Page 44 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

‘You okay, flower?’ Lark asked, reaching out and touching her hand. ‘We can stop asking questions, if you’d prefer. It must be quite draining for you having to relive all of this again.’

‘I’m okay, actually. In fact, in a weird way, it feels good to be talking about it with people who don’t think I’m exaggerating or making it up.’ And maybe the half glass of wine she’d being sipping slowly had gone some way to lower her walls, she thought. Lark had been right, talking about it felt like she was releasing the negativity linked to Polly and Darryl.

She paused, spotting a customer heading over to the fireplace. He threw a couple of logs onto the fire, sending a crackle of sparks shooting up the chimney and a waft of woodsmoke into the room. She took a moment to regroup, nibbling on the side of her mouth, knowing she was getting close to the most painful part of why she left Micklewick Bay.

‘Well, thank you for sharing it with us.’ Lark gave her arm another reassuring squeeze. ‘And it’s only right you get to tell your story after all these years. Especially as Polly has had free rein to spread—’ A shadow loomed over the table, forcing Lark to stop speaking. The women looked up to see local Ando Taylor swaying precariously. He was dressed in his usual attire of battered leather jacket, wildly ripped jeans and a baseball cap turned back-to-front, rat’s tails of over-processed blond hair straggling down his back.

‘All right, lashesh,’ he said, spraying his beery breath over them. ‘Thought I’d come over and shay hello, introdushe myshelf to thish lovely young lady, like.’ He turned to face Hannah, one eye focusing on her, the other the end of his nose. ‘Now then.’ He grinned, his swaying suddenly becoming more dramatic.

Hannah cast an uncertain glance around the table before tilting her head to Ando, subconsciously leaning away from him and into Maggie. ‘Hello,’ she said warily.

‘You new round ’ere?’ he asked, attempting to look nonchalant but failing miserably as he rocked back and forth. Jasmine kept her back to him, an exaggerated grimace on her face.

‘Er, kind of,’ Hannah replied.

‘Well, if you fanshy being shown the shitshe of Micklewick Bay, I’m your man.’

Jasmine’s eyes almost popped out of her head as the others snorted. ‘The what?!’ she mouthed.

‘Oh, I think I’m o⁠—’

‘And whatsh more’ – he prodded a finger at her – ‘I do a mean pickled egg buttie, if you’re intereshted. Honesht to God, they’re “Mwahh!”’ He performed an exaggerated chef’s kiss, almost falling back into one of the servers who was bustling by, his hands piled high with stacks of empty plates. ‘They’re perfect washed down with a glash or shixsh of Gut Rot.’ He peered at Hannah through bloodshot eyes. ‘Whaddya shay? Tempted?’

‘Er, it’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid it’s a no.’

Ando stood swaying for a few moments, apparently absorbing Hannah’s response. Eventually, he said, ‘Shuit yourshelf.’ With that he staggered his way back to the bar.

‘Was that Ando Taylor?’ Hannah asked.

‘The very man,’ Stella confirmed.

Hannah clapped her hand to her mouth in disbelief. ‘He’s wearing the same stuff he used to when I last lived here. Seems the same, too, only he looks much older.’

‘And he still hangs out with the local teenagers at the skateboard park. He’s a harmless soul – mind, he has tried it on with all of us at one time or another which has been irritating when he doesn’t get the message. He’s stuck in a time warp, hence the get-up.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘And “Gut Rot” is his home brew and, from what he’s described it does to his insides when it’s mixed with the pickled eggs, it’s best avoided,’ added Maggie.

‘Noted,’ said Hannah, her expression making the friends hoot with laughter.

‘I suppose we can always rely on Ando to change the tone of the evening.’ Stella grinned. ‘But, if you’re up to it, Hannah, we wouldn’t mind hearing what made you finally leave your home.’

‘Are you sure? I feel I’ve been talking forever.’ The last thing Hannah wanted was for everyone to think she was nothing more than a load of doom, gloom and misery.

‘You’ve done no such thing.’ Maggie gave her a gentle nudge. ‘We’re all interested in hearing it.’

Hannah braced herself once more; heading down the path to the days after her mum had gone was never easy, which was why it was a route she rarely took.

TWENTY-NINE

‘I’m going to keep this brief, but things were very unsettled after my mum had gone and I was so glad of my Auntie Coll and Uncle Len. I used to go and stay with them over in Beckinthwaite for the holidays and whenever I could at weekends. I loved my dad, but losing my mum had changed him. It didn’t help that Polly had somehow managed to get herself out of the annexe and into our house. She created a horrible atmosphere. My aunt and uncle knew the score, they could see Polly for what she was, but when they tried to talk to my dad about it, he didn’t want to know.’

Polly had changed towards Hannah the day Bronagh Merryweather died. When Hannah’s father was around, she was all sweetness and light, but when he was out of earshot, her true colours came out. She snapped and snarled at the young girl, criticising everything she did. Hannah soon learnt she couldn’t put a foot right no matter how hard she tried. It didn’t help that Polly was always running to Jon, telling tales of his daughter’s supposed bad behaviour and litany of misdemeanours.

Midsummer Haven had gone from being a home filled with light and happiness to a place brought down by gloom where Hannah felt she had to tiptoe around.

‘My dad just seemed to retreat into himself. He struggled to cope with his own grief and didn’t know what to do with mine. He ended up ploughing all his energy into his job, which had the unfortunate effect of putting more power into Polly’s hands.’