Chapter Two: Starting anew
Those first months were not without their hardships. Sleeping outside certainly had its advantages, with the sky above coruscating with stars, but could be damp, and surprisingly noisy if there was a hedgehog nearby. She saw very few people, although her dog prevented her from being too lonely. Food was scarce, and she had no way to prepare meals, but as she’d never had any aptitude for cooking, she didn’t mind this too much. She washed in the sea as best she could, but was in any case glad that there were few others around to see her increasingly bedraggled and, yes, dirty state. While she’d never been lazy, continual manual labour took its toll on her hands, and of course, she knew that summer would end eventually.
Despite this, she was happier than she had been in years. The austere simplicity of the life suited her. Her muscles hardened, her skin was clear, and she delighted in seeing the progress she made each day. She was close to the wind, the earth, the water and the sun. She began to learn the best places to find wild plants, what was good to eat and what was not, and the changes the weather would bring by the subtle signs around her. Her increasingly beloved dog stayed close by her. After some thought, she had decided to name the dog ‘Seal’, after spotting some actual seals far out on the rocks one day, and remembering what her father had told her about the ‘mermaid-dogs’. “You were like that mermaid down at the harbour, weren’t you puppy,” she whispered to Seal. “You came out of the water, and you found me.” Seal barked happily. If he had been a mermaid-dog once, he wasn’t telling.
As she dug her garden, birds arrived to peck at the soil she turned, searching out insects and worms. One raven in particular seemed to be fearless when it came to getting the largest and juciest bugs from almost underfoot. The bird and Connie watched each other carefully, and Connie fancied that they'd reached a silent mutual understanding. The raven certainly seemed more intelligent than the other birds, and at times almost seemed like it had something to say.
Between Seal and the raven, Connie did not feel any lack of companionship. The days slipped by, and Connie’s garden became more impressive. Connie, in turn, was growing in strength, although she did not realise it. Seeing her physical accomplishments each day held at bay her old fears, the formless, foggy worries that she would amount to nothing; and the uncomplicated, joyful love of Seal made no demands that she did not feel capable of meeting. Unbeknownst to Connie, her spirit started to reach out beyond her immediate surroundings, ready for new challenges and joys. Connie was only vaguely aware of a growing hunger in her, and decided one morning that, after eating nothing but raw vegetables for weeks on end, it was time for her to be brave, and go fishing.
She decided to wander up to the pond up on the headland, where she had once fished with her father, bracing herself for the waves of grief that she anticipated would assail her there. Instead, she remembered the happiness of their time together, the tenderness he had shown her. Memories flowed over her, tinged with sadness, but for the first time, she could taste the sweetness of her past, without being overwhelmed by the bitter taste of loss. As she pondered the strangeness of this new feeling, she heard music approaching. A human voice. A man’s voice.
“What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
Ear-ly in the morning!”
She remembered her father singing this once on his way home from the tavern, and being roundly scolded by her mother for “singing vulgar songs when the child’s asleep”. She had not been asleep, but gleefully awake, hearing something not meant for her ears. For one moment she wondered if this was her father, coming to fish with her as he once had done, but this voice was lighter, less gruff…
“Put him in a hammock with the cap’n’s daughter….”
The voice rounded the corner, and both the voice and the young man attached to it stopped abruptly as he stared at her, clearly covered in confusion. Connie herself was blushing, partly from the crude lyrics (no wonder her mother had been so cross, she thought), and partly because this young man was not only the first person she had seen in a fair while, but also quite the most handsome. He in turn had turned violently red in the face.
“Miss… I am truly sorry, I would never have…. in the company of a lady… do excuse… terribly sorry”
Connie couldn’t help it. She laughed, and the young man blushed harder, then also started laughing at his own confusion.
“A sailor then, I take it?” she asked.
“Why yes miss – at least I was. I was in the Merchant Navy for some years, but I decided to take shore leave, and came back here.”
“Are you an Islander then? I’m afraid I don’t recognise you.”
“Not… not exactly, miss. But I did spend some time here when I was younger. My name is Peter Devlin, miss.”
The name rang a bell on the edge of her consciousness, but she could not place it.
“My name is Constance Cabot, and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Devlin.”
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Cabot” said Peter fervently. He was awestruck by this vibrant young woman, and sincerely hoped that she was indeed ‘Miss’ Cabot. “Please excuse me for interrupting your fishing. What a beautifully peaceful spot you have chosen. I sincerely hope that you will allow me to stay and fish here as well, although of course if you prefer solitude, I will leave this instant. No, sooner.”
Connie laughed again. “Please, feel free to stay. I would welcome the company, as it happens. This place holds many memories for me, and I would rather not stay in silence all day.”
She did not have to. Peter was more than pleased to entertain this enchanting young lady, and Constance in turn was delighting in the entirely new and pleasurable experience of being admired by a handsome young male. They were both quite taken with each other, and the hours slipped past unnoticed.
"My lady, I'm afraid I must be leaving for town soon... And without the fish I promised my landlady"
"You honour me,
sir" Constance smiled, "by calling me lady, for I am just a maid. But I thank you for your courtesy, and ask that you call me Connie, for I feel that we shall be friends, if we are not already."
"The honour is mine, Connie, for I should be proud to call myself your friend. I hope to renew our friendship on the morrow. May I walk you to your front door? I should not like your father to be worried."
Connie's brow creased as she frowned. "I have no father, sir, or indeed mother. I would prefer not to walk unaccompanied with a young man, for a girl in my position cannot afford to be less than careful."
Peter's face softened, and he took her hands.
"That you have no parents is all the more reason for me to be gentle, and look after you with brotherly affection. Your honour is safe with me, lady Connie, and I will respect your wishes."
Connie felt a pang of... something she couldn't define. Brotherly affection?
"But before I leave you, lady Connie," Peter grinned, "please accept this token of my esteem. They are wildflowers from this place, and whilst I cannot give you hothouse blooms, they are no less beautiful for that, though no than a shadow of your own beauty."
Connie let out her breath as he set off towards the town. She had heard that across the sea, there was a grey castle called Blarney, and a stone in the tower granted a silver-tongue to those who leaned across the parapet and kissed it. This boy - man - certainly knew how to use his words. Yet she did not feel that he was insincere. Instinct told her that this lad was honest, but she did not feel she had been honest with him. True she was an orphan, but a girl without family was a different kettle of fish to a girl living in a field, and... what? Growing lettuces and tomatoes that grew in every market garden, and few enough at that?
For a moment she felt the old wearisome feeling that she would amount to nothing, but then she looked at her bouquet of wildflowers. They grew out in the wind and rain, and were no less lovely for it. In the distance, a raven cawed, and Seal appeared as if from nowhere, wagging his tail, and indicating in no uncertain terms that he was expecting one of Connie's fish. Connie smiled, her heart light again, and set off for home.
