Page 10 of Whispers from the Past

‘Did you know about this?’ Rose whispered to Holly, who had witnessed the bizarre development of the conversation with relish.

‘Everyone knows about Susie’s ferrets. They are quite the celebrities in the Bay and they are adorable…albeit a little smelly!’

Shaking her head, Rose leaned forward and kissed Susie on the cheek. ‘Susie, I didn’t think you could get any odder…but you always seem to surpass yourself.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment darling.’

‘It was meant as one. Tea?’

‘Of course. When have I ever turned down a cup of tea?’

* * *

‘It’s amazing how much you’ve managed this week,’ Holly spluttered in between shovelling forkfuls of carrot cake into her mouth. It was Sunday afternoon, and all that was left on Rose’s moving ‘to do’ list was to tackle the loft with its metropolis of box upon box. She’d only ventured up there to look through Eleanor’s husband’s paintings and when she’d found one of the beach, she’d tucked it under her arm and ignored everything else up there. But the main living area had been transformed into a sunbathed space. There hadn’t been much else to unpack. Like she’d told Eleanor at the beginning of the week, most of her bags had been filled with books, so almost immediately, these framed the walls invitingly. The day after exploring the brewery, Rose had roped Holly into rolling up the brown floral carpet. This dusty job revealed beautiful floorboards that had nearly brought tears to Rose’s eyes when she saw them. As if pre-ordained, Holly had quickly become a natural feature in Rose’s life - often arriving with cake. She was rarely alone though, frequently accompanied by Natalie, her three year old daughter. The trio had visited various second hand stores throughout the week and had found everything else she needed including a vintage leather sofa which was worn in all the right places and an Ercol drop leaf dining set which sat in pride of place. Their frequent trips out had doubled up as tours of the other local villages and Natalie had been a welcome addition, taking her tour guide responsibilities very seriously. They were back in her rooms above the shop after returning from their latest trip out to pick up a soft rug when Natalie came running into the living room.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, holding up an old photo album.

‘That, is my life in photos,’ Rose replied as the little girl started flicking through the photos at lightning speed.

‘Wait. Go back.’ Holly called out from over Natalie’s shoulder. ‘That photo was taken in the Bay. It’s the beach. You’ve been here before?’ The last remark was a mix of question and statement.

The photo in question was an old one. At least thirty years old. A young Rose sat precariously on large boulders that sat proudly on the sandy beach. Although it was in black and white, Rose could tell it had been a glorious day. She wished she could remember the photo being taken, she loved it when photographs transported her back to snapshots in her life that she could revisit. But she couldn’t place this one. She wrinkled her brow, mentally thinking back through all the places she’d visited with her mother. ‘I don’t remember that one. But judging by my Care Bears t-shirt I was probably your age Natalie. Maybe we stopped for the photo on our way through?’ No longer interested in the conversation, Natalie picked up where she left off, flicking through the rest of the photos and laughing at Rose’s various outfits and hairstyle fails over the years.

But it kept niggling at her, after Natalie and Holly left, that she didn’t remember the photo. She knew it wasn’t odd to not be able to recall yourself in every photo - especially ones from so long ago, but it hurt that she couldn’t remember that one in particular. She had looked so happy. Had she spent days like that at the beach with her Dad too? That thought made her realise that she hadn’t ever pictured time she’d spent with him. Probably because she knew so little about him. She didn’t even know exactly how old she was when he died; her Mum hadn’t even told her that. With the old photo album clutched tightly in one hand, she climbed the stairs to the small loft space above, and quickly tossed it into the mess within without stopping to dwell on it further. It was too painful when her mind wandered too far back into a terrain she didn’t know or fully understand. The disarray of the boxes in the loft was a much more fitting place for the album than in her attempt at an ordered life below.

Chapter 5

🎵 One More Cup of Coffee by Bob Dylan 🎵

Rose sneezed in the bright sunshine as she slipped through the doors of The Book Nook on her way to get a hot chocolate to start the day. It was her Monday morning treat. A routine that she had started years ago when she was working at Brighton Crown Court as an admin officer. Every morning, on her commute to work, she passed a small cafe kiosk. One miserable frosty Monday morning, she had treated herself to a hot chocolate and then did it every week without fail. It was her positive, bright spark for the beginning of another week. The day she knew it was time to leave that job was when she arrived at the kiosk only to find the shutters secured shut. Instead of dealing with the disappointment like any other rational person and heading along the street to another cafe, Rose burst into tears. A teenager running late for school had even stopped to ask her if she was ok; she’d looked that distraught. Too embarrassed to reveal the cause of her breakdown, she’d lied and said that her dog had died. She didn’t, and had never owned a dog. Handing her notice in that day revealed a weight lifting that she hadn’t recognised she’d been carrying with her, and she had her Monday morning treat to thank for that revelation, so she still bought one, at the start of every week. Which was why she was really hoping that the neighbouring cafe made good hot chocolates as she opened its door. She sneezed again as she stepped into the cafe and promptly walked straight into someone. Splashing hot coffee over both of them. She knew who it would be before she even opened her eyes. And if she thought Luke Loxley had looked angry last week when he was unloading her bags from his pick up in the pouring rain, the scowl etched into his face right now was something else.

‘I’m sorry,’ she winced as she tried to wipe the coffee dripping from his jumper. Abruptly she stopped though, as his eyes seemed to take an angrier turn - it didn’t seem possible, but they had. Wiping his hand down his face in a slow swipe he swerved Rose and stormed out of the shop. She felt tears prick behind her eyes. Never one to court confrontation, she also hated it when people were cross with her. Taking in a shaky breath, she turned to see a welcome sight; a sympathetic face.

‘Don’t mind Luke. He’s always grumpy in the mornings.’

‘Probably doesn’t help when someone throws coffee over you.’

The man behind the counter laughed. ‘Well yes, that won’t have helped. Hi, I’m Tony - you must be Rose?’ Tony offered his hand across the counter.

‘Yes, that’s me. Newcomer with a terrible sense of direction and now a coffee spiller, it seems.’

‘All the best things come in threes,’ he smiled and held Rose’s hand for a moment longer. She nervously laughed, taking back her hand.

‘One coffee and one hot chocolate please. Both to take away.’

‘Coming right up.’ Tony moved over to the coffee machine and carried on talking, facing away from her. ‘So how are you finding things in the Bay?’

Rose chatted away comfortably whilst Tony made the drinks. She explained how she’d enjoyed sorting out the flat above the shop and was now ready to tackle the bookshop itself. She had big plans for both the bookshop and the cafe. Tony put her at ease and the tears that had threatened minutes earlier, retreated back for another time.

‘So who else have you met?’

‘Other than Eleanor, Holly, Natalie and Luke…no-one. I suppose you could add Susie to the list, but I already knew her.’

‘Well you can add me to that list now. Fancy a drink later? You can fill me in on all your big plans?’ Rose found herself agreeing.

Cradling Luke’s replacement coffee in her hand, she had hoped to find him still outside the cafe. But unfortunately for her he was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing else for it, she’d have to go and deliver the replacement to the garage. She’d learnt her lesson and armed with her phone and a Google map this time, she set off to find Luke. Embarrassingly, there was a footpath that led from the war memorial, through the woods, right up to the garage. Walking past The Book Nook, she spotted the green footpath sign easily jutting out from behind a dry stone field wall. Deep wooden steps quickly gave way to a soil footpath two feet wide. Rose wondered how many other feet had walked this path because although small flowers filled every space possible like a soft green and yellow carpet, they didn’t even attempt to grow along the narrow soil footpath. It was as if they had warned their brothers and sisters from over the divide that they would be doomed if they attempted to grow there. She knelt down for a closer look at the flowers; she hadn’t seen these before. Their yellow petals were almost like stars sitting atop dark green heart shaped leaves. Deciding that Eleanor would know what they were called, she made a mental note to ask her later.

How she’d missed the footpath on her first visit was beyond her. No wonder everyone had been so worried. It was so close to the Bay. If she tiptoed, she could just make out her bedroom window down below. The footpath came out behind the garage building, so Rose stepped over the old tyres and discarded rusty wrenches and made her way to the metal back door. Inside, the workshop area of the garage was empty, bar some sleeping cars, so she carefully walked up the metal framed steps that she assumed led to an office space. Tentatively, she rapped her knuckles on the reclaimed wooden door.