Page 23 of The Women at Ocean's End

As she sat in her mother’s cramped kitchen later that evening, she remembered childhood summer holidays spent on Pin Hill Island. It seemed an awfully long journey back then, but she’d been just a child and it had always been worth it. She remembered too Ocean’s End, the big art deco house overlooking the sea. It was all so glamorous and luxurious. She wondered if, like so many things, it might have shrunk or faded from the memories that played out comforting and welcoming in her mind’s eye as darkness crept in over London.

Later, much later, she was still livid after meeting her ex-husband and Charlotte; there was no making sense of Philip moving on so quickly. She pushed the idea of the children they might have had from her mind. If only they had been on thesame page at the same time. She had to remind herself, she wasn’t in love with Philip any more. She hadn’t been for years. Even still, no matter how hard she tried to think her way past it, there was no getting away from the sense of complete and utter betrayal she felt now.

The following morning Heather woke to the sun streaming in through the kitchen window. She was starving: it had been too late to go and get something to eat the night before when she realised she hadn’t thought of dinner. It felt as if the hunger pangs in her stomach were telling her something. She knew it was time to start moving forward, even if she didn’t know where forward was. She tucked the notebook from beside her mother’s telephone on the hall table into her handbag, before letting herself out the front door. Coffee, she needed coffee, she would go and have breakfast in the first café that looked as if it served a half-decent brew. Then, she would make a list of what she needed to do to tidy up her life in London before she brought her mother’s ashes back to Ireland.

14

Ros

It felt like a strange relief to Ros when she sent off her application to the HR department. At least now it was out of her hands. Constance was right, if she didn’t apply, then there was no chance of getting the job; worst-case scenario, she ended up not getting it, but at least she’d have tried. She had mulled it over a million times. On paper, she was more than qualified to take on the ranger’s job – if anything, she was overqualified. Her honours degree was several points above the basic criteria outlined in the job spec. Admittedly, she’d had to shave off some of her previous relevant experience, but as Constance was quick to point out, hadn’t she just spent the last year doing the job? Surely that was more than enough experience to qualify her to apply? So, with the unwitting help of Constance, she had smudged over the fact that it was entirely her fault that a senior manager had to resign. She was lucky they hadn’t taken criminal proceedings against her for negligence or worse. She shivered; could they have done that? She wasn’t sure, it was unlikely, but one of those irrational fears that crept up on her now and again. Even now, she felt sick when she thought of the damage done with one stupid conversation to the farmer who owned the land where the birds were nesting.

‘I think you might have inherited your mother’s talent for creative writing,’ Ros murmured once she and Constance had agreed on the body of the letter.

‘Oh no, nothing creative about it, that’s all true – you’ve done a great job, probably more than Max Toolis managed in all the years he spent here on the island.’

It was at times like this that Ros was crippled with guilt. She should come clean, with Constance at least – tell her the truth of the terrible damage she was responsible for in the past. All the saved wild goats in the world couldn’t make up for the guilt she felt about it.

‘I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’ve loved every minute of it and if I did some good, well, I’ve had a lot more in return. I never understood before what a labour of love was, but now…’ Ros knew it wasn’t just the work she’d done for the Parks and Wildlife Service, but the little jobs she’d taken on around Ocean’s End had given her a great sense of satisfaction also.

‘Well, with that letter and your CV, they’d be crazy not to give you the job.’ Constance squeezed her hand and got up to pop the kettle on again. Darkness tramped slowly across the fields and neither of them had anywhere else to go, so, very often, after Ros had spent a few hours in the afternoon setting the place to rights, she would sit here until late. It seemed they never ran out of things to chat about. Sometimes, she wondered at how their friendship had come about. Though they’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, Ros felt as if they’d been connected for a lifetime. She wondered fondly too, as she watched the old woman rummaging about for homemade shortbread biscuits in the tin, if this was what it felt like to have a grandmother you loved deeply. She’d never had that. It had always been just her and her mum.

When she set the biscuits out between them, Constance sighed. ‘The lock on the bathroom window came off in my hand this morning,’ she said with a sort of resignation that was out of character for her.

‘Hardly the end of the world, I’m sure we can find another one to replace it with. Max Toolis has a shed filled with everything from old taps to chair casters, there’s bound to be something we can use.’

‘We both know, if I keep going the way I’m going, the place is going to fall in on top of me soon.’ Constance didn’t need to add the fact that upstairs the smell of damp and must and mould had to be unhealthy to live in, but Ros had thought it from the first day she’d broken through that open window. She was doing her best to put one room to rights for the arrival of Heather Banks, but really, the whole house was in need of a lot more than just scrubbing and polishing.

‘Look, I can have a look at the roof too. I mean, it’s easy to take a walk across it and see if there are leaks, at least you’d know that it was weather-proofed,’ Ros said, although she’d never fixed a roof in her life. Then again, she’d never rescued a kid goat either and she wasn’t doing a bad job of that. At least he was still alive, if not exactly up and running. ‘I mean, there can’t be all that much to it, just a bit of patching up. I’m sure there’s going to be some sort of how-to video on YouTube if I look it up.’ It was a flat roof, how hard could it be?

‘Ah, Ros, I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not even sure if the roof is safe to walk across. For all I know there could be enough water lodged up there to drown in and God knows how strong the structure is to carry even a little thing like you.’

‘Well, I could just take a look…’ She knew there was a spiral staircase leading up and onto the roof. Probably, when it was built, the idea was that you could just walk up there and look out across the ocean. ‘I’d actually love to get a look at it. It must have an extraordinary view.’

‘Oh, it did have, I mean, in the summer, my mother and I…’ Constance said with a tinge of sadness in her voice. ‘We would have picnics up there and sunbathe when the weather allowed.’

‘That sounds idyllic.’ And Ros couldn’t decide which part sounded lovelier, sitting with that backdrop of the Atlantic washing in beneath you, the sun on your skin, or the idea of having someone you were so close to that you could just spend hours on end enjoying their company in the sunshine.

‘Those were happy days.’ Constance murmured. ‘But they were a very long time ago and no-one has been up on that roof in thirty years, or twenty at the very least,’ she corrected. ‘I couldn’t let you up there, who knows what it’s like now, you could fall right through it. I’d never live with myself if I was the cause of you falling from that height.’

‘Not if I go up through the stairs.’

‘I’m not sure that door even opens any more and if there is a lake of rainwater up there, you’ll never push it out.’ Ros could see even the thought of anyone going up there worried Constance. ‘Oh, don’t take any notice of me, I’m just weary of it all. Maybe I’ve buried my head in the sand too long already, sometimes it feels as if between us – me and the house – we’re both just hanging on to see the other out.’

‘Ah, Constance, wait a few weeks. When the sun starts to shine and warm everything up and the flowers are out, you’ll remember why you love living here so much. Everyone feels a bit jaded after the long winter months.’

‘You know you’re better than any tonic; wise beyond your years.’ Constance smiled.

‘Ah yes, so I’ve been told. I’m an old soul at heart,’ she said softly, because in the last few years she’d had to learn to be her own mother and grandmother.

*

That evening, on her way back to the cottage, Ros had to drop into the supermarket to pick up some basics. Shane McPherson had finished off her carton of milk in one long glassful before he left for the mainland and what was life without a cup of tea before you left the house in the morning?

It was this thought that forced her through the doors of the supermarket, in spite of the fact that she saw that familiar jeep parked up against the path outside. If it was for something like chocolate, she could have done without, but maybe, if she skipped down to the cool aisle quietly and made her way out quickly, with change ready to pay, she might avoid him.

It was not to be, unfortunately. The door swung in violently just as she laid her hand against it to push, almost sending her tripping over herself across its threshold. She managed to right herself in time to catch the trace of a smirk on Jonah Ashe’s lips.

‘Ah, it almost feels as if you’re following me.’ He held the door open for her and the only good thing she could think was, at least he was leaving. ‘How’s the—’

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