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 here, 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
