Chapter 12
Constance
The shrill sound of the phone ringing out made Constance jump.
And with that, the old photograph she’d been looking at went flying and she watched as it sailed slowly to the floor.
There was no time to pick it up, not if she wanted to make it to the hall table to catch the caller before they gave up.
Constance had learned the value of moving more slowly a few years earlier, when she’d gone too fast and ended up in a tailspin and sprained her ankle in the process.
‘Hello? Constance speaking…’ She had answered the house phone in the same way for decades. Her mother had drilled it into her and, even if she thought about saying something different, it would probably take another decade to hammer it out of her.
‘Oh Constance, thank God, you’re there,’ a voice Constance didn’t recognise breathed, and yet, there was something in it that resonated with deep familiarity. ‘It’s Heather here, Heather…’ Heather’s voice faltered as if trying to remember her second name. ‘Heather Banks.’
‘Heather?’ Constance felt her head begin to swim. Heather Banks. Dotty’s daughter. Her body dropped rather than sat on the velvet-covered stool that was part of the telephone table. ‘After all this time, Heather…’
It was as much as she could manage because, suddenly, she felt almost overcome and hardly noticed that huge tears of joy filled her eyes and were running freely down her cheeks.
‘Yes, it’s me, Constance.’ And for a moment, Constance thought she could hear Heather on the other end of the line sob too; it felt as if a sigh of relief passed across between them.
‘Is everything all right? How have you been? Oh, I’ve thought about you so often over the years and wondered…
’ Then she couldn’t help it. ‘And Dotty, I’ve regretted that argument every single day, I just…
’ It was the truth, but now, as the words tumbled out of her, all she felt was a relief to say them.
‘Sorry, I’m just so happy to hear your voice and…
how have you been, oh dear, I already asked you that but tell me anyway…
’ She was babbling, but it didn’t matter.
‘Oh, Constance, I’ve been…’ Heather made a sound, a sort of mixture of a laugh and a cry. ‘It’s Mum, she’s…’
‘Oh no.’ Constance knew already, maybe she’d known from the moment the first tear had escaped her. ‘When?’
‘Just over a week ago, I think, the days have sort of…’ And it sounded as if Heather was searching for a calendar or a clock or something to explain.
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m so, so sorry, Heather,’ Constance said and she was, really sorry, for Heather, but also for herself, because she’d missed the opportunity to put things right, not that she’d ever expected Dotty to let her, but there had always been that hope, lodged deep in her heart.
‘It was peaceful, in the end, I think; she died in her sleep…’ Heather was being kind, trying to spare Constance further upset.
‘You’re very good to tell me,’ Constance said.
‘I didn’t even think, to start, but then…’
‘I wouldn’t have expected it, really, I’m sure you have a million things to think about.
’ And Heather sounded completely harried, too, not unlike Dotty used to sound when there’d been some small thing chewing on her nerves that she’d needed to get off her chest. Dotty was good at sharing the small things, the gone-off milk or the electricity bill that arrived on the wrong day, just as she’d spent all her money on a new coffee table.
The big things she buried too deeply for her own good.
Sometimes, Constance wondered if you could excavate a person – just how much had they all buried over the years?
‘I’m… well, it doesn’t matter how I am, the thing is…’ Heather started. ‘The thing is, I know this is going to come out of the blue, but she wanted to be buried on the island.’
‘Oh.’ It sounded like a squeak, as if a mouse had taken over Constance’s voice. ‘Really?’
‘I know, I never saw that coming either, but maybe, near the end, things had begun to change with her,’ Heather said softly.
‘She wants to come home after all this time.’ And once again, Constance felt tears fill up her eyes and flow down her cheeks. Strangely, she didn’t feel sad, rather a rush of relief washed over her because Dotty was finally coming back to her.
‘So, I was thinking I might go there in a week or two... I’m not sure of the dates myself yet, I mean, there are things to be taken care of here before I go.
..’ Heather paused again as if she wasn’t sure what had to be organised.
‘And then, I haven’t even thought about making arrangements over there, the plot for one thing and some sort of ceremony for another… ’
‘Don’t worry about any of that, you can figure it all out when you get here.
Father Rory will fit you in, we’ll pick a day that suits and he’ll be delighted to come across.
It’s not as if he’s exactly run off his feet this time of year – mind you, come July and August, it can be a different matter…
’ Constance said. Everywhere filled up when tourists arrived on the island, she could only assume that went for the church too.
Did people go to mass on their holidays anymore? She really wasn’t sure.
‘Oh, Constance, thank you, I couldn’t think where to start.’
‘Is it… I mean, is she already…? I mean, have you got Dotty’s ashes there…
with you?’ Part of Constance didn’t want to ask, because she liked the idea that Dotty was still pottering about her little house in London.
Over the years, she’d imagined that house, a little like one from a sitcom on the telly, with tiny cosy rooms and the kitchen table always ready with a tea pot.
Perhaps some geese flying up the wall and Dotty’s umbrella leaning against a coat stand in the hall.
‘Yes. All done. They called me this morning and I can collect them when I’m going.
I thought maybe it would be nice, to spend a while on the island, but the hotel isn’t answering their phone and all the bed and breakfasts are closed up for a few more weeks, so I think maybe I should stay on the mainland.
Ballycove looks lovely, but I’m not sure if there’s a ferry over or… ’
‘Don’t be silly, you’re not going to stay in some B they should have been able to pick up the pieces from a silly argument.
She still couldn’t believe that Dotty was gone.
It didn’t feel real. But maybe when Heather came across and there was a ceremony, then, maybe.
Constance felt a tug once more at her heart; God, it had been a day filled with emotion.
She’d cried for most of the afternoon at the news that Dotty was gone.
But she’d made up her mind, she was not going to be miserable while Ros was here.
She simply wouldn’t allow herself to wallow for the next few hours.
‘Here? She’s coming to stay here? In the rooms upstairs?
’ Ros said then, as if she just realised something very important.
‘But Constance, the room, it’s…’ She threw her hands up in the air.
‘It’s… You can’t put anyone sleeping in there with the state of it at the moment. ’ And she shot up from the table.
‘Hold on… what’s wrong with it that a bit of heat won’t put right?’ Constance asked, because honestly, no-one had touched the room in years, it should be perfect, if a little dated.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it’s damp and it smells of mould and…’
‘Neglect?’ Constance slumped into her seat.
‘Well, let’s say, it needs about twenty years of spring cleaning and a lot of freshening up.
’ Ros was too kind to say what they both knew: the rooms upstairs were probably in worse repair than the ones downstairs.
‘Look, I’ll just run up and open a window; do you have anything I can spray to cover over the…
?’ She cut her words short, perhaps trying to be delicate so as not to cause offence.
Instead she walked to the kitchen sink and emptied out a basin, filled it with hot water and added a good measure of washing powder.
‘I’ll just spend an hour up there; if I open the windows for a few days, I’m sure the place will be right as rain.
’ She stood at the door for a second. ‘I don’t suppose you have an electric blanket? ’
‘An electric blanket?’ Constance repeated, feeling a little stupid now; obviously she hadn’t properly thought this through.
‘Never mind, I’ll see if we can’t find one somewhere on the island to borrow for a few days until we can get one over from the mainland.
We can make sure the bed is aired and if the place is nice and fresh, it’ll be lovely.
’ Ros was still talking as she raced upstairs and Constance followed her out into the hallway, already feeling terribly guilty for having made the commitment to Heather without thinking it through.
‘Not…’ Constance broke off, but of course, she knew Ros wouldn’t think of putting Heather into the room the crows had broken into.
‘I thought perhaps the large room at the front?’ Ros waited midway between steps.
‘Perfect, the guest room, that’ll be perfect.’ Constance sighed with a small measure of relief.