The Quarr ruins were dear to her heart hidden away from the road that she’d cycled down as a girl with Henry. Oh, she knew they were considered a place of great historical significance these days, but back then it had been her and Henry’s secret place. She’d fallen in love for the first and only time in her life against the backdrop of those crumbling ruins covered in creeping vine. She recalled the time one of the Father’s had reared up at them from behind the stones. He’d looked a bit like a soaring kestrel, with his wings stretched wide as he flapped his arms about shooing them on their way. She and Henry had climbed on their respective bicycles, giggling and flushed at being caught although they’d been doing no more than holding hands. Now, she could almost feel the wind on her cheeks as she pedaled furiously away, with Henry keeping pace alongside her. Of course, as time went on, they’d done much more than just hold hands.
Constance opened her eyes, surprised to find herself leaning heavily on her new young friend and not perched on a bicycle. She knew she had to have this painting. She didn’t care what it cost, she wanted to wake up for the rest of her days with this painting on her wall, and she asserted this to Rhodri.
Rhodri looked startled as did Isabel, not just by Constance’s obvious agitation but because she’d also spied the hefty price tag.
‘We need to go to the bank, Isabel,’ Constance announced imperiously. She’d have to withdraw the money to purchase it. She had an EFTPOS card, but it had a daily limit on it and her days of operating a Visa card were long gone. She wanted to make haste, to seal the deal before somebody else came into the gallery and fell in love with it, just as she had.
Rhodri put his hand on hers. ‘No, Constance, really there’s no need. It’s yours. I’d like you to have it.’
Constance shook her head. Was the dear boy mad, giving away expensive art pieces? Surely he worked on a sale and commission basis? She heard Isabel gasp.
‘Rhodri, it’s yours!’ Isabel pointed to the black swirl in the corner of the painting. ‘Your signature is as illegible as your accent is indecipherable,’ she declared, her eyes wide. ‘You told me you dabbled in painting but this, well this is not dabbling, this is amazing.’
Constance tried to follow the conversation.
Rhodri smiled at her guilelessness. ‘I told you it’s a hobby really and occasionally if I’m pleased with a piece I try my luck, pop a preposterous price tag on it and hang it here in the gallery.’
‘You’re bloody brilliant,’ Isabel said, watching him take it back down from the wall.
Constance made protesting noises about paying for the work, but Rhodri paid no attention.
‘No, I want you to have it.’ He was insistent as he promised her he’d deliver it personally after he shut the gallery for the day.
Constance was taken aback, but there was a serendipity to it all. That this painting was by the man who’d bought Pier View House from her, should be of somewhere so dear to her heart and would hang in her room, well it just seemed right somehow. She settled herself back down in her chair and thanked him.
He patted her hand. ‘You’re welcome. Thank you for Pier View House. It came along at the right time.’
Isabel gazed at him curiously as Constance made noises about getting on their way.
‘I’ll just nip up to the loo. Back in a sec and we’ll get on our way.’ Isabel reappeared a minute later, ‘Ooh that’s better, right forward march.’ She took hold of the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Constance forward. Rhodri held the door open for them. As she passed by him, he tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Mmm?’
‘Your dress is a bit caught up there; you might want to adjust it before you hit the street.’
Isabel felt around her back, and pulled her dress out from where it was firmly tucked up in her knickers. Rhodri, she realized scowling, was grinning, and with a face the colour port wine, she made her exit.
Chapter 31
Isabel paused as they passed a shoe shop on Union Street to admire a sparkly pair of summer sandals. They’d go lovely with her dress, she thought. She caught the wistful look on Constance’s face and thought of the pink satin shoes she’d mentioned her parents had bought for her eighteenth birthday. She recalled too her disparaging remarks about the shoes she was currently wearing. Perhaps new shoes were the order of the day. ‘Shall we have a look inside?’ She didn’t wait for Constance to reply as she turned the chair and went into the shop backward.
She helped Constance up, and together they went to browse the shelves.
‘Isabel, these are pretty.’ Constance announced holding a pair of sapphire blue ballet flats aloft. They had a diamante butterfly sitting on the soft, ruched fabric near the toes.
Her eyes had lit up like a magpie spying shiny things, Isabel saw as she held the shoes closely and stroked the smooth leather upper with the pads of her fingertips before turning them this way and that. Her examination of the shoes was as thorough as a doctor giving his patient their annual physical.
‘They’re very pretty, Constance, and flat so they’re practical—sort of.’
‘And the leather is very soft.’
Both women’s gazes went toward the counter to where a young girl was frantically texting having given them a token hello as they entered the store. ‘Excuse me do you have these in a—what size
