. I’ll go and fetch him for you.’
She went through to the back room and Nora slipped off her coat and hung it on a chair by the fire to warm while she was waiting. The museum seemed more crammed than ever, a motley selection of stuffed birds and fossils, carefully arranged cigarette cards immortalising the legends of giants and kings, paintings of the Mount over the centuries and obscure weapons from its military past. A recently opened Christmas card lay on the counter, and Nora recognised the handwriting on the envelope; she picked the card up and read the greeting, Christmas wishes for a mother from her son, sent with fondest love.
‘Have you heard from Jenna?’
Nora shook her head and pushed the card to one side. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘I know, and you weren’t.’ Emily put the figure down and squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘The first Christmas without her is bound to be hard,’ she said quietly. ‘I know how I felt when Jonathan moved away, but you’ll get through it.’
She meant it kindly, but Nora wasn’t in the mood for sympathy. ‘At least Jonathan might come back one day,’ she said.
‘He might, but I doubt it. He’s happy up in Plymouth, and he and Violet will be married soon. They’ll put down roots of their own, and that’s as it should be, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me.’ She sighed, tracing the image on the card with her fingers, as if it could compensate for his absence. ‘I hoped at one time that Jonathan and Jenna might end up together, but children have their own ideas, don’t they? Still, they were close. Do you remember that Christmas they hid in the church after the morning service and tried to ring the bells? Thank God it was Miss Hilaria who heard them and not His Lordship. She’s always been good to the children.’ Nora tried to block out Emily’s voice as her friend recalled one memory after another, playing out scenes from Jenna’s childhood like her very own Ghost of Christmas Past. ‘She always loved being in that church with you, right from when she was a toddler. Such bright eyes, she had – I’ll never forget how happy she looked. I suppose we should have seen it coming.’
Emily’s observations seemed to put into words the resentment that Nora felt more strongly every day. She had been so happy when Jenna began to share her joy in the beauty of the church and all it stood for, but now it was as if she had been the victim of a cruel joke, tricked like a fairytale mother into offering the most precious thing in her life to the wolf in sheep’s clothing. It broke her heart whenever she thought back to the day that she and Tom had been invited to visit the convent where Jenna would spend the rest of her life, that square, featureless building with its ordinary gardens and drab décor. The hardship of the order had shocked her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter in those poor, simple cells, with their bare walls and comfortless beds, where any tiny personal touches seemed tawdry and desperate. The woman who would sleep every night beneath that crucifix was a stranger to her – and she had been such a carefree, normal child.
Nora dragged her thoughts back to the present, suddenly aware that Emily had asked her a question. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’
‘I just wondered if she’d be coming home again before she takes her vows?’
Nora shook her head. ‘No, and it’s probably for the best.’
‘You don’t mean that, surely?’
‘I do. It was awful last time she came. She didn’t want to be here, I could see that. We got on her nerves, and everything about the island bored her. It was like she had sawdust in her mouth.’ Even the church that Jenna had loved seemed shabby and ordinary through the eyes of her new faith; her daughter chose a different sort of worship now, in a world of which her family knew nothing, and when she had asked Jenna to explain it to her, all she had said was that her faith was like a stained glass window: only beautiful from the inside. In that moment, God forgive her, she had despised her daughter. Jenna had chosen a spiritual life, and yet it seemed to Nora that all the spirit had been knocked out of her, with her folded hands and her downcast eyes; at times, she had longed to strike her simply to get a reaction, to catch a glimpse of the defiant little girl who feared nothing and had always known her own mind. ‘I’m relieved I don’t have to go through that again, Emily,’ she admitted. ‘It’s the only thing I’ve got now, the knowledge that we made her happy once. I don’t want that spoilt.’
‘Nothing can take that away. You couldn’t have given her any more love, you or Tom. If anything, you gave her the courage to go her own way.’
The thought didn’t comfort Nora. ‘It’s just not what I ever imagined for her,’ she said. ‘For her, or for us.’
‘I know.’
Nora sighed, conscious of time slipping away. ‘I’d better get back to the castle,’ she said. ‘Moaning won’t change anything.’ She picked up the nativity figure and turned to go, but now that she had begun to talk about her feelings, it was hard to stop. She and Tom avoided the subject these days, too numb to risk another of the fights that had shaken their marriage to its core, and the simple understanding coming from one mother to another was seductive. ‘I keep thinking about all the things I’ll never have,’ she admitted. ‘I know it’s selfish, and I know that any sacrifices I’ve had to make are so insignificant compared to what Jenna is giving up, but still I can’t help it.’