Brett looked up at her with an enormous smile. ‘Yes. I’d like that.’
Morgan nodded. ‘Good. I’ll go back to my house in the morning and collect mine. I’ll meet you in the pub at lunchtime. I expect you’d like a lie-in now after being woken up by me.’
Brett chuckled. ‘You know me so well, sis.’
Chapter four
Morgan stepped out of the side door of the living quarters of the pub into a completely different day than yesterday. It was still cold, but at least the sun was out, hanging low in the sky like it usually did at this time of the year. Smiling, Morgan turned right and headed for the place she used to call home.
Residents of Seagull Bay were out and about, possibly catching up on the things the weather kept them from doing yesterday, wanting to stay in the warm of their homes, rather than venture out into the cold. A postman she didn’t recognise was standing in the middle of the footpath with a bunch of letters in his hands, studying the one on the top.
‘Morning,’ said Morgan.
He looked up and quickly smiled. ‘Morning.’ He stepped aside to let her pass. ‘Erm, you wouldn’t happen to know where Katherine’s Cafe is, would you? I been backward and forwards trying to find it. The letter’s address doesn't have a number on it, but I can’t find a business with that name in Cook Street.’
‘Oh, that’s because the business has recently changed names. It’s now called Tammy’s Tearoom now. Katherine who was the previous owner is actually in town this week, so if you drop the letter into the new tearoom, Tammy will pass it on to Katherine when she calls in.’
The postman’s shoulders dropped with relief. ‘Thank you. I’m new and I’m covering for the man who usually walks this round while he’s on holiday.’
Morgan smiled warmly at the young man. ‘I see. Well everything else should be straightforward for you. As far as I’m aware, that’s the only change that’s occurred recently.’
The postman smiled and nodded. ‘Thanks again.’
Morgan watched him for a moment as he hurried off in the direction of Cook Street. She turned around and looked in the direction of her own street. Her heart rate sped up a little. She always felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement when she went back to the house she used to call home. She’d kept the house on even though over the years she’d spent less and less time there, feeling almost guilty for letting a house sit vacant when it could be used by someone else.
She’d often thought of letting it out in the summer season, but the thought of other families disturbing the memories she’s locked away in the home she’d once shared with her own family—Bren—was too painful.
The street came into view, and Morgan stopped for a breather at the end of it. She’s always loved how the bay was so compact and hilly, with an eclectic and eccentric mix of colourful houses. It had always reminded her of a European coastal town. Her small house was very similar to the others in her street. It was a small, terraced house and painted lilac, a compromise of the pink she’d wanted to paint it, and the blue Bren had wanted.
Morgan took her time slowly ambling over the cobbled footpath until she was standing at the wooden gate at the bottom of the very short path leading up to her olive-green front door. Paint was flaking off in parts caused by the rough coastal weather, and the brass letter box was overdue a polish, and even though the small house was empty for the full twelve months of the year, it was plain to see it was still loved and cared for.
Pushing the gate open, Morgan walked towards the front door, extending her key to the keyhole as approached. It slipped in easily into it, but stopped turning after moving just a coupleof millimetres. Morgan frowned and applied more pressure, but the key was stuck.
She sighed and her shoulders dropped. ‘Oh no.’
‘Everything alight Morgan?’
Morgan was startled by the male voice and spun around to see Ned with his two dogs, Laurel and Hardy, on their leads standing at his feet. ‘Morning Ned. I can’t seem to get my key to turn.’
Ned walked through the gate pulling Laurel and Hardy behind him. ‘Here, take hold of these leashes and I’ll take a look. Ned passed Morgan the leashes and she smiled down at Neds pets.
‘Hello there boys. Sorry to disturb your morning walk.’ Their tails wagged furiously.
Ned chuckled. ‘They’re always pleased to see you, Morgan,’ he looked from the dogs to her. ‘As am I.’ Morgan returned the smile. Ned stepped up to the door and tried to turn the key. ‘Hmm, it’s a little stiff from underuse. Probably needs a squirt of lubrication. Hang on a minute and I’ll nip to my house and get a can of WD40.’
‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble Ned.’
Ned shook his head. ‘It’s no trouble at all Morgan.’
Before she could open her mouth to protest, Ned was already walking through the gate. Morgan watched him walk in the direction of his house and looked down at his pets. They too were looking in the direction he’d walked off in. One of them whimpered. ‘It’s okay pup. Ned will be back in a jiffy. You don’t live far, just in the next street over.’
The dog who whimpered continued to look straight ahead, but the other one turned to look up at Morgan. Morgan sighed happily. Ned always appeared to be in the right place at the right time where she was concerned. He’d saved her bacon more than a few times over the years. She smiled to herself. He wassuch a good friend. Morgan classed him as being one of her very good friends and put him in the same inner circle of friends as Christine, Katherine and Pamela.
She pursed her lips. Should she invite him along to one of their monthly luncheons in the city? She grimaced. She wasn’t sure how the other women would feel about that, it wasn’t just a luncheon date, the women also spent hours shopping. Ned was a man’s-man. She’d never seen him make a fuss over the clothes he wore, even though he always looked clean and smart.
Laurel and Hardy started to bark and the tails that had been still, now began wagging again. Morgan looked up to see Ned entering the gate again with a blue and yellow can in his hand, topped with a red lid. He lifted it for her to see. ‘There’s not much left in the can, but I’m hoping there’ll be enough.’
He lifted his other hand which was holding a slim red straw and attached it to the end of the nozzle before pulling out the key and slipping the other end of the straw into the slim keyhole and spraying.
