Page 20 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

‘Meet cute?’ Birdie let out a peal of laughter. ‘I doubt your Uncle Len thought there was owt cute about tripping up and landing headfirst in a pile of steaming horse muck.’

Birdie’s laugh was infectious and Hannah found her shoulders shaking with merriment as her neighbour went on to recount the well-loved story of how Len had been so captivated by Colleen when they’d first met. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her as the Young Farmers’ group had wandered around the field while the host had proudly shown off his newly purchased flock of Cheviot sheep – or ‘Chevvies’ as they called them. Len had struck up a conversation with Colleen, trying to act cool, but he’d been so distracted by her, he hadn’t been watching where he was going and ended up tripping over the farm’s resident Springer Spaniel that had been excitedly dashing about. Poor Len had faceplanted a freshly dumped heap of horse manure, much to the amusement of Colleen and the rest of the group.

‘I can remember it clear as day. The poor lad stank summat rotten. Coll, being Coll, was the only one who offered to help him up, and when he got to his feet, he had horse muck everywhere; it was in his hair, up his nose, he even had some in one of his lug ’oles.’ Birdie was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking and before she knew it, Hannah found herself bent double, her cheeks aching with laughter. It took several moments before either of them were able to speak.

‘Aww, poor Uncle Len,’ Hannah spluttered. ‘He used to joke that they’d fallen in love over a stinky pile of horse poo. Somehow, in the middle of it all, he must’ve made a good impression.’

‘Oh, he made an impression all right, though not so sure it was a good ’un! Made sure he was unforgettable, though,’ Birdie added with a raucous cackle.

Hearing such fond stories of her aunt and uncle had pushed through the cloak of unhappiness that had shrouded Hannah for the last few weeks and filled her with a warm glow. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a hearty belly laugh and it felt good; made her feel lighter somehow.

But, once they were settled in the warmth of the living room, it didn’t take long before the events of the day started creeping into her mind, stealing their way around, waiting for her to catch hold of one and consider it more closely. Her shoulders heaved with a sigh, which didn’t go unnoticed. Birdie had been watching Hannah’s changing expressions, how she’d started worrying her bottom lip, the frown that now crumpled her brow.

‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders again, lovey. Does it have owt to do with why you went out today?’ Birdie threw a couple of logs on the wood burner, sending sparks shooting up the chimney and a tang of woodsmoke into the air. Smudge darted across the fireside rug and leapt up onto the sofa, settling himself beside Hannah.

‘It’s everything to do with why I went out today.’ She absently ran her hand over Smudge’s smooth fur as Birdie settled herself back in her chair and adjusted the footrest.

‘Well, in that case, I’m here if you need to share owt, or ask owt. I know more than you think. A heck of a lot more.’

Hannah’s head snapped up. Their eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity, a telling expression hovering in the older woman’s gaze. It gave Hannah’s curiosity a sharp prod. There was no getting away from the fact Birdie was referring to the letter. It had been a week since she’d found it, and Hannah knew there was no way she could avoid picking up Birdie’s cue, inviting her to start the conversation.

She took a fortifying breath and braced herself. The past was about to arrive in the living room of Snug Cottage and, whether she was ready or not, Hannah was going to have to face it.

THIRTEEN

THE PREVIOUS WEEK – MONDAY 9TH FEBRUARY

Hannah tentatively pushed open the door of her aunt’s bedroom. She could barely believe she was actually having to do this, but she’d put it off for long enough. The movement disturbed a waft of perfume that still lingered on her aunt’s dressing gown where it hung on the back of the door. The heady rose fragrance sent her thoughts rushing back to happier days, evoking an image of Auntie Coll sitting in the garden, surrounded by roses, clutching a cup of tea and throwing her head back, laughing heartily as she regularly did. Roses were her aunt’s favourite flower and she always had a jug or a vase of them in the living room.

Taking a step into the room, Hannah’s emotions started gaining pace. She’d been dreading this moment, putting it off for as long as possible. It was the first time she’d set foot in here since her aunt had passed away. But the formally worded piece of correspondence that had arrived from the solicitors on Saturday morning asking her to make an appointment, meant she had no choice but to face it, especially since it was the third such letter they’d sent.

When her aunt had learnt that the prognosis of her cancer wasn’t good, that it was too advanced, had spread too far around her body, she hadn’t wasted a moment and proceeded to get all her affairs in order. In typical Colleen style, and continuing the meticulous and organised way she’d conducted her life, she wanted to leave everything in place so Hannah didn’t have the added stress of having to search for documents after she’d passed away. And much as Hannah hadn’t wanted to talk about it, her aunt had insisted she knew where everything of importance was kept, from her will to documents relating to the cottage, and a whole plethora of other information. She’d even left written details of how she wanted her funeral conducting, telling Hannah they were in the drawer of the kitchen dresser: ‘I want it to be a celebration of my life; a true representation of me,’ she’d said, stressing that no black clothes were to be allowed, it was bright colours only, and joyful songs to be sung – ‘none of those miserable dirges they play at some funerals; only makes folk even more unhappy!’ Her most touching request was that she wanted the crematorium to be filled with roses.

All other documents, she’d advised, were kept safely in her bedroom. But what Colleen hadn’t mentioned was that had included a letter she’d left addressed to her niece.

Everything in her aunt’s room was neat and tidy, just as she’d liked it, with not a thing out of place. The bedrooms and bathroom were built into the eaves of the property which meant the heavily beamed ceilings sloped steeply and added a generous dash of character and cosiness to the rooms. The way Colleen had decorated it with warm colours and vintage finds only added to that – just as it did the rest of the house.

Hannah made her way over the thick carpet to the brightly painted vintage chest of drawers that was tucked to the left of the chimney breast and under the steep pitch of the roof. Following her aunt’s instructions, she pulled open the second drawer down to see a neatly arranged bundle of files. Sitting next to them was a tin that she discovered later contained an assortment of keys. But what made her heart jump was the crisp white envelope placed on top of the files. It bore her name, written in her aunt’s familiar bold writing and was the last thing she expected to see. Hannah picked it up with a trembling hand, holding it for a few moments, her eyes going over her name. Aware that it wasn’t just her hands that were shaking but her knees had joined in too, she headed over to her aunt’s bed, sitting down on the colourful patchwork quilt before her legs had a chance to give way. She turned the envelope over and ran her finger under the flap, easing out the carefully folded letter which, judging by the thickness, was at least a couple of pages long.

With her heart thumping against her ribs, Hannah drew in a steadying breath as she started reading.

4th December 2025

My darling Hannah,

That you’re reading this means I’m no longer with you and The Beast has won the battle, but at least I can go content in the knowledge that I put up a decent scrap. Go me! I’m just sorry you had to witness me getting poorly, my love. Though, having you by my side made it all so much easier to bear which means more than you’ll ever know.

A sob caught in Hannah’s throat and she pressed her hand to her mouth, blinking quickly to clear the tears that had started to mist her eyes.

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a miserable, maudlin letter, but there are few things I need to say to you which, for a whole variety of reasons, I wasn’t able to tell you in person.

So, I’m going to kick things off with a few requests. First of all – I know this might sound odd; after all, it’s only natural that you’ll feel sad when I’m gone – but please don’t grieve for me for too long or allow your grief to take over and drag you down. I’ve had a wonderful life and can say, hand on heart, that I lived it to the full and didn’t waste a single day. It goes without saying that having you play such a huge role in it has been the absolute best part – your Uncle Len’s, too. He loved you as much as I do. All of this has helped me come to terms with the fact and accept that it’s my time to go. And besides, your Uncle Len’s waiting for me to join him and shatter his peace all over again! He’ll be back to doing his best to keep me out of mischief and I’ll be doing my best to keep him on his toes, not to mention nagging him about taking his wellies off at the door and not paddling muddy boots all over the kitchen. He was a right terror for that, wasn’t he? Bless him. And then – my favourite part – we’ll be able to enjoy a dance around the kitchen together again. Remember how we used to laugh at his two left feet and lack of rhythm? I’ve never known a person less coordinated than him (it’s probably part of the reason he ended up in that horse muck when I first met him!). We’d tease him that he was dancing to a different song to the one playing on the radio! Oh, such happy times. It’ll be so good to see him again; I haven’t half missed him. And, while we’re busy catching up, we’ll both be watching over you, proud of the wonderful young woman you’ve become. And we really are so very proud of you, lovey, especially after everything you’ve been through. You’re the strongest, bravest person I know. And, much as you’re your own person – just as you should be! – you reminded me more of your beautiful mum with every passing year. I don’t just mean your physical appearance, but your mannerisms – now that isn’t half uncanny! – and your kindness. I know Bronagh would be so proud of you too, my darling girl.

Tears were trickling down Hannah’s cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto the paper. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and carried on reading.

Grief is a natural emotion and a process we all need to go through when we lose someone we love, but you mustn’t let it take over, Hannah. Yes, shed some tears but don’t forget to celebrate the time we had together and the millions of happy memories we created. Just the way we did when your Uncle Len headed over the rainbow bridge.

Despite all of the above, I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said I don’t have a single regret – I do have a few of those, but, hey, I’m only human! – and I’m hoping what I’ve arranged will go some way to putting things right. I told myself the timing had to be taken into account, and this felt like the most appropriate moment. There’s so much I need to tell you, so much you need to know, but I’ll get to that in a minute. Sorry to sound so cryptic, but I hope you’ll understand – and forgive me.