Page 40 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

‘Er… as long as you don’t mind, thank you, that’s really kind.’ She made a mental note to text Birdie, who’d still be at Thelma Tyreman’s; she’d call her later, reassure her neighbour that all was well.

Before she knew what was happening, Hannah was striding over the yard to a small red car and bouncing down the track to the road that led to Old Micklewick and the bottom prom.

Hannah was beginning to feel like she was in the midst of a whirlwind. She hadn’t been expecting any of this when she’d left Beckinthwaite that morning, but despite the drama of the flat tyre, she couldn’t escape the feeling of renewed vigour the day’s events had started inside her.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Hannah felt her nerves jangling as she and Maggie made their way over the cobbles towards The Jolly Sailor’s pub, a warm glow cast by its outside lights skimming over them. In the distance, she could hear the rhythmic rush of the waves accompanied by the solitary cry of a herring gull as it swooped around Thorncliffe. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited the pub, but she did have a vague memory of sitting at one of the outside tables with her parents and enjoying a plateful of fish and chips in the sunshine. The same mouth-watering smell reached her nostrils and, despite all she’d eaten at lunchtime, she felt suddenly hungry. It would appear her appetite had returned, which was no bad thing after what had looked back at her in the mirror that morning.

Maggie pushed open the heavy door of the pub, the sound of fiddle music and jovial chatter spilling out and sending a pulse of anticipation through Hannah. ‘It’s always heaving here on a Friday, which is why we reserve a table,’ Maggie said over her shoulder, holding the door open for Hannah.

As they made their way across the room, weaving between the groups of people, Hannah could see the place had benefited from an extensive makeover since she’d last ventured inside. The ancient beams had been stripped of their thick tar-like paint, exposing characterful age-darkened oak and the thick, uneven walls had been given a fresh lick of paint. Heavy curtains hung at the stout windows, while the soft furnishings were made of quality linen. The old worn tables had been swapped for rustic oak. And though the décor harked back to earlier days and referenced Old Micklewick’s smuggling history with the use of recommissioned hurricane lamps and a gleaming ship’s bell with which the landlady rang last orders, it had been done with taste and flair. Even the original figurehead from a ship wrecked on nearby rocks in the nineteenth century and found washed up on the beach by a previous landlord didn’t look out of place at the far end of the bar.

Hannah swept her gaze around in delight, the Jolly’s easy-going, welcoming atmosphere seeping into her, just as it did everyone.

‘Looks like all the lasses are here,’ said Maggie, waving at a group of smiley-faced women. Hannah spotted Florrie amongst them.

She followed Maggie to where the women were seated at a long table set with old oak settles either side of it and a reclaimed ladderback chair at the head. To the left of the table was a wide inglenook fireplace where a fire roared in a vast dog grate, while the biggest basket of logs Hannah had ever seen sat at the side.

‘Hannah!’ Florrie put down the glass of wine she was holding and jumped to her feet as they reached the table, a look of pure surprise on her face. ‘You’re here? How come? Oh, blimey! I’m so happy to see you again.’

‘It’s good to see you again, too.’ Despite her nerves at meeting everyone, she couldn’t help but be touched by the warmth of Florrie’s welcome.

‘Bear and me picked her up on the roadside – sort of,’ said Maggie, with a cheeky laugh.

‘Picked you up on the roadside?’ Florrie said, askance, her eyes flicking between Maggie and Hannah. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you mean by that.’

‘We’ll tell you all about it once we get sat down. Shuffle your bum up, Lark.’ The woman did as she was bid and Maggie eased herself in, inching along and making room for Hannah who then slid in beside her. ‘It’s a bit of a squeeze, but we should be all right.’

‘So, everyone, this is Hannah Merryweather,’ said Florrie. ‘I’m sure you’ll remember her from school; she was in the year below us. Used to live at Midsummer Haven. Hannah, I’m sure you’ll remember Lark Harker, who’s sitting to the right of Mags.’

‘Hi, Hannah, it’s so good to see you again,’ Lark said in her soft voice, her bracelets jangling as she gave a small wave. She still had the ethereal hippy vibe Hannah remembered her for. The long waves of her blonde hair were threaded with skinny plaits and trimmed with beads, her purple tie-dye top studded with sequins, an amethyst pendant at her neck. There was a heady yet soothing aroma of essential oils radiating from her. Hannah found herself taking a deep breath.

‘Opposite Lark we have Stella Hutton.’

‘Hi there, Hannah, good to have you back in the old town.’ Stella gave her a friendly smile that belied the slightly aloof air she exuded. She was well-groomed with her straight, blonde hair scraped back into a sleek ponytail. She was sporting an ice-blue blouse that offset her cool blue eyes, a pair of star-shaped diamond studs at her ears. Hannah wondered if Stella was still as sporty as she’d been at school; she seemed to recall she excelled at running and the high jump – no doubt assisted by her long legs and above-average height.

‘Hi, Stella, thank you, it’s good to be back.’

‘Then we have Jasmine Ingilby – or Jazz – in her usual spot at the head of the table.’

‘Hiya, Hannah. I sit here so I can keep my eye on everyone, make sure they all behave themselves,’ Jasmine replied with an impish glint in her eyes that took Hannah right back to their school days. Indeed, Hannah would’ve recognised her anywhere, with her distinctive pixie crop of red hair – though it did seem a shade or two brighter now. It was the perfect foil to her bright green eyes, highlighting her elfin features. In fact, as she looked at them more closely, the four women hadn’t changed much at all; they were grown up versions of the girls she’d known at school.

‘And, of course, you know me, and you’ve obviously met Mags,’ said Florrie, concluding the introductions.

‘That’s right.’ Hannah couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable under the weight of everyone’s gaze and was thankful that conversation continued with no obvious expectation of her to dive in to an explanation about herself.

‘Before we go any further, we need to get a glass for Hannah and another bottle of wine,’ said Jasmine. Seeing Hannah’s shocked expression, she rested her hand on the new girl’s shoulder and said, ‘Don’t worry, flower, I didn’t mean the whole bottle of wine was for you!’ The six women fell about laughing at that.

‘Phew!’ Hannah mimed wiping sweat from her brow.

‘Yeah, we’re not all guzzlers like you, Jazzy Pants,’ said Maggie.

‘Cheeky,’ Jasmine retorted, before turning to Hannah. ‘Take no notice of Mags, she’s nowt but trouble. Anyroad, I jumped the gun a bit there – are you okay with wine? We usually share a nice crisp Pinot Grigio but feel free to go with whatever you fancy. I should’ve asked if you were driving first.’

Hannah wasn’t much of a drinker but didn’t want to appear unfriendly or standoffish. ‘I’m not driving – car trouble, which is the reason I’m here – so a glass of Pinot Grigio would be lovely, thanks. Though I should probably warn you all, I’m a bit of a lightweight so I’ll be taking it steady.’

‘That’s absolutely fine, you just go at your own pace,’ Lark said kindly.