Page 35 of The Women at Ocean's End

‘In that case, Constance, it seems to me you have things to think about. Somewhere like this, it has to be the sort of place that people –I mean, like, Maggie Macken’s fans – would like to visit?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I know it sounds a bit daft, considering it’s way out here on the back step of Europe, but I was reading about Agatha Christie and her house, Greenway? At least, I think that’s what it’s called. Well, people – readers and writers – come from all over to visit it.’ She smiled. ‘A bit like Graceland for sleuthing fans.’ She started to laugh, perhaps a little embarrassed at the notion of it all.

‘Except no-one has read my mother’s books in years,’ Constance said.

‘Actually, that’s not strictly true.’ Heather smiled mysteriously and Ros leaned forward because she suspected that they were in for a very interesting conversation.

*

It was late by the time Ros left Ocean’s End that evening. The moon was creeping across the sky, while in the west the sun’s final rays stretched for one last stroke across the waves. Shestood for a while on Distiller’s Hill, reputedly a spot where poitín was made many years earlier. The solitude was soothing until she saw a familiar figure in the distance.

‘You know those blasted goats have every decent fence on the island destroyed.’ Jonah Ashe came stalking towards her as if he had more on his mind than just passing the time of day. ‘I rang you, did you not see the missed call?’

‘Oh, no…’ It was a lie; she’d completely forgotten about calling him back. Well, maybe she’d successfully managed to forget about it, until now.

‘I don’t know what the point is in having you here if you’re not going to look after the place.’

‘Excuse me, I do look after the island, but it’s not my job to take care of your fences.’

‘Just as bloody well it’s not, I suppose,’ he said gruffly and he stood next to her now, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. She could see he hadn’t shaved in a few days; he looked like a man who hadn’t slept and was in a filthy mood because of it.

‘Nor am I the keeper of the local goat population.’ She did, however, technically have some responsibility for their wellbeing, in so far as they were a native species to the island and as such needed to be protected. Perhaps, if it was necessary to stop them doing damage to the island, then she supposed it probably was her job to intervene in some way. Although, having lived with George for a short while, she wasn’t sure she’d fancy anyone’s chances in talking a goat out of eating all around him.

‘Well, if you’re not going to take some responsibility for them, I’m not sure what your job is exactly. Surely it’s more than wandering around the cliff edges, sightseeing?’

‘That’s not what I do…’

‘Isn’t it? It’s all you appear to do when I see you,’ he said. ‘Those bloody eating machines have drilled their way through a thousand euros’ worth of my fences in the last few weeks.Between them and the red deer, who knock through the dry walls on a regular basis, I spend more time mending fences than I do looking after livestock these days.’

‘I’m sorry that you’ve had a run of it.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure you are,’ he said and he shook his head. ‘It’d be a lot better if you did something about the stampeding deer and the marauding goats and spent less time being sorry.’

‘Seriously?’ she said, but he was walking away.

‘I’ve a good mind to report you for not doing your job properly,’ he shouted back at her and that one threat was enough to make her cold to her very core. Whatever chance she had of getting offered the job of ranger permanently, there was no way they’d let her have it if there were complaints against her.

23

August 1957

Dotty

Constance’s pale white face staring in the dusty shed window made Dotty jump.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ She ran to the door and pulled back the old logs she’d stashed up against it.

‘You mean, what on earth areyoudoing here?’ Constance put her arms around her. ‘I saw you through our kitchen window. You raced across our garden then slunk through the hedges and I…’ She looked around her for a minute, taking in the shed for the first time. ‘I thought maybe Lickey Gillespie or some of the boys were chasing you, so I came to help.’

‘You came to help me? From Lickey?’ Dotty felt the tears rise up in her once more.

‘Sure,’ Constance said as if it was the most natural thing in the world when they both knew that Lickey Gillespie put the fear of God in her. Wasn’t it half Lickey’s fault that she’d ended up falling down the well in the first place? ‘Didn’t you save me from the well?’

‘I know, but that was different, Constance. I didn’t actually do anything, just had a feeling and came looking. But you and Lickey Gillespie…’ Dotty was touched beyond any measure she could possibly try to put into words.

‘So, if you weren’t running from Lickey?’

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