Page 134 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Like I drank several pints of the English Channel and got dragged through a cliff,’ said Alfred.
‘Still, well enough to be a grumpy old bastard, eh?’ said Maeve.
This insult brought a smile to Alfred’s weathered face.
‘Thanks for saving my life, John,’ said Alfred. ‘I’ve come to shake your hand.’ He went to get out of the wheelchair but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.
‘Stay in the chair, you daft bugger,’ said Maeve. She wheeled him over to John who was unsuccessfully trying to extricate Mrs Tiggy-Winkle from his lap so that he could stand.
‘You can stay where you are as well, young man,’ added Maeve forcefully.
John and Alfred shook hands from their seated positions.
‘If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,’ said John. ‘I’m sorry if I pushed you into something you weren’t comfortable with.’
‘I got a bit overwhelmed is all,’ said Alfred, clearing his throat. ‘I’m not used to form-filling and timetables. Been my own boss for too long. But nearly drowning...well, it puts things into perspective.’
‘What’s going to happen now?’ asked Gemma. ‘Are you going back to the hospital?’
‘Ah, yes. Well, we’ve been talking about that,’ said Maeve. ‘Thing is, they couldn’t discharge Alfred if he didn’t have somewhere to go. You know the old brick summer house in my garden. It’s not much; draughty as hell and needs a lick of paint. But Alfred has agreed to move into it, see how he gets on. If he likes it, he can stay. It’s not a free ride, you understand,’ Maeve went on. ‘I need help in the garden and there’s always things buggering up in the cottage; can’t expect much else from a place that’s been around since George the Third.’
‘It seems like a fair compromise,’ said Alfred when three pairs of astonished eyes fell upon him. ‘Reckon I should be able to stay there without getting fidgety legs.’
‘I’ll help you get it painted up,’ said John.
‘Me too,’ said Annie. ‘You can take the old Calor gas heater from here.’
‘I’ve got a bed going spare,’ said Gemma. She looked at Alfred. ‘It’s really uncomfortable, almost like sleeping on a table really, only marginally better than sleeping on the floor.’
Alfred smiled.
‘Don’t make him too comfortable or I’ll find him bunking down in the barn with the sheep,’ said Maeve.
‘Better than sleeping with the fishes!’ said John, casting a knowing nod in Alfred’s direction. Alfred nodded back.
Maeve and Alfred finished their drinks and Maeve got up to leave.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘We’re off. Cheerio!’
Gemma held the door and Maeve backed out, pulling Alfred in his wheelchair, who looked as grumpily content as Annie had ever seen him.
‘Look!’ said Gemma, pointing to the window. ‘It’s snowing!’
Annie went to stand by Gemma. Sure enough, the sky had taken on a yellowy-greyish tinge and fat flakes of feather-white snow zigzagged down on the breeze. Annie felt John standing behind her.
‘There is something magical about snow,’ she said in an awed whisper.
‘This is a place for magic,’ said John, leaning down to brush a kiss across her neck. A shiver of delight ran through her.
She turned to him and said, ‘You, upstairs and put your feet up, no arguing.’
John – begrudgingly – went back upstairs to rest, with Mrs Tiggy-Winkle in tow.
Gemma left at half past two for the school run. Annie switched off the heaters and let her eyes roam over the little cafe, clean and cosy and ready for whatever tomorrow would bring. She felt a sense of deep satisfaction in her bones; she had never felt surer of where she was supposed to be. Here. Here at Willow Bay, running The Saltwater Cafe, like Mari had before her. She was even looking forward to winter by the sea – the first of many, she hoped – and all the Christmas festivities that would ensue. She closed the door and turned to find John sitting on the stairs.
‘You made me jump,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ said John, standing up and coming to meet her.
