The Promise

by Michelle Vernal

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  Isabel had arranged to meet Don in the same spot where they’d first encountered each other. He was on time and greeted her jovially before sitting down next to her on the bench seat where she’d been waiting. She felt like a spy meeting with her foreign contact, as she handed him the bag. He was peering inside it now exclaiming with the same enthusiasm she imagined a small child might ripping open a lucky dip. It might have cost her most of her pay, but it was worth every penny, she concluded watching his face light up.

  Riley who had flopped at his master’s feet was feeding off his excitement by emitting little woofs; his tail thumped against the pavement with the rhythm of windscreen wipers in heavy rain. Isabel leaned over and patted him. ‘Hello boy.’ She shivered a little as Don retrieved his glasses out of his top pocket and wished she’d had the foresight to put a jacket on. You’d think she’d know by now it was always a degree or two colder on the waterfront. Don looked rather like a wise old owl as he peered over the top of his glasses, she thought with amusement, watching him pull the contents out of the bag for inspection one at a time.

  ‘Thank you, Isabel it was very kind of you to organize this,’ he said his inspection finished, closing the bag with a rustle. ‘It’s definitely worth our Chloe giving it a try. Is the receipt inside the bag too? I can pop over to the cash flow machine and fix you up now if you like. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

  ‘No thanks.’ Isabel held her hand up. ‘I don’t want anything for it Don, but I would like to know whether it’s successful. You will let me know how Chloe gets on, won’t you? I’ve popped my number in the bag.’

  ‘Of course, I will. I have to pay you, though.’

  ‘No please take it, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like and I just hope it helps your Chloe.’

  Don looked momentarily taken aback before he beamed. ‘Well, thank you very much, my dear. It’s most kind. Now, what do we do with it all?’

  ‘The instructions are in the bag.’ Isabel had written the steps out carefully before enclosing them in the bag, along with a spritzer bottle of sea water she’d collected while she waited for the hour to tick over until it was time to meet Don. She’d brewed up the horsetail tea back at the flat after she left The Natural Way much to Rhodri’s amusement, and poured it into an empty two-litre milk bottle salvaged for that purpose. The jar of organic honey was inside the bag too. She’d removed the Irish moss though, having eaten most of it while waiting for the horsetail herbs to steep, secretly pleased Rhodri wasn’t a fan—all the more for her! It was a good job she’d checked her smile in the mirror before leaving the flat, as they were liquorice green.

  The cold was seeping into her bones. Isabel got up from the bench; she was keen to get moving to warm up. She patted Don’s shoulder. ‘I’ve got to go. It was lovely to see you and Riley again. Promise you’ll call and let me know about Chloe?’

  ‘I will indeed. You’re an angel, Isabel. I’ll be sure to ring.’

  Isabel didn’t think she’d ever been called an angel before and the expression gave her a much needed warm glow. She gave Riley one last pat before striding off down the Esplanade toward Sea Vistas. She had a lady to see about gout.

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  Constance was sitting with a cup of tea in the dining room when Isabel located her. She deposited the cherry juice and apple cider vinegar on the table. A stream of sunshine poured in through the bay window puddling on the floor beside her. It was a lovely spot, and on a clear day like today, the view to the Solent was unimpeded by grey skies. A piece of shortbread sprinkled with icing sugar sat untouched on a plate next to the cup and saucer. Afternoon tea, Isabel surmised. Her tummy rumbled, but she ignored it stating, ‘Job done Constance. Your gout worries are over because this little lot here should fix your man good and proper.’

  ‘He’s not my man,’ Constance replied her face a picture at the very thought of it.

  ‘A phrase, that’s all.’ Isabel pulled the chair out opposite and sat down; she hadn’t expected a thank you. She eyed the shortbread thinking it was a waste for it not to be eaten but not liking to help herself. Constance saved her the trouble by sliding the plate toward her and not needing to be asked twice, she took the biscuit. All this charging around had made her peckish. Constance slid a ten-pound note across the table, which Isabel slid back. ‘It's on me because I’m glad to help.’

  Constance looked at her for a second, her expression thoughtful before tucking the money away. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself, Isabel.’

  Isabel had a wee while yet before she was due at the pub and so she settled back into the chair and told Constance, the basic facts. ‘Well I’m twenty-six, and an only child if you don’t count our neurotic corgi, Prince Charles—I did not name him by the way, my mum did. I grew up in Southampton. My mum works at Asda and is a royalist of the highest order and dad’s going through a belated mid-life crisis but in a good way, not cheating on mum with a blonde half her age sort of way. They’re both a bit nuts, but I love them to bits especially from a distance.’

  Constance’s mouth was twitching at Isabel’s eloquent description of her family. ‘But what about you, Isabel.’

  ‘Me?’

  Constance nodded.

  Isabel gazed at the strip of blue outside for a minute before she found herself telling the same tale she’d told Rhodri. Constance had tutted sympathetically and muttered, ’Good riddance to the pair of them,’ when she told her what happened with Connor and Ashley.

  ‘And so you ran away. All the way to Australia. The other side of the word. That was very brave of you, Isabel.’

  It was the first time anybody had said that to Isabel. She’d always felt that perhaps it had been the cowards way out. She hadn’t thought of taking off the way she had as being a bold thing to do before. She found herself sitting a little straighter in her seat as she relayed some of her travel stories and told Constance how different Australia was to here. How she’d loved the carefree freedom of travelling and would like to do more, but first she needed to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. ‘I think I need some direction, Constance. The problem is I don’t know which way I want to go.’

  ‘You modern young women have so much choice; you can be anything you want.’

  ‘That’s just it Constance; it's overwhelming. I remember talking to the careers advisor at school, and for me, it was kind of like when you fancy something sweet, you know like a packet of biscuits. So off you go to the biscuit aisle, but you can’t decide what you want because there are just far too many options on the shelf and you can’t afford the ones you want the most. So you wind up buying chocolate.’

  This time Constance did smile. ‘Perhaps you’re overthinking things.’

  ‘Hmm maybe. Did you ever travel?’ Isabel knew she’d stayed here on Wight, taking over the family business before changing tact and opening Constance’s Curealls but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had trips abroad.

  ‘I wanted to go to Canada when I was young, but it wasn’t meant to be. I couldn’t leave my parents after Evelyn died, and then it got so that I didn’t want to be anywhere other than here.’

  ‘But you still wound up following your passion by opening your shop, right?’ Isabel was surprised to find she was seeking reassurance. It had taken Constance a long time to finally find what she loved doing; perhaps the same would be true for her.

  ‘Ah, but Isabel I wanted more so very much more.’

  Isabel didn’t want to go, she wanted to find out what Constance meant, but she did not want to incur the wrath of Brenda by being late either. ‘It’s nearly twelve, Constance. I’ve got to get to work.’ She got up from her seat pushing her chair in. ‘Monday’s my day off. Do you fancy a trip into town? We could call in on Rhodri and have a wander around The Natural Way too, if you like?’

  Constance nodded. She would like that very much indeed.

  Chapter 30

  The weekend was a blur of pint pulling and Monday morning rolled around with clear,
blue skies. A perfect day for an outing, Isabel thought with a spring in her step as she arrived at Sea Vistas. Kristen was at her reception post and was engaged in flicking her hair back as she smiled up at a young man at the counter. Someone’s grandson or a young doctor perhaps? Isabel wondered but didn’t have time to ponder further as she spied Jill emerging from the dining room. She hurried down the hallway to catch up to her. ‘Morning Jill, I wondered if I might be able to borrow a wheelchair today. I’d like to take Constance out you see, and I don’t think she’d last too long walking around Ryde.’

  Jill clapped her hands, and smiled. ‘How lovely. Constance did mention something about that this morning. She’s been ever so bright of late, you’ve been a breath a fresh air for her, and the young lady who runs The Natural Way was in to see her yesterday. It’s a beautiful day for an outing too. I’m sure we can arrange a chair for you. A wander around her old stomping ground will do Constance a world of good, Isabel. I’m forever trying to get her to go on one of our shopping excursions. We go all over the island, and she’d enjoy herself, but she always cries off. Between you and me I think she feels she’s far too young to gad about with the rest of our ladies! Now, if you just give me a few minutes, I’ll go and see what I can do about organising a chair for you to use.’

  True to her word, Jill reappeared pushing a wheelchair and she gave Isabel a crash course in operating it. After Isabel had given her a demo on applying the brake, she was satisfied Constance would be in safe hands, and she continued on her rounds. Isabel went in search of Constance finding her in her room. She was sitting in her chair by the window with her handbag perched on her lap.

  ‘All set, Constance?’

  ‘Well I’m ready for the off if that’s what you mean, but I won’t be able to walk far, Isabel. I am eighty–nine, you know.’ She took Isabel’s outstretched hand and allowed her to help her to her feet.

  ‘I do know Constance, and it’s all sorted. Your chariot awaits you downstairs.’

  Constance’s expression when she saw the wheelchair waiting by the front desk was similar to her dad’s when fish pie was on the menu, Isabel thought. It was like watching a young child weigh up the odds of stamping their foot or not. If she did refuse to get in it, then that would be that, no outing. Constance came to the same conclusion as she reluctantly thrust her handbag at Isabel before easing herself down into the chair.

  Isabel did not hang about not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind and so with a ‘cheerio’ and a promise to return both the chair and Constance in one piece tossed in Kristen’s direction, she pushed forth.

  The folly had a few curious tourists milling around it, Constance spied from her seated viewpoint as Isabel wheeled her past a few minutes later.

  ‘Every time I walk past that I always think of the fairy story, Rapunzel,’ Isabel said leaning over the chair for her charge’s benefit. The breeze along the Esplanade was strong enough to carry her words away. She’d worn a dress today, one of the few she owned. It was a pretty yellow swing dress, and she’d felt pleased when Rhodri had called out that she looked nice as she sailed out of the gallery earlier. Now though she wondered if she might have been better in jeans and jersey.

  Constance had thought the folly the stuff of fairytales as a child too. Her story had begun there, but she never got her happy ending. Further along, she saw the hovercraft coming in. It’s whirring as it flew across the Solent, in its ten-minute journey from the mainland always made her shudder. The incessant reverberation reminded her of the Luftwaffe fighter planes as they flew low over the island readying themselves to offload their bombs. There was a resonance to it that once heard was never forgotten. It was uncanny the way certain sounds could carry you back to flashes in time as quickly as changing the channel on the television. The images popped up before her of the carnage those planes left in their wake, and she shook her head to shoo them away. Her mind was living more and more in those dark days of late, and it was not where she wanted to be now.

  ‘Are you cold Constance?’ Isabel asked, leaning over the chair once more, having just seen her shiver.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ Constance turned away from the craft. It was nearly to the beach now. The hovercraft’s first-time passengers would be keen to tell their friends they’d “flown” to Wight as was the correct terminology for crossing the Solent in the amphibious machine. Her hands tightened around the handbag perched on her lap as she focussed her attention determinedly on the bustling pavement ahead of them.

  It was a powerful tool, a wheelchair, she decided beginning to enjoy how it gave them the automatic right of way. People sidestepped apologetically to let them through. She felt like Moses parting the red sea. Even the traffic came to a standstill to let them cross as Isabel pushed her across the road to the line of shops on the other side of the Esplanade.

  It was either the chair or Isabel’s hair that was stopping traffic, she thought upon catching sight of them both in a shop window. It always startled her to be confronted by this new self, a woman with candy floss hair whiter than the cliffs at Freshwater.

  Now, as Isabel pushed her around the bend and Pier View House came into sight, Constance felt a tightening in her chest. It never got easier seeing her home and knowing she’d never live in it again. Still, there was some comfort to be found in the fact such a nice young man had brought it from her.

  ‘I told Rhodri we’d call in, Constance. Then I thought we’d have a wander up Union Street and say hello to Delwyn at The Natural Way. How does that sound?’

  ‘Good,’ Constance said, with a regal bow of her head. ‘I enjoyed my conversation with her yesterday.’

  Rhodri had just finished hanging a new canvas on the wall when Isabel tapped on the door. She’d given up on trying to figure out how to open the door and hold onto the wheelchair at the same time. He opened the door and seeing her predicament held the door open wide for her to come in.

  ‘Thanks, Rhodri. Constance and I are having a girls’ day out,’ Isabel said, wheeling the chair over his foot as she entered the shop. ‘Ooh sorry, I probably should have a license to drive this thing.’

  Rhodri flexed his foot and grinned. ‘I don’t think it’s broken.’ Then, shutting the door behind them to ward off the keen sea breeze he focussed his attention on Constance.

  ‘Hello there. It's lovely to see you again. Do you know Constance, not a day passes that someone doesn’t pop their head in and ask me where you and your shop have gone.’

  It took Constance a second or two to decipher what he’d said. ‘I’d forgotten how thick your accent is.’

  Rhodri laughed. ‘Well now, a Welsh accent never leaves you, no matter how many years you might leave Wales.’

  Constance smiled then and allowed herself a moment to look around her. She liked what he’d done with the old place. It was light and airy with no hint of the dust that had once haunted it. The artworks on the walls were in contrast to the plainness of the room; their bold colours showcased like a rainbow against a grey sky. Constance had always preferred modernist art; she liked the brashness of it. She wasn’t one for the fiddly brushwork of fine art or the wishy-washiness of a watercolor, and the print that had caught her eye was right up her alley.

  ‘That’s stunning,’ Isabel said following her gaze and beginning to push Constance in the direction of the canvas Rhodri had just hung on the wall.

  ‘I can walk Isabel; I’m not an invalid.’

  Duly chastened but not in the least offended, Isabel helped her out of the chair. Constance allowed her to take her arm and lead her over for a closer look. She wasn’t aware she’d clutched Isabel’s arm tighter as she gazed up at it. Art spoke to you, she’d heard it said and this big, bold painting, had shouted out to her.

  Isabel peered at the white card on the wall beneath it. ‘It’s called Quarr, Constance but the artist’s name’s not printed below. That’s a bit strange. Isn’t Quarr the name of the big abbey where all those monks still live near Fishbourne? I think
I went there once with mum and dad.’

  Constance nodded. The name of the artwork had not surprised her. She’d known at once that the painting depicted the ruins on the road between Ryde and Newport in the grounds of Quarr Abbey. She closed her eyes seeing the main abbey building with its imposing towers and expanse of orange and red, sometimes pink bricks, which made her think of a mellow sunset. The light at certain times of the day seemed to dance across those bricks. For her, when she was a girl, the abbey had symbolised peace at a time when the rest of the world seemed to have gone mad. She’d like to observe from a distance the order and routine of the day to day life of the Benedictine Monks who lived there. There was comfort in all that sameness.

  The Quarr ruins were dear to her heart hidden away from the road that she’d cycled down as a girl with Henry. Oh, she knew they were considered a place of great historical significance these days, but back then it had been her and Henry’s secret place. She’d fallen in love for the first and only time in her life against the backdrop of those crumbling ruins covered in creeping vine. She recalled the time one of the Father’s had reared up at them from behind the stones. He’d looked a bit like a soaring kestrel, with his wings stretched wide as he flapped his arms about shooing them on their way. She and Henry had climbed on their respective bicycles, giggling and flushed at being caught although they’d been doing no more than holding hands. Now, she could almost feel the wind on her cheeks as she pedaled furiously away, with Henry keeping pace alongside her. Of course, as time went on, they’d done much more than just hold hands.

  Constance opened her eyes, surprised to find herself leaning heavily on her new young friend and not perched on a bicycle. She knew she had to have this painting. She didn’t care what it cost, she wanted to wake up for the rest of her days with this painting on her wall, and she asserted this to Rhodri.

  Rhodri looked startled as did Isabel, not just by Constance’s obvious agitation but because she’d also spied the hefty price tag.