The tide had turned against her with the village folk because people were quick to believe the worst. Poor Molly had been wronged because in Isabel’s opinion it was just a sorry coincidence. She rolled onto her side and contemplated flicking the light off spying the unopened paperback lying next to it.
Perhaps reading would help her unwind. The book had been lying on top of a pile of others on a cluttered shelf in the flat’s sitting room, and the cover had grabbed her attention. Rhodri had spotted her scanning the blurb and said it was a good read; she was welcome to borrow it. So, she’d taken it and put it on her bedside table for moments like this, when she couldn’t sleep. She opened it to the first page and snuggled down turning the pages faster as she got into the story. She was completely engrossed in other people’s drama when she was startled by a message pinging its arrival. Isabel snaked an arm over to retrieve her phone, and she squinted at the screen. It was from her mum.
‘Loved it! You up?’ she read out loud her voice seeming noisy in the empty room.
‘Yep.’ She punched in her reply.
Half a beat later her phone rang. ‘Hi,’ Isabel said surprised. ‘Is everything okay? What are you doing awake?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Babs Stark replied. ‘And I was fed up with listening to your father snore. It’s like lying next to Thomas the flipping Tank listening to him huffing and puffing away all night. So I made myself a warm milk, and that’s when your video arrived.’
Isabel sniggered. ‘Rather Thomas than the Fat Controller, Mum.’
‘I heard that!”
‘I thought you said Dad was in bed?’
‘He is, we are, but I woke him up to watch you and your Rhodri fella in action. Oh, Izzy, you were fantastic. Dad thinks so too, don’t you?’
There was a grumbled consent followed by a high pitched whine.
‘Prince Charles knows it's you on the line. Don’t ask me how; it must be a doggy sixth sense. Look you’ll have to have a word, or he’ll never settle down again. You’re a naughty boy, yes you are.’
Isabel sighed. She’d heard her mum use a far sterner tone on her over the years, but it was no use protesting. ‘Go on then, put him on.’ The fact that she was about to have a heart to heart with a lovesick corgi at 1 a.m. did not escape her. ‘Hello boy. How are you?’ The reply was a pant.
‘Now listen to me, Prince Charles. You need to be a good boy for Mummy and do what she says, all right?’ The panting got heavier. Isabel took it as a yes. ‘Now then did you see your girlfriend when you went for your walkies with daddy today? She might get jealous if she knows you’re chatting to me, you know.’ Oh, my God, this was getting ridiculous, she thought as the panting reached a crescendo. ‘Mum, I’m tired I’m going to hang up now.’
‘All right. Night-night sleep tight. I’m going to sleep in your room, this is ridiculous.’ A snore erupted in the background.
Isabel smiled. ‘Night Mum, Dad, Prince Charles. Love you guys.’
Isabel abandoned her book flicking the light switch off. It was late or early however you wanted to look at it. She needed to try and get some sleep.
͠
Isabel was just on the verge of slipping into a solid slumber when her mobile shrilled the arrival of the morning like an annoying cockerel. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom.
A glance in the mirror revealed mussed hair and dark shadows under her eyes making them look too big for her face. Hopefully a shower would sort her out, and turning the handle she waited for the water to heat up. She stood under the hot needles for a length of time that would have had dad banging on the door when she was younger. There was nobody around to tell her off now though. Rhodri, she knew, was downstairs in the gallery. The only reason she got out of the shower was that she was beginning to resemble a prune. And thankfully, by the time she’d had coffee and toast, and managed to cover those raccoon-like rings under her eyes with concealer, she felt part of the human race once more.
It was 9 a.m. already, and if she wanted to stick to her plan of seeing Constance before she was due at The Natural Way, then she’d best get a move on. Now, where had she left her boots? She decided a room search was in order, although, it was getting too warm for boots. She’d have to splurge on some summer sandals. Maybe she should use the extra pounds Brenda had flicked her way, she debated with herself, getting down on all fours and locating the errant boots hiding under her bed. She shoved her feet into them and slung her carry all over her shoulder before taking the stairs two at a time.
Rhodri she saw, upon entering the gallery, was in deep conversation with a customer over a bold painting she hadn’t noticed on display before. She hung around behind the counter for a second until she
