A Season for Second Chances(58)

Chapter 45



Oh, buggery shitting bollocks!” she yelled as she tried to heave her leg up. The motion upset the box of fairy lights farther down the plank, and before she had finished shouting “Shit on it!” the box had crashed through the hatch.

The banging on the door grew urgent.

“Annie! What’s going on in there? Let me in! Are you hurt?”

Annie let out a howl of annoyance; she couldn’t get her leg back up to the rest of her body. Of all the bloody people, she thought angrily, it had to be him!

“I’m fine,” she called. She heard a jangling of keys and the door to the flat opening. Annie groaned.

“I’m coming in,” said John. “It’s John Granger.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” she called.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the kitchen . . . kind of.”

She heard John moving below her. Wait for it . . .

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having a fucking teddy bears’ picnic! What does it look like I’m fucking doing?”

“What is it with you and decimating my aunt’s house?” She could hear a smirk in his voice.

“You’re going to have the place bulldozed to make way for your swanky apartments anyway. I should have thought you’d be pleased I’d made a start!”

Silence. Annie raised her eyes skyward. She’d done it again. John Granger brought out the absolute worst in her. She tried to wiggle her leg up again but she couldn’t make her foot fit back through the hole without unbalancing herself.

“You’re just making more mess,” said John above the pitter-patter of horsehair plaster hitting the kitchen lino.

“Then why don’t you sodding well help me?”

“Did you hurt it in the fall or am I okay to manipulate your ankle?”

“No, I didn’t hurt it.”

“I’m going to take your plimsoll off,” he called up.

She could hear the hesitation in his voice. Was he embarrassed at the idea of removing a woman’s shoe?

“Okay,” she called down.

She felt the delicate tugging as he untied the laces on her Converse high-top and slipped it off, then a gentle pressure as he took her foot in his hand and began to push upward.

“Just relax. No, you’re tensing up. Relax your foot, so that I can twist it to fit back through the hole. It should be okay now that your shoe is off.”

“Right.” Annie could feel her cheeks burning. This was not her finest moment.

In another minute, her leg was back in the same room as her body.

“Do you need me to come up and help you down?” he asked.

“No,” said Annie. “Thank you. Just give me a minute.” She remembered the other boxes. “There’re more things up here I need to bring down.”

“Just bring yourself down,” said John. “You can tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you. I put most of the things up there anyway.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m making my way back now.” She shuffled backward 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 backward,” he went on. “I’ve got you.”

The calm of his voice made Annie feel odd; it made her believe him.

With John’s help, her foot found the ladder rung and she maneuvered the rest of herself down out of the hatch with about as much grace as a hippo climbing backward through a hoop. John’s hands never touched any part of her, but she could see his arms splayed upward 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 whatnot,” said Annie.

“What were you trying to get up there?”

“Mari’s Halloween stuff.” Annie sighed. “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 trailed 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.”