‘But only a week before you.’ Rita’s voice lowered. ‘And then in what felt like the blink of an eye, it was time for you to run away from Seahaven Bay.’
‘I never ran far.’ Sennen grabbed her mum’s hand. ‘I love you, Mum.’
Rita welled up. ‘I love you too, darling.’
Sennen jumped up. ‘Show me where Dad hid the notes. I wanna see.’
Rita smiled. ‘Down here.’ She leaned back against the trunk, fingertips grazing the bark. Just above root level was a small hollow, a natural little letterbox, hidden beneath a strip of peeling bark. He’d once covered her eyes with his hands and led her to it, one golden summer evening, the same summer they’d shared their first kiss. Inside had been a tiny note, folded small and sealed with a heart sticker. She still had it, tucked safely away in her memory box, along with all the others.
In his crooked scrawl, it simply read:To the woman whose kiss ruined all the others.
Short. Honest. Utterly him.
Sennen jumped down and crouched beside the base of the tree. ‘Just imagine if we actually found a note in here,’ she said, grinning as she reached casually into the deep hollow. Nothing. Undeterred, she reached in deeper, more carefully this time, and let out a loud shriek as her fingers touched something. ‘Oh my God!’
She pulled out a filthy, thin strip of paper, folded tight. Both women stared, mouths open like startled goldfish. Rita grabbed it from her, her hands shaking.
‘What does it say?’ Sennen whispered.
Rita unfolded the paper slowly, her voice catching in her throat as she read aloud the words printed there:‘Ask Stan. He knows everything.’
Sennen stared at her, eyes wide. Then she smiled. ‘GrandadBrown always said the stories of our lives have already been written, didn’t he?’
Rita couldn’t reply. She just nodded, holding the note like it might dissolve if she breathed too hard. ‘Not literally, though.’ Rita’s hands were shaking. ‘And your dad never used a printer.’
‘Well, whoever put it there, Mum, I mean, they knew it was somewhere you may look and find it.’
Rita looked around, half expecting someone to appear from behind the gnarled trunk. Who would leave a message here, in this quiet, hidden spot? Was it a random kindness, or something more? A secret admirer? A warning? Her mind spun with questions, none with answers yet. Who even knew that Archie used to leave her notes?
‘Grandad wasalwaysright, though, wasn’t he?’ Sennen was oblivious to Rita’s inner turmoil.
Rita’s thoughts drifted to her dear old dad, who had passed away just five years earlier from cancer. Her parents had had her late in life, after years of trying; her mum, a twin herself, had fallen pregnant at forty-four and along came Rita Joan Brown. She never remembered a single cross word between them, not with each other, and certainly not with her.
Her mum had died six months to the day after her father, on the very same day as her auntie Jane, her mum’s twin sister. Rita was still convinced it hadn’t been coincidence, but broken hearts that had carried them both away.
‘Mum, are you listening to me?’ Sennen said moodily.
‘Yes, yes, darling, of course. Grandad was quite often right, yes.’
Sennen was looking around her at the view. ‘Thinking on it, it’s perfect up here for your retreat idea. Guests can come and sit and meditate in the shade. Listen,’ Sennen whispered as a blackbird’s song rang out, clear and mellow, a rich, flute-like melody that drifted through the morning air. A thread of breeze caused the branches to sway and creak.
‘The tree really does sing, doesn’t it?’ Rita smiled broadly.
‘It does.’ Sennen smiled back. ‘So how about this for yourmarketing stuff? We could maybe put a little sign up here too.’ Still standing, Sennen dramatically announced, ‘The Singing Tree – a place to sit and listen. A quiet sanctuary for you to meditate, to read, to write, or just to be at one with nature.’
‘Imagine how lovely wind chimes would sound under here too,’ Rita added breezily, despite still reeling from the note.
‘I’m proud of you, Mum; the whole idea is such an inspiring one.’
Rita felt a rush of pride surge through her dark thoughts. ‘And one I’d better get a move on with. It’ll be May soon.’
‘Could you be ready for guests to arrive in July, do you think? At least the weather should be milder by then.’ Sennen moved out to the edge of the tree and put her face to the sun.
Rita nodded. ‘I think so, yes. I’m ready to go with the marketing stuff. I’ve set up an Instagram account and created a basic website. People can pay me via PayPal to keep it safe and simple. I just need to add a few classes, but we can do that as a top line without any detail for now. We need to discuss prices and of course offer an introductory discount, even though I will ensure the money is right for what I need. I’ve even sketched out a retreat map so people don’t get lost but I keep adding areas so it’s not final yet.’
‘Go, Mum!’ Sennen beamed, genuinely impressed. ‘You’ve done loads already. And what about putting up the yurts? Have you thought about when that’ll happen?’
‘I’ll work it out.’ Rita felt in control. ‘They haven’t even arrived yet. They’re being delivered, along with the mattresses at the weekend.’
