Isabel bit back the retort that she hadn’t had a chance to tell her why she was here and she decided just to say what she’d come to say and leave the old grump to it. ‘I have a message to pass on to a woman called Constance whom I am fairly sure after making enquiries around town, is you. That’s why I’m here.’
‘I’m intrigued, dear. Do go on.’
‘Well, I was in New Zealand a few weeks ago at the end of a year tripping around Australia when my friend and I happened across a car accident. There was no one else at the scene, and while my friend rang the emergency services, I went over to the car to see if I could help. The driver was an elderly woman, and I held her hand until she passed away.’
Constance tutted. ‘That must’ve been difficult, but I don’t understand the relevance of your being here. I don’t know anyone in the Antipodes.’
‘Well, the woman’s name was Virginia Havelock, she went by the name of Ginny.’
Constance paled beneath her rouge as she leaned forward gripping the arms of her chair. ‘Ginny? Go on.’
Isabel was emboldened; she was on the right track! ‘She found the strength to ask me in the moments before she went, to tell Constance that she’d wanted to go back to Wight to say that she was sorry, she should never have left. She made me promise I’d do this and well, a promise is a promise. So there you go I have kept my word and passed her message on.’
Constance was leaning back in her chair once more silent, her pallor ghostly white.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even know for certain you’d be the right Constance. It’s all been a bit of guesswork but you can see can’t you, given the circumstances, why I felt I needed to try and find you? Erm, are you alright? Should I call for Nurse Jill?’
Constance turned her attention to Isabel, her voice sharp. ‘It will take more than a voice from the past to see me off, young lady. I lived through the war and worse.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, I’ve said what I came to say.’ Isabel got up from her seat feeling disgruntled and deflated at the same time. There would be no cosy chat about who Ginny was to Constance or why she felt she shouldn’t have left Wight. She would never know, but at least she’d done her part—she’d kept her promise. Isabel made to leave, but Constance spoke.
‘What I don’t understand is, if all you had to go on was a name and Wight how you found me?’
Isabel explained her conversation with Father Joyce at the funeral and how she’d felt compelled to come to Ryde and try at least to fulfill her promise. She told her about finding work at the Rum Den and how she’d trooped around the various rest homes to no avail, finishing by telling her how she’d come to be renting a room in Constance’s old house. ‘So you see it was as though clues were being dropped my way wherever I went, but it was enquiring as to the room to let that lead me to you in the end.’
‘I see.’
Isabel had said what she’d come to say, and she hadn’t been made to feel welcome, in fact, she felt like she’d already outstayed it. ‘Well, it was nice to meet you Miss, er, Constance.’
‘Is that eczema on your neck?’
Isabel paused mid-step startled by the question, and her hand flew to her scarf. She thought she’d hidden the patch successfully, but this woman was hawkeyed.
‘Let me have a look.’ She beckoned her closer putting her glasses on once more.
Given Isabel had always been taught to respect her elders she dutifully undid her scarf and bent down to show Constance the irritated skin.
‘Hmm, a chamomile bath, using the dried flowers tied off in a cheesecloth or piece of muslin would help with that. Or, and listen carefully, because I think given the rawness of your skin this will be more effective. Boil two cups of horsetail herbs in four cups of water for ten minutes and add it to a tepid bath. That should do the trick. You can follow the treatment up by dabbing honey, raw honey mind, on the areas affected. The inclusion of bone broth in your diet is helpful too as is a regular dose of cod liver oil. A daily dip in the sea or application of seawater to the affected area will help relieve the itching.’
Isabel’s gaze flitted to the window. A dip in the sea could induce hypothermia. She was acclimatised to warmer waters than the English Channel, but the rest sounded interesting and the day was stretching long ahead of her. She had nothing to lose by trying something different, and this woman by all accounts knew her herbs.
‘Where would I find horsetail herbs?’ Isabel envisaged herself trudging over fields with a basket slung over her arm foraging for herbs.
‘There’s a new shop opened on Union Street. It's not hard to find, and there’s not much the young lady who owns it doesn’t stock.’
‘Oh.’ The romantic image vanished. ‘You must miss your shop. It was very popular I’ve been told.’
Constance gave a little nod.
There was something in her expression, a hint perhaps of the loneliness of old age that made Isabel ask, ‘Shall I come back and tell you how I get on?’
‘I’d like that,’ Constance replied to Isabel’s surprise, and she was pleased she’d suggested a return visit as she caught a glimpse beneath the woman’s hardened shell to the softer centre inside. As she turned to leave, Constance called out to her, ‘Would you like a Malteser before
