Page 37 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

Hannah was inordinately relieved when the man’s Jack Russell took exception to a Great Dane that was striding by, snapping viciously at its ankles and saving her from having to reply. She took the opportunity to slip away, hurrying in the opposite direction along the bottom prom, her breath coming in short bursts as she went.

When the feeling of disquiet had leached away, the interaction with the stranger made her think better of continuing her investigation; it was best put off to another day when she could be more prepared, though she wasn’t entirely sure what shape ‘more prepared’ would take.

The unsettling interaction didn’t stop her from continuing her walk along the bottom prom with its array of pastel-painted beach huts and the ice cream kiosk where, with it still being winter, the shutters were down. Soon, she passed the fish and chip shop, then the surf shack. The further Hannah went, the more she was taken by the atmosphere of the place, the air of positivity that pervaded. The views out to sea were inviting and she could see why people ventured here on sunny days. Though the sun was shining, there was still a keen nip in the wind, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she gazed out at the view, a kernel of an idea brewing, just as Auntie Coll knew there would be. Her hand instinctively went to the hare pendant. I’m going to do you proud, Auntie Coll. I promise.

Back at her car and feeling thoroughly invigorated, Hannah was ready to set off for home. She was making her way around the road just before Jolly when she heard an unsettling bang. Immediately, the steering wheel started to jerk in her hand. ‘Yikes! What the heck?’ she cried.

Thinking quickly, she activated the car’s hazard lights then carefully steered it to the kerb, tucking it in as far as possible.

Climbing out, she checked her tyres to see the one on the front-passenger side had completely deflated. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ she said, running her hand frustratedly through her hair as she worked out what she could do. She knew there was a spare tyre tucked in the boot, but she’d never changed one before. Attempting that on the side of such a busy road was hardly ideal. The thought that she was a member of a vehicle recovery service pinged into her mind. She headed back into her car and fished her purse out of her bag, rifling through the variety of cards she had tucked in there. Finally, she found the one she was looking for and quickly dialled the number. Her heart sank when she was told that, yes, they could send someone out to deal with it, but it would be over an hour and a half before anyone could get to her. Feeling she had no option, she agreed and ended the call.

She’d been waiting for almost half an hour and was standing on the pavement at the side of her car, the cold creeping in, when a Land Rover pulled up in front of her and a woman with dark curly hair tied up in a scarf jumped out. She was wearing a bright blue jumper covered in what appeared to be knitted strawberries. The thought that the mere sight of her was enough to brighten anyone’s mood flittered through Hannah’s mind. Auntie Coll would love you with all your cheerful colours!

‘Hi there, is everything okay? Do you need a hand?’

The woman had a friendly smile and warm, dark eyes, though Hannah didn’t recognise her from when she’d previously lived in the town. ‘I’ve got a flat tyre – it’s been punctured, no idea what by. I’m waiting for the vehicle recovery company to come but I’ve just heard there’s a delay.’ She pulled a regretful face.

‘Oh no! That’s rotten luck.’

As they were talking a tall man built like a brick proverbial and with a headful of wild hair and an equally wild beard climbed down from the Land Rover. He put Hannah instantly in mind of a Viking.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, a smile appearing from the depths of the beard, the breeze blowing his errant locks.

‘Flat tyre,’ the friendly woman replied.

‘Ouch. And not a great spot to get one either, stuck on this bend. Mind if I have a look?’

‘Not at all.’

The Viking knelt down beside the wheel and gave it a good prod, before inspecting more closely. ‘Ey up, the tyre’s got a nasty looking gash in it and it looks like this is the culprit.’ He pushed himself up, and held out a large, rusty nail between a callused forefinger and thumb. ‘There’s no wonder your tyre went pop with that. You got a spare?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, it’s in the boot. I was just saying someone from the vehicle recovery company’s on their way but they’ve been delayed.’

‘Well, let’s see if I can help get you on your way.’

Hannah went to protest. ‘I honestly don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble. I can get it switched over in no time,’ the Viking said good-naturedly, and smiled once more.

‘He really will have it done quick as a flash,’ said the brightly dressed woman. ‘Bear’s a dab hand with cars and trucks.’

Bear? The name fired a memory in Hannah’s mind. She glanced over to where the Viking was standing by the boot, waiting for her to pop it open, then back to the woman she assumed was his wife. ‘Did you say Bear?’

‘Aye, that’s me.’ The Viking scratched his head, ruffling the wild waves of his hair. ‘Bear Marsay, and this is my wife, Maggie. We live up at Clifftop Cottage, while my parents have Thorncliffe Farm.’

‘You’re Bear Marsay?’ Hannah asked, askance. ‘I know you, but you look a fair bit different from how I remember, which is getting on for seventeen years ago.

Maggie gave a snort of laughter.

‘Funny you should say that, but I thought you looked familiar, too.’ He peered at Hannah more closely, a pair of kind blue eyes twinkling at her from beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows.

‘I used to live here but I left seventeen years ago.’ Oh heck, here goes. ‘I’m Hannah Merryweather and my parents were Bronagh and Jon; we lived at Midsummer Haven on Ash Gardens.’ Despite the friendly welcome she’d received earlier, it didn’t stop her from girding herself in anticipation of his response.

‘Well, now there’s a blast from the past… Hannah Merryweather, eh?’ Bear ran his hand over his beard. ‘There’s no wonder you think I look different. I didn’t have all this then.’ He tugged at his beard and let out a hearty chuckle. ‘It’s good to see you back in town. Mind, I was sorry to hear about your dad.’

‘Thank you.’ Another friendly reaction, though she decided not to dwell on the subject of her dad with someone else who knew him in case it triggered her tears. ‘It feels a bit strange to be back, but it’s been good to have a bit of an explore today. Well, until that happened.’ She nodded towards her car.

‘Aye, I can imagine that would scupper things a bit. Tell you what, why don’t you lasses go and make yourselves comfy in the Landie while I crack on fixing this?’