Page 37 of The Winter of Second Chances
It had been years since she’d been on a date – decades in fact – and she was nervous. The last time she’d dated, the most pressing issue had been whether or not her kissing partner’s braces would tangle with her own. Deep and meaningful conversations centred around what was happening inParty of Fiveand whether Britpop or Grunge was cooler. The idea of dating with nigh-on thirty years of baggage trailing behind her felt almost insurmountable.
Annie had dressed in a pair of baggy teal corduroy dungarees with a thick jumper that had diamonds and stripes woven into the knit. She had pulled her hair up into a red polka dot headscarf and worn her most comfortable desert boots. She loosely resembled a Land Girl but having always been big of boob and round of cheek, this kind of casual style suited her. She finished the ensemble with red lipstick and a dousing of perfume around her neck in the hopes that Paul would get close enough to give her a sniff.
Paul was as easy-going as their first meeting had suggested, which was just as well since Annie was sketchy about first date protocol. Right from the start he set the tone for informal, unpretentious conversation, and without the pressure of having to appear witty or profound, Annie had relaxed into being with him.
There wasn’t much about Willow Bay that he didn’t know; nor indeed, it seemed, were there any people who didn’t know him. If Annie’s presence at Saltwater Nook hadn’t been known by the entire village before their date, it certainly was now. She could only imagine the gossip. And what’s more, she didn’t care. The idea of being regarded as a strumpet was infinitely more interesting than her previous moniker of long-suffering wife.
‘I’m a carpenter by trade,’ said Paul. ‘A boat builder. I used to travel from yard to yard around the coastline, wherever there was a contract going.’
‘What kind of boats did you build?’
‘Fishing trawlers mostly,’ said Paul. ‘Yachts and the occasional houseboat.’
‘No cruise ships then?’ asked Annie.
‘Nope, no cruise ships. Although I’ve had a few commissions for suites on some of the big liners.’
‘What made you give it up?’ asked Annie.
‘It gave me up,’ said Paul. ‘Boat yards were closing down up and down the country; contracts became harder to find. And to be honest, I got tired of chasing them. When my dad got sick, I came back here to look after him. I never left.’
They were weaving leisurely in and out of the moss-covered gravestones in the oldest part of the churchyard of St Andrew’s. The church was on the tour. Apparently, the vicar of St Andrew’s in the late eighteenth century was not averse to storing smuggled contraband in the crypt to be shared out – for a reasonable price – among his Willow Bay flock.
‘Do you keep your hand in with the carpentry?’ Annie asked, running her fingers along the rough stone arch of a crumbling tombstone. She was enjoying herself: she felt grown-up and yet younger at the same time.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Paul. ‘I fitted out the Willow Bay Stores and the bar and pews at The Bounty are mine. Every time someone wants a new kitchen, I get called in. Alfred lends a hand with the bigger jobs; he can turn his hand to anything.’
‘What’s Alfred’s story?’ Annie asked. ‘Maeve and Gemma seemed to think he didn’t want a home. That can’t be right, can it?’
‘I’ve known Alfred for years and even I don’t know the exact details. I think Mari knows but she’d never tell. All I know is he lost his family when he was fourteen in a house fire. He boomeranged around children’s homes until he was eighteen, spent a bit of time at Her Majesty’s pleasure, before finally giving up on society.’
‘Oh my God, poor Alfred. I can’t even begin to imagine the mental scars that kind of tragedy would leave. Fourteen! It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
Annie thought of the twins at age fourteen, still childlike in so many ways.
‘I doubt there was much in the way of therapy or grief counselling in those days,’ said Paul. ‘And I’m not sure being pinballed about the care system would have been much fun either.’
‘No,’ Annie agreed. ‘It goes some way to explaining how he’s ended up where he has, I suppose.’
They were quiet for a time as they wandered amongst the final resting places of Willow Bay’s oldest residents.
‘Now this,’ said Paul, stopping beside a ship’s anchor laid in the centre of the cemetery, ‘is the actual anchor from the actual sunkenWillow...supposedly.’
‘Wow,’ said Annie. ‘So, it’s a kind of memorial?’
‘That and an insurance policy,’ grinned Paul. ‘The villagers thought if they rested the ship’s anchor on holy ground, it might tether the lost sailors’ souls and stop them causing mayhem around the bay. Being that they’d driven them to a watery grave, they were somewhat jumpy about spectral retribution!’
‘That’s a touch grizzly,’ said Annie.
‘We Willow Bayers like a bit of macabre.’
‘You really love it here, don’t you?’
‘I couldn’t ask for more,’ said Paul. ‘My dad left the house to me. And between the window cleaning business and the carpentry, I make as much as I need. Being my own boss means I can get out on the water whenever I like.’
‘Do you fish?’
‘Me?’ laughed Paul. ‘No, I leave the fishing to Ely and his boys. It’s the surf that calls my name.’
