‘Ah, well so long as you weren’t trying to chat me up, that’s all right then.’
She stared at him hard; it was difficult to tell if he was having her on or not. His expression as he sipped at the contents of his mug gave nothing away.
‘I grew up in Pontypridd in Wales.’
Isabel had only been to Wales once, and that was on a school trip to Cardiff. ‘And were you always interested in art?’
‘Always, my finger painting when I was in the Pontypridd infants was by far and away the most superior of all the other five-year-olds.’
‘Really?’
‘No, I’m teasing you, but yes I always loved art. Painting was a passion right from when I was a lad in short pants. I was, my mam used to say, a sensitive boy and it was my saving grace where Dad was concerned that I also liked rugby. Mam and Dad weren’t best keen when I said I wanted to make a career in art, they’d have preferred a doctor or a lawyer, but they got over it okay in the end.’
Isabel nodded. Her parents had held hopes of university for her until they’d seen her leaving results. She’d only ever wanted to sing though, and she was not one of life’s academics. So, instead of university, she’d embarked on a wide and varied career in drifting.
‘I did an art history degree at college in Cardiff, and I was fortunate enough to receive an apprenticeship at Christie's in London. I learned the art auction trade from the bottom up before branching out into opening my gallery and becoming a dealer.’
‘What about your, painting though?’
He shrugged. ‘I got a taste of the high life. I liked living a certain way and painting wasn’t going to provide me with the money I needed to fund that lifestyle. Besides which I’d seen first-hand how cutthroat the art world is, it can be brutal, and I suppose I lacked the courage to put my work out there. A classic case of fear of failure. Until one day I took my blinkers off or rather had them taken off for me, a messy break–up, and concluded I wasn’t that twenty-one-year-old leering it up in London anymore. That life had long since gotten stale; it was time to get back to what I wanted to do in the first place which was appreciate art, paint and make a living at the same time. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to be in a position this time around to take a gamble.’
‘So you leaped faith and came to Wight.’ She smiled, feeling clever at her play on the gallery’s name.
‘Exactly.’ He looked away, and Isabel sensed there was more to his story than he was saying, but she could tell by the closed expression on his face that he’d told her all he was going to. It was time to move on.
‘Well, I think it’s probably a respectable time of the day now for me to call in at Sea Vistas, Wish me luck.’ She felt a nervous kind of excitement at what lay ahead.
The shadow lifted from Rhodri’s face. ‘Good luck. I can’t wait to hear if my Constance is the woman you’re looking for.’
͠
Isabel inhaled the seaside smells as she weaved her way down the Esplanade passing locals going about their daily business and the clusters of visitors. It was easy to spot the early holidaymakers who had a certain dawdling demeanour that instantly gave them away. They were here for a shoulder season cheaper break and to beat the crowds that descended in the manic summer months.
She sidestepped a melting blob of ice–cream and pictured a small child wailing at such a catastrophic loss. As she rounded the bend in the waterfront past the shops, the grand building that was Sea Vistas Retirement Home swept into view. She admired the old girl’s beautiful stonework; her soaring chimneys looked as though they were grazing the sky. Sea Vistas architecture spoke of bygone days. She drew closer and saw that the grounds too were expansive and well–manicured.
The flower beds would soon be a mass of spring flowers, she thought, pausing to soak up the scene. She couldn’t stand here waxing lyrical all day like Alan Titchmarsh she decided, carrying on down the footpath. Her tummy reminded her she was anxious for the woman she hoped she was about to meet to be her Constance, as she’d come to think of her.
PART TWO
Humulus lupulus/Wild Hops
Uses:
Mostly used for its sedative like effect, therefore, aiding sleeplessness and restlessness.
Improves appetite.
Antibacterial and antifungal.
Ingested it is said to benefit menstruation/menopausal symptoms.
Can be made into an infusion tincture for a soothing effect or more commonly as a hops pillow.
For sleeplessness:
Harvest fresh hops bulbs and wash in a plastic colander. As a method of drying out the hops placing them in a microwave helps retain the essential oils and aroma. Set to 50 percent power and check bulbs every three seconds to ensure even drying. After three minutes bulbs should be dry. Allow to cool and collect hops for preparation in a pillow. Dried lavender and chamomile can also be added for a stronger aroma. Place the mixture into a small canvas pocket or bag and tie or sew the end to seal shut. Place the bag under your pillow to aid sleep, or soothe an earache or toothache.
Constance
Chapter 10
Constance eased her stockinged feet into the shoes waiting on the floor beside her bed. Jill always placed them there for her each evening, lined up and ready for the morning. Such were the extra
