Chapter 8
Constance
‘How lovely.’ Constance was sitting at the kitchen table poring over an old photo album when Ros arrived and placed a bottle of wine on the table.
She’d heard on the radio earlier that day that people didn’t have photo albums any more, the presenter and his guest talking about storing photos on a cloud of all things and having a million images but nothing in a frame.
Ocean’s End was filled with photographs.
They stretched from the first days here on the island, documenting many of her mother’s great triumphs, and later, they catalogued that short time in Constance’s life when it seemed as if everything had worked out perfectly.
Pride of place in the sitting room, a faded photograph of her wedding day hung above the fireplace and on every surface stood some reminder of glorious memories of a past that had fleeted by too quickly.
Her darling Oisin forever young while she carried on in Ocean’s End without him.
There was a photograph of Constance and little Heather Banks, standing on the beach, with the sun glaring against their backs.
Stupid, really, when she thought about it now, Ocean’s End had become a catalogue of lives that had only passed through it, but even all these years later meant the world to Constance.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’ Ros was standing there now; had she asked her something?
‘Not at all, I don’t know when I last had a glass of wine. Of course, the cupboards here are bursting with booze, between sherry and brandy and all sorts of disgusting liquors, but it’s not the same when you’re here alone, there hardly seems any point. I generally stick to tea.’
‘If they’ve been there a while, you might be better off.’
‘You’re probably right.’ Constance watched as Ros took two glasses from the cupboard and poured them both a generous measure of white wine.
‘Sauvignon. It’s nothing fancy, but I picked it up at the supermarket on my way over.’
‘It’s fancy enough for me.’ Constance sipped the wine. ‘Oooh,’ she said because there was an unexpected kick from it, but it was pleasant. ‘So, what are we celebrating again?’ because she couldn’t remember hearing.
‘Well, now that I’m here, it seems a bit daft really, but I got word today that there are no applicants for the ranger’s job here on the island. I’m just so happy to know that I’m not going to have to leave yet.’
‘Oh? But will you have to go when it’s filled?’
‘I’m afraid so, the only reason I can stay on is because I’m getting the cottage and of course the job… otherwise, I’d have to go back to the mainland.’ Ros looked down at her hands. ‘Probably back to Dublin again, look for my old job back.’
The truth was, it took quite a bit of probing to learn that Ros’s mother had passed away just as Ros was finishing up her finals, a tragic event that had consequences reaching far beyond just leaving her alone in the world.
There were financial repercussions too. For one thing, she could no longer afford the flat she’d lived in, nor could she continue with her studies, to pursue a master’s or a specialism, which would have prepared her for a particular field of work.
‘I suppose it makes me a jack of all trades and master of none,’ Ros told her. Never a girl to sit still, she’d taken a job in a bar and when she learned her old classmates had secured work on the island to study an area of special conservation she’d offered to join them if they were short.
‘Bar work must be a very different life to here, I’m sure.’
‘It was…’ Ros reflected. ‘It was okay, I suppose, I didn’t mind it, but compared to here, well, maybe I’ve been spoiled since I arrived, what with the house and everything. I love the job and being part of a small community, I really feel as if I belong.’
‘Of course you belong.’ Constance sipped her wine again.
The taste was growing on her as was this young woman who had taken to visiting her every other day.
Not only that, but when she came, she arrived with a bundle of energy and good cheer.
In the short time they’d known each other Ros had unstuck her back and front doors, shaving down the winter swelling and oiling the hinges.
She’d placed a hook beneath the ivy on the back wall to hide a spare key, so if Constance did get locked out, she wouldn’t have to bend down and start scurrying under old plant pots.
And just the other day, she’d finished scrubbing the narrow path that cut through the garden down to the very end.
Constance looked across at Ros, with her funny seashell earrings and the hat she wore when she went out walking, perched now on the corner of her chair; she would miss her very much if she had to return to the mainland. And then it came to her, in a flash, the most obvious thing.
‘Why don’t you apply for the ranger’s job?’
‘Me?’ Ros looked at her for a moment, went to say something else, but sidelined the words, shifting her gaze out toward the back garden. ‘I don’t think I could, I mean, I’m sure you must need to have a lot more experience for it. They’d hardly go handing out jobs to just anyone, would they?’
‘I don’t know, they were content enough to let you do the job for the whole winter and it isn’t as if they could even properly supervise you, is it? I mean, how long is it since anyone actually set foot on the island to see what sort of job you’re doing?’
‘That’s a point,’ Ros said slowly, but she looked as if her thoughts had raced to a place a million miles away.
‘Still, I don’t think I’d have a hope of getting it, not if…
’ She halted and for a moment it felt as if something of momentous importance hung wordlessly on the air between them.
‘Well, you know…’ she said, sounding a little sad, as if it was the story of her life.
‘No, I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you get it? Haven’t you got all the qualifications and from Trinity College, no less, and plenty of experience here on the island – they’d be mad not to give it to you, if you ask me.’
‘I don’t know, it’s a lot of responsibility and really, they’ll want someone with a bit more…’
‘What?’ Constance leaned forward because she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Ros.
‘All the other rangers in the area are men, older. I’m not sure they’d want a woman taking on this whole area on her own.’
‘Pah, those days are meant to be well and truly behind us. I’m sure it wouldn’t just be down to silly ideas that are truly stuck in the last century.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ Ros kept her eyes glued to her hands, which played nervously now with the stem of her glass, and Constance couldn’t overlook the feeling there was something she wasn’t telling her.
‘Well, I think you’ll be bloody sorry if you don’t apply for it. Jobs like that don’t come up very often. Max Toolis was here for over twenty years, you don’t want to be sitting in some desk job on the mainland waiting that long for it to come up again, do you?’
‘I’d be a long time waiting, I suppose,’ Ros murmured.
‘I think…’ Constance considered this lovely girl who’d shown her nothing but kindness since the first day they’d met. ‘I think you absolutely have to… Otherwise, you’ll regret it, especially if you just walk away and feel as if you didn’t even try.’
‘I suppose I’ll think about it.’ Ros sat a little straighter on the chair and raised her glass to her lips, then held it out to make a toast. ‘To being brave and going for what we want in life.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Constance smiled and she had a feeling that if Ros got that job, it would be good for both of them to have her here on the island.