Page 7 of The Winter of Second Chances
The flat was essentially a beautifully decorated bedsit with a view of the pretty town below and a monthly rent that made her say ‘Pardon?’ twice when he told her. The second flat was situated just off the main high street. The smell of stale urine in the narrow passage that led to the front door suggested that this was a popular cut-through after pub closing time. Phil wasn’t overly pleased by Annie’s reticence towards his offerings and warned her that they would be snapped up by someone else if she dragged her heels. She assured him she wouldn’t and that if someone else did snap it up, then it simply wasn’t meant to be. Phil looked at her like she had just walloped out one breast and shaken it at him; clearly, he didn’t go in much for trusting in fate.
Jackie – the second estate agent – was about Annie’s age but had a far smaller bottom. Annie soon found herself telling Jackie about her marriage breakdown. It was strange: she couldn’t seem to stop telling people about it. As someone who had previously been a very private person, she found it odd that she was suddenly struck with the urge to overshare with anyone who would listen. It was, she supposed, a strange kind of therapy.
The building was a grand Victorian villa, slightly run-down but not so much as to lose any of its charm. A cloud of grass smoke plumed out of the first-floor window and floated down over the two women.
‘That takes me back!’ said Annie.
‘You and me both,’ said Jackie.
‘Maybe we should knock and ask for some,’ said Annie.
‘I can’t afford the calories from the munchies that would follow,’ said Jackie.
And that’s why you’ve got the smaller bottom, thought Annie.
Before they’d even reached the second-floor flat – Jackie kept up a lively conversation as they climbed, while Annie concentrated on breathing and tried not to go into cardiac arrest – their ears were assaulted by a pounding music so loud it shook the stairwell. The two women turned on the stairs and went straight back down them.
The next flat was in a 1960s block, uninspiring but practical and close to the town.
‘It’s just such a big step,’ said Annie.
‘Not really,’ said Jackie. ‘Rent it for six months and see how you feel. Or rent it for six months and spend that time looking for something you’d really like. You’ve made the biggest leap by leaving your husband and restaurant, the rest is easy!’
‘It doesn’t feel easy,’ said Annie.
‘That’s because you’re thinking about it too deeply. This is a stepping stone. Six months is nothing.’
‘I’ll think on it,’ said Annie.
‘Don’t think too long!’ said Jackie.
It was early evening and the sun was low in the sky but the air held its late summer warmth. Chairs and tables were still laid out in the street in front of the cafes and bars, and people seemed to be enjoying the after-work sun with a glass of wine and friends.
Annie sat at a round bistro table which looked out over the bandstand and the quaint little run of shops beyond. The waiter took her order, and Annie absent-mindedly picked up a discarded copy of the local paper that lay on one of the chairs.
Dusk was beginning to eddy around the patrons of the bar and Annie pulled her jacket around her shoulders. A mischievous breeze sifted through the little market square, lifting scarves and fluttering napkins. The breeze tugged at the corners of Annie’s newspaper; it slipped between the pages and lifted them open. Annie looked around for something to act as a paperweight and found a flat grey pebble underneath the table. She turned it over in her hand and saw it had been painted with the words:Everything will be all right.She smiled. The painter could have had no idea who would find their random pebble, but it made her feel instantly better.
She was about to fold the paper back up when something at the bottom of the right-hand column of the page caught her eye.
It was a small advertisement, outlined in bold black lines:
Winter Guardian Required
Annie read on:
Live-in guardian required to act as custodian of secluded beach apartment and small (closed) business premises over the winter months. This is an unpaid position and the custodian will be responsible for all utilities but the rent is free.
As a woman with a serious lack of cash flow,rent-freewas an enticing prospect.
The ad gave no address or hint as to where this secluded beach might be but there was a phone number, and Annie found herself punching in the numbers before she’d fully registered what she was doing.
‘Helloo!’
‘Oh, hello,’ said Annie. ‘I’m calling about the ad in the paper for a winter guardian?’
‘Ach, how lovely!’ said the woman. She had a strong Scottish accent and the kind of creamy voice that made you want to lie back and have her read you a story.
‘I’ve had that ad in the paper for over a month!’ said the woman. ‘You’re the first person to call. I was beginning to give up hope.’
