Page 30 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Got it,’ said Annie. ‘Gemma?’
‘Coffee would be lovely, please,’ said Gemma. Her teeth were chattering. ‘Milk but no sugar.’
‘I’ll see if there’s an electric heater upstairs I can bring down,’ said Annie. ‘And towels, I’ll bring towels.’
‘Don’t worry about the heater,’ said Maeve. ‘I’ve found this old beauty!’
Maeve pulled an old Calor gas heater into view. She blew the worst of the dust off the rungs and rubbed the rest with her coat sleeve.
‘Off you go,’ said Maeve. ‘Gemma and I will have us a table sorted for when you get back.’
Podrick weaved in and out of the tables, picking up cobwebs in his wet fur and leaving paw prints on the dusty floor.
If Annie didn’t know better, she would say this room had been breathing shallow, biding its time while it waited for her to find it. She shook herself –silly, rooms don’t breathe– it was just an old forgotten space, someone else’s history that she was romanticising. And yet, Annie felt a warmth in this place that not even the dust and neglect and the very obvious draughts could hamper.
While the kettle came to the boil on the stove, Annie disrobed and shrugged into fresh tracksuit bottoms and a fleece hoodie. She made herself and Gemma a coffee from her fancy machine and set Maeve’s tea to brew, while she went from cupboard to cupboard looking for snacks. She found an unopened packet of Hobnobs and added them to the tray. She tucked two towels under one arm and draped two blankets from the airing cupboard around her shoulders, before gingerly making her way down the stairs with the laden tea tray.
She pushed the door open and was engulfed by the smell of burning dust and the unmistakable scent of the Calor gas heater. Already the warmth from it was spreading through the forgotten space.
Gemma jumped up from her spot by the heater and took the tray, setting it down on a small central table, now dust-free and streaked with wet. Three chairs, also dusted, sat round it. Annie handed out towels and blankets and took a seat.
‘Now then,’ said Maeve. ‘How do you feel about book clubs?’
‘Book clubs?’ said Annie. ‘I’ve never had the time to join one. I’ve always fancied the idea, though. Are you part of one?’
‘No,’ said Maeve. ‘We want to start one. A Victorian book club, revisiting the classics. This place would be the perfect venue. What do you say?’
‘Maeve!’ said Gemma. ‘You’re so brusque!’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Maeve. ‘There’s no point pissing around the bush, is there? Either she wants to be part of the club or she doesn’t.’
Gemma threw her arms in the air in frustration. Annie pondered.
‘I’m not sure Mari would be happy for me to use the tea room,’ said Annie. ‘I’d have to ask her first.’
‘Ask her then,’ said Maeve. ‘I’m not suggesting you host a Roman orgy! Mari won’t mind, she’s a good sort. Loves a book. We’d be inviting her to join if she were here.’
‘How many of you are there?’ asked Annie.
‘Two so far,’ said Gemma. She was smiling really hard, as if her friendliness could cancel out Maeve’s asperity. ‘Three, if you join,’ she went on. ‘Four would be better. Maybe you know someone who might be interested?’
Annie considered the proposal. She supposed Mari wouldn’t mind. After all, how wild could a book club get? At worst she’d end up with her tea room spring cleaned. And if winter by the sea really was going to be as arduous as people kept telling her, then maybe it would be good to have something to look forward to.
‘Okay,’ said Annie. ‘Let me check with Mari. And I’ll say a tentative yes in the meantime.’ Sally’s face bloomed into Annie’s mind. ‘I have an idea for our fourth member too.’
Gemma clapped her hands. ‘Amazing!’ she said. ‘It’s going to be so good. I’m so excited! I can get Molly to babysit and if we do it on a Wednesday, it won’t matter if I’m late back as she doesn’t have college on Thursdays. She can sleep in the spare room and I’ll drop her home in the morning when I drop the kids off...’
‘Gemma!’ said Maeve. ‘Calm down.’ She said this as though addressing a dog. Podrick looked up from his place by the heater, one ear cocked, before nestling his head back down on his paws. ‘Her husband’s been back at sea for nearly two months now,’ Maeve addressed Annie. ‘She doesn’t get out much.’
‘It’s true,’ said Gemma. ‘I don’t. When Esme started school in September, I didn’t know whether I was crying with relief or sadness. Sometimes I think I made a terrible mistake giving up work to be at home with the kids.’
‘How old are they?’ Annie asked.
‘Lennox is seven and Esme is four and a half.’
‘Tough ages,’ Annie sympathised. ‘Too big to be babies and too small to be in any way independent.’
‘I catch sight of my work suits in the back of the wardrobe sometimes and I can’t believe it was me that used to wear them. I hardly remember who that woman was. It was my decision to stay at home, but I look at women who kept their careers when they had children and I feel like I’ve let the side down.’
