Page 20 of The Women at Ocean's End

‘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 somesmall 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&B, you’re very welcome to stay here. I wouldn’t like to be depending on the ferry across this time of year. It’s okay in the height of summer, but really, if there’s a storm or a swell, they mightn’t travel across for a week at a time.’

‘I couldn’t impose on you like that, Constance. I’m planning on staying for a week or two… I really couldn’t…’ Heather sounded as if she was tossing over the idea of it and Constance understood, no-one wanted to be stuck with some silly old woman and not have an escape plan.

‘Look, it’s not The Ritz here, but I have a room for you. It’ll be aired and you can stay for a night or two, just to get your bearings on the island and organise the funeral arrangements for Dot. Then, if you want to stay over in Ballycove, you can just book somewhere. I think that hotel opens all year round and it’s very nice, much nicer than the one on the island, which is a bit grotty by comparison. You can travel around if that’s what you’d like, but if you want peace and quiet and solitude, you won’t find it any better than here at Ocean’s End,’ she said kindly. That wasthe truth of it: there was nothing for miles around except the sea and the calling gannets, gulls and whooper swans.

‘Are you sure… I…’ And even if she didn’t say it, something about the urgency in Heather’s voice sounded as if she needed to get out of London. Perhaps she needed the break away more than she realised.

‘Of course I’m sure, I’d love to have you.’ Then Constance remembered that she hadn’t actually been upstairs in any of the bedrooms in ages and a sudden chill swept through her. ‘Now, you might have to make your own bed and you’ll definitely have to plug in the old two-bar electric heater to get the place cosy, but you’re welcome for as long as you’d like to stay.’ In spite of the sad circumstances for her journey, Constance was looking forward to seeing her.

‘That’s so kind, Constance, thank you. I’d love to stay with you and I’m not expecting The Ritz, don’t worry, making up a bed is the least I could do. Actually, it’ll make a nice change from packing things away. I’m clearing out Mum’s house, before I go, so…’ Perhaps that explained the troubled tone in her voice.

‘Well, you just let me know when you’re arriving and if there isn’t a ferry crossing to suit, I’ll ask one of the fishermen here to go and pick you up in Ballycove, okay?’

‘Oh, Constance, you’ve no idea how much I’m looking forward to seeing you, I already feel as if I’m coming home,’ she breathed with obvious relief in her voice.

‘Good, I can’t wait to see you too.’ And she couldn’t, because she had adored Heather as a little girl. They had walked for miles and picnicked on the beach most days when she’d come to stay. It had been Constance who had tucked her in at night while Dotty sat in Maggie’s study and drank brandy and listened to stories of the glamorous London literary scene Maggie was part of when she travelled to meet her publishers. And Constance had relished every single moment with Heather. She wouldhave kept her here, had begged Dotty to let her stay for school holidays and beyond, but Dotty was adamant that they were managing just fine.

‘Oh, Constance, I’m so sorry,’ Ros said when Constance told her about the phone call that evening. ‘And you were best of friends?’

‘When we were children, yes, but then, later, we had a falling-out, a terrible falling-out really, and after that Dotty made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with me or with Pin Hill and so I never saw either of them again.’

That was how it had worked out. Constance had sent many letters, which were returned unopened, with just Dotty’s familiar handwriting across the front. Eventually, sometime after her mother passed away, she’d stopped writing, had to face up to the fact that the friendship had died, and with it grew a huge regret for all that had been lost in its passing. They were so connected, far beyond any ordinary friendship; theyshouldhave 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.

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