She pulled the bed covers up with her spare hand, her other was holding her mobile, and it shook as her hand trembled with indignation at all. It had stirred up all her emotions where Connor and Ashley were concerned. She wondered how he could just shelve the idea that he might be a dad too. I mean, she’d heard what he’d said but not to know one way or the other? She frowned. She was going around in circles, and she’d be awake all night at this rate. To distract herself she replayed the video Delwyn had recorded of her and Rhodri in action.
It did take her mind off it as their onstage antics made her mouth curve. Watching it now as an observer, she could see they had sounded good, and they’d had stage presence too. It dawned on her that it was the most fun she’d had since the car accident where she’d encountered Ginny. Actually, that wasn’t strictly true; she’d thoroughly enjoyed her makeover day with Constance too. Her mind flicked to her invitation from Alice to the Acapella Group’s practice. They’d seemed like such a great group of girls. There was a real sense of camaraderie about them, and she’d loved the way they’d harmonised together. It would be nice to be part of something where everyone pulled together. She was looking forward to seeing them in action rehearsing on Monday night.
Her promise to cover for Delwyn for a few hours tomorrow sprang to mind, and she wondered where she was off to. It was none of her business, but thinking back on their earlier conversation at the Rum Den, she’d looked quite desperate for Isabel to say that yes, she’d man the fort. Isabel had been far too nervous about her and Rhodri’s performance to pay much heed at the time; now she hoped everything was okay. She’d check in with her friend tomorrow. Delwyn had asked her to be at The Natural Way for eleven so if she got up at a reasonable clip in the morning she’d have plenty of time to call in on Constance beforehand. Isabel frowned. Something was going on with her too, she was sure of it.
It had been a few days since she’d last caught up with her, but she’d noticed then how preoccupied she seemed. She’d listened to Isabel’s chatter, nodding and commenting in all the right places, but it was as if part of her hadn’t been there in the room. Something wasn’t right, and tomorrow, Isabel decided, she’d delve into it. A problem shared was a problem halved after all or however the saying went. Her finger remained in limbo over the video. She’d promised Mum she’d send it through and so she flicked it off not expecting to hear back from her until the morning.
She lay there propped up on her pillows for a minute or two holding her mobile and debated putting her bedside light out. She knew she should, but she still felt wired. Instead, she reached over and put her phone down on the drawers that served as her bedside table, and her eyes stared blankly at the wall wondering what Molly would have recommended for sleeplessness. That morning had seen her wake up with a dull throb in her temples; it was anxiety about the evening ahead at the Rum Den that had brought it on.
The subconscious was a powerful thing, and it had been needling away that she was going to have to get over her fear of standing up in front of a crowd and singing because it was a done deal. She’d called in to see Constance and asked if she could have a look at Molly’s journal to see if there were any suggestions. She’d found what she was looking for under a heading of hysteria. Borderline hysterical was exactly how she was feeling! It was followed by the suggestion of lemon balm steeped in boiling water. Lavender oil too was helpful for calming the nerves.
She’d picked up both from The Natural Way and had come home to make herself a brew of the lemon balm tea. The fragrant tea had been sipped slowly while soaking in a bath with a few drops of lavender oil. It had taken the edge off her aching head.
Isabel felt an affinity with Molly, thinking that if they’d been born in the same era, the pair of them would have been friends. She’d been misunderstood, she decided, and if she were alive. Now she’d more than likely be into homeopathy or be a herbalist like Delwyn. Who knew? Maybe she would have even become a Doctor. Either way, Molly had been different, and Isabel guessed if she were around now she’d have blue hair too.
It was the superstition of the times Molly moved in that had labelled her a witch. Isabel had looked her up on Wikipedia and knew she’d had her issues; living in squalor and canting a curse on a local woman that had come to fruition. Neither were good looks in the 1800s. Still, she’d been guilty of the same thing too. Not the squalor bit; you couldn’t be messy in a hostel dorm room—Lidija from Latvia with whom she’d bunked down with in Cairns proving the exception to the rule.
She could recall, however, directing a silent curse at Charlotte Hervey–Moorcraft more than once during her high school years.
