A Season for Second Chances(19)

The sun was high in the sky, glinting off the water like a million silver knife tips and pouring in through the sitting room window. Mari had left the flat spotless. Upon inspection of the cupboards, Annie found tins, chutneys, pearl barley, red lentils, and rice. Another Post-it note stuck to one of the cupboard fronts read:


There’s plenty of fish in the freezer downstairs. If you are a fish eater please use it. Ely calls once a week with his catch. You don’t have to buy, but I can never say no.



Intrigued, Annie made her way down to the cellar. Annie tugged the light pull and the low-arched-ceilinged cellar became dimly illuminated. A white salt line ran around the bottom two layers of stones in the wall. She had the sense that were she to lick the cold stone walls they would taste salty. She resisted the urge to test this theory, though she cooled her hot, red cheeks by turns against the cold stone and wondered about installing a chair and a lamp down here for when her perimenopausal hot flashes became too much to bear. The plug sockets were all placed above head height and the freezers and free-standing cupboards stood on brick-built perches, two feet off the ground. To the left of the staircase, a pile of sandbags gave away the location of the old tunnel entrance. The arched stone frame remained, but the middle had been filled with much newer red brick. Annie’s curiosity twitched to see the old smugglers’ tunnel beyond the wall.

The freezer was bounteously stocked with local speckled pollock, orange spotted plaice, and mackerel. Annie’s mind began whirring with meal ideas. After years of creating recipes and cooking for the masses and for Max, she finally had the time to cook just for herself. By the time she’d finished her shifts at the Pomegranate Seed, she didn’t have the energy to cook. So, while her customers enjoyed her bouillabaisse or venison in red wine with shallots and dauphinois potatoes, Annie would often wind up with beans on toast. No more; she was done putting herself last in line. Just because she was by herself didn’t mean she wasn’t worth the effort.

The kettle was whistling furiously by the time she emerged from the cellar. As she pulled a chintzy mug down from the shelf, she noticed a yellow exercise book with A Guide to Saltwater Nook handwritten across the front and then below, in a different pen but the same hand, For Annie. She finished making her tea and took herself into the sitting room.

Leafing through the book, Annie saw that Mari was nothing if not thorough. In addition to the instructive Post-it notes that dotted every switch, appliance, and cupboard, she appeared to have handwritten a manual, which advised and informed of tasks that needed to be done month by month around the building and garden to ensure the smooth running of the place in winter. The book opened with a letter, stuck into the first page with a square of sticky tape.

    Dear Annie,

When I began writing this notebook I didn’t have a face or a name to write it to, just a hope and a prayer. I suppose I wrote it as a kind of call to the universe; I hoped that the act of putting my thoughts to paper would work as a summoning spell, to guide the right person to the Nook. And here you are.

I hope you don’t find these notes too fussy. In many ways they are as much for me as they are for you. I began writing them back in the spring, when I knew I wouldn’t be spending another winter here. I did not know who would be guardian to my little home, but I hoped for someone just like you. I am lucky that way; fate has a way of knowing what I need and when.

Please don’t see this as a list of rules or compulsory tasks. It is simply a guide to the things that make living here easier and, dare I say it, more pleasurable during the winter months. Adherence to it will also make my restoration to the Nook in the spring—should I decide to come back—a smoother affair.

Feel free to add to these notes anything you find useful. I am not too proud or too old to learn new tricks, though there is every chance that I may forget them as fast as I learned them!

You might want to get in a few provisions for the bairns on Halloween. The locals know that I won’t be here, but some might come down anyway for the sake of tradition.

Don’t let the seagulls bully you. Show them who’s boss, or at least that you are their equal. They are beautiful birds when you get to know them.

Above all, take care of yourself, my dear. I think you need Saltwater Nook almost as much as it needs you. I may be an old woman but I see more than most. Fate brought you here for a reason. The rest is up to you.

With Love

Mari



Annie flicked through the pages. September seemed to be mostly battening down the hatches: checking the paint on the outer shutters of the old tearoom, cleaning them of bugs and dirt that might have gathered between the panes and the shutters. A general tidy-up around the garden: Cut back any of the tender herbs you might want for drying. The woody herbs will be fine to harvest as you wish throughout the winter, though you might want to pull the sage and thyme tubs up to the porch for shelter. Cut back the lavender when the flowers have begun to dust the pebbles like lilac confetti.

A quick skim through the October pages offered further general maintenance tips about cleaning out the range and checking the fuse box and gave the arrival dates for deliveries of oil and logs: Sweep out the log store ready and make sure the roof hasn’t sprung any leaks; wet logs are of use to neither man nor beast.

A large chunk of the October notes was devoted to Halloween, which Annie determined to read nearer the time. But for now, she decided to treat herself to a pub lunch. She felt it was important to begin this new personal journey by treating herself as her own best friend. For the first time in what felt like forever she was answerable only to herself. It was freeing and also a little scary; left entirely to her own devices, what would she do? Well, to begin with, she would buy herself dinner because she deserved it. With a fancy for a glass of wine or three, Annie left the car outside Saltwater Nook and decided to tackle the hill.