Page 13 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘That’s the spirit!’ said Mari. ‘Truth be told, we’re in a similar position, you and I. My nephew wants me to sell the place. Thinks a property developer would jump at the chance to get his hands on this land.’
‘Surely your nephew can’t force you to sell?’ said Annie.
‘Force isn’t the right word,’ said Mari. ‘Like I said, he’s a worrier. He’d like to see me somewhere a bit more populated. Forsafety! If he had his way, I’d be living in one of those retirement villages with twenty-four-hour warden control and a panic button around my neck.’
Annie didn’t think this sounded like a bad idea. Mari had to be well into her eighties. How long could she realistically stay living somewhere this remote? All the same, Annie wondered how much of selling to a developer was for Mari’s benefit and how much for her nephew’s personal financial gain; beach-side land must be at a premium. Instead she said, ‘Don’t let anybody force you into something you don’t want to do. If you don’t want to sell, don’t sell. Your nephew will have to respect your wishes.’
‘Ach, don’t you worry about me, hen,’ said Mari. ‘He’s a big softy underneath it all. Now, I’ll leave instructions on how everything works and days for bin collections and things. Paul, the window cleaner, comes the third Monday of every month and I’ll leave this month’s money in an envelope. I’ve taken the liberty of making a few notes that might be helpful with orientating yourself with the Nook. I have to write notes for myself these days...I get a little absent-minded...Now then, let me see, what else...’
‘So, I’ve got the position then?’ Annie asked.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mari. ‘I’ve never left my home with a guardian before, so I’m not exactly sure of the protocol.’
‘I’ve never been a guardian before, so we’re both learning new things!’ said Annie. ‘I won’t let you down.’
‘Of course you won’t!’ said Mari. ‘How soon can you move in? I’m packed and ready to go. I had a good feeling about you. I called my nephew last night and he’s coming down tomorrow to take me to the train station.’
Can’t wait to bundle you off so he can sell your home from under you to property developers, thought Annie.
Mari was bustling about the little sitting room, pulling papers out of seemingly random books on shelves and stacking them in a pile on the coffee table.
‘If you’re leaving tomorrow,’ said Annie, ‘that gives me a day to get my things in order and I’ll move in on Sunday, if that’s okay?’
‘Perfect!’ said Mari. ‘I wouldn’t want the place left empty for too long. Being so close to the sea, the house can get a little damp if it’s not lived in. But if you’re moving in straight away, I can leave the range on for you.’
Mari picked a black china cat from one of the shelves, unscrewed its head and tipped a set of keys from out of its body into her hand.
‘Here,’ she said, dropping the keys into Annie’s outstretched palm. ‘They’re all labelled. There’s rather a lot, I’m afraid, what with the kiosk and the tea rooms, and the flat, but I like to keep them all locked, you see, for extra security. These are my only spares. I’ve got a set, John has a set and now you have a set. He may pop in from time to time just to see you’re okay,’ Mari went on.
‘It’ll be nice to meet him,’ Annie lied. ‘He obviously means a great deal to you.’
‘He’s a good boy,’ said Mari. ‘He’s been like a son to me. Now, I’ll leave my number in Cornwall and my nephew’s number with the instructions,’ said Mari.
Annie smiled and thanked her while Mari continued to fuss around the small sitting room.
‘You can park by the garden fence; that’s what John does,’ Mari went on. ‘He’s got one of those four-by-four thingamies, makes light work of the shingle.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Annie. ‘Thank you.’
She drank the last bit of her tea and stood to leave.
She put out her hand and Mari took it. Her hand felt small and frail in Annie’s; the skin was loose around the slender bones and her fingertips were rough from a lifetime of hard work. Annie found herself feeling protective of this slight, elderly woman and the home that she held so dear.
Mari stood and watched Annie to the garden gate.
‘Good luck!’ Mari called. ‘And bring jumpers!’
Annie smiled and waved.
‘Don’t worry about a thing!’ she shouted back.
She felt pleased with herself and – dare she say it – really quite positive about the next few months. She had just bought herself some time to decide what she would do next, and not having to pay a deposit or a month’s rent in advance was excellent news for her credit card.
The breeze teased some wayward strands of hair loose from her ponytail and Annie felt like a romantic heroine, embarking on an adventure. She felt inclined to have a little gallop – there was, after all, no one around to see her – so she thrust her arms out to the side and let the wind ruffle her bingo wings as she erupted into a kind of lolloping jog. She wouldfind herselfin this place by the sea; how could she possibly not in such perfect, dramatic surroundings? Her spirits soared. ‘This is the start of something wonderful!’ she shouted. A seagull swooped in low, coast-bound from the ocean, chanting its unmistakable song of the sea, and shat on her head.
Having used a whole pocket pack of tissues, Annie’s hair was still very much stuck together with cack as she revved her engine all the way up the hillside and pulled into the car park of The Sunken Willow.
The landlord looked up from his newspaper as she entered the bar.
