Page 114 of The Winter of Second Chances
You’re welcome. Nite nite, John. Sleep tight xxx
Don’t let the bed bugs bite xxx
The temperature dropped incrementally day by day and in that first week of December Willow Bay plunged headlong into winter. Sometimes Annie had to force herself out for her walk in the mornings, knowing that if she left it until after work, she wouldn’t go out at all. But the swimmers kept swimming – their joy seeming to increase as the weather grew colder – and the walkers and runners still made their daily commute to the coast, and against all the odds, business at The Saltwater Cafe remained steady.
Alfred had agreed to give the shelter a try and even though she knew it was the right thing, Annie couldn’t shake the feeling that Willow Bay was losing someone special. Annie found herself making two dinners each night and leaving one for Alfred in the cafe. She made herself get up extra early to give him a hot drink before he left in the mornings; once on a night when the tide was out, she even tramped a thermos all the way down to the cave. He shook his head at her, chuckling his low grumbly chuckle as he took it, as thoughshewere the eccentric. It was silly, she knew, but she wanted to feed Alfred up before he left. She had inherited the need to feed people from her mum, who couldn’t bear it if someone came into their home and didn’t leave feeling replete; this had been known to extend to the vicar, the boiler engineer and the woman who came to check the electric meter. It was one of the reasons Annie had been so sure she wanted to be a chef.
As well as reading the books for the book club, Annie was working her way through Christmas novels with John at bedtime. They were currently readingHercule Poirot’s Christmas. It had become Annie’s favourite time of the day. She would curl up in bed at an agreed time, with her book and her fully charged phone, and read in tandem with John. It was intimate, a thing just for them, and she often fell asleep wishing that the night hours were longer.
It drives me crazy to think of that dastardly Mr Knightley in your bedroom!John messaged when they’d finished discussing the abominable Simeon Lee.
Annie was suddenly wide awake and tingling in all the right places.
He is indeed dastardly!she replied.Particularly between the sheets!
Gaaaarrghhh! What’s wrong with me, I’m jealous of a dildo!
Annie laughed out loud.
Hahahahaha. Well then, let’s hope my stupid husband agrees to buy me out, so that I can buy you out, and you can come over here and usurp Mr Knightley.
If he doesn’t pull his finger out soon, I’m going to drive to The Pomegranate Seed and shake the money out of him!John messaged.
I’ll talk to him again. Let’s save the husband-shaking as a last resort,Annie typed, smiling.
The much anticipated Christmas Festival celebrations were just hours away. The hob had been swallowed by two large catering saucepans, one containing a beef bourguignon and the other a rich vegetable and ale stew, which had been blipping contentedly on a slow simmer all afternoon. The Christmas tunes playing on a loop had spurred Annie and Gemma along as they cut out and baked enough sugar star cookies to sink the famousWillow.
John had been roped in to help Bill and Paul set the fires that would line the beach and act as both a beacon for ghost ships – mostly the ones that had been lured to the shallows by Willow Bay’s iniquitous forebears – and warming posts for chilly revellers. It seemed to Annie that the residents of Willow Bay spent a lot of time atoning for their ancestors’ misdemeanours. They were supervised in their endeavour by Emily, who had suspended her dislike of John for the sake of the festival and historical accuracy and winked conspicuously at Annie every chance she got. Alfred lent a hand where needed. Only a handful of people knew that this would be his last day in Willow Bay and that handful were determined – whether he liked it or not – to make it special for him.
Annie watched John wistfully as he worked. He was wearing old jeans and a knitted sweater with a Christmas tree motif and was laughing and joking with Paul and Bill, and even Emily. Though she knew they were trying to be sensible and not give in to their feelings, the lines were becoming increasingly blurred as time went on. The wildly inappropriate flirting only added to the sizzling chemistry between them and the longing in her chest grew more acute each day. It seemed both futile and necessary to deny their attraction, which Annie supposed summed up their peculiar and contradictory non-courtship.
‘He really likes you,’ said Gemma, when she caught Annie looking out of the window for the hundredth time.
‘It feels like the fates are conspiring against us,’ said Annie.
‘Or maybe they’re just waiting until the time is right for you two.’
Annie smiled and went back to sprinkling edible glitter over a batch of warm orange-spiced snowflake cookies.
Annie had decided to stay open all day today, so when Gemma left for the school run, Annie had a couple of hours to manage by herself before Billy arrived after school for the evening shift. At half past three Sam’s van pulled up with Pam and Raye and they wrestled Charles Dickens’s giant papier-mâché ghosts into the back garden. Annie hoped the sight of these leering effigies wouldn’t induce Alex and Peter to turn tail and run when they arrived.
‘Oh, Annie, it looks wonderful in here!’ cooed Sam.
‘You don’t think it’s too much?’ Annie, swept up in the festive spirit, had added to the already bounteous decorations by interlacing more fairy lights around the cafe, which had begun to resemble an alpine chalet crossed with a Santa’s grotto in Las Vegas.
‘Too much?’ blustered Pam. ‘It’s Christmas, there’s no such thing as too much at Christmas!’
‘I agree,’ said Raye. ‘It feels magical in here, with all the wood and the twinkling lights, and that view. You’ve created a winter wonderland.’
‘And let’s face it, it’s bloody bleak outside!’ added Sam. ‘I dare anyone to walk past on a day like today and not be drawn in. Honestly, Annie, it’s like an oasis of cosy.’
Annie felt warm inside. Maeve marched in.
‘Hello! Crikey, that smells good. What time are we eating?’
‘Not till six,’ said Annie.
‘Good God, I’ll have withered to nothing by then. Better make me a large mocha to keep me going, and I’ll take a slice of that ginger cake. And a couple of those biscuits. And a packet of crisps.’
