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 thus 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
