Chapter 28
‘Are you getting dinner ready?’ Isabel asked upon hearing her mum’s harried tone answer after a few rings. She’d not long come home, on her dinner break and was stretched out on her bed, wrestling with her shoes trying to kick them off one foot at a time. Her nose twitched at the delicious aroma of garlic, onion, and spices sizzling in the pan as it made its way up the stairs and wafted under her door. The soft beat of a tune she didn’t recognise was playing beneath her, and her shoe fell to the floor with a satisfying thunk. She wriggled her toes to ease the aching of having been on her feet for the last five hours. She had just about an hour and then she’d be back at the Rum Den for her shift through to closing.
She’d been pleased to see Rhodri wielding a knife and humming his way through dicing an onion when she’d popped her head into the kitchen five minutes earlier. She’d needed reassurance that sustenance wasn’t far away and satisfied things were underway she’d called out a quick greeting before tripping up the stairs, quite literally.
‘Watch your step!’ Rhodri called out to her, as she picked herself up and carried on up to her room.
‘Mmm, I’m making steak and kidney pudding,’ her mum said her voice nearly drowned out by a whining in the background. ‘Shoo out you go; daddy’s going to take you for a walk when he gets home.’
Isabel waited for a few beats until all was quiet. ‘So how’s Prince Charles getting on? Has his little, er, problem settled down?’
‘It has actually. Your dad’s been taking him around the block, despite his strained this or pulled that, when he gets home from work, and he manages a piddle on every gatepost. Prince Charles that is, not your dad. We think he’s smitten with the Cocker Spaniel at number eighty-two and we’re encouraging the relationship. It’s healthier than him mooning around after you.’
‘Much healthier,’ Isabel agreed, pleased to hear the corgi was moving on his affections.
‘Now then what about you. How’re you getting on, love?’
Isabel brought her mum up to date with everything she’d been up to, leaving out the part about Constance having shown her Molly’s journal. The journal was their secret; she wouldn’t breathe so much as a word about it.
‘So we now know that Ginny was Constance’s sister–in–law and that she was widowed when she was pregnant, but that’s it right?’
‘That’s it. I don’t think there is much more of a mystery to solve, Mum. I reckon Ginny felt bad about emigrating and not keeping in touch that was all.’
‘Perhaps. I’m not convinced though something in my waters is telling me there’s more to it. Will you go and visit Constance again? She might open up a bit more as she gets to know you.’
‘Yes. She’s asked me to pick a few things up for her neighbour who suffers from gout. I shall call in tomorrow. I was a bit scared of her when I first met her mum, she was very sharp, but I’m beginning to think that’s a reaction to her circumstances. I like her, and I don’t suppose you get to her age without having a certain amount of spirit about you.’
‘I’d think not. So now tell me was it worth sloshing around in all that horse poo tea, then?’
‘Horsetail thank you very much, and yes it was.’
‘Now that I think about it Isabel, you couldn’t ask Constance whether she knows of a natural remedy for jock itch next time you see her? I don’t like the thought of your father putting chemicals down his pants.’
Isabel grimaced. ‘Eeew! Please don’t say anymore, my dinner’s nearly ready. I’ll check it out online and get back to you all right?’ She had no intention of mentioning her dad’s little problem to Constance. She was beginning to side with her mum when it came to her dad’s burgeoning mid-life football career. From what she could gather, he seemed to limp off the field with one medical complaint after another and, they’d yet to win a match!
‘Okay sweetheart, but I’m telling you it’s not a good look. Your father has a bad case of it, his hand’s permanently—’
‘Mum, I am hanging up now!’
Isabel kept her word and Googled ‘jock itch’. She’d just finished tapping out a text back to her mum when Rhodri called from the bottom of the stairs that he was about to serve up. She pushed send on the information that her dad needed to stop wearing tight underwear, sweating excessively and that he could do with losing a few pounds. On top of that, washing the area concerned with diluted apple cider vinegar was advisable.
As it happened, nothing would have put Isabel off her dinner, not even jock itch and she barely said a word other than to give her compliments to the chef before she began wolfing it down. It was chicken curry but not as she’d had it before and if she closed her eyes she could’ve been dining in a street café in Malaysia. Rhodri had made the sauce from scratch hence the delicious smells emanating throughout Pier View. She was also conscious of the spicy smells that would be emanating from her all-over-her-punters at the Rum Den tonight if she had the second helping Rhodri was presently offering.
It was a tough call, and she stared at the pot on the stove for a couple of seconds teetering on the edge of another dolloping until Rhodri shrugged and dipped the spoon into it, ladling the fragrant sauce over the remains of his rice. Nope, Isabel reaffirmed to herself with a rueful glance at her middle. A skipped lunch and a regular person
