Page 42 of The Women at Ocean's End

By the time they pulled her to the top of the well she was shivering, not cold, but icy in other ways.

‘Oh, darling, that was so brave.’

‘Nothing?’ one of the bigger men asked.

‘No, nothing,’ she shivered.

‘Are you sure, because I could have sworn I…’ Mr Gillespie said but he sidelined whatever he was going to say next when he caught her mother’s eye.

‘I’m sure. There was a dead badger in the water, he must have gone in when the floods covered over everything, he was…’ Constance scrunched up her eyes, tried hard to push away the image of Mr Wren’s hand forever down there in the darkness.‘Decomposing, but it was definitely a badger. Horrible.’ She shivered again.

‘Well, that’s that, I suppose,’ one of the men said and she knew, with the way they all shook their heads, the well would be covered over now, the magpie and Mr Wren left to rot in peace.

‘Oh, darling, come on, let’s get you back to the house. I’m so proud of you.’ Her mother bundled her up. She’d brought down a huge blanket from the chest at the top of the stairs.

‘I’m fine, really, it was…’ But when she looked up towards the Wren house, she saw Dotty standing at her bedroom window, tears streaming down her cheeks, and their eyes locked. She waved at her friend and nodded. She wanted to tell her all would be well, but a little part of her doubted that, even if she didn’t dare admit it to another living soul.

27

Ros

The call came when Ros was stretching down the side of one of the small tributary river banks, trying to push back some moss which was covering over what looked like a clump of green figwort. She’d have to take a photograph with her phone and check it against the app she used to confirm if she was correct. If she was right, it was a great little find. She hadn’t seen that particular plant growing along this stretch of the river before. It was not exactly endangered, but it was too easily overpowered by hardier plants like willows and alders which had colonised river banks all across the mainland. If it wasn’t for Constance and Heather, the phone buzzing would just be an inconvenience. She crawled back onto the damp grassy bank and flicked the screen into life.

‘Ah, erm, Ros?’ Keith Duff, as usual, seemed to be checking he’d gotten her name right.

‘Of course.’ She sat up, reaching into the inside breast pocket of her waterproof jacket. She’d been here long enough to look out to the ocean for incoming weather rather than putting her trust in the meteorological services. She pulled out a small, slightly battered notebook and a pencil, because with Keith you never knew.

‘Can you talk?’

‘Well, I’m not exactly in the middle of a big stockholders’ meeting, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m sitting on the side of ariver called Abhainn Bán, looking at what I think is a new growth of green figwort.’

‘Right, well, whatever about that, you’re sitting down at least.’

‘I am,’ she said slowly, because people only said that when there was bad news, didn’t they? ‘It’s the interview, isn’t it?’

‘It is. You didn’t get the job, Ros, no point sugar-coating it, you’re a big girl.’

‘And, why…’ She realised she’d better clarify. ‘I mean, what let me down at the interview, was it because I was a woman?’ She had to ask; she knew from the few team meetings she’d attended she was the only one. And there had been comments, the sort you’d expect from stupid men.Out there, cut off on the island, a woman on her own. A girl, really.

‘Oh, God. Of course not, that would be…’

‘Sexist? Illegal?’ she finished for him.

‘It would. It would, no, no, you can’t say you didn’t get the job on the grounds of…’ His voice had dropped, as if even mentioning the word was too much for him.

‘Sexism?’

‘Well, yeah, but no, no, no, no.’ He cleared his throat, perhaps hoping that was an end to it and she would toddle off and make life easy for him.

‘Why didn’t I get it, so?’ She felt suddenly sick with disappointment.

‘Someone more experienced turned up for interview. We offered him the job yesterday evening and he accepted it this morning.’

‘He?’ So, Shane McPherson, who’d been on the island for less than twenty-four hours – she had already known he’d probably get it, why on earth did she feel so upset now it was official?

‘Now, I hope you’re not going to be awkward about this… just because he’s a man. Shane got the post because he was the best man… I mean, candidate on the day.’

‘I’m not being awkward, but isn’t it good practice to tell me where I went wrong at the interview, in case I apply for something else with the Parks and Wildlife Service?’

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