Page 9 of The Women at Ocean's End

Today, the crows had begun to circle before she’d even turned on the path towards the house. ‘Shoo, shoo,’ she shouted half-heartedly at them, but only because she preferred the doves – somehow they stood for something nobler than the crows. Although, years of watching the crows dip in and out of her garden had taught her they were the more intelligent of the two breeds. You had to admire their determination to go at a thing again and again until eventually they managed to succeed. She watched now as they flew off towards the roof of Ocean’s End,humph, only waiting for me to disappear through the door and swoop, no doubt.

She was too old to think that a fight she couldn’t win was worth waiting for the freezing temperatures to chew easily through her clothes. These days, it took longer and longer to warm up after she got cold. It was much better to be sitting inside with a nice cup of tea and her shawl about her shoulders than to be out here inviting the chill into her bones.

It was only when she made it to the back porch that she realised the door had swung shut and locked behind her. And damn it, her house key was in the jacket pocket currently hanging on the hook in the porch. She was locked out. She checked her watch. A while yet before Jay Larkin arrived with the post. For a moment, she stood there, trying not to panic, but she was shivering and, with little more than her nightdress andher dressing gown for warmth, she would be in a terrible state if she had to stay out here for a full hour, and even then Jay sometimes got delayed until almost lunchtime.

Constance stood for a moment, trying to think what to do for the best. It was a good half-mile walk to the next house on the road. Those two very nice German men who had taken over the McElhinny house would not expect to see an old woman in her nightclothes on their doorstep when they woke up. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t imagine walking half a mile on the narrow boreen in thin slippers, especially not today, when there was a slim coating of ice that could prove treacherous to her. She found her eyes skirting about the garden, trying to figure out the next best thing to do. There was nothing in the shed to keep her any warmer than standing out here, certainly no dry coat to throw across her shoulders or fire to stand beside.

She was still deliberating when she thought she saw a figure walking along in the distance. At first, it was hard to make out if it was a person or if the early sun was just playing tricks on her eyes against the hedgerows. Constance stood still for a long minute, concentrating hard, narrowing her eyes to get a better view and willing it to be a person walking towards her. Then, the movement slowed and she was certain it was a walker, coming along the edge of the cliffs – didn’t they know how dangerous it was out there?

Constance shuffled further down, nearer to the fence, keeping one eye on the figure and another beadily checking out the path so she didn’t add to her troubles by missing her step and landing on the broad of her back. It felt as if it took forever to walk a few short yards. How on earth had that happened – time had caught up on her. It seemed like only yesterday she’d have raced around this garden mowing the lawn and pushing back the weeds.

‘Hello,’ she called thinly and she cursed herself for the feeble tone that rang out when she spoke. Sometimes, she wondered ifshe’d put her own strong voice on a shelf one day and forgotten where she’d left it so there was only this old lady timbre left for her to use. ‘Hello…’ she called again as thickly as she could muster.

‘Oh, hello?’ The young woman with red hair turned and waved at her as if that greeting was as much as you were going to get away with when you lived on Pin Hill Island.

‘Hello, I say, could you possibly help me?’ Constance called again, slightly panicking now, in case the woman should decide to take off in the opposite direction – away from the mad woman in her dressing gown outside the crumbling old mansion.

‘Is everything all right?’ the stranger asked with a smile. Constance watched as the girl – because she was hardly in her twenties, or only just at most – easily jumped across the small border fence as if used to climbing up and down these cliffs all the time. ‘It’s very cold to be out here without a coat, isn’t it?’ she asked– there was no getting away from the fact that the temperatures were far too low to be hanging about in the garden in your nightdress.

‘I’m afraid I’ve locked myself out,’ Constance said and she felt very foolish indeed. ‘Well, not locked myself out, I’m not entirely stupid,’ she said, trying to make light of her situation, ‘but it’s the door, you see, it has a tendency to blow closed and I didn’t think to bring my key. I only came out to feed the birds so…’

‘Never mind, is there a window I can get through?’ The woman looked up at the house. Constance could see, even from here, the only window that was even slightly ajar – and then not enough to allow access to the crows – was the tiny box bedroom window on the first floor.

‘Do you mind climbing?’

‘Not at all, in fact, I’d see it as a bit of a warm-up for tomorrow. I’m hoping to do the higher cliffs along the north-facing side of the island then.’

‘Well, at least I have a ladder. That should make this a little less of a challenge than Malloy’s fields.’ And Constance led the young woman to the shed where she was certain there was an old ladder and they even managed to get a wire hanger and a thin blade in case it was needed to wedge the window open.

‘Be careful, won’t you?’ Constance called after the girl as she climbed quickly up the steps. It was only as she was near the window that Constance realised they really should have checked that the ladder was safe for use. Then, just as this thought crossed her mind, she watched as the girl pulled open the window and dived into the bedroom beyond. It seemed to take only moments for her to arrive at the back door and let Constance back into her cosy kitchen.

‘Oh, you have no idea, I can’t thank you enough,’ Constance said, relieved to feel the warmth of the house bathe her as she pushed through the kitchen door.

‘It was no bother. I probably should go back up and make sure that window is closed again as it was before, just in case you end up needing to use it another time…’ And the young woman raced upstairs and Constance heard the bedroom door being pulled out on the floor above.

‘It’s basically closed, but with a little manoeuvring you won’t be locked out again and I put one of the old pillows from the bed at the threshold to stop any draughts flying through the house.’ The woman smiled at her as she walked back into the kitchen.

‘Thank you so much, honestly, I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along,’ Constance said and it was the truth, she might even owe this stranger her life.

‘It was no bother, really, and anyway all is well that ended well, I’m glad I came along at the right moment. Now, I’ll return the ladder and leave you to thaw out, shall I?’ The young woman was smiling.

‘Oh, but you can’t just go like that… you must have a cup of tea with me, at least…’ Constance said and she remembered the cooling fruit muffins she had left sitting on the table. They were meant to be for Jay, but today, it was a question of first come gets the spoils. ‘Have you had breakfast yet?

‘Well, no, but I wouldn’t want to impose. After all, you must be tired and cold after your ordeal.’ The young woman smiled.

‘No, that was no ordeal; sure, didn’t you come along before the worst happened?’ And then Constance told the girl that fears of hypothermia or maybe falling and breaking a hip had crossed her mind, but in reality, she’d only been locked outside for a few minutes.

‘Maybe you should think about leaving a spare key near the back door or hidden somewhere in the garden.’

‘I suppose I should, I really should,’ Constance said as she switched on the kettle. ‘You’ll have a muffin? I’m sure there’s some blackcurrant jam here somewhere…’ She was searching for it in the cupboards. She found yesterday’s brown bread too, still fresh, lovely for toasting. ‘I bought the jam at the summer fair last year.’ She held the jar up to the light; just the thing. ‘I must say, Delia Bradley certainly knows how to knock out a decent pot of jam, it’s every bit as good as if I made it myself.’

She placed it on the table, thinking of all the preserves she’d made over the years. These days she depended on village fetes and the opportunity to pick up other women’s work to fill her larder for the winter months.

‘We had lots of fruit bushes, back in the day, amazing really, considering how close we are to the sea, you know, but…’ Her voice trailed off. It was all so long ago now. The girl smiled as she unfurled a huge scarf from around her neck, then she hung the cloche hat she’d been wearing on the back of the kitchen chair Constance had pulled out for her. ‘We had blackcurrants here, strawberries, raspberries, plums too and even pears when thewinter was mild, a full kitchen garden if you can believe it.’ She nodded towards the walled-off area that had become overgrown years ago. It didn’t do to think too much about how the briars, nettles and ivy had set about taking over what had once been such a joy to her.

‘You’re spoiling me,’ the young woman said and she buttered a thick slice of the bread. ‘Oh my God, that’s amazing… oh…’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve had to eat in… like, forever.’

‘Well, there’s plenty more there for you, I bake far too much of it…’ Constance smiled. The girl’s enthusiasm was refreshing. With tea made in the pot, Constance sat at the table too. ‘I can’t place you?’ she said then, looking at her. Even though she might lose track of some of the younger people on the island, generally she was able to put a surname to people. Usually, they resembled their parents and, more often these days, their grandparents and sometimes great-grandparents. That thought made Constance feel utterly ancient.

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