Chapter 20
Constance
The sound of the back door being pushed in woke Constance with a start. She opened her eyes to see Heather returning from her walk along the beach, soaked to the skin, of course. Constance had assumed she was in the village. She brought with her that vital aroma of sea air and salty freshness.
‘You look as if you had a good bracing walk.’
‘I forgot how cold it can be here, especially when it decides to turn to winter in an instant.’ Heather shivered, but Constance thought she looked as if someone had switched her on in the few days since she’d arrived on the island.
That lacklustre deadness that had lurked behind her eyes and the city grey that no make-up could cover over on her skin had been replaced by a glow that took years off her.
Constance didn’t ask what had been weighing Heather down in London, but it was very obvious that being here on the island was healing whatever had been crushing over her before.
Constance told her about the phone call with Finbar.
‘The guy with the boat?’
‘The one and same.’
‘Is he a priest as well?’
‘No, of course not, but he takes care of the church and looks after the parish administrative tasks. There wasn’t a rush to take it on when they needed someone, but Finbar offered and somehow the diocese found money to pay him after a year or two.
Now, there are a few around the place who wouldn’t mind the job, but the fact is, the best man for the parish has managed to find himself in it.
’ That was the truth as far as Constance could tell it.
‘So, is he a lay minister? Can he do a ceremony and, you know, say a few official words, so Mum’s… on the path in the right direction?’ Heather raised her eyes towards the ceiling, the obvious implication being she’d like to hedge her bets towards heaven if at all possible for Dot.
‘You don’t have to worry about that.’ Finbar was at the door.
‘And yes, if you’d prefer I can do a humanist ceremony.
I mostly do weddings.’ He looked at Constance, smiled impishly.
‘The young ones are all for humanist services. We get lots of weddings here on the island and I thought, well, since they’re coming across anyway, why not offer my services rather than have someone travel over with them for the sake of an hour… ’
‘I’m not sure which she’d prefer, my mother wasn’t exactly the most devout woman,’ Heather said diplomatically. ‘But still, she never mentioned not having a church service.’
‘Whatever suits. I can pencil in a time for the priest on the mainland and he’d only be too happy to do the funeral. Are ye bringing across her remains or is it a question of an urn?’ Finbar asked.
‘She’s in the front room, on the windowsill,’ Constance said and then, when she actually thought about Dotty perched on the windowsill, she had to laugh, because at their age, there was nothing less likely than either of them wedging themselves up there again.
‘Did someone say tea?’ Ros was standing at the door. She halted when she realised that Finbar had come over to discuss the funeral arrangements.
‘Come in, come in, don’t be daft, you’re not going without telling us how you got on.
’ Constance grabbed her arm, pulling her through into the kitchen.
Ros looked as knackered as Constance had ever seen her.
She frog-marched her to the kitchen table and went about making a pot of tea and placing homemade brown bread on a plate with butter and jam and a few biscuits to finish up.
‘Oh, it won’t take long to tell you. Let’s just say, I was as prepared as I could be and we’ll have to wait and see.
’ Ros plopped into the chair, obviously relieved to have it over with.
‘Actually, maybe a bit better than expected, one of the interviewers might even be especially rooting for me.’ She told them about Sonia and their chat after the interview.
‘Well, that’s as much as you can ask for; let’s keep our fingers crossed, eh?’
The spin out to the church was actually lovely. Constance hadn’t visited her mother’s grave in the longest time and she hated to think how much longer it was since she’d stood in St Brendan’s.
‘You have the church looking lovely, Finbar,’ she whispered to him as they stood in the vestry. The place was a combination of gleaming brass and heady beeswax.
‘Ah, go on with you, you know well I have plenty of help in the winter time.’ It was true, some of the other fishermen were always happy to lend a hand when the sea turned back their boats with storms that would cut even the hardiest into pieces.
‘Help or no help, I’ve heard that you’re doing a fine job,’ Constance said softly and she wandered out towards her mother’s grave and stood there while Heather and Finbar made the arrangements for Dotty’s funeral service.