Isabel put her teacup back on the saucer. ‘Have you been talking to Delwyn?’
Constance had the grace to look a little sheepish. ‘I have, and we both agree. You’re one of us, Isabel, that rare breed of woman who has been put on this earth to help heal others.’
Isabel thought about it; she liked that analogy. She was a healer. Yes, she liked it a lot. She couldn’t stop the grin that had spread across her face. ‘Constance, I haven’t told anyone else yet. I was waiting until my place was confirmed, but I’ve put my name down to begin studying for a diploma in naturopathy through the College of Natural Medicine in London.’
Constance looked delighted as she took a bite of her biscuit. ‘Good for you, Isabel, good for you. That calls for a Malteser my dear. Go on. Open the bag and help yourself.’
Isabel did so, and when she’d finished munching on the chocolate ball, she said, ‘And now, Constance Downer it’s my turn. I have a proposition for you.’
Constance raised an eyebrow.
‘I want us to sit down together and write to Teddy.’
She put the serviette down with more force than was necessary and one or two of the residents glanced over curiously. ‘No.’
‘But Constance—’
‘Isabel, think about it, for goodness sake.’ Her tone was clipped. ‘He might have no idea he is adopted; the shock would be terrible. And I would never burden him with the knowledge of what Ginny did.’
Isabel would not be beaten. ‘Yours and Henry’s love story deserves to be told and what if he does know he’s adopted. What if Ginny told him, or what if he’s always known? You don’t know—you have no idea what his situation is. Ginny wanted to come back to Wight. She was obviously trying to right her wrongs, and perhaps that involved telling Teddy the truth. Or at least a version of the truth. He might have no inkling of where to find you or even how to go about it. Or, worse he may think you don’t want to meet him.’
Constance pursed her lips with an expression Isabel had come to recognize as meaning she was mulling over what she’d just said.
‘We could broach it with Father Christopher; you know the priest who took Ginny’s funeral service. He was good friends with her. He might act as an intermediary and contact Teddy for you to see how the land lies. We can ask him not to mention that Ginny broke her word to you and your family.’
Constance remained silent.
Isabel leaned forward in her seat; she was not letting this go. ‘Constance, you just sat there and told me I had to stop being frightened, and how short life is. Well, now it’s my turn to say the same thing to you.’
Constance eyed her speculatively for a minute longer before dipping her head. It was as close as Isabel was going to get to a go ahead and having come prepared she retrieved her lap top from her bag.
Father Christopher’s email wasn’t hard to find and half an hour later having laid out all that had happened since she had met him at the funeral, Isabel clicked send. ‘It will be about ten p.m. in New Zealand Constance so we may not hear back from him until tomorrow.’ She leaned back in her chair, hoping for both their sakes that Father Christopher would not leave them hanging.
͠
Isabel whiled away a pleasant afternoon with her mum who had brought Prince Charles with her; he was ecstatic to see Isabel. Once she’d got him off her leg, it had been on the tip of her tongue to ask her mum about her birth records. The words had dried in her throat though, as her mum waffled on about the latest outfit the Duchess of Cambridge had worn to some function or other. What if it spoiled a lovely afternoon? She decided she’d wait until she had both parents together. Instead, mother, daughter, and dog did the rounds calling in on Rhodri first. As they left him to tend to a customer, Isabel hissed in her mum’s ear, ‘If you call him a dreamboat one more time, Mother, I will not be responsible for my actions.’
Babs was not in the least bit contrite, ‘I tell you what Izzy, if I were thirty years younger, I wouldn’t be messing about the way you are.’
‘Don’t be disgusting Mum,’ Isabel shot back before suggesting that as the weather seemed to have decided to turn it on, they should pick up a spot of lunch and picnic in the lovely gardens at Sea Vistas with Constance.
Constance, Isabel could see as her mum admired the fresh blooms on display in Sea Vistas gardens, was glad of the distraction they provided. She couldn’t blame her; time always crawled by when you were waiting for news. Especially news the like of which Constance was waiting for. She’d been waiting over seventy years for it! Once their picnic was finished, Isabel decided to commandeer the wheelchair, and so it was a foursome who made their way up Union Street to see Delwyn.
Isabel left her mum and Constance chatting with Delwyn while she scanned the shelves for witch hazel, grabbed a packet of turmeric and picked up another bottle of her trusty apple cider vinegar. Delwyn suggested it might be time they got going when Prince Charles tethered, outside the shop, lifted his head and began to howl like some wolf-come-corgi-beast scaring several potential customers away.
Their last port of call for the afternoon was Brenda who took the items Isabel had purchased from her gratefully before hobbling off to sort them out with a jug of lemonade to enjoy in the sunshine.
The reply from Father Christopher came through not long after Isabel and Constance waved Babs and Prince Charles off on the ferry. They’d begun making their way back to Sea Vistas when Isabel heard her phone ping the arrival of an email. She veered out of the way of the foot traffic, parking herself and Constance on a bench seat near the folly. ‘It’s from him, Constance,’ she said, and Constance promptly squeezed her eyes shut as though to soften any blows his message might contain.
Chapter 44
Dear Isabel and Constance,
I have to admit I have been left somewhat stunned by your message and I don’t know where to begin. In which case I shall just get on with it. I mentioned when we met Isabel that it had been obvious to me that Ginny had something on her mind before she died. Well, now we know what that something was and her reasons for wanting to return to Wight.
She never confided in me that Teddy was adopted by both his parents and I am so sorry the circumstances of his initial adoption by Ginny played out so very differently than they were supposed to. There are no words for the years you must have spent wondering about your son and what happened to him, Constance. I can only hope that you take a little comfort from my telling you that when I met Teddy at Ginny’s funeral, I was struck by what a fine man he was. He dotes on his family, which I also previously mentioned to Isabel was a source of consternation to Ginny given the considerable age gap between Teddy and his wife. But I say good for him!
I have written to Teddy broaching the subject of his having been adopted by his mother as well as his father as delicately as I could as I can shine no light on whether he is aware of this or not. I have, of course, not breathed a word about Ginny not keeping her word to you and your family. I agree that there are some truths one need never know. Accordingly, I have given him your email address. Isabel and I have left the proverbial ball in his court as to whether he wishes to make contact.
I would dearly love to hear if things work out the way you would like them to Constance, and if they don’t then God will forgive Ginny as you have. You are I sense a very special woman whom your son would be proud of; I hope he grasps this opportunity to get to know you with both hands and then some!
I wish you only the best for the future. God Bless.
Yours faithfully
Father Christopher Joyce.
Isabel looked at Constance, and she saw hope written across her face. Two days later an email arrived from Teddy.
Dear Constance
My name is Edward Havelock or Teddy as I am known, and I believe you are my birth mother. The news from Father Christopher that I am adopted did not come as a total bolt from the blue. I was always inquisitive as a child, and it was while searching for my birthday present the year I was turning ten and th
us hoping to find my parents had indeed bought me a bike that I came across a box. It was tucked away on a shelf in the garage, and I knew it was something special because it had been covered in beautiful yellow wrapping paper. Inside the box was a knitted blanket, baby jacket, and booties. As you already know that’s not all that was in the box; there was a letter from you to me, which I took and have carried with me ever since.
I don’t know if mum knew I’d found the box, but if she did, we never spoke of it. I thought about broaching my adoption with her many times over the years, but there was something in the way mum was that shut down that conversation. It was a neediness that didn’t allow for me to rock the boat. She had a tough veneer, but there was a fragility about her too like she’d break if I pushed her too far. I have thought about you often too over the years and concluded that you would have moved on in your life and again there was that fear of rocking the boat and the unknown. What if you had another family, what if they didn’t know about me? Far too many what ifs I fear.
Constance, I’m so very pleased you’ve reached out, and I would like nothing more than to come and see you. I think we have waited long enough, and I hope this is not presumptuous of me, but I have booked my flight to London for the end of the month. I shall be in touch before then with the date and time of my arrival on Wight.
Love
Teddy
‘Love Teddy,’ Constance murmured wondrously. ‘Imagine that.’
͠
Later that night, Isabel lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind was buzzing with the news that Teddy was to come to Wight to meet Constance and that she’d been instrumental in it. Outside she could hear the wind whistling across the rooftops, and her tummy grumbled sounding obscenely loud in the darkened room. She sighed and rolled on to her side to check the time. It was nearly midnight, perhaps a bit of a midnight feast was in order. She happened to know there was leftover lasagne in the fridge. With the thought of mincey, cheesy loveliness firmly on her mind, she knew there was no going getting to sleep, and she got up.
The stairs creaked as she descended them despite her attempt to be as quiet as a mouse making her wince with each step. She paused for a moment, but there were no sounds other than her own, and so she carried on to the landing, catching her toe on the doorframe and swearing softly under her breath. She did not want Rhodri to bust her with her head in the fridge at this hour of the night. It wouldn’t be a good look. It was then she saw the light was on downstairs in the gallery. Surely he wasn’t working this late? She’d pop her head around the door and see what he was up to.
She carried on down the stairs and pushing the door open wider she saw that the gallery was deserted. He must’ve been working on his painting until late, and left the light on by mistake, she decided. She was about to flick it off when she spied Rhodri’s easel. He’d covered his work in progress with a sheet. He’d been very secretive about what it was he was working on, and the temptation to take a peek was strong. Her fingers were twitching, and she couldn’t help herself, carefully lifting a corner of the sheet and holding it aloft she stood back prepared to admire his work in progress.
She stared at the canvas not quite sure what she was seeing. The precise brush strokes depicted a bustling Pier scene with a woman gazing out to the Solent at the fore. The background activity seemed to fade so that it was the woman who held your attention. She wore a rather dreamy, faraway expression, her blue hair whipping about her face and there was something about the lines of her body that gave the illusion of a bedraggled mermaid. Isabel inhaled and chewed her bottom lip as the realization sunk in. The painting was of her. An inscription in the corner of the artwork read, The Mermaid.
She stood for an age staring at the canvas, and slowly her mouth curved into a smile.
Chapter 45
One Month Later
Isabel’s voice soared alongside the rest of the Angels of Wight Acapella. The All Saints Church hall was almost standing room only, and her eyes took in all the people who’d crowded in to see them perform. She saw the enraptured looks on the audience’s faces and felt proud not just of herself, but the rest of the group too. They were brilliant, these girls, and she was so enjoying their regular Monday night get together as she got to know them all.
She scanned the rows of seats down the middle of the hall until she found who she sought, her mum and dad. Her dad, bless him, was on crutches, having sprained his ankle at football practice. Mum had informed her they were in serious talks about salsa. The dance lessons would be better for his health, and she thought that he might be coming around to her way of thinking given she’d added a bit of a sweetener. ‘I told him if he comes with me to salsa classes I’ll forfeit my week in Benidorm so he can get himself a Premier League season pass.’ Isabel shuddered at the thought of her parents getting hot and sweaty together as they attempted to learn the Latin American dance moves.
She’d finally mustered up the courage to tell them both that she’d like to try and find her birth mother on a visit home a couple of weeks ago. ‘Mum, Dad, you know this doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I’m curious that’s all. I mean what if I have kids of my own one day and they want to know more about their biological background? Or, what if there’s something medically I should know about?’ They were all thoughts that had occurred to her since she’d made her mind up to try and find out more about where she came from.
Both parents had gone very quiet; this was so unusual that Isabel was assailed with guilt as she saw the flash of hurt and shock in her mum’s eye. ‘Mum, you’ll always be my mother nothing and no one will ever change that.’
Then, Babs and Gaz had begun talking quickly as though they’d practiced their reaction to this moment. Bab’s had opened the desk where she kept all their official bits and bobs to retrieve a manila folder. Inside it was a sheaf of documents including her original birth certificate. Isabel stared at the name on it feeling a sense of deja vu from her afternoon at Quarr with Constance.
Her birth mother’s name was Veronica Kelly. It was a perfectly respectable name, she thought wondering what she looked like. Would she have the same slight bump that Isabel had in her nose? Maybe she’d gotten the dimple in her cheek from her. What was she like? Did she have a sense of humour? Was she overly sensitive or was she bold and brash? Questions flooded her brain, and she realised they’d always been there; she’d just chosen not to ask them until now.
It was later that her dad had taken her aside and with a rare show of insight explained to her that she needed to think about things from Babs perspective. Of course she felt threatened. It was natural, but she’d get over it. It had come as a shock that was all, and she’d just need a bit of time. ‘We never even think about you being adopted, Izzy,’ he’d added. ‘You’ve always been ours, and that’s the end of it. But I can understand your curiosity. I’m surprised you’ve waited this long to be honest.’ He gave her a clumsy hug. ‘I hope you find what you are looking for.’
‘I don’t know what I’m looking for Dad; I just know I need to look.’
She took the folder back to Wight with her and put it in the drawer where she kept Molly’s journal. She was almost ready to take the next step and contact the adoption agency, but not just yet.
Now, she almost lost her place in the song as she spied Edward sitting with his arm linked through Constance’s. It warmed her heart to see them together. They fitted like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and not just because he’d owned up to having an extensive collection of shoes and a love of flamboyant colour when it came to his choice of tie, today’s being an unusual shade of lime green. Isabel was on the fence about that one; it made her think of the boxes of lolly ices her mum used to buy in summer. The lime ones had always been the last ones left. It was interesting watching them together because certain mannerisms and expressions were the same. The look Isabel likened to a gin-soaked prune when they didn’t approve of something being one of them! It was uncanny given they’d never met be
fore. Mostly, though the similarity between them was in the certain glint they both had in their eyes—the glint that hinted at a propensity for naughtiness. It was that glint that had struck Isabel when she first met Constance and had been struck by the uncanny sensation of having met her somewhere before. She hadn’t met Constance, but she had unwittingly met her son.
It was hard to catch up on a lifetime in a few short weeks, but they were doing their level best. Next time he came, he promised he would bring Olga and Tatiana with him.
The Angels of Wight voices ebbed away to silence a mournful howling that drifted through the slightly ajar main doors and down the centre aisle. It was loud enough to ensure that all those in the pews either side were aware of the anguished corgi tethered to the railing at the entrance. His one true love so near and yet so far. Isabel shook her head, that bloody dog.
On Constance’s other side, Walter was sitting with a proprietary expression on his debonair features. It was a wondrous thing, but it seemed he and Constance had begun courting. The last few times Isabel had called to Sea Vistas it had been hard to get a word in between the two of them! She was going to have to get used to sharing her friend.
The applause as their song reached its conclusion overruled Prince Charles’ whining, echoing and bouncing around the acoustically perfect hall. Isabel’s gaze sought Rhodri and locating him three rows from the front, her smile was wide. He gave her the thumbs up and mouthed, ‘You were great.’
They’d had their first official date three weeks ago; he’d taken her to the movies, and it was the strangest thing, but she couldn’t tell you what they’d gone to see. She couldn’t recall the plot either, but she could recall feeling giddy like a teenager when his arm had slid around the back of the chair and dropped down onto her shoulder. She’d nearly spilled her popcorn everywhere at the thrill of it all, and after that, she might as well have been sitting watching a blank screen. He kissed her on the way home as they strolled along the Esplanade listening to the song of the sea and it had been, well it was, perfect.
The Promise Page 30