Page 3 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

A faint smile tugged at Hannah’s mouth. It felt good to hear someone talk so warmly about her beloved Auntie Coll. Everything about her was cheerful and she’d embraced the full colour spectrum with unapologetic abandon when it came to her wardrobe. ‘She was. She was the best, like a mum to me. And I miss her so much it actually hurts.’ Her bottom lip wobbled as she pressed her hands to her heart, a tear trickling down her cheek. Colleen had stepped into the role of mother when Hannah’s own mum had died when she was eight years old and Polly had taken her place in her father’s affections.

‘I was sorry to hear about your dad, too.’

Hannah simply nodded, her mind too dulled to form a reply. The way gossip and rumours spread around the town, it went without saying that Florrie would know the pair had been estranged for years. Since he’d passed away so unexpectedly last August Hannah had been struggling to get her head around everything that had brought it about. It had come as a massive shock to learn he’d had a bladder infection which, owing to his reluctance to make an appointment with his GP, had quickly led to sepsis and had brought about his sudden and unexpected demise. Much as she needed closure regarding her relationship with her father – or the lack of it – it was as if her brain refused to acknowledge that he’d gone. She assumed it was its way of protecting her from having to face her past; there was so much to work through; the hurt and rejection still ran deep. But the loss of her beloved aunt, who’d always been there for her, was a different matter.

‘You’ve been having a really rough time of it, I can’t even begin to imagine what all of that must feel like, but I do know it’s a lot for one person to deal with.’ Florrie twisted round to Hannah, taking in her gaunt, tearstained face. She reached for her hand and rubbed it between hers. ‘Listen, flower, it’s freezing sitting here, you look nithered, your fingers feel like icicles, and I’m getting seriously worried you could be at risk of developing hypothermia. I’m afraid I need to get back to the bookshop, but you’re very welcome to come with me, thaw out over a cuppa – or even better, a mug of hot chocolate with all the trimmings. We can pop upstairs to the teashop there – we serve some really yummy cakes including the best chocolate brownies ever – or we can sit in our little kitchen at the back where no one will disturb us. And if you fancy one of the tearoom cakes, I can grab us a couple and we can eat them in there. It’s very private.’

Hannah took a moment to mull over Florrie’s offer. She didn’t feel remotely hungry despite not having breakfast – her appetite had gone AWOL over the last couple of weeks and she’d barely eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive. She could almost have been tempted but the prospect of running into Darryl or his mother – or anyone else who knew her, for that matter – if she headed into town again made her hold back. ‘That’s really kind, but it’s probably time I was heading home. I’ve got a lot to think about.’

‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ Florrie said hesitantly. Hannah was aware of the other woman studying her face, as if to satisfy herself the blubbering mess before her really was going to be doing what she’d said and not taking root on the bench.

‘My car’s not far from here; I parked near the bottom of Resolution Row.’ She hoped the explanation would go some way to easing Florrie’s concerns.

‘Ah, right.’ Florrie nodded.

Just then, the wind picked up and the sky darkened, its burgeoning wrath reflected in the brooding expanse of sea before them, great white horses charging towards the shore, crashing into one another and sending up an angry mass of foam.

Florrie shivered, glancing up at the clouds and slowly getting to her feet. ‘Mind, I walk along here on my way home. Snow’s forecast and I’d hate to find you frozen to the seat like some kind of snowman.’

That raised a small laugh from Hannah. ‘You won’t.’ She watched as Florrie had a quick rummage around in her backpack, her nose bright red from the cold as the wind blustered past her. A moment later, she pulled out a pen and what appeared to be a business card, quickly scribbling something on it.

‘Right then, here’s the bookshop’s contact details and I’ve written my personal mobile number on the back. You’re very welcome to get in touch when you’re next in town – or even pop into the bookshop; it’d be fab to see you. And I reckon it’s changed a fair bit since you last paid it a visit. Ed and me have… well, it’s a long story, but we’ve been working hard at bringing it into the twenty-first century while doing our best to hang on to its original Victorian character.’ She smiled as she handed the card to Hannah.

The clouds chose that moment to release icy slivers of sleet over the town.

‘Thank you.’ Hannah took it, struck by the unexpected act of kindness which left her unsure of what else to say. Despite the plummeting temperature, she was surprised to feel a tiny flicker of warmth in her chest.

Florrie loitered a moment, blinking as a splash of sleet landed on the lens of her glasses. ‘At the risk of sounding like a right old fusspot, would you mind sending me a text when you get home – just a few words to say you got back okay and that you didn’t turn into a frozen snowman en route? I’ll worry about you otherwise.’ She gave a laugh.

Even in her cheerless state, Hannah could see Florrie was making light of the comment to minimise that she was genuinely concerned. It crossed her mind that she must look a bit odd, sitting on a soaking wet bench, her hair blowing around wildly like a load of rats’ tails with no hat to keep her head warm. It was hardly the weather to be loitering or savouring the view. It struck her that by continuing to sit there, she ran the risk of attracting unwanted attention, which was the last thing she wanted, especially that of Darryl and Polly or any of their associates.

‘’Course I will.’ She dredged up a smile. ‘And thanks for the offer, and for sitting with me, I really appreciate it.’

‘No worries.’ Florrie smiled back. ‘And I hope the pain of your loss eases soon.’ She gave Hannah’s shoulder a squeeze before clicking her tongue for Gerty and heading off at a brisk pace along the prom, head bent against the driving sleet.

Watching Florrie walk away, Hannah’s teeth started chattering noisily, the bitter cold suddenly taking hold and finally registering with her grief-muddled brain, making her wonder how she hadn’t noticed it before now. Her hands were actually hurting because of it – it didn’t help that she’d left her gloves on the passenger seat of her car in her haste to get to the solicitor’s office. She heaved herself up from the bench, hooked her bag over her shoulder and pulled her voluminous hood over her head which went some way to reducing the nipping of the wind, for which she was thankful. Wrapping her coat more tightly around her, she tied the belt then rewound her scarf as she made her way across the broad pavement of the prom towards the road. As she reached the kerb, the sleet morphed into hailstones, lashing down unforgivingly and bouncing noisily off the ground. ‘Argh! You’ve got to be kidding me!’ She peered around her hood and stole a quick look in both directions before dashing out, running as fast as the slippery tarmac would allow. She wasn’t halfway across when a car horn blared out, stopping her in her tracks, shock searing through her. Hannah turned to see a blue, vintage VW campervan skidding towards her. Her eyes widened and she watched in disbelief as it spun around in a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, just missing a parked-up Land Rover and coming to a juddering halt inches away from her. Her heart hurled itself violently against her ribcage and she clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped, adrenalin charging around her body.

‘What the hell was that? You on a death wish or something?’ came an angry male voice from the direction of the campervan. ‘You should watch where you’re bloody well going! I nearly clipped you, not to mention that Landie! People like you are a flaming liability!’

The sharpness of his words made her wince.

‘Got nothing to say for yourself?’ he asked, as a four-wheel drive heading in the opposite direction cautiously crawled by, its headlights on full, its windscreen wipers swishing frantically.

Oh jeez! She didn’t need this today, but he clearly had a point to prove. Despite her shock, Hannah still had enough wits about her to keep her face hidden by her scarf, and she stole a tentative look in the direction of the angry voice. Her eyes landed on a man leaning out of the driver’s side window of the campervan, hailstones peppering his thick auburn hair. His expression was a mix of rage and disbelief. But that wasn’t all that grabbed her attention. She blinked. It couldn’t be! Her already galloping pulse spurted even faster as her brain played catch-up. The angry man bore more than a striking resemblance to someone she used to know. Someone, against her better judgement, she’d let into her heart. Someone who’d hurt her more deeply than she cared to admit. Lachie!

A pang of alarm struck and she sank further into her scarf. From the depths of her hood, her eyes shifted from the driver to a familiar golden Labrador-type dog in the front passenger seat of the, now she came to think of it, equally familiar sea blue VW campervan. The dog was peering through the windscreen and observing her with a quizzical expression. It was all the confirmation she needed. With the air whipped from her lungs her gaze flicked back to the angry man.

‘You just gonna stand there? Some of us have places to get to, you know.’ The familiar Scottish accent stood in stark contrast to the soft Scottish burr that had turned her insides to mush all those months ago. It swept away any final traces of doubt. It really was him. It really was Lachie.

Her already tumultuous thoughts started jumping about wildly as she tried to make sense of the situation, not helped by the relentless hailstones that were beating down on her. What was Lachie doing in Micklewick Bay? The fear that he might have recognised her loomed large in her mind, though she quickly told herself that in her current state, resembling a drowned rat, not to mention her face being hidden by the generous proportions of her hood and scarf, the chances were unlikely. At least, she hoped they were; she really wasn’t ready to have a conversation with him. After how things had ended, it would be beyond awkward and embarrassing. She couldn’t imagine he’d want to talk to her anyway. And it wouldn’t help that he wasn’t in the best of moods thanks to her shocking road sense.

The Labrador cross sat forward, its interest evidently piqued as its fluffy tail wagged vigorously. It pressed its nose to the windscreen, puffs of breath steaming up the glass and bringing her back into the moment. It gave an excited bark as it danced from one front paw to the other. Roly! Her chest filled with affection for him. Lovely Roly. That he’d clearly recognised her touched her heart.

The hailstones were coming down thicker and faster, stinging where they made contact with what little of her skin was exposed and soaking through her coat. Roly barked once more, earning himself the disapproval of his owner.

‘Calm your jets, daft lad.’ But Lachie’s words fell on stony ground and Roly barked again, moving to clamber over his dad. ‘Roly! Settle! What’s got into you? Come on now! Sit!’

Hannah seized the moment and went to make her escape before Roly’s behaviour alerted Lachie’s suspicions. Retreating further into her hood, she raised her hand in a gesture of apology. ‘Really sorry. Bye.’ Her legs were shaking and felt as if they could buckle at any minute, adding to the barrage of emotions her body had been subjected to that morning.