Page 25 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘I’d be happy to show you the delights of Willow Bay if you need a welcome guide,’ said Paul.
‘I’ve been to The Sunken Willow,’ said Annie.
‘Okay,’ said Paul. ‘In that case, why don’t I take you on a tour of the rest of Willow Bay on Saturday afternoon and we’ll finish with a meal at The Captain’s Bounty?’
‘Sounds good,’ said Annie.
Wait, is this a date? Oh my God, it sounds like a date!
‘I’ll pick you up at three o’clock?’ Paul asked, breaking Annie’s inner monologue.
‘Great. And then you’ll have come on a Saturday too!’ said Annie and instantly wished she could be swept away by a large wave.
Paul laughed.
‘Lucky me!’ he said. ‘Well, I’d better finish off.’
Annie looked at him dumbly.
‘The windows?’ said Paul.
‘Windows!’ said Annie. ‘Finish off the windows, of course. Great. I’ll probably get dressed. Will get dressed. Obviously. I don’t just stay in pyjamas all day, that would be weird. I’m going now. I’ll see you Saturday. I won’t have pyjamas on then. I’m going. Bye!’
Paul smiled. Annie turned and climbed back up the steps to the front door, her hedgehog slippers slapping and flapping on every stair.
‘By the way,’ Paul called, as Annie pushed open the door.
She turned.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Annie,’ she said.
‘Good to meet you, Annie,’ said Paul before swaggering out through the gate, a damp cloth hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans.
Annie pushed the door closed and leaned against it. She was sweating. Every part of her, from the inside out. Even her eyebrows were sweating.
She called Treena.
‘Treena’s Beauty Parlour!’ trilled Treena.
‘Hi, Treena, it’s Annie Sharpe.’
‘Annie!’ said Treena. ‘Crikey, it’s been ages!’
‘Yeah,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve been remiss in the body hair department lately.’
‘I thought you’d found another lady,’ said Treena.
‘Oh no,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve just been au naturel for a while.’
‘Word is you’ve left Max,’ said Treena.
‘As usual, thewordis right. Max and I have split up.’
‘I’m not sorry to hear it.’
Treena was privy to, and chief keeper of, all the secrets in the high street. If MI6 had had a mind to train her, she could have been the greatest spy the secret service had ever known. There is an intimacy between a woman, legs akimbo, on the bed and the beautician brushing hot wax onto her vulva that makes her feel able to divulge her innermost worries and confidences. A good waxing lady is like a spatula-wielding counsellor. Annie had burst into sobs many times on Treena’s table and not just from the eyewatering pain of having her body hair ripped out by the roots.
