She’d overheard Myrtle in that braying knowing voice of hers talking about her cousin who’d been caught out by a good looking corporal from London, or at least that’s what he’d told her. For all her cousin knew he could have been a deserter! Either way, he was long gone, and the cousin finding herself in the family way had resorted to gin and a hot bath. Whether it had solved Myrtle's poor cousin’s predicament Constance didn’t know; the older girl had moved out of earshot. The idea had been planted, though and her mind was already mentally scanning the meagre contents of her parents’ liquor cabinet. She’d seized hold of a possible solution because here was a chance to escape the devastation she would otherwise wreak on her family; she’d try anything.
It didn’t work. For her efforts, Constance wound up in bed with a spinning head and red raw skin, her stomach still gently swelling. The idea that perhaps the answer might be tucked away in the pages of Molly’s journal came to her in the dead of night. Indeed, in those yellowing pages were the suggestions of a soothsayer, and desperate, Constance who felt so very alone, ripped the page from the book. She folded it carefully and tucked it away in her bag, knowing that once she’d sourced what she needed she would burn it. She’d want no tangible reminder of what she’d done.
When it came to it, she could not do it. Slippery elm and a leech, she could not let that leech do its worse. Instead, she took a deep breath and cornered her mother one morning as she cleared her father’s breakfast dishes. For the rest of her days, Constance would not forget the way her mother’s face had crumpled in shock as she grasped hold of the bench to steady herself. She learned too when her mother whispered the situation their youngest daughter found herself in to her father, that there is a far worse emotion than anger. It was called disappointment.
PART THREE
Dandelion – ‘Taraxacum’
The common dandelion is used as a digestive/detox solution – it provides a cleansing effect with laxative and diuretic properties. Dandelion can also aid anemia, diabetes, liver disease or simply liver cleansing.
Prevents Urinary Tract Infections.
Treatment for inflammation of tonsils.
Aids appetite loss.
Aids an upset stomach, intestinal gas, gallstones, muscle aches.
Root infusion encourages the steady elimination of toxins from the body.
As a tea, find a source of dandelion that hasn’t been exposed to insecticides. Harvest the dandelion both root and bulb. Slice or crush the bulb and spread over a baking tray. Dry in an oven heated to 200 to 220 degrees until evenly dried. Allow the root to cool and use one tablespoon as a loose leaf tea in boiled water and brew for five minutes.
Constance & Isabel
Chapter 22
‘Um, excuse me. I wondered if you could help me. I’m trying to find my great aunt, Constance.’
The receptionist whose name badge said she was called Kristen stopped twirling her hair and eyed Isabel curiously as she burbled on.
‘What it is you see is, she had a falling out with my nana years ago, and when nan passed away a month back she asked me to find her sister Constance and tell her she was sorry. The only clue as to her whereabouts that she gave me was that at the time of their argument she was living in Ryde, here on Wight.’ Isabel shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and fidgeted from foot to foot hoping she didn’t look shifty as she carried on. ‘I’ve just moved over to Wight myself for a bit, and my landlord mentioned he’d bought his property from a woman called Constance Downer who resides here. My nan’s maiden name was Downer, so I’m fairly certain she’s my great aunt.’ She stopped talking and drew breath. The young girl, whose layer of foundation was so thick she’d give Charity a run for her money, expression gave nothing away. She did, however, step out from behind the reception desk telling Isabel to follow her.
‘I think Jill’s probably in the Oceania Lounge. She’ll be able to help you.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ Isabel’s heart leaped. This was positive, she thought, keeping pace with the younger woman as she strode importantly down the plush carpeted corridor, its off-white walls broken by splashes of colour from the tasteful artworks hung on them. They passed by a hair salon and a family meeting room where a motley group was clustered around a frail looking woman. Isabel was busy hoping they weren’t coercing the poor dear into changing her will when she nearly smacked into Kristen. She’d had come to a halt in the doorway of a large, airy room. Groups of people were sitting at tables engaged in craft work, card games or just enjoying the view of the water outside the picture window over a cup of tea.
Kristen scanned the room. ‘There she is.’ She led Isabel over to where a nurse was tending to a lady with a halo of wispy white hair. Isabel thought she looked as though she’d snap in half in a strong breeze as she watched the nurse settle her into an armchair.
She didn’t look right sitting in such a big chair; it was as though the plump cushions were about to swallow her up whole, a bit like Little Red Riding Hood visiting grandmother. Isabel’s fanciful musings weren’t helped by the little lady’s red pullover either.
The nurse turned her attention to Kristen and Isabel with a smile. She was clad in a crisp white blouse with a navy stripe running through it and navy pants. The name badge pinned to her chest declared her to be Jill Davies. The nurse looked both kindly and efficient, with her smiley brown eyes and bobbed grey hair, Isabel decided taking in the sprightly figure. She got the tick at the end of her appraisal. Jill, she decided, was the kind of woman one wanted to look after one’s loved ones in their twilight years.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi.’ Isabel smiled back waiting for Kristen to elaborate.
‘Jill, this is—sorry I didn’t get your name?’
‘Isabel, Isabel Stark.’
‘Isabel’s nana passed away recently and asked her to find her sister, Constance whom Isabel has never met due to a family feud to pass on her nana’s regrets over it all.’ Kristen looked to Isabel for approval.
Isabel nodded. She’d worded it well, much better than her rambling tale at the reception desk.
‘Her mother’s maiden name was Downer, so she is pretty sure, our Constance is the great-aunt she’s looking for.’
Jill nodded. ‘Thanks, Kristen.’ It was said in a, I can handle this from here, tone.
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Thank you,’ Isabel said to the younger girl who looked reluctant to leave them but who finally marched off with a flick of her hair. Isabel had the distinct impression her showing up asking for Constance with hints at family feuds was the most exciting thing that had happened to her so far that morning.
‘Isabel, why don’t you have a seat over there and I’ll be with you in a jiffy?’ Jill gestured across the room.
‘Oh okay, thanks.’ She took herself off in the direction she’d been pointed in.
She smiled as she passed a group of silver tops playing cards wondering if Constance was in their midst. The Oceania Lounge was true to its name following a coastal theme with its palette of blue, light grey and cream. The furnishings were new obviously but were still sympathetic to the era of the house, she thought, sitting down and feeling at home on the squishy settee. A coffee table with a newspaper open to the sports pages was in front of her, and she flicked through a couple of pages, feigning interest in the local news until Jill came and sat down across from her.
‘So you think you might be related to Constance.’ She smoothed the creases in her pants.
Isabel tried not to squirm in her seat at the fib. There was no going back on her story now though not when she was so close. She nodded. ‘I wondered if it would be possible to meet her.’
‘It will be all over Ryde, you know. Constance’s long lost great-niece having come to make peace.’
Isabel looked at Jill surprised.
‘Kristen.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘Our Constance is a well–known personality in these parts. Some would call her an
eccentric who has led a colourful life.’
‘My landlord told me a little about her. She ran a herbal shop, didn’t she?’
‘She did yes, and it was before its time, but that’s Constance all over, and she was successful nonetheless. That was in part I think to her family name. The Downers, you see, were related to Molly Downer, the last witch on Wight. But then you’d know that, wouldn’t you.’
Isabel had not known that, but she played along. ‘Of course, yes. Erm, nan only mentioned the connection in passing and she never told me what happened to Molly. She wasn’t burnt at the stake or anything like that, was she?’
‘No, those days had long since passed when Molly was around, but she was viewed with superstition and a little bit of fear by the locals nonetheless. Her cottage was burned to the ground after she died, you know.’
‘Oh.’ Images of flaming torch-wielding locals marching up to an empty stone cottage flashed before Isabel’s eyes.
‘So, when Constance opened her own herbal remedies shop you can imagine how the stories swirled amongst the islanders as to her link with Molly.’
‘Oh yes, I can see they would.’ Isabel was intrigued.
‘She played her part well too, she was very flamboyant in her day our Constance. Was your nan?’
‘Um, I suppose so, yes.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Jill said eyeing Isabel’s hair. ‘You take after her, do you?’
‘A little.’ Isabel was vague.
‘She’s a lovely lady our Constance, but she’s also lonely. She’s no family left here now, and I would hate for her to be—’
Isabel twigged as to the purpose of this conversation. The nurse was protective of her charge and didn’t want her hurt. She was unsure as to whether Isabel was telling the truth or not.
‘Nurse Jill—’
‘Just Jill’s fine dear.’
‘I just want to relay that my nan was sorry about the way things transpired between them that’s all. Make peace between them.’ It was a rather big white lie.
Jill eyed Isabel for a moment and then nodded before getting to her feet. ‘Come on then; I’ll take you upstairs to her room. Constance likes to have her morning cuppa in the armchair by her window so she can smell the sea air.’
͠
‘Knock, knock, Mrs D.’ Jill opened the door a crack and turned to Isabel. ‘Just give me half a tick while I tell her she has a visitor.’
Isabel nodded, and as she stood outside in the corridor, she was reminded of a cruise ship with its rows of cabins. A geriatric apparition in a blue quilted dressing gown and matching slippers appeared from one of the rooms a few doors down, and as she spied Isabel her eyes lit up. ‘Psst,’ she said, beckoning to her. Isabel was unsure as to what she should do, but the woman was not going away. ‘Psst. Have you got the macaroons?’
Jill reappeared and pulled the door to before waving to the woman. ‘No, Phyllis. She’s not here for a midnight feast, she’s here to see Constance.’ She turned her attention to Isabel. ‘You go on in; I’ll leave you to it. I didn’t go into anything; I just told her a young lady who said she’s related to her was here to say hello. She looked surprised at the news of a relative, I must say.’ Jill shot her a sceptical look and then as Phyllis asked where the eclairs were hidden, she stepped aside. ‘I better see to Phyllis. She thinks she’s back at boarding school. She challenged me to a running race to the end of the hall and back yesterday!’
Chapter 23
A few hours had ticked by since Constance had been swept back to her youth with such clarity that she’d not heard Jill knocking at her customary time. The poor woman had been most concerned when she’d burst through the door, unsure of what she would find. Constance had waved her nurse’s concern away, her irritation at being rudely startled back to the here and now leaving her unwilling to explain herself. So it was that on this Tuesday morning when she’d woken far too early, Constance was feeling out of sorts. She was sitting by her window, a cup of tea on the tray table beside her and an untouched biscuit nestled beside it on the saucer when the past came knocking.
Isabel stepped into the room feeling as though jelly had been piped through her veins. The window was open just a crack; it was enough for her to be able to smell the salted tang drifting in it made her think of fish and chips which took her mind off her jangling nerves. She made a mental note to treat herself to a scoop for lunch today.
She didn’t know what she’d expected. From the stories she’d heard, a colourful character certainly but this woman had a touch of the dowager duchess about her. There was something about her though. It was almost familiar, yet Isabel knew they’d never met. She was looking at her expectantly and the thick rose–pink drapes held back by cream tiebacks framed her like a portrait. All that was missing was a string of pearls around her neck. Where was the flamboyant woman she’d heard spoken of?
‘Erm, hello Miss Downer. I’m Isabel Stark.’ Now she was here Isabel was unsure how to proceed, and she stood awkwardly in the doorway. The room she was gazing into was rather lovely with its warm pinkish tones but, now was not the time to be admiring Sea Vistas plush furnishings, she thought as the realisation that she didn’t know what sort of impact her message would have on Constance hit her. Was she foolhardy? What if the shock of Ginny’s passing proved too much especially given her age? She had no idea who Ginny had been to Constance, and now she wished she’d been completely honest with Nurse Jill as to the purpose of her visit.
‘It’s Constance, and come in, I can’t abide a hoverer.’ It wasn’t pearls draped from her neck but rather glasses on a cord, and she lifted them to her startlingly green eyes to better inspect her visit. ‘My, my, what an unusual choice of hair colour. Is that the new fashion then, is it?’ There was something, a twinkle dancing in those bright eyes that belied her years and reassured Isabel that she was made of stern stuff. ‘Why don’t you sit down there,’ she directed Isabel to the chair on the other side of the window. It was angled just so to enable the visitor to talk directly to Constance and afford a glimpse of the beautiful backdrop the Solent provided. ‘No, no. Don’t sit on them!’
Isabel, her bottom about to touch base, froze mid-landing and patting beneath her produced a half-eaten bag of Maltesers. How she’d missed those with their bright red packaging, she didn’t know.
‘Put them on the bedside table.’ Constance tsked, not offering her one of the chocolate balls.
Isabel did as she was told. She was relieved she hadn’t sat on the bag of sweets, unlike the time she had managed to sit on something untoward at the bus stop in Southampton. On that occasion she’d proceeded to walk around town in her white jeggings looking like she’d been hitting the prune juice too hard for the best part of the morning. It was only when she’d gotten a tap on the shoulder from a concerned pensioner asking if she was alright that she’d realised the looks coming her way were not because she was looking particularly hot to trot in her skin-tight trousers.
‘Now then. I think we both know you’re not a long lost relative. So, is the reason you’ve conned your way in here because you’re going to try and sell me something?’
Isabel shook her head taken aback by Constance’s directness. ‘No.’
‘Good I was never one for Tupperware and the like. So then, come on. What is it that has brought you here to see me today? You’re not you one of those God botherers come to convert me before I meet my maker are you?’
There was nothing frail about Constance at all, Isabel thought unnerved by her barrage of questions. She clasped her hands tightly and was embarrassed by the tight-lipped disapproval the sight of her bitten fingernails garnered.
‘Nasty habit that. Are you a nervous Nellie then?’
God, she was a right bite. ‘Not particularly.’ Or at least I wasn’t until I met you. She rearranged her hands hiding them away and pretended to be interested in the strip of blue she could see from the window. ‘It’s a lovely day today, isn’t? I can see why you like to sit he
re, with that view it's gorgeous.’
‘Young people never know what to say when they’re in the presence of the older generation. I was your age once, you know, and I couldn’t have given a fig as to the view. I’m quite sure you’re not here to talk to me about the weather or my sea view.’ Constance was not a woman who could be doing with trite pleasantries; life was too short.
Isabel bit back the retort that she hadn’t had a chance to tell her why she was here and she decided just to say what she’d come to say and leave the old grump to it. ‘I have a message to pass on to a woman called Constance whom I am fairly sure after making enquiries around town, is you. That’s why I’m here.’
‘I’m intrigued, dear. Do go on.’
‘Well, I was in New Zealand a few weeks ago at the end of a year tripping around Australia when my friend and I happened across a car accident. There was no one else at the scene, and while my friend rang the emergency services, I went over to the car to see if I could help. The driver was an elderly woman, and I held her hand until she passed away.’
Constance tutted. ‘That must’ve been difficult, but I don’t understand the relevance of your being here. I don’t know anyone in the Antipodes.’
‘Well, the woman’s name was Virginia Havelock, she went by the name of Ginny.’
Constance paled beneath her rouge as she leaned forward gripping the arms of her chair. ‘Ginny? Go on.’
Isabel was emboldened; she was on the right track! ‘She found the strength to ask me in the moments before she went, to tell Constance that she’d wanted to go back to Wight to say that she was sorry, she should never have left. She made me promise I’d do this and well, a promise is a promise. So there you go I have kept my word and passed her message on.’
Constance was leaning back in her chair once more silent, her pallor ghostly white.
The Promise Page 16