Page 1 of An Ill Wind in Seabury
CHAPTER 1
GEORGE
George Slatter strode along the seafront, unable to keep a broad grin off his face. As commutes went, this had to be one of the best in the whole world. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, the short walk between his little house on Sandpiper Lane to the Post Office at the far end of North Beach was glorious. Whether it was sunny or showering, windy or still, Seabury wasalwaysat its best.
George loved everything about his job as the secluded little town’s postman. The early morning start suited him down to the ground—so did trundling around the hills and valleys in his van. George couldn’t think of anything better than being paid to potter from house to cottage to farm every day, enjoying a chat here and delivering parcels there.
‘This is the life!’ he yawned, stretching his hands over his head as he paused just past The Pebble Street Hotel for a long look out over the sea.
He’d been up for hours already to fit in his run to Dunscombe Sands and back. It was a relatively new addition to his morning routine, but he’d had to do something to combat the effects of the excessive amount of glorious cake on offer in Seabury!
George watched a couple of gulls wheeling and calling above the waves as he let the peace of the day wash over him. It was calm out there today. There was very little wind, and the pebbles of North Beach barely made a sound as the waves gentled over them.
George gave a little wiggle of pure joy.
What a life!
‘Calm down, idiot,’ he chuckled, straightening up from his leaning post and performing a funny little hop-step as he turned to head towards the Post Office. Doris would be waiting for him, and he needed to curb his tigger-like tendencies before making his way inside.
George got on brilliantly with Doris. Seabury’s postmistress was kind, and chatty, and funny… justnotfirst thing in the morning. She tended to be a tad monosyllabic until she’d sipped her way to the bottom of her second cup of tar-like tea. It was something George had learned to navigate over the years the pair of them had been working together, and he did his best to keep his natural bounciness under wraps until she’d had a chance to wake up properly.
It was usually safe to let his bubbly enthusiasm rise to the surface by the time he returned from his initial out-of-town delivery round, especially if he turned up with a sweet-treat offering from The Sardine!
‘Don’t think about cake!’ he muttered, ignoring the excited grumble from the direction of his stomach.
This was the only problem with all the running—he seemed to be constantly hungry. He’d already had a massive bowl of porridge with banana and berries for breakfast… but it just didn’t hit the same spot as something deliciously sweet and sticky from one of the town’s two cafés.
Still, George was doing his best to abstain… at least for a little while longer. He wanted to give all the running a chance to finishworking its magic on his waistline! He wasn’t particularly vain, but he reallydidlove cake… and it had started to show a bit too much for his liking!
‘Morning, sunshine!’ he beamed at Doris as he pushed the Post Office door open with a flourish.
Doris glanced up at him from behind the desk where she was counting cash, and smiled. ‘Someone got out of bed on the right side?—
as usual! What’s got you so cheery, eh?’
‘Just high on life!’ he chuckled.
‘Well, whatever you’re having, I want some of it,’ she said, giving the notes a sharp tap before neatly bundling them together and replacing them in the cash drawer.
‘You’re more than welcome to join me on my morning run,’ said George with an innocent smile, ‘you know that!’
‘Get away with you,’ tutted Doris, rolling her eyes. ‘How far did you get this morning?’
‘Dunscombe Sands again,’ said George, punching in the door code to let himself through to the back room. It always felt like overkill having something like this in Seabury, but he guessed it was better to be safe than sorry.
‘Blimey,’ said Doris, ‘that’s three times this week! I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Make me a cuppa?’
‘I’m on it,’ said George with a little salute.
Just as he turned to head through to the tiny cubby hole they called a kitchen, he saw Doris raise her nose in the air and give a little sniff. He crossed his fingers, but all she did was nod and go back to counting her cash.
Phew—he’d passed the sniff test!
It was another one of Doris’s little foibles. She had a thing about strong scents. She claimed that anything too stinky turned her stomach. Luckily, George had never been one for full-on aftershave at work, but with all the running, every morningsaw him showering and washing his hair just before leaving the house.
Doris’s reaction was always something to behold if he did go too heavy on the scented shower products. Today, though, he’d stuck with simple citrus gel and sandalwood shampoo, and judging by her little nod of approval, it looked like he was in the clear.
‘Here we go,’ he said two minutes later, as he placed Doris’s favourite mug next to her. ‘Just the way you like it—strong enough to stand the spoon up in!’
