Constance shook her head, she wasn’t sure, and she directed Isabel to help her sit down holding her foot out for the unimpressed shop assistant to measure.
Five minutes later having tried three different sizes, she’d found her Cinderella slipper. The young lass whose facial expression could have curdled milk completed the sale and then settled back to her texting as Constance was wheeled out of the shop. A bulging bag hung from the wheelchair, contained her precious new shoes. She’d bought the blue pair, and a white pair with a pink bow and was already vowing to say sayonara to the black ones when she got back to Sea Vistas. Constance sat up straight in the chair. She felt all tingly, in a good way. It was with a sudden clarity she understood that the woman who’d been disappearing bit by bit these latter years was shaking off the cobwebs and re-emerging. It was as simple as having bought a pretty pair of shoes.
Isabel was enjoying herself. Iit had been lovely seeing Constance so animated and spying the Royal Victoria Arcade she suggested they have a look around.
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‘It’s gorgeous in here. It’s like stepping back in time,’ Isabel enthused wheeling Constance over the tiled floor. ‘How about we wander right down to the end?’
Constance nodded, she too was enjoying herself and looking at the eclectic businesses on either side of her, she spied a colourful clothes shop she’d like to peruse. She was pleased the arcade had been restored to its former glory. The building was a survivor having been threatened with demolition more than once. The same could be applied to her, she thought ruefully.
They passed a sign for the Donald McGill Museum with its collection of saucy seaside postcards tucked away in the basement. Those postcards used to make Constance’s mother blush and tut when she spied them for sale along the Esplanade, and she’d thought it just desserts when five shops daring to stock his lurid cards were raided in Ryde. That was back in 1953; the date sprang to mind the way certain events do forever cemented in the recesses of memory. There were over 5,000 cards seized in that raid Constance recalled. As she spied a couple of young lads mooching along, peering into the taller of the two’s mobile, she wondered how the times had changed so. These days youngsters could access all manner of unspeakable things with a push of a button on their phone before their hormones had even had time to produce so much as a pimple!
Isabel distracted her train of thought by coming to a halt outside a coffee shop. ‘I think its cup of tea time.’
‘Yes,’ Constance agreed, eyeing the narrow doorway. She didn’t fancy her chances of getting the chair through it, and she didn’t fancy the palaver of collapsing it for the sake of a cup of tea either; ‘Just park me there, Isabel.’ She waved towards the nearby tables dotted about. She was content to be parked up by the arcade’s piece de resistance, the rotunda, with its lead-painted glass domed ceiling and frescoes, happy just to sit for a while and watch the world go by. Isabel maneuvered the chair up to one of the empty tables.
‘I’ll surprise you shall I, Constance?’ she said, receiving a nod before she pushed open the café door. Constance had barely had time to frown over the noise a toddler, unhappy about something or other was making nearby when Isabel reappeared with a number. She placed a plate with two wagon wheels on it down on the table and gave the mother dealing with the tantrum-throwing tot a sympathetic smile.
Constance sighed with relief as he was picked up and marched out of the arcade. All that ruckus would have given her indigestion.
‘I hope you can get your teeth through one of these.’ Isabel giggled, pulling a chair out and sitting down.
Constance had already snatched up one of the marshmallow filled, chocolate biscuits from the plate, not having had a wagon wheel in years. Her narrowed eyes said Isabel was a cheeky mare as she began nibbling around the edges. Their tea appeared, and with a sip from the pretty china cup, she realized she’d been gasping.
The two women sat in companionable silence watching the world go by until fed and watered, Isabel suggested it might be time to mosey off. Constance still buoyed by the success of the shoe shopping expedition conveyed that she’d like to have a little look in the clothes shop she’d seen near the entrance. Perhaps this pea hen might get to don some beautiful plumage! She’d liked the look of the brightly coloured rack of sale clothes that had caught her eye earlier.
For her part, Isabel was excited by the glimpses of this different Constance, and she pushed her through the arcade toward the entrance at a rate of knots. Constance found herself clutching her handbag with one hand and holding onto the armrest for dear life with the other. Their mutual excitement waned, however, after a desultory search through the half price items on the rack outside the shop yielded nothing worthy of a try-on.
There was nothing that was her in slightest, Constance thought, disappointed. She’d look ridiculous in a red velvet jacket like a female Liberace and as for those nautical stripes, what was she supposed to do? Greet people with a cheery, ‘Ahoy there, me hearties?’
‘Come on. We’ll have a look inside.’ Isabel bumped her over the lip into the shop, putting the brakes on beside a mannequin with a lopsided wig in an unnatural shade of red.
‘Right Constance. Give me your hands,’ Isabel bossed. ‘I can’t hold anything up against you when you’re sitting in there.’ She took both her hands in her own and pulled her to her feet. Satisfied Constance was perfectly able to stand for a
