‘I’ve made up another brew of the horsetail tea too and brought more honey off Delwyn to give to a gentleman I met when I was collecting seawater to spritz. We got chatting, and his granddaughter suffers from eczema too. I’m going to give it to him for her to try and see if it's as successful as it was for me. Delwyn wondered if she could visit you this Sunday? Oh, and I brought you these.’ Isabel produced a packet of Maltesers from her tote bag and passed them to Constance whose hand was already outstretched.
‘They’re my favourite.’
Isabel smiled ‘I guessed.’
Constance met her gaze and held it for a beat then her expression changed as she seemingly made her mind up. ‘Ginny was my sister–in–law.’
‘Oh.’ Isabel was startled by the abrupt change of subject.
‘Yes. She married my older brother, Teddy during the war. They were only married a short while before he was killed in battle. She was pregnant when he died, and we lost touch after the baby was born. I assumed she would have remarried being such a young widow, but I didn’t know she’d gone to live in New Zealand.’
Isabel was unsure of what she should say. It explained their relationship to one another, but it didn’t explain why Ginny was sorry. Perhaps she was simply referring to the fact they’d lost touch.
‘It’s Isabel, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Tell Delwyn I will be in all day Sunday now. There’s something I’d like to show you in my room, Isabel. You might be interested in it.’
Isabel checked her phone; she had just over an hour until she had to be at work. ‘Okay.’ She was curious as to what it might be, and she stood up waiting for Constance, who struggled to her feet.
‘I’ll need to hold your arm, I am eighty-nine you know.’ The tone was admonishing.
‘Oh right, of course. Sorry.’ Isabel flushed, and held her arm out for Constance who leaned heavily on it; she let her set the pace as they stepped forth. As they passed the dining room, Isabel glanced in and saw a sea of heads bent over their closely held cards; Bridge seemed to be the order of the day. Together, she and Constance made their way down the plush, thickly carpeted hallway toward the lift with Constance nodding greetings to passing residents. There were no echoing hospital style corridors to be found at Sea Vistas, Isabel thought, guessing it cost a pretty penny to see out your days here.
The lift took an age, and when the doors slid open, they moved aside to allow the sweet-faced lady who was clutching a Zimmer frame with a death-like grip room to shuffle forth. She paused in her efforts. ‘You’d never believe I was once the school cross country champion, would you.’
‘Were you? Good for you, I was hopeless at it.’ Isabel smiled back watching the woman for a second as she carried on her cumbersome way. She regretted her first impression of an old dear struggling to walk. She was a person who’d no doubt lead an interesting life as would most of the residents housed within these walls. She probably had some wonderful stories to tell, if people including herself took the time to listen. Just like Constance, here would too. She shot a sideways glance at Constance as they stood in the lift taking them to the second floor, her curiosity as to what she had to show her mounting.
‘My neighbour Ronald, he’s in number ten across the way from me,’ Constance said, as they exited the lift and began the slow shuffle toward her room, ‘is driving me demented.’
‘Oh dear, that’s no good,’ Isabel tutted.
‘No, it's not. He gives me daily breakfast updates on his gout, and I don’t mind telling you Isabel, he picks his moments. His medical monologues are timed for the precise instant I dip my toast into my egg. It’s most off-putting, and I do so enjoy my breakfast. I told him his gout would undoubtedly improve were he to knock his nightly tipple on the head, but he got rather snippy with me and said that I couldn’t possibly know what it was like to suffer as he did. A nightly tipple, he said was the only thing that eased his discomfort.’ She opened the door to her room.
Isabel, bemused by the monologue, followed her inside with absolutely no idea as to where Constance was heading with the gout story.
‘Close the door behind you, Isabel, and help me to the chair over there.’
Isabel did as she was told. She was beginning to get used to the lack of pleasantries.
‘I wondered if we might look up a remedy in a book I have and if you’d be so kind, you might be able to pick up what’s needed to help fix Ronald’s problem.’ She didn’t wait for Isabel to reply, the assumption was evident that she would do as she was asked. ‘Now then, go into the top drawer over there by my bed and bring me the box that’s in there and we’ll find a solution to this little conundrum.’
Isabel did as she was told retrieving the box. It was such a pretty shade of blue, she thought. Very shabby chic. It was the sort of box that should be on display and filled with jewelry in some French boudoir, not tucked away in a bedside drawer in a retirement home. She passed it to Constance.
‘Sit down dear, and stop hovering over me; it's most unnerving.’
Isabel sat down in the same seat she had earlier in the week.
Constance sat with her hand resting on the lid
