‘He’s a nice lad,’ Alison agreed. ‘I never thought he’d stay here, did you? I mean, he seemed quite happy working for that builder in Weltringham and living in the flat in Millensea. Fancy giving all that up to take over the pub cos his dad’s retired.’
‘I’m still surprised about that,’ Rosie admitted. ‘Seb retiring, I mean. I thought, after what happened, he’d find work a comfort.’
Seb, forever known as Seb from the pub, had run The North Star for decades, along with his wife, Donna. But when Donna passed away Seb had fallen into a serious depression, refusing to have anything to do with the pub. He’d even threatened to sell it. To everyone’s surprise, Sam had given up his job and flat and moved back to Kelsea Sands, where he’d been acting as the landlord ever since, even though it was still Seb’s name over the door.
‘You were at school with Seb, weren’t you?’ Rosie asked. ‘Funny, he always seems so much older than you when I see him now. Not that I see him much. He’s practically a recluse.’
‘Well, we all handle our grief in different ways, I suppose,’ Alison said. She remembered the cheeky, lively little lad she’d been at primary school with and felt a sudden sadness for how life had treated Seb. She understood his grief. Thinking about it, she supposed she’d been lucky that Jenna and Joel had refused to let her wallow after Drew’s death, even though they were grieving, too. And then when the twins came along, she’d been far too busy to let herself sink into the pit of depression that Seb had clearly found himself in.
Rosie’s eyes lit up. ‘Hey, guess who I saw yesterday?’ Sometimes, her rapid change of subject was quite startling.
‘Everyone you looked at?’
‘Very funny.’ Rosie stuck her tongue out. ‘Your childhood nemesis. What’s his name? Ian thingy.’
‘Oh, Ianthingy. Yes, I remember him well.’ Alison grinned. ‘It’s not surprising really, is it? Not if he’s living at Watersmeet. Kelsea Sands is so tiny it’s a wonder you don’t see every single villager every single day.’
‘I was walking down the road – on the way to your mam and dad’s as a matter of fact – and he came out of St Helen’s and nearly collided with me. Funny place to be, eh?’
‘Not really. I often used to sit in the churchyard and think. It’s a nice place to gather your thoughts.’
Rosie wrinkled her nose. ‘Are you joking? It’s creepy. Well, at this time of year especially.’
Alison couldn’t see why. St Helen’s was the village church – sadly redundant since the early 1990s, due to its dwindling congregation. Built in the mid nineteenth century, it had replaced the much grander fourteenth-century church of the same name that had fallen into the sea due to coastal erosion some thirty years before the new church’s construction.
A compact red-brick building, it sat in a small graveyard that was gradually being reclaimed by nature. A bench was situated just to the side of the church porch, where visitors could sit and relax surrounded by bushes, shrubs and wild flowers. Most of the gravestones were so worn and weather-beaten they were illegible, but it was worth trying to read the inscriptions if you could manage it.
In the middle of the churchyard was a large stone cross which had belonged to the original church. It had been saved from the sea and stored safely away at a stately home near Hull, until the new village of Kelsea Sands took form and its brand-new church was built.
To the rear of the churchyard was a thick boundary of trees, and beyond it open fields that eventually adjoined the wetlands. Its location made St Helen’s seem somehow even more wild and beautiful.
‘Maybe he’s going to buy it,’ Rosie mused.
Alison looked at her, startled. ‘The church? Why would he, when he’s just been given Watersmeet?’
‘Dad reckons it could be a lovely home, although I wouldn’t fancy it myself. Not with all them graves around. And it’s been up for sale for donkey’s years, hasn’t it? Cheap as chips. He says if things were different, he’d buy it himself.’
‘By, “if things were different”, I take it he means if this whole village wasn’t about to fall into the sea?’ Alison said glumly. Not that she was sure Kelsea Sands was even a village any longer. Was it, she wondered, a hamlet now, since there were no longer church services?
‘Blimey, look on the bright side, why don’t you? We’re not done yet. Bet it will still be here when we’re long gone.’
‘It will probably outlast me,’ Alison agreed. ‘I’m falling to bits.’
‘Oh, how did you get on at the doctor’s?’ Rosie said, with another of her sudden changes of subject. ‘Did they alter your BP meds?’
Alison squirmed, wishing she’d been more careful with her choice of words.
‘I’m, er, seeing the nurse tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But you said they’d messaged you to come in as soon as possible! That was ten days ago!’
‘I know, but I’ve sort of had my mind on other things,’ Alison pointed out. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Ihavemade an appointment. I had to or they wouldn’t give me my prescription.’
‘Did you have those other tests?’ Rosie asked suddenly.
‘What other tests?’
‘You said you got a cervical smear reminder and a bowel testing kit in the post. Did you sort them out?’
