Page 65 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Okay. Thank you. I’m making my way back now.’
She shuffled backwards along the plank on her hands and knees, somewhat less confident than when she’d arrived in the attic. When she reached the hatch she waggled one leg about, trying to find the top of the stepladder. She felt John’s hand grip her ankle.
‘Let me guide your foot down to the rung,’ he said.
Annie did as she was told.
‘Keep coming backwards,’ he went on. ‘I’ve got you.’
There was something in the calm of his voice which made Annie feel odd: she believed him.
With John’s help her foot found the ladder rung and she manoeuvred the rest of herself down out of the hatch, with about as much grace as a hippo climbing backwards through a hoop. John’s hands never touched any part of her but she could see his arms splayed upwards ready to catch her if she fell.
‘Thank you,’ she said when she was safely back on carpet. ‘Sorry about the ceiling. I’ll pay to get it fixed.’
They walked into the kitchen together and looked up at the size-seven-foot hole above their heads.
‘I can fix it,’ said John.
‘Well then, I’ll pay for plaster and what-not,’ said Annie.
‘What were you trying to get up there?’
‘Mari’s Halloween stuff,’ sighed Annie. ‘It seems like Halloween is a pretty big deal down here and I didn’t want to let everybody down.’
John looked at her quizzically.
‘Oh. That’s very...I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d be...I mean, I didn’t expect you to be that invested in the traditions of Willow Bay.’
‘It means a lot to Mari,’ said Annie. ‘And, you know, I haven’t had much time over the past few years to get into Halloween and so I thought this year I would. New start and all that...’ She tailed off. Why was she telling him this?
‘How do you know it means a lot to my aunt?’
‘It’s in the book,’ Annie replied. ‘There’s a whole section on it.’
‘The book?’
‘The Saltwater Nook book that Mari wrote as a guide for whoever became its guardian.’
John frowned and shook his head.
‘I didn’t know she’d written notes,’ and then he chuckled to himself. ‘That’s just like Aunt Mari, bossy to the last, never leave anything to chance.’
‘Oh, it’s more than just notes,’ said Annie. ‘It’s practically an almanac. She writes beautifully. It’s almost like prose poetry in parts.’
‘May I see it?’ John asked.
Annie considered him, her head tilted to one side.
‘Yes,’ she replied after a beat. ‘Of course.’
John followed Annie out of the mess in the kitchen – she felt slightly off-kilter with one shoe missing – and into the sitting room. She picked the yellow exercise book up off the coffee table and handed it to him. John took the book and began to leaf through it. He stopped every so often, his finger hovering over the page to read a particular extract before continuing. A wry smile played on his lips as he skimmed over the pages.
‘These are some comprehensive notes,’ John mused.
‘Yes.’
‘Almost a manual,’ he added.
